"And if the worst has happened." QueQoa's mood had sombered. He returned from filling his canteen and held the grey cylinder with both hands, his gaze now on the nearest of the fires.
The silence spread among them, heavy and oppressive.
Naatos spoke at last, his voice firm and authoritative. "It doesn't matter. Darmoste is the most defensible location. More importantly, the Grey Season is coming, and we're running out of time to prepare. If it strikes in this place, we will be destroyed within days."
"What makes Darmoste safer?" Amelia asked.
"The mountain composition will provide greater protection. These mountains"—AaQar gestured around them—"there will be cave-ins and erosion and rockslides within the first week. They'd protect us from the rain and the lightning and the hail initially, but when the acid comes, we won't last long."
"Acid! What—no. Not important right now. How long do we have?" she asked.
AaQar pressed his lips in a thin line. "It boggles the mind even now. By every external sign, there is more than enough to bring on the Grey Season, but none of the markers that signal it is to start are here. So assuming nothing else has changed, we have six weeks. Perhaps longer. Hopefully longer."
"All for the best. I'd rather be in Darmoste if packs of camels start rampaging," WroOth responded. "I'd even say lodge in the Dry Deep if it weren't for all the problems that would cause." He snapped more sticks and put them in the fire.
"We aren't going through Dry Deep," Naatos said sternly. "Not so long as there is any other course."
AaQar nodded. "May there always be other courses."
The heaviness that spread over the camp brought her back to the dreams. Even when WroOth made some quip that brought QueQoa to laughing again and AaQar and Naatos to smiling.
The books had been clear that she was not to discuss the dreams with them until they remembered, but she could not help but see them differently.
All of them.
QueQoa had most of the boy in him still, utterly imposing if not for a grin that made him look ridiculously sweet. WroOth she recognized the least from the child he had been in Naatos's dream, but that wild gleam lurked behind his merriment. AaQar had not changed much at all between either of the dreams, the heaviness from his dream resting upon him, and disappointment apparent though he tried to hide it. He did that often. All of them actually. Hid things. Pretended. Naatos most of all. His dreams clung to her like a second skin.
No matter how fast she was, she was never fast enough to avoid seeing that horrible man. Eldron. It was a wonder Naatos hadn't broken. That he hadn't turned on his brothers. How many years had they spent in there? How many times had he faced that choice?
She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, then pulled away. No time for this. Not yet. But maybe… maybe later.
The rest of breakfast was spent dividing up tasks. They would remain for this day and the next, possibly a third if they felt it was needed. Then they would begin the long dangerous trek to Darmoste.
Though AaQar had said that it would take them time to fully return to their strength, it appeared to Amelia as if they had reached that already. The biggest project was a large sledge with multiple containers as well as salting and tending the hides. The blue-white ilthun salt had many uses, not the least of which was speeding along the curing process. The brothers taught her a great deal about Ecekom, its dangers, survival techniques, and how to manage with what was available.
Around midday, Naatos disappeared. Most likely to hunt. WroOth and QueQoa took the sledge out to test it. AaQar remained with her, sorting and preparing various herbs for drying. Both Naatos and AaQar had found quite a lot of them in their first forays of the day, but most were unfamiliar to her though quite a few had similarities to ones she knew on Earth.
Something off lingered about AaQar still. That heaviness pressed harder over him, similar to in the dream. This mood of his itched along her scalp and down her spine like ants. "Did the herbs help at all?"
He smiled a little, but it was a sad smile. "Not in the way I hoped. It was generous of you to permit my use of them."
"If you need more…" She plucked a few dead leaves off the thick green strand she currently held. It reminded her of Queen Anne's lace except that the flowers were brilliant blue and had tiny webs beneath the buds.
"Perhaps. But it is far more likely that it is not something that can be replicated. More's the pity."
"Is it something I can do to help? My mindreading maybe?"
"I do not want to bring you deeper into this than you already are. But… I will consider it."
"Is the ilzinium sickness gone for all of you? Or is it just gone for now?"
"Hopefully for all of us. But we'll have to see. It's much too strong. Bad winds bringing bad tidings." AaQar tapped the back of her hand with one of the grass-like herbs. "You did well."
She shrugged back, uncomfortable with the compliment but also pleased. "I did what I had to. Do you want to talk about what you were looking for?"
"No." He smiled a little more, the wrinkles smoothing from his forehead. "And I don't want you prying at my thoughts. If I decide to speak of it, I will."
"Your family keeps a lot of secrets, doesn't it?"
"Indeed." He arched an eyebrow as he looked up at her from across the sorted plants. "Yours as well."
"Hmmm." She had thought of them as her family. It was odd to say aloud. But that didn't make it any less true.
"With Vawtrians, secrets are a part of our lives. It is understood we all have them, and we trust that when the knowledge needs to be shared, it will be. But, as with most things, if the assessment is wrong, the consequences must be borne. My secret, for now, harms no one. I hope. But I'd rather not speak of it further." His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up two more of a multi-stemmed herb with green bells. "Your offer is enough to encourage me."
Silence spread between them. A surprisingly comfortable one.
After another hour though, Naatos returned. As before, she recognized his presence. It sent ripples through her awareness, unsettling and awakening her. Tumultuous emotions surged within her, and she quickened her pace on the herbs.
AaQar didn't glance up until Naatos's footsteps sounded. He rose then, dusting his hands clean. "You found it?"
"Only one. Not a pair." Naatos said something in a quieter tone when AaQar reached him.
One day she would learn to do better with directional mindreading. When that day came—if she lived long enough—no conversation would be too quiet to overhear. If she lived long enough.
The spectral woman's threats echoed in her mind. She could almost hear her clawing inside.
Shivering, she gathered up the meadowcress and bound it with a leather string. A long sliver of discomfort sliced down the back of her skull. Why didn't the passages on dreams have anything about this? Beings like the spectral woman couldn't be for beginners.
Glancing up again, she halted, realizing AaQar had left. The meadowcress slipped from her hand. "Everything's all right?"
Naatos nodded. He approached her, his manner contemplative and his hands now behind his back. "I realized something about you. Something that should have been obvious. I just couldn't see it. Like a lot of things about you."
"Oh?" She frowned.
He sat on the log nearest her. "Which are your favorite flowers? Orchids or roses?"
Her frown deepened, confusion rising within her. "Those aren't—those are Jacinda's favorites. I don't really have a preference."
He nodded. "And your books. All those books that you read. Were any for yourself?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Take away the ones you read for your education. Take away the ones you read because your friend wanted you to read them with her."
She pressed her lips in a thin line. How did he know about that? "I was busy."
"Is there anything you do simply because it feels good to you?"
"I try not to waste my time."
"That isn't a waste. It's part of the point of living. But it goes deeper with you, veskaro. I think you are actually afraid of feeling good. You automatically distrust something if it feels good." He chuckled, shaking his head. "You actually meant it when you said that you hadn't considered a life after you fulfilled your destiny. Everything was about this. I hesitate to ask you this because I know it will wound you. But with the Awdawm—Shon. With him. Did you think about a future?"
Her throat knotted at once as tears sprang back into her eyes. "I don't want to talk about him with you." She gritted the words out.
"Please answer me."
Ducking her head, she braced herself. Her mind flashed back to those last moments with Shon. His offer. His anger. It stung her to her core. "It was only the barest of dreams. The kind that fades as soon as you think about it. He is—was a good man though. He didn't deserve what you did to him."
"You only kissed him too. You didn't use your elmis or—" He canted his head, giving her a knowing look. "When he asked you to run away with him, you said no."
"How did you know that?" Pulling away, she stared at him in shock.
"Because I am starting to know you. Even if I had not claimed you and threatened him, you would have refused beyond those kisses."
"It wasn't because I was in love with you."
He laughed. "No, my ego isn't that big. You are mine, and you will be until death parts us. Beyond, if that is possible. But no, you didn't tell him no because you secretly wanted to be with me. And yes, I made threats, but let's not pretend, veskaro. My word is far from your law. I think that even if I had made no claim on you, you would have said no to him. You would have asked him to wait or to move on to someone else because you had this path to walk." Pinching his brow, he shook his head. "You believe you are going to die. Either in fulfillment of this destiny or because something, somehow, will happen and turn you into a monster. But if you were to be handed the opportunity to leave this behind, to have your own life. What would you do?"
Leonas had told her that if she chose to set it aside she could. "Someone else would have to pick it up then," she said hoarsely.
"Why does that concern you?"
"Because it's an awful thing to have to do! I'd be asking someone else to sacrifice themselves for me. Someone who doesn't deserve it."
"Do you think you deserve this? Do you think that denying yourself any life beyond your so-called destiny and sacrificing yourself is what you deserve?"
Something ripped inside her. With a long stabbing motion, she gestured to herself. "I'm cursed, Naatos! I was made from forty murdered children—babies! Tortured and murdered and ripped from this life! They didn't deserve that! They were destroyed. I am—I am an atrocity! My existence is an abomination. The only reason I was given this destiny is because I was intended for something so much worse and so incredibly evil my own people wanted me dead!"
Naatos stiffened. "How do you know that?"
"Was it supposed to be a secret?" She clenched her arms tight around herself. "Kepsalon confirmed it. He thought I would be comforted that I have this greater purpose, and it's good. I don't—I don't want to be evil. The worst thing I can imagine isn't dying alone or in pain. I'm not afraid of that. Sometimes it's a relief to think I will die because then it will be over. But to become something or someone cruel and vicious? To kill innocents? To bring pain and suffering into the worlds?"
"Cursed Machat," he muttered. "You weren't supposed to know."
"Even before he told me, I knew there was something wrong with me," she said. "It wasn't as traumatizing as you probably think. It's just—it's just what it is. I'm fine, all right? Stop looking at me! I know what I am."
"It wasn't because they hated you, Amelia. They were a good people. They were just…" His voice trailed off as if he was for once at a loss for words.
"I know they were! That means they had a good reason to want me dead. And don't blame them or Kepsalon or the Machat. The spectral woman told me the same thing. That I was supposed to be put down. I'm a rabid dog."
"What woman?"
"I don't know what her name is, but she's a woman in my dreams who has tormented me for as long as I can remember. Sometimes she says things that are true. Most of the time she just tells me how much she hates me and tells me she's going to devour me and then cuts me and stares." She swallowed hard, remembering his dream and not wanting to use the word "monster." But it was the only word that came to her mind. It did describe her. "You knew about it too though?"
"That you were to be killed? Yes." He swallowed, a flicker of unease passing through him. "But, veskaro, they are all wrong. And—we need to talk about that."
"What's there to talk about? There's something wrong with me, and I am only in existence because actual babies were murdered to make me. I was forged in the blood of innocents. And what is inside of me is so dangerous that the only way that my existence can be justified is if I do something that ultimately will take my life because that's the only way—it's the only way I can even come close to repaying this debt!"
He stared at her until the silence hurt. "Do you deserve to die, Amelia?"
She ducked her head, her mouth dry as tears filled her eyes. "Why shouldn't I?"
"You had no say in any of this." Reaching out, he wiped the tears from her cheeks. "You are as much a victim as any of those children—"
"I am not a victim, and I don't want your pity!" She jerked away, clenching her fists at her side. Her body trembled. "I'm just—I'm just—" She shook her head as her voice broke off. A jagged sob cut through her. Falling back, she covered her face, unable to stop the weeping. It felt as if he had just torn through her and split open her insides.
Without a word, he swept her into his arms and held her fast. She buried her face in his chest, the sobs shaking her until she could not stand. For several moments, all she could do was cry.
He stroked her hair, supporting her when her legs gave out. And when she had finally quieted, he rested his mouth near her ear. "Tell me this, veskaro. The Tue-Rah is restored. I am not ruler of all the worlds. The nations have somehow reintegrated with one another. The races are all in harmony. And it has all been done without requiring your death. What would you do? Where are you?"
She shook her head, remaining against him. His heart thudded heavily in her ear. But in her mind there was only a blank space for what that future looked like. "I don't know."
"Two paths, the only thing you know is that one will hurt you and the other will not. Which one is more trustworthy?"
Her eyes slipped shut. "That's not—there are always other markers."
"Not this time." He kissed her forehead. "But you don't have to answer. I know which one you'd choose. My sweet veskaro." He sighed. "You can't even tell me what you want except not to be evil."
"I don't want to kill anyone," she whispered. Some part of her had snapped, and it was all sliding out. "Not your brothers. Not you. You've done things I can never agree with, but I don't hate you. And you're not a monster either."
He cupped his hand beneath her chin, guiding her gaze to his. "In what realm of reason can you conclude I am not but you are or will be?"
She closed her eyes, more tears rolling free. "Because you're still you. But I—if whatever this is takes me, I stop being me. I wasn't me when I cut out my elmis. And that was only the start. I didn't care. I was cruel. And the spectral woman keeps talking about how I will be consumed and remade."
He checked her wrist, his hand clasping over the bracelet. "Did the bracelet help?"
"She can't talk to me, but she's in there. Scratching. The eyes just watch me." She pressed her hand to her head. "And if I have sex with you before the eight weeks, I will snap. But either way, she will kill me or remake me."
He raised an eyebrow. "And why would she care about your vestoving?"
"I don't know. She just wants me to be miserable, I think. At least that's how it seems."
"The eight weeks," he said soft
ly, his consciousness prickling against hers as if he sought answers to questions he did not want to ask. "Where did that number come from?"
"It felt right to me. It was when WroOth found me on the mountain after I killed the crudon."
"So the Machat did not give you that number. Was the number in the dream?"
"I don't—" She rubbed her forehead, a dull pain throbbing across her skull. "I don't remember all the dreams. There are too many. But the Machat didn't give it to me."
A loud lowing sounded from the edge of the camp. Close to the thorn trees.
He lifted his head, glancing toward the sound before he returned his focus to her. "We'll resume this conversation soon. But I need you to understand this. Your death would be a tragedy and such a loss for all the worlds. You do not deserve to die, and you are not a monster. What happened to you was not your fault, and your life is worth so much more than what you see. Now come on." He threaded his fingers through hers. "There's something I want to show you. I imagine my brothers have it ready now."
She shook her head. "No. I don't want anyone to see me right now. Besides, there are things to do—"
He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger once more, bringing her focus back to him. "Ordinarily I wouldn't object, but right now, you shouldn't be alone. So come with me. Please. You are safe with me as well as my brothers, and we love you. No one will think badly of you. Crespa, woman, you're exhausted still. One night of sleep is not nearly enough. The fact that you were standing was remarkable in and of itself, but you kept us all alive. Do you think we will judge you for weeping?"
"I just don't want to have to explain it." She shrugged but smiled a little as he wiped away the tears that had replaced the first.
"Then don't. Just come."
Closing her eyes, she nodded. The burning eased, but she swore she could hear the spectral woman scraping and clawing in the back of her mind. "All right."
37
Anteaters, Not Maneaters
Naatos needed time and space to think, but he didn't dare leave Amelia. Her hand was far too cold as it was. It warmed a little as they walked over the low-growing grass to the thicker reeds and pressed through the shrubs and foliage to the outer ring of the camp.
Wilderness Untamed Page 37