Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

They carried on, not stopping for a noon meal but eating as they walked and drinking from the canteens. When the shadows lengthened and the heat of the day with its buzzing haze passed, AaQar indicated a point to the east and said something to Naatos. Whatever it was, he obviously agreed with it, and they made their way to a clearing with red-leafed maples and turquoise-leafed… oaks, for lack of a better descriptor.

  There was only so much to be done in setting up the camp. And when all that had been finished, Amelia retrieved her Neyeb books and set them out, all three open to different places with the tablet in the center. She plucked several of the large waxy leaves of a nearby plant and used a charred stick for added marking. The power on the tablet had remained steady, but it wasn't going to be enough for this project. There was too much to learn and keep separate.

  Naatos had vanished though. As soon as Proteus was removed from the harness and fed, he had disappeared. Probably to hunt. AaQar, QueQoa, and WroOth were in and out, each cautioning her against leaving the safety of the rels.

  Not that she would. The longest they had managed to go without being attacked was an hour and eight minutes. And who knew how many attacks they had repelled just based on the bavril's presence?

  No. She'd had enough running and scrambling at the start. And for now, she had other more important things to focus on.

  Like mindreading with its numerous skills and focuses. Healing, walking, weaving, shaping, mending, and more.

  She had made a few notes and marked several places before the skin on the back of her neck tightened. A light prickling and tingling ran along her arms and shoulders as her elmis pulsed with awareness.

  Naatos was back.

  She wasn't going to look up though. No. Not even with the heat already rising within her. Oh… and they were alone. Where had everyone else gone?

  Her heart beat faster.

  They weren't vestoving. They'd agreed on that. Not until she said it was time. And there was still healing to be done. There was a great deal of space between nothing and vestoving. Memories of that kiss—as well as what he'd done to her neck—intensified within her.

  Whatever he was doing, he was taking his time. She resisted the urge to look up at him. From her periphery and the splashes, she could tell that he was washing his hands in the basin. But he hadn't said a word. Of course not! Why would he?

  What should she say?

  Should she say something?

  She rubbed her hand over her temple and tried to reread the last paragraph in the first book. Blessed relief and distraction, how much she needed them.

  Naatos finished washing his hands. Then he went to check one of the packs.

  He probably had something else that required focus. It was understandable. If only ignoring him made it easy for her to focus on something else.

  She leaned out over the books to turn the topmost page, then returned to a kneeling position as she focused on the second subtitle.

  "What is this you're working on now?" Naatos sat on the log behind her.

  She started to glance back, then realized that though he was seated on the log he was directly behind her, his legs spread so that they were on either side of her as he leaned forward.

  Her spine stiffened as she dropped her focus back to the pages. So much for ignoring one another. "I'm prioritizing what I want to learn and making a plan. I'm also figuring out where the gaps are here, which things are covered in one book but not another."

  "Ah. My veskaro is surprisingly thorough." His broad hands gripped her shoulders, pressing deep into the nerves and the muscles.

  So was he. She tried to stiffen, but the sensation was so intensely good she struggled not to melt into it. Her eyes slid shut. "We're not vestoving, remember?"

  "No." He pressed the blade of his thumb along the back of her neck, drawing it down. "We're not."

  A moan fluttered out. Heat filled her cheeks as she realized it was her. She clenched her teeth, determined not to make any other sounds. Did he have to be good at everything?

  He worked along her back and her shoulders, occasionally dipping in lazy circles to her sides before returning to her spine. "You were uncharacteristically silent today. Were you all right?"

  "You said you needed to focus. My presence makes that difficult for you." She had to dig her fingers into the ground as he brought his hands to a stop just above the elmis on her lower back.

  "It does. But I did not say that because I wanted you to be silent. If I need your silence, I will tell you." He leaned forward. "Like right now. I know you're enjoying this. The whole point is to make you feel good. So you holding your breath and trying your very best to make no sound at all affects only you. I can tell how much you enjoy it. Just relax. I am not going to assume you want to vestov until you say you are ready. All right?" He drew a line down her back and circled back up to her neck.

  She nodded, but it was hard to follow through on that. Especially as he continued to dig deep. Silence was just easier. At least if she wasn't going to use words.

  "You really do have a hard time with pleasure," he chuckled.

  She almost gasped. That line he had found sent surging pulses through her entire body. "I wouldn't think you'd be the one to lecture me on it."

  "No. If I have to tell someone they are too focused on work, it's usually a dreadful sign."

  "It's much easier to stop someone than it is to plan how to take over something. And taking over all of the worlds couldn't exactly be a light task."

  "I would have made time for you."

  "I'm not a hobby. And you weren't even planning for me to be in your life for years."

  "I didn't even think you were alive."

  "Surprise." She started to get up, but his hands pushed down against her hips.

  "An odd surprise, but one I am glad for." He worked his way back up her spine.

  It really did feel good. He didn't lack any confidence when it came to her body. Really he seemed more comfortable with it than she was. "So do you have hobbies?"

  "I hunt."

  "Do you only hunt for food? Or do you hunt for sport?"

  "Food and medicine. Population control as well."

  She glanced back at him.

  "Animals, veskaro." His smile turned crooked. "I only hunt people occasionally these days." He slid his hands to her shoulders. "That made you tense."

  She nodded. There was still a lot she had to unpack and work through. "I have to ask though, where did you get so good at this? It isn't like massaging is a typical skill set for conquering worlds."

  "I've held many occupations over the years, veskaro."

  "Jewelry making, massaging?"

  "Preparing bones for a jeweler was the first paying job I ever had." He moved both hands to her neck. "It was startlingly delicate and precise, and I was not well equipped for it. He only hired me out of pity. But that pity saved us."

  "Your father let you work for a jeweler?"

  "No. He abandoned us to death when our mother died. We had to find our way out of that wretched place and survive the wilderness. But things only became more complicated once we found the Tue-Rah."

  "There was no one to help you?"

  "The only people who wanted to help us wanted to separate us. WroOth and QueQoa were small enough to be considered undamaged. AaQar was still vomiting blood after what our father did to him."

  "He couldn't heal?" That image of AaQar as a boy sprawled out with multiple broken bones, not even conscious.

  "Not easily." Naatos drew his palms slower along her neck. "And not for a long time."

  Reaching up, she caught his hand in hers and turned to face him. "It looked horrible beyond words."

  "It was better than dying," Naatos said, his tone bland though dull anger flared in his eyes and through his fingers. "And not by much. Which dream did you see?"

  "You don't remember?" She worked her fingers along his hand.

  "I have made great efforts to avoid remembering my dreams, veskaro. That's why they are
kept behind multiple barriers. I am rather surprised you made it through them all so swiftly."

  She frowned as she shook her head. "There weren't any. No walls, no barriers. Except for a clear one that was right at the very end. And I did push through that because otherwise, I would have just had to watch you stay in that place."

  His eyes widened slightly, a pulse of concern radiating from his hand into hers. "We're going to have to test to see just how few walls you can actually perceive at some point. Once we're in Darmoste."

  She continued working along his finger joints. "Why do you protect it?"

  "I'm not protecting it," he said. "I just don't want it in my consciousness. Putting it back there and building those walls is the best that can be done. The ilzinium, unfortunately, returns people to those points. So… which one?"

  "Your father wanted you to kill AaQar, and he was unconscious. Badly wounded."

  He nodded slightly. He'd drawn his one arm back but left the other in her hands. "Those were bad days."

  There were so many things she wanted to ask, but each one struck her as insensitive. Especially now.

  He shook his head as he looked back into her eyes. "You are very curious."

  She twitched her shoulders. "I said nothing."

  "But you are. I can feel you." He smiled faintly. "My father and mother became friends in an enchanter's camp. They were slaves, stolen from their homes. Our mother insisted that he was a good man. A good man who got a little turned. He believed that the true threat was creatures that lurked within the dimensions, and his purpose was to make his own elite warriors. With his children."

  "Is there a threat?"

  "No. The things he showed us—" Naatos closed his eyes. "They were the terrors of a madman. Some truth may be woven into them. Some small seed of truth. But the only real monsters we faced were the ones he drew out in that room."

  "How long were you there?"

  When he opened his eyes, his gaze fastened onto the midground, but his fingers curled tighter over hers. "Seventy-eight years for me."

  Her brows lifted. She knew that Vawtrians aged much slower than Awdawms and Neyeb. But that sounded like an eternity.

  "The conditions meant that we aged much slower as well," Naatos said. "It was hard to live. And not all who started survived. I could have left many times."

  "It meant leaving your brothers behind though."

  "And our mother. She was not a small woman. She was a Shivennan ocean weaver. He kept her leg or ankle broken to ensure she could not run. We weren't leaving without her. We almost made it once. At that time, we had Nyda, Kyrao, and KelChon with us. Our father never slept in the house. I don't think he ever slept at all. And there was only one entrance. Sometimes he walked. Sometimes he rested in the branches of the tree over the door.

  "She was sobbing because she thought we were going to get caught. And if that happened, he would kill one of us. Maybe all of us. She told us to go without her. And we might have made it. She was as tall as AaQar, and in her prime, she could stand in the path of a tsunami and force it to still. But what made her bend and splinter was her children. She'd have died for us if he had allowed it. She'd spent two hundred years with him before my birth. I don't know how many were there before me. Too many.

  "For as much as it was up to her, she gave us the most normal and good life that she could. Our father ignored us unless he was preparing us or needed us for something, which sometimes meant days, a few times weeks. And we were relatively certain our father was hunting. Except he wasn't.

  "We'd barely gotten her through the second barrier when he attacked. It went badly. There was nothing we could do. Eldron was many things, but weak of body was not one of them. Our mother tried to defend us. But she'd been kept away from the sea for decades, possibly centuries at this point. It was futile. KelChon died in the clearing. The rest of us were punished. Viciously. Even WroOth. Eldron used a lottery to determine Kyrao was to die. She was put out in the clearing and cut so that the wraith wargs could devour her.

  "I protested. He put me out as well. If I survived the night, I could return. If she survived, she could as well. One night was not an issue. But this was the Week of Nights. An annual period when the night lasts seven, sometimes even ten days. He told me that if I really cared about her, I'd kill her before they came. That was not an option. I cut her down, and we made our defenses. But the wounds she had suffered were too much. There were too many, and the night was too long. In the end, I was only able to fight for my own life. And I did not have the strength or will to put her out of her misery. We almost made it though. Almost."

  His expression hardened as all his muscles tensed, his breath growing harsher and more uneven.

  She moved onto the log beside him and threaded her arm through his. "We don't have to talk any more if you don't want to."

  "What do you want instead?" He hadn't looked up.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. "Why don't you put your arm around me and we just sit here for a while."

  Though he did not smile, he did as she asked. She curled close against him and put her hand back through his. The tension and anger remained, raw pain hidden under layers and layers of control. But it eased as he breathed and she rested against him.

  45

  Hammocks

  Talking about his family had put Naatos in a darker and more distant mood. He didn't push Amelia away, nor did he move much for almost an hour. When QueQoa's and WroOth's voices announced they were drawing close, he stood. He did not force a smile or feign cheerfulness. Just went back to the tasks he'd taken for himself. The only acknowledgment he gave of what had happened was before the dolmaths came when he kissed the top of her head.

  They had dug her a trench as well this time. But unfortunately, she found the dolmaths were just too spiderlike to allow her to sleep with dozens crawling all over her. Fortunately, there was another large rock, not quite as tall but just wide enough for her. Her blanket and pillow served well enough for a bed.

  Even better, Tacky appeared an hour or two after dusk. His distinctive markings stood out like neon lights, and she almost laughed to find herself cooing with delight. "How far did you have to run to find us?" she asked.

  He curled along her stomach, nuzzling against her fingers as she stroked him. "I guess we'll have to take you with us," she said. "I hope you don't mind a harvest bag and a blanket."

  Whatever his opinions, he chirped and snuggled closer.

  She rested her head on the makeshift pillow and stared up into the velvet-black sky with its pale-colored stars. It was lighter inside her now. Clearer as well. And she could feel all of them. Sleeping or standing watch. It was a mass of feelings, a hundred strands of thread all coiling and spiraling in a great cloud. Half thoughts, memory shards, whispers, and promises. Similar to night song, she mused.

  That heaviness remained and distorted the song. Her connection to Naatos was getting stronger. It clung to her like thick strands of wet yarn, bleak and constant, intensifying at points, especially when the night grew late or something howled or barked in the darkness. Nothing soothed it really. At least nothing she observed.

  Dreams skirted her mind. Snippets of the memories she'd found in Naatos and recreations of what he had told her played out. A baby was crying somewhere. Then two children. Compared to other nights, they were muted. And they faded along with the white-eyed being that kept staring into her soul.

  She woke stiff and disoriented, but what little remained shook off with the morning's tasks. AaQar asked her about her dreams this time, and she told him all she remembered: nothing.

  In some respects, the day was much as the one before it. Except that Naatos remained withdrawn. Even when they stopped for the night.

  She debated teasing him about his promise to seduce her but decided that that was likely to both annoy him and exacerbate things. More than once she'd needed time to herself. The least she could do was allow him the same.

  AaQar refused to speak of R
asha and only insisted that all would work out. But he did have a small secret smile and a quieter happier mood that drifted her way occasionally. Perhaps the dreams had returned. Or maybe he had found some peace without that. Regardless, he kept his secrets close. For now.

  WroOth's moods shifted back and forth between utter amusement and sullen worry. QueQoa always managed to rouse him out of it, though neither succeeded in baiting Naatos into more than general acknowledgments of their surroundings. WroOth assured her it was nothing to do with her, that Naatos just got this way at times. She appreciated that comfort, more for it being given than because she had any doubts about Naatos being moody.

  The constant attacks throughout the day grew more and more ordinary. Once they managed two hours without an incident. That was not repeated. Her nerves seized, and her elmis burned each time a predator attacked. Somehow those jolts of terror just became part of it along with the knowledge that they could handle any of the creatures that came. Even when they brought unexpected elements. Just part of this whole strange place. In the late afternoons, QueQoa and WroOth trained her with AaQar providing additional support and commentary.

  On the fourth night though, there were no large boulders or rocks to climb on. WroOth patted her on the shoulder. "Guess you'll have to try the ground tonight, dear heart."

  "Nope." She picked up some of the spare ropes as well as her blanket and a spare. "I've got an idea."

  "Well it better not be to just sleep on the branches because the thickest branches on that tree aren't any bigger than your hips. One wrong move while you sleep and off you go."

  "It isn't to just sleep on the branches." Tossing him a smile, she set to weaving a series of braids so that she could make a decent support for her hammock. With the thick rope, it did not take her long at all. She then tied one of the spare blankets between two of the branches. Already the brown hammock looked significantly more comfortable than the ground. So far as Tacky went, she could always ask for someone to pass him up. Which would likely lead to WroOth teasing her. He did like to tease, even when he was on the verge of a bad mood. What was the likelihood he was going to try to tip her hammock or trap her in it?