Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  She recognized the boy standing in front of the man at once. It was him. Naatos. Maybe thirteen, not especially tall yet but skilled already at masking his expression. He was guarded, tense. His loose grey trousers and tunic smeared with dirt and stained with blood, his hair ragged and matted.

  Two other boys were in this room with Naatos. AaQar, maybe fourteen, lay slumped against the wall, his face swollen and marbled with bruises. His eyes were half closed, his breaths too quiet to hear. One arm had been broken in multiple places, bits of bone sticking out like blades. Some grievous wound in his chest fought to heal. If he was conscious, it was only barely.

  WroOth, maybe four, sat beside him, shaking his shoulder and patting his arm at intervals. "Talk."

  Naatos stood between them and the man, a man she recognized now as their father. Not because of any similarity between them. Aside from being tall and strong, all three brothers seemed to have intentionally chosen appearances distinct from his.

  Eldron.

  His name echoed in her mind, clear though she could not recall where she had heard it.

  Her gut clenched as she tried to push against the invisible barrier. This nightmare was going nowhere good, and she couldn't reach him. She pushed her hands against it, straining as the scene played out.

  "If you are too weak to live, then you should be grateful for death. If anyone you care about is too weak to live and serves no other purpose, you should be grateful for their death." Eldron loomed tall. He leaned down into Naatos's face, his bloodshot eyes narrowing to green slits. "Do you know the horrors that wait out there? The creatures that lurk in the spaces between? They have no mercy, and when they come, they will devour the worlds and all that lies within. Unless we are strong enough to survive. Fight."

  Without waiting, he lunged at Naatos. There was no pulling of the blows. It was little more than a beating in which the child got to fight back. And fight back he did. Striking, wincing, kicking, clawing. Not making any sound. As if this happened frequently. As if he was biding his time for it to pass, praying his father would lose interest and leave.

  She pushed harder against the clear barrier. It was difficult to focus amidst the turmoil and horror. "Naatos!" she shouted, slamming her hand against it. "Why are you protecting this?" He couldn't hear her. Of course he couldn't. She kicked the barrier as if that made a difference.

  The sparring match continued. Naatos, even at this age and size, was a fast healer and a swift scrapper. His father kept speaking as he struck him down.

  "Only monsters survive. You find it inside you. You stare into its eyes, and you make it your strength. You take it, and you make it bigger. You become the biggest monster there is. That's how you win. You are only as good as your strength."

  He grabbed Naatos by the head, squeezing his skull so tight between his hands she heard the bones crack. "Do you hear me? Do you hear me!"

  He slammed Naatos's head against the wall, then dragged him back up by his hair. "Now you do what you know is right. No more stalling. You kill him now. He's too weak to even stand. Kill them both if you want to make me proud."

  Naatos remained silent, yet rage blazed in his sharp-blue eyes. So much hatred. So much anger. He kept his arms straight at his sides, refusing to look at either of his brothers.

  "Do you want them to suffer? Is that what you want?" His father struck him again, hard enough to put him to the ground. "Or are you weak?" Seizing him by the hair again, he dragged him to the side of the room near AaQar and WroOth. He bent down to pick up a long, curved blade. Releasing Naatos, he thrust it into his hands.

  "I'm not going to make it easy for you. I made that mistake with Osine and KelChon. Definitely with Nyda. But like you, I am learning. I am growing. I am better than I was. You have the strength, and you'll do the same. There's a monster in every Vawtrian, but most don't have big enough teeth. You do. They will tell you it is a bad thing. But it keeps you alive. If you listen." Stepping back, he motioned to AaQar. "Kill him now. Put him out of his misery. The world will be far crueler. What lurks between. Those creatures, they will show him no pity. They will tear him apart."

  "No!" WroOth grabbed at his leg, beating at him with tiny fists.

  The cold indifference on Eldron's face twisted into distaste. Grabbing WroOth by the face, he held him in place, squeezing hard. His fingernails cut deep. "Do you think this one could survive the night against even the grim worms? You shouldn't have pulled him out of that pit. It only prolonged his suffering." He laughed harshly as WroOth screeched with pain. "He won't make it to the first. Do you want to see him suffer, Naatos? Is that what you want? Or are you weak?" His face twisted with simmering rage. "Silar would have done it."

  Emotion flickered in Naatos's eyes, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "That's why he's dead."

  Eldron sneered. "I see it in you, boy. You have the potential. But you'll only be something, when you loose your monster. Ignore it, and it will die because another will eat it alive. This one—" he shook WroOth's head, hissing through his teeth. "If you won't do what you know you should, perhaps I should. It's cruel leaving him like this. He can't even fly. Silar made you strong. What have you done for yours?"

  "Let him go." Naatos grit the words out.

  Eldron continued, the words slurring as he started to pace, still dragging WroOth by the head. "It isn't necessary for you to kill both. Kill the one, that'll make you strong. And the new one is coming. But that will take time. We're running out of that. Can't keep starting over. We'll run out of time eventually. They'll be here."

  "Let him go!" Naatos lunged forward, attacking Eldron's arm. The small claws that formed like daggers on his fingers sliced through his father's arm. He grabbed a fistful of WroOth's black hair and ripped him free, flinging him back in the process.

  WroOth skidded across the dirt floor, balling up as he clutched at his bloody head, whimpering.

  Eldron glared at him as Naatos angled away, still keeping between him and WroOth. "Well, you know what happens now." He shook out his hand before making claws of his own.

  As bad as the sparring match had been before, it paled at this beating. Amelia turned her face away as she continued to press against the clear barrier, fighting it though horror threatened to swallow her and shred her focus. It held fast, shimmering at points, wavering at others but never falling.

  It took every ounce of strength she had to block out the screams. Eldron was relentless. Even when Naatos collapsed and could no longer do anything more than shield his head, Eldron continued to attack. Keeping her head down, she drove her palms against the wall.

  Then, all at once, it snapped. She fell in, struck the solid dirt floor hard. As fast as she could, she staggered to her feet.

  Eldron stepped back from Naatos. He picked up the fallen blade and kicked him onto his back. "You truly have the potential. But if you don't live up to it, you will die. This is not the world I wanted you to have, but it is the one we've been given. Cruel as it seems, this is kinder than what awaits. You'll learn soon. Or you'll die." With an almost casual wave of his hand, he brought the sharp curved blade over Naatos's shoulder and chest and let it drop the rest of the way.

  Amelia slid in beside him. The blade had cut deep, seeming to have notched into his ribs as well as across his arm. His eyes were shut, his breaths shuddering. If she pulled him out now, would the wound come? Did she have to wait until the nightmare ended?

  No. No. QueQoa had changed back into his adult form as soon as they were out of the nightmare.

  And if none of the books had mentioned it, then there must not have been a risk for transferring someone to a basic dream.

  She slipped her hands onto his shoulders. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's go." She tugged the revised dream image in. It resisted. Dropping her head, she clenched her teeth. "You are so stubborn. Come on!"

  Eldron gave a snort of disgust. As he passed, he kicked AaQar. "So disappointing. Your monster was barely ever there." Once he reached the door, he glanced back. A
n expression close to sadness clung to his features, softening his eyes. "This isn't what I want for any of you. But it is what it is. Naatos, you'll be on your feet by nightfall and ready for training or all three of you go to the wraith wargs."

  The door slammed shut. At the same moment, the revised dream snapped into place, erasing the makeshift arena, dirt floor, and broken brothers. Almost at once, Naatos returned to his actual age, the blade vanishing as well as the wounds.

  But he did not respond when she released him. Not when she drove the nails in to seal the new dream either.

  Silently, she pulled the blankets and pillow from the bed, then tucked him in on the floor.

  Releasing this connection was much harder, and when she returned to consciousness, she found that she had fallen beside him.

  35

  The Other Side

  The days passed slowly and the nights slower still. The cycle of care, nourishment, and dream work becoming more and more routine, draining more and more of her strength.

  After the fifth night, Tacky remained with her, hiding under the blankets when daylight came and tapping at her when she came close enough. She did not mind the company. Even from a dolmath at this point.

  Entering the nightmares brought about other consequences. Not only did she bring some of the images and moments into her own dreams, but she lacked any power to stop them. The spectral woman and that—that other thing, whatever it was, appeared at intervals, the spectral woman most of all. Sometimes the screams returned. Other times the walls bled and hook-fanged spiders or worse lurked in the darkness. Sometimes it felt as if she had walked down a dark hallway and opened every single door along the way, only realizing once she had finished that she had no idea what was in the rooms.

  The timer on her tablet, set for twenty-minute sleeping sessions to ensure she didn't sleep too long, was almost unnecessary. She bolted from her own sleep, time and time again, the spectral woman's fingers tight around her throat or slicing into her chest.

  But each time she entered the others' nightmares, she found both weaving and walking easier.

  By the eighth day, she could slip in and change the scene and dream itself within seconds.

  By the eleventh, she didn't even have to touch them inside the nightmare to do so. Even better the dreams lasted longer and longer, holding more space for healing and rest.

  When the colrum serum was finished, she did as she was instructed and fed full doses to each of the brothers. The wound in QueQoa's shoulder as well as the abscess shriveled and vanished, but that was the only progress it granted.

  Ecekom remained as ferocious and dangerous as ever. When refreshing the rels, she sometimes glimpsed movement and often heard bellows and roars, shrieks and screeches. Four times sarsqueches attempted to enter the camp, setting off the warning system. None so big as the massive grey-gold one that had nearly killed Naatos. The combination of spike walls and a couple warning strikes from the javelins kept them at bay.

  By the end, food stores were dwindling along with the wood supply. As massive as the great piles of smoked meat and split logs had looked, they went through them at a startling rate. AaQar hadn't been exaggerating when he had told her she wouldn't be able to feed them enough to keep them from losing weight. She started carving wooden spikes so that if she had to fish in the night, she had options. She worked on other plans for hunting as well but hoped she wouldn't have to use them.

  The roars and screeches of the wildlife ceased to terrify her as much as her own thoughts grew louder and louder. Here there was no way to avoid them.

  Was this world empty? Was there a way off or out?

  Was this, perhaps, it?

  It was easier to trust AaQar's assessment than anyone else's. This world, for better or worse, was their home. Her home. With them.

  Was this how the prophecy was fulfilled? She bit back a laugh. Not with bloodshed but in solitude?

  Was this where her end was too?

  Was this where she became the monster?

  Fear swelled within her at that last thought, her chest tightening and her breaths coming short.

  The spectral woman's words swirled in her memory, and that cold bead reappeared in her mind. If she thought about it, it felt as if it grew. AaQar had said the cold bead was nothing when she spoke with him in the palace. Naatos had confirmed that as well. Nothing at all.

  But, if she listened to her gut on this, what had happened at the wedding, the cold, the harshness, the pitiless rage that had consumed her, it was nothing compared to what lurked within. In the moment, it had been incredible, clear, wondrous. But once it all swept back in—

  She shuddered. The growing exhaustion made it hard not to circle her more negative thoughts. If she failed at her prophesied destiny, that meant she lived. And if she lived, if there was something monstrous within her, it would resurface and destroy her. It was true that she had not turned into a bloodthirsty monster when her elmis were exposed or the way that the Libyshans had predicted. But there was some truth in the warnings. Something terrifying lurked inside her.

  She knew it as well as she knew her own name.

  But at least she had one good thought.

  That good thought was one of the strangest comforts of this place, one that made her almost glad that there might be no one else in the world. She could be who she wanted to be out here, and if something went wrong—well, at least there wouldn't be that many casualties.

  That thought alone made her thoughts uncurl. She'd proposed running off with Naatos to some wilderness once. It had been a desperate promise, but now it seemed there had been some wisdom.

  He was different out here. So was she. All of them really.

  And maybe it was the bone-aching exhaustion that made her think how happy she was when on the thirteenth day, Naatos stirred. She was just tying back her own hair when she saw him push himself up with one arm and clumsily wipe away the sleep with another. "How long has it been?"

  "Thirteen days." She approached him slowly. "Do you want food?"

  He nodded, then stopped, canting his head as the braid with herbs slid over his shoulder. "Why—" He looked around the camp. "Did you braid my hair?"

  "I braided everyone's hair." She dished up the soup into one of the wooden bowls and brought it over. "It made it easier. Besides, one of the books suggested using fragrant herbs to promote more healing and restful sleep." It also helped to lock in the newly created dream. She'd added similar flowers in the dream room itself. And braiding was soothing for her.

  He pulled some of the herbs out, releasing a strong minty fragrance. The faintest edge of a smile tugged at his mouth.

  She handed him the bowl of steaming soup and then went to fill the canteen. His manner was far easier than she had anticipated. True, she had managed to keep the peaceful dreams present for the vast majority of this time. But she'd feared that some of the nightmares' residual imagery might cling to him. As he was, other than being much gaunter than usual, he appeared almost… good. If the warnings in the book hadn't been so clear, she might have risked asking him about them.

  As he stirred the brown broth, he glanced about the camp. "QueQoa's shoulder?"

  "The serum healed it, I think. Or at least it gave him enough strength to finish healing it," Amelia said. She drank some of the water herself, wetting her dry mouth with the crisp clear liquid. "He hasn't had it for a few days now. He has been resting a lot easier."

  "Good." He took several bites, his gaze drifting about, occasionally dropping on her.

  Her blood warmed each time, and she had to focus a little harder to carry on as if everything was normal.

  Normal?

  She almost burst into laughter at that thought. Somehow normal had formed out here. And what a normal it was. She poured more of the chopped smoked meat into the soup and stirred it in. The fact that she wanted to put her arms around him right now knotted her up inside.

  "What of you?" Naatos asked. "You're exhausted."

  "N
ot as bad as I'd have thought. I think there's caffeine in those herbs you gave me. I feel more awake each time I drink them." Not fully true but not false either. Her whole body ached, but there was a near giddiness now that he was awake again. Only because he was the first person she'd talked to in almost two weeks, of course.

  "We'll need to find more soon. You shouldn't be without them." He finished the last of the soup and started to stand. He wavered, then stepped out. With each breath, he seemed to be getting stronger. "We'll need to find a lot more of a lot of things." He ladled out some soup. "This actually isn't terrible."

  "Your praise feeds my soul." She shot him a dour look before she resumed chopping the smoked meat. "Please don't strain yourself."

  He smirked. "The point of it is nourishment, and as far as nourishment goes, flavor is irrelevant."

  Dumping the meat in the cauldron, she focused on the fragrant steam. Her own appetite was almost gone thanks to the exhaustion. Lately she'd only managed a few mouthfuls before nausea twisted her mouth shut. If he wanted a rise out of her, he wouldn't get any more.

  "However," he continued, remaining by the fire. "So far as flavor goes, this is actually good."

  "The secret ingredient is not branches." With a flick of her wrist, she finished stirring.

  "If only that wasn't a secret." He moved to a log by the fire. His movements were becoming more fluid, his color stronger. "You should rest now."

  "Not until everyone has eaten. Maybe then. I'll take care of them while you eat." In truth, she didn't want to sleep. Those moon eyes of that one creature felt as if they were staring into her soul, and just the thought of the dreams made her scars and throat ache. Everywhere the spectral woman tore. Even sleeping in daylight wasn't helping.

  She had already moved to dish up another bowl before Naatos could respond. He fell silent and focused on his own food. As he ate, she fed QueQoa, then AaQar, then WroOth. They would hopefully be waking soon. When she took the bowl to the basin and rinsed it out, she noted Naatos had not only finished eating but was approaching her.