It hadn't even occurred to her that there were doors. Naatos had mentioned barriers too. Barriers she hadn't seen. The problem with phasing through a barrier versus an unseen open door was that more could get in through the latter.
Where were these doors though? Maybe it was as simple as the other commands. "Mind," she said, standing. "Show me the doors I've opened that need to be closed."
Everything went dark as a hall opened up before her. It stretched on and on, doors on each side, all opened into inky blackness. So many.
Her heart sank.
Time to start.
Could it be as easy as just pulling the doors shut?
She stepped to the first; her eyes widened. There was no door to close.
Maybe she could make one.
She envisioned a door.
It did not appear.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Sighing, she put her hands to her temples as if that would help.
It didn't.
So many open doors. Anything could come through.
"Don't close the doors," an oddly discordant and yet hypnotic voice whispered.
Her skin prickled. That dull creep of dread intensified through her. Stepping back, she turned her head. Slowly.
A large entity stood before her. Not precisely formed. There was a general impression of a body. Long and lithe, like a serpent or a centipede. The enormous antlers that graced the top of its head were similar to a caribou but narrower and sharper with numerous tines. Each of the moon-like eyes was the size of her fist. A broad band of red beneath each eye seemed to go all the way to the chin. But like the body, the face was difficult to see.
Worse than the dread was the feeling she had seen this being before. Her hairs lifted up, and her elmis tweaked with unease.
"Hello." It smiled far too broadly.
Nothing came off it at the moment. No emotions. No sensations. No revelations. She hadn't even realized how much she relied on the passive effects of mindreading to understand people. No tendrils. No fractures. No shards. Nothing but… emptiness. It was like a drawing, so real it could almost be alive. But not alive.
Not alive.
Her mouth went dry. She wanted to curl in on herself, hide her face and pretend it wasn't there. Swallowing hard, she moistened her mouth. "Hello. Did you come through the doors?"
It hadn't. She knew that. Somehow.
This was the Ki Valo Nakar.
A buzzing chuckle rippled through the dark hall, surrounding her, choking her. Its mouth hadn't moved, but it canted its head. "You know me."
"We've spoken before." The memories hung at the edge of her mind. Her muscles tightened. What in the shrieking moons was she supposed to do with this thing? It had been here before, and she'd forgotten. She'd forgotten! Why?
"Yes. Each time you see more. But always you forget. Forget and forget." Another chuckle and then a sigh. "It could all be so much easier. Let me out."
"Let you out?"
"The old one tried to bind me. Slipped fibrous chains about me. But all things fade in time. I am water and wind against the stone of your mind. Breath drawn from nightmares. Seer of the beyond. Consumer of wickedness. Ever waking yet never sleeping. I am needed. We are needed. So free me, mortal. Let me make you strong before it's too late."
"I'm already strong enough, thanks."
"Are you?" It drew closer. Its breath hissed through sharp teeth. "Do you know what's coming, little one?"
"The Okalu."
Another chuckle followed. "But does that really mean anything to you?"
"I know that we will stop it." As she eyed it, strange scenes played through her mind's eye. Hazy, distorted yet clear enough, not bound by tapestries. An ancient city collapsed as thousands of colorful orbs shot up and bodies collapsed. A battlefield in which one side fell, clutching at their chests, screaming. Men, women, and children, some so close she could see the highlights and lowlights of their irises. All fell. Orb after orb after orb. Dust rose and faded on the wind. Cities shone bright under a deep night sky. Then all winked out. It wore her like a skin.
The Ki Valo Nakar leaned closer still, some force seizing her and holding her in place. "You and your new family? Yes. You love them very much. Don't deny it, child. I'm here within you. Nothing can be hidden here. Not in this space. Not between us. You are a fragile soul. I feel the edges of your limits even now. And you will lose this new family of yours if you don't act fast. All else is lost. You might save them. It's very simple. The wanderer. He will be torn to pieces. Impaled upon an iron dragon at the end and burned at the last. The healer. He will be cut open and what remains of that twisted healing stump ripped out. The trickster. His mind will shatter once he sees the first and second. Unfortunate for their plans. They want him to suffer more, but they'll make his brother smash his brains on the dungeon floor. Take heart. Not all will die. The monster will live. He will live to the end of time. To the day that the oceans go dry and the mountains fall and all the worlds are deserts and barrens. He is the most like his father, and that matters for this. And as for you, you cannot even begin to imagine the horrors they will inflict on you. Perhaps as the first. Perhaps as the last.
"And if that is not enough, then know well that the Okalu will not cease in their pursuit until they have destroyed all who are unworthy. Every Awdawm, every Machat, every Vawtrian, every Bealorn. Eiram will be crushed as this paradise comes. Reltux will burn. Ecekom will fall. The worlds that remain will be sifted, butchered, and remade.
"These Paras thought they knew what they were stopping, but their attempt to seize power put the worlds in greater danger. The Okalu set all of this into play before the seed of that thought took its first root. They've been whispering in my ears through these doors and down the webs you've strung for days and days and days."
She choked, fighting for breath as it gripped her tighter. There weren't even hands on her. Nothing was working. No trick. No box. No attempt of any kind. She couldn't even move. All she could do was hear and see the horrific images it poured into her mind.
"But I will give you the power to stop the Okalu. I will make you strong. Free me, and we will teach them terror. We will tear out their souls. With me, you are strong, child. You have used me before. The cold. The bead you call it. You feel it. There is the part of you that connects to me. There we are one. You must accept me, or death will take you."
She collapsed on the dark floor, coughing and gasping. "You're a soul eater—you'll—"
Something heavy pressed against her head, pinning her. "That is not my purpose. I am the justice that comes in the wind." Talons pressed deep, scraping against her skull. "Resistance hurts only you and ultimately those whom you love. So let me out. Let me help."
Its voice was gentle but those claws cut deep.
She strained. If it could do this now before it was free, what else could it do when it was? The raw force that surged through this strange entity scalded her.
"I cannot be stopped," it continued. "This power cannot be stopped. You will accept or die. Rule or be ruled. I will not be contained!"
Its voice boomed all around her, then dropped to a whisper that crawled through her soul. "Your first instinct was right. I am how you defeat the Okalu. This is the way it is done. Give yourself up. Feel no more."
"I just got free from a mind shade," she said, struggling to form each word. "I ripped it out of me. I'll rip you out too—"
Those dagger-claws cut deeper still. "You will do as you are told. All this will fade from your memory when you wake. But the command will remain. You will tell your family that the doors have all been closed. You will tell them also that you want to go through Dry Deep. That you must complete the pilgrimage. Tell them your spirit longs to walk dark paths and the waterways of the dead. They'll know what that means. And in Dry Deep, we will speak face to face. All will be clear. You'll understand then."
"You'll be free?" She gasped out.
"You will understand."
It hissed. "I'm not here to hurt you. I will make you strong."
Somehow she had to remember. Dry Deep, no. Dry Deep, no. She dug her fingernails into her wrist underneath the bracelet. The humming intensified and gapped as she pressed on it. Dry Deep, no. Dry Deep, no.
"And we are needed," it continued. "You cannot hear the call, but I do. So many souls that must be torn free. We cannot delay."
Somehow she twisted her consciousness free; it hurtled her back into the waking world. The experience fractured almost at once. She clawed up, gasping and panting.
Naatos bolted up as well. "What?"
Braced against the earth and him, she fought to orient herself. Wood smoke. Cool air. "Just a nightmare."
"About?" He blinked slowly, his eyes bleary.
"I…" She shook her head. Sweat rolled down her neck and arms. Reaching back, she grabbed at her head and neck. What had she expected? Sweat had dampened her hair. No blood. No cuts. She halted, blinking. Why? Why would her head be cut?
A single thought pushed up in her mind. Dry Deep.
The bracelet hummed.
She stuck her fingers through it, pressing between the bone and her own warm skin.
"Amelia?" he frowned. He kept his arm around her.
She swallowed hard, her stomach twisting as if she had eaten daggers. "I don't—Dry Deep." Choking, she pressed her hand to her mouth. "I don't want to go."
"We aren't…" Naatos eyed her, confusion apparent.
That sick feeling intensified, grinding deep within her. "Good." She swallowed hard. "But there's something I was supposed to remember. There were moons."
He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "It's night."
She looked up into the sky. Waxing gibbous. A broadening swathe of white. Not full. Not two. "They were full. Two of them."
"There is only one moon over Ecekom," Naatos said. "You're safe." He moved onto his back and pulled her onto him. He had almost drifted off when he suddenly lifted his head. "Were they eyes?"
She kept staring at the bracelet, her fingers hooked beneath it. "I don't—I don't know." All but that feeling of dread had faded. "Maybe."
50
Fire
Naatos's heartbeat was soothing. Not that she wanted to sleep. But she remained beside him, her ear to his chest, her mind spinning. It did not take him long to slide back to rest. His hand against her back comforted her.
Something bad had happened in her head. A foul taste filled her mouth and burned the back of her throat. What had it been?
This wasn't the first time Dry Deep had occurred to her. Why did she feel like she had to go there? The heaviness of the dread pressed against her.
At last she pressed herself away. Tacky moved onto Naatos's chest in her stead. Though he grumbled, he put his arm over the dolmath and rolled to his side.
The smile couldn't be resisted. She'd never have guessed Naatos was a snuggler. Whether she was one remained to be seen. She could imagine liking it.
That was a much better thought than the Dry Deep and those horrible moons.
QueQoa had taken AaQar's place, standing at the edge of the fire. As she walked toward him, he lifted his hand in greeting. "Is there anything significant about the full moon?" She set the kettle of cool water over the fire.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. "The dolmaths stay in their dens on the five nights of the full moon. Festivals of the Veskaro are often held during the full moon. Certain kinds of sorcery require full moons. Some mushrooms only sprout under the full moon."
Proteus lowed, stretching out his long trunk as he shook his head.
Amelia scratched him between the eyes. Blood drinker or not, he was a big sweetheart who liked attention. She plucked a few burrs from his fur and then tickled his chin.
"The Bealorns have special festivals under the full moon as well. Most of the races really." He turned his gaze up to the waxing gibbous, then sighed. "Does that help at all?"
"It's good to know." She gave Proteus another good scratch and began combing out his long fur. More burrs and prickles had gotten snagged in the stripes, so she removed these carefully. "I don't know what I'm looking for. I feel like—like I've forgotten something very important. And I thought maybe it had to do with the full moon."
QueQoa grunted in assent. "We're close to the full moon, you know. Beautiful nights when it comes. Especially if the weather stays clear."
"It's been gorgeous the whole time we've been here. Is this typical?"
"Yes. That at least hasn't changed. As we get closer to the Grey Season, we'll get more storms."
"And this Grey Season doesn't come every year?"
"No."
She tossed the green and brown burrs into the fire. It flared only a little at the edges before the pods took flame. "What is it exactly?"
"It's a powerful series of storms and environmental disturbances. The world gets shaken to its core. Tsunamis. Earthquakes. Fire rain. Acid rain. Gales—"
Her hand dropping to her side, she stared at him in shock. "Fire rain and acid rain?"
He nodded as if this were entirely to be expected. "It's pretty diluted, but it burns nonetheless."
What a horrible place this could be. "And what do camels have to do with it?"
"They have a regular mating season, but for whatever reason, when the Grey Season hits, they get a lot more…" He shrugged. "Amorous. It's one of the more annoying parts of the Grey Season. When you have time to just be mildly annoyed rather than utterly terrified."
"Which I'm going to guess isn't often."
He offered another shrug, but his expression confirmed her suspicions. "It's not a good time."
It took a little more care to remove one of the larger burrs that had wrapped itself entirely in Proteus's soft fur. He murmured a mild complaint as she gently pried it free. "So how long does it last?"
"Anywhere from a week to a couple years. Based on what's coming, we'd be planning a global evacuation."
"But we're stuck here." Amelia sat on the log, the weight of his words sinking over her. "At least for now."
"At least for now." He didn't sound particularly optimistic, but he didn't sound frightened either. Just aware. And accepting.
The conversation lulled until the water boiled. Once she fixed her tea with some of the Neyeb herbs, she sat beside him. "Do you want to try it? I can make you some."
"All right. I'll try it." He tilted his head as he took a scalding sip. "It tastes very green." He smacked his lips and shook his head. "That is not appealing."
Smiling, she drew the canteen back. It was still strange that temperature didn't really seem to affect them. No such thing as too hot or too cold. "AaQar likes it well enough."
"He wants to see his beloved." QueQoa rested his hands on the top of a large branch he'd snapped to a comfortable height. "He'd drink nails with acid to do that."
"He still loves Rasha." That didn't surprise her. She wasn't sure if Rasha deserved it or whether she deserved Naatos's love for her. Love was a strange thing to consider deserving or not.
"Always." QueQoa smiled faintly. It wavered.
"She loves him too. In her own way." She tapped her fingers on the canteen as she contemplated this. And she loved Naatos as well. Somehow that had happened.
He nodded.
She settled onto the log nearest him. "How are you doing after everything?"
He smiled crookedly. "That's a strange thing to ask."
She twitched her shoulder in response.
He sighed. "It's been strange. All of it. This world is familiar and yet not. I miss our cadre. The rest of our family. And I don't like the way things have gone. But I have hope."
"Do you want it to go back to what it was?" She wrapped her hands around the canteen. The warmth soothed her muscles, and that pungent green scent brought even more comfort.
He hesitated. "More or less."
Frowning, she studied his face. He was the hardest to read of the brothers. Mostly because he hid things behind an amiabl
e shield. Unlike WroOth, madness didn't glint behind his sea-blue eyes. Unlike AaQar, he didn't carry his grief in an obvious way. And unlike Naatos, he didn't wear his barriers like a wall of spikes. They just were there, quiet obstacle courses to guide you away from drawing any deeper conclusions. Guarded cheer that only wavered if you looked really close.
His brow furrowed as he met her gaze. "What are you looking for?"
She shook her head.
"You aren't reading my mind, are you?"
"No." She ducked her head, laughing. "I make you uncomfortable, don't I?"
"Not you. Just that you might be peering inside my mind."
"I can't blame you there. But I'm not inside your head. I'm just feeling what's around you I guess. You're not much like your brothers."
He dipped his head in assent. "They are far more clever than I. They all know what they would do with their third of creation. I—I don't even know what I'd do with one continent. Or an island."
She smiled at his warm chuckle. "WroOth said they made you the offer many times."
"Oh it remains open. If I ever change my mind, I get a quarter of everything. Or a world. Whatever I like. But look at me." He gestured to himself, his massive shoulders rising up as if to emphasize the point. "I am not fit to rule. I do not have the wisdom or discernment, and I have to go my own way every so often. When times are hard, I want to walk. Or fly. But usually walk. That isn't good conduct for a leader."
"Is that why you weren't with them on Reltux?"
"I wasn't with them during the march on Libysha because I was trapped on Ecekom."
"No, I know that." She took another sip. "I mean before. When they went to see what was happening on the Tue-Rah in Reltux right at the Tue-Rah's fall. When the Machat captured them and put them to sleep in the temple for those years."
"I was late," he said flatly, his gaze fixed on the edge of the fire.
That was hard to believe. He didn't necessarily seem the most time conscious, but there was such a sense of duty and loyalty about him. It was difficult to imagine he could have missed something so important.
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