Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  She straightened her shoulders, stepping out to the side as she watched him. Crocodiles and alligators were excellent strikers. Crocodiles could shoot forward in a mad sprint between 60 and 100 feet. Zigzagging and diagonal movements were best, but his bone structure suggested he would rely less on momentum. Not to mention the intelligence.

  She kept her eye on him, her steps smooth.

  His dark-blue eyes glimmered. Then, without a roar or signal, he lunged.

  She dropped to the ground and rolled to the side. Once she hit the log, she sprang up and over.

  QueQoa had already spun around and lunged over the log.

  She slid down to the left, hooked a branch from the kindling pile, and whipped it back to strike him in the face.

  QueQoa snapped it in his jaws, his long, curved teeth slicing through it like paper.

  She had already released it and bounded back to the other side of the camp to seize a larger, sturdier branch. Her muscles tensed and ready, she held it up. The energy poured through her faster now, refreshing and brisk, pounding away the grief and rawness of her confession. The cool air dried the sweat on her brow and neck almost as soon as it formed. She moved to the side, her gaze fixed on QueQoa.

  His eyes flashing yellow, he growled. More animalistic than she'd ever seen him. He lunged again, fluid as a shark in water.

  She feinted to the right and dropped flat, sprang up, and attacked.

  Again and again they circled and dodged each other. Sometimes his tail struck her, other times she caught him with the branch. Her elmis prickled and stung, alerting her in ways she didn't even fully understand. But her instincts recognized the commands and she stayed just out of his reach, darting in only occasionally to strike him on the snout or foreleg.

  He leaped at her again. This time she feinted right, snagged a handful of dirt and flung it in his eyes.

  Crossing back to the wood pile, she halted. The hairs on the back of her neck lifted as the elmis on the backs of her legs burned, the sharp warning cutting into her. She needed to move left.

  Before she could even hinge, a great force struck her from behind and pinned her face first into the ground.

  "Well done, dear heart." WroOth kept his hand pressed against the back of her neck. "But you should never assume it's only you and one opponent. You have to stay aware. Especially if your battle lasts more than five minutes. There's always another predator lurking out here."

  She wheezed as she struck her hands against the ground, trying to press up. "You're such a sikalt, WroOth. Get your knee out of my back."

  He laughed as he moved back, batting at her hair. "Sikalts don't stick around to see the aftermath. I do."

  "Usually," QueQoa said.

  "Usually." WroOth crossed to the fire and pulled out a hunk of leaf-wrapped meat.

  QueQoa knelt in front of her and offered his hand. "He's right though. Ambushes are pretty common."

  "I'll do better." She winced as he helped her up. "Do we go again?"

  "Again. This time, see if you can get these three branches over to the far side." QueQoa pointed to the edge of the chiron oak. And just as easily as he spoke, he became a grey-and-brown tree mantis.

  It was much harder to dodge him in this shape as, like the tree mantises she had encountered, he was swift, large, and had an exceptionally long reach with those spear-like forelegs. Twice he grazed her, leaving light cuts.

  WroOth called out bits of advice from time to time, his tone casual though he watched her with sharp interest.

  The next hours passed relatively fast. QueQoa assumed several different forms. Some she fared better against than others. He didn't say much but promised to give her more guidance later, more intent upon learning her strengths and style. For all that he did do, she knew he was going easy on her, allowing her to land blows and slide by while only pressing her just enough to keep her swift and challenged.

  When he at last told her that they were finished, she was drenched in sweat, out of breath, and out of strength. "I need to rest," she said, moving to a log.

  QueQoa clapped her on the back. "You did well, little sister. We'll find the place and style that fits for you here."

  His affectionate strikes were almost more dangerous, she thought as she caught her balance. She just smiled though, surprisingly pleased. "That was good. I enjoyed it."

  "A bad sign for training," WroOth chuckled. There was something a little sterner behind his eyes as if something had caused him great alarm and he did not want to dwell on it.

  "No," QueQoa said. "It's good. This is very good. It's an excellent start. Go clean up and rest in the suphrite."

  "No, no, she can clean up here."

  "The water here is cold, and it won't aid with the muscle soreness. Tomorrow will be painful."

  WroOth tapped his fingers on the tree trunk as he contemplated this. Then he picked up two of the stone vessels and thrust them into QueQoa's arms. "Fill these up."

  "This seems unnecessarily complicated, but if there are reasons—"

  "There are."

  Amelia frowned as she watched QueQoa leave. She turned on WroOth as soon as QueQoa disappeared over the hill. "Naatos told you, didn't he?"

  "I don't know why you sound so surprised. It was obvious you'd been crying."

  She rubbed her forehead. "I'm fine. Just tired and emotional and probably overwhelmed from the past couple weeks." Was the scratching louder? It seemed like it was.

  WroOth tossed her a canteen of water. "I don't mind you lying about most things, but if you could avoid lying about when you're actually in trouble."

  "It's not a lie."

  "So you're lying to yourself. That's encouraging."

  "I told you I'm tired inside and out. It has been a lot. And if you make me cry, I'm going to be very angry with you." She drank deeply, not sure whether she was more annoyed or touched at the concern. "I'm as fine as I've ever been."

  He gave her a bland smile. "That is hardly encouraging. So long as you stay awake for now, I suppose it will do. Which, speaking of waking, thank you for ending the dreams. I had forgotten. And you didn't say a word." He flicked her ear.

  Feigning more annoyance than she felt, she rubbed it. "The books said not to. You can't just go rummaging in people's minds and then spring it on them. You can have undue influence. Some people never remember. Things we forget are sometimes lost for a reason."

  "More undue influence than remaking dreams and reading minds?" WroOth gave her a knowing smile. "You realize that some Neyeb could even create memories out of nothing."

  "That seems rather terrifying."

  "Oh it is. The horrid part of it is that if you don't know what you're looking for, you'll never spot a master. Their tells are so small. Frankly, I was surprised they didn't do that with you."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Sinara said that she was going to repair your mind, but she didn't change the memories. She deanimated them, and that means that when you try to find them, they are only blank."

  "Maybe there was too much damage. But maybe in something like that it would be wrong because it would mean erasing them."

  "Maybe." He nudged her with his elbow. "It's not for you to carry all that though. You realize this, yes?"

  She nodded. Her eyes burned. "In theory." She winced as she brushed her fingers over her face. "You know what's weird?"

  "I know of many things that are. Tell me yours though."

  "After all that training and running, my fingers and toes are still cold."

  QueQoa brought the two stone vessels up beside her and set them down. "Try this."

  She dipped her hands in the water. The prickling resumed, but when it died, her fingertips remained cold despite the liquid's warmth.

  "Better?" QueQoa asked hopefully.

  "Maybe a little."

  WroOth flicked her ear. "No lying about your health."

  "Hey!" She glared at him, covering her ear in response. "How did you—"

  "You have more tel
ls than just your eyes, little sister. Now, let's see about dinner."

  A sharp sting spread down her wrists. Glancing down, she paused, realizing that four shallow slashes had spread along both of her forearms.

  38

  Confessions

  The camp seemed too small now. QueQoa and WroOth would keep Amelia protected, busy, and awake.

  Even so, Naatos waited until he was certain he and AaQar were out of earshot and beneath the heaviest of the thorn trees. Even then he spoke quietly. A dull knot of dread tightened within his stomach.

  Pieces were snapping into place, pieces that alarmed him the more he contemplated them.

  "During your incapacitation, do you remember your dreams?" He asked the question with care. It was risky to bring someone to this awareness before they reached it on their own, but prompts could be used even if some frowned upon them. There was no time for anything more than the barest of protections.

  AaQar folded his arms, regarding him with curiosity. "My dreams? You don't talk about dreams."

  "Well we aren't talking about my dreams. We're talking about yours. Do you remember them?"

  His older brother eyed him, holding his gaze and masking his own expression. "Is there a purpose behind this?"

  "There always is."

  Sighing, AaQar shrugged. "Then yes, I do remember them. Somewhat. The beginning at least. It was the hallway. My home. I was—I knew something was wrong. Rasha was supposed to be there. But she wasn't. And there were letters hanging in the air with the names of all whom we have lost. And—" Halting, he dipped his head forward. "Chetumai. She made it through."

  He nodded, finally letting himself pace. His boots crushed the thorns into the earth. "She got through mine as well. All of them. And the bracelet wasn't done. She went in there without protection. I keep my dreams behind multiple barriers. At least a dozen. And she got through all of them. And she did it all very well. I didn't have even the vaguest memories of it until WroOth said something." He struck at a nearby barbed green bush with frustration. "She got all the way through, AaQar. And based on when it seemed to get better, those walls and shields didn't make a drop of difference."

  "I'll assume you haven't talked to her about this yet."

  "No."

  "Of course not." AaQar pinched his brow. "If you're going to keep pacing, at least do it in a rotation so you don't wear a groove in the forest. As for Amelia, I suspect she doesn't see walls or barriers. She got through mine when I was incapacitated in the dungeon."

  "You were close to death."

  "Naatos." His brother gave him a half smile. "Do you think that I would even for a moment permit my shields, barriers, and walls to lapse? Especially when I knew full well that I have a mindreading sister, who for some reason got attached to me and didn't want me to die and has a ferocious curiosity."

  "That only makes this worse."

  "You are going to have to tell me why. It's perturbing I'll grant you. Keeping anything secret from that one is going to be nearly impossible if she decides she wants the truth. Even harder than with most Neyeb."

  "I didn't finish the bracelet in time. The surge gave me three days beyond what my strength allowed. But she went into all of our minds multiple times and removed nightmares to bring in healing sleep. She has tapped her strength to the limit, but she is still going. That means that she is getting something from somewhere, and most likely that is her own barriers. The Neyeb weave those barriers with their own energy. If she lacked the strength, she could have instinctively reached for the barriers Sinara made and cannibalized them."

  "Is there a way to tell whether it was her own strength or whether she siphoned it from the barriers?"

  "Not through any measure we have here. And she told me just today about this spectral woman. If she had had the bracelet before we were unconscious, I wouldn't be so concerned. The fact that it exists must be dealt with in time. And the bracelet would protect her from anything malevolent gaining a hold. But she didn't have it until now. And she extended herself far beyond what she should have reasonably been able to accomplish. Which means her barriers were coming down and it was getting stronger."

  AaQar's eyebrows lifted slightly. "And with the bracelet you made it angry."

  "If it was halfway out of its cage, it is still halfway out, which has likely done even more damage. The next time she goes to sleep, it could be even more violent. Or the next time or the time after it. There's no way to know."

  "If her barriers were not coming down, would it be all right?"

  "Most likely. The bracelet will reinforce what was already put up. And she had shown no signs of the Ki Valo Nakar manifesting."

  "Is she showing any now?"

  "Actual signs, no. Except that she said it feels like the spectral woman is scratching inside her head. She kept wincing."

  AaQar pinched his brow. "Crespa." He sighed. "And you didn't tell her to not dreamweave or dreamwalk."

  "If I told her not to and she still concluded that it would help, she would have done it regardless. I told her to leave me to the casket weaver, and she ran toward it."

  AaQar held up his hand. "Wait, wait. When was this?"

  "After you and QueQoa and WroOth fell to the ilzinium." He waved his brother away. "That isn't important for now."

  "Given that you told me your time was essentially uneventful, I disagree. From now on, I won't kuvaste you, Naatos. I'll make you give me exact details of what has happened in your day."

  He growled at him. "The only relevant part of that account is that if she thinks she can help, she's willing to face casket weavers. I thought that by telling her she could dreamwalk or dreamweave if she found a way would be fine because natural weakness and inexperience would kick in. Not to mention her own exhaustion should have told her not to pursue it."

  "Exhaustion is usually a good measure," AaQar said. "But given how tired she is now, why not let her rest? Won't that allow her to build up her reserves? Perhaps her mind can repair the barriers."

  "Because if the Ki Valo Nakar is angry and trying to get through, and if her barriers are even just low, then it could ravage her. You remember the stories the Neyeb told of what it would do when angry."

  "I remember the tapestry of Sunatwiel and how the artist depicted the Ki Valo Nakar ripping her apart from the inside out for some slight." AaQar's expression grew grim. "But surely keeping her awake is going to weaken her barriers as well."

  "It will, but she won't be where it can get her as easily. I told QueQoa and WroOth not to let her rest in the suphrite. If it were to trap her in sleep until she's physically healed…" He drew his hand over his face, closing his eyes. "I made her soak her foot in it yesterday. If she had gone all the way in alone…"

  "Well, she didn't. But it seems best to keep her out of it for now."

  Naatos continued pacing. "So much of it doesn't make sense either. She said this spectral woman has been attacking her for years. Torturing her. Telling her to keep to the eight weeks or she'll break. But also promising to remake her. Painfully. It's tormenting her as if no decision could possibly be good. As if it feeds off her fear."

  "The Ki Valo Nakar would not threaten. It would just do. Unless it's angry that Salanca trapped it."

  Naatos stopped short. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps that was why it would be so cruel to her rather than simply trying to bend her to its will. "That still doesn't explain why an entity so ancient as the Ki Valo Nakar would enact a timeline like that."

  AaQar shrugged. "Perhaps it is because you killed it, and it wants to make you suffer as well."

  "That seems very unlike what I have heard of the Ki Valo Nakar."

  "But what else could it be? Surely Salanca didn't trap something else in her."

  "One would hope there is a limit," Naatos muttered. "Amelia is close to breaking as it is. She sees herself as desperately trying to hold onto doing something good, and she believes death is her only escape from becoming evil."

  "Perhaps we should conside
r that that may be the case."

  "AaQar!"

  His brother met his gaze without flinching. "She probably isn't right. There are, I hope, countless other ways to stop this. But she has lived with herself the longest. That belief has a seed in it that holds some truth of what she needs. It may be wise to stop assuming that we know better about her needs than she does."

  "She doesn't even know what she wants."

  "That's entirely different from what she needs. Wants can't even be addressed until certain needs are met. Death is a comfort to her because it means an end to the possibility that she could turn. An end to the battle. Perhaps an end to this destiny. It's something to talk with her about. Although if we're talking about what she needs, she needs another Neyeb to guide her. All risks aside, if Killoth were here, I would set our sights to his last known location."

  That would be the greatest of ironies. Killoth, the Neyeb assassin, surviving on one of the most hostile worlds in all of creation through centuries after all else was lost and turned to dust. He missed his friend, but the choice had already been made. "If he yet lives, he would kill her the instant he knows who she is."

  "So we would reason with him. If he was here. But he isn't." AaQar massaged his temples. "This really is dreadful, Naatos. We are practically standing on a cliff that is shearing off the side of an unstable mountain while holding a device that if we activated it is either going to seal the cliff to the mountain or destroy everything." Sighing, he dropped his hand. "I don't want to give you false hope, brother, but… there might be another Neyeb somewhere. Possibly as a prisoner."

  "What?" Naatos stopped. He turned back to face his brother.

  "I could simply be losing my mind. I didn't want to bring this to you until I knew one way or the other, but…"

  He remained silent, allowing his brother the time to choose the words. AaQar's face had changed. The worry lines had intensified around his eyes and along his brow. "When we were at Tri Ce, I had a vision. Or a dream. I can't say for certain which. Only that it seemed so real. And—" He swallowed hard, his gaze focused on the ground. "Rasha came to me."