Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  71

  A Call in the Night

  Was it safe to sleep?

  There had been leeches in her back.

  Cursed leeches.

  Amelia stared beyond the circle of firelight, her hand still curled against her neck. It felt as if someone had grabbed hold of her face and pushed hard against all the bones, hard enough to break if she hadn't torn free. Any heat or bruising that might have been left was gone since Naatos had healed her. But WroOth had actually been in her face and not seemed to notice anything.

  Probably just a nightmare.

  Yet that ominous feeling remained.

  She tried to relax. Naatos's steady breathing behind her confirmed he had already drifted off after pulling her very firmly against him.

  It was strange to be sleeping next to someone. Especially so closely. But at least if something did come for her in the night she wasn't alone.

  Sleep tugged at her eyes. Safe or not, she couldn't stay awake forever. At last she relented.

  The hall did not return. But somewhere, out in the night, a weeping voice called her.

  Another voice joined in. Then a third. A fourth.

  The haze of sleep rooted her body to the ground. Through half cracked eyelids, she could see WroOth walking the edge of the camp. She tried to open her mouth, struggled to force some sound out of her throat to warn them. The unformed ones were coming. They were calling. They needed her.

  No, she thought. No, no. She couldn't go to them. They would hurt—

  The calls grew louder.

  Her eyes started to slide shut as some force tugged against her legs. She fought to wake herself. The voices grew louder. WroOth, she thought. WroOth!

  She struggled to send that telepathic warning, but the words puddled in her own mind. No strands of energy projected. No thoughts left her. Darkness closed around her as QueQoa walked in front of her.

  No! No, hear me! I can't hold them off. I can't—

  She struggled to push her will into that thought. To shoot it at anyone. WroOth or QueQoa. Maybe if she sent it to Naatos. He was sleeping, but he could wake.

  Please!

  The thoughts struck a barrier and fell back to her.

  The darkness swirled around her and dragged her eyelids shut. The cries intensified. A discomforting weightlessness spread through her body. She focused on her body pressed against Naatos's, the heat of him radiating into her, his arm banded over her waist.

  Stay.

  Stay.

  Stay!

  With a nauseating force, that sensation intensified and dragged across her body.

  Then her eyelids sprang open as if of their own accord. She was no longer beside Naatos. No longer resting on her side. She was somewhere else entirely, all alone in the forest.

  * * *

  She was gone.

  Naatos sat up at once. Gone. And something was wrong. The air had changed.

  WroOth and QueQoa were both on watch. Proteus slept. But Tacky circled the camp, moving back and forth across the packed earth as if something had gone very wrong.

  As if.

  It had.

  He knew it had.

  "Amelia." He scowled as he scanned the entire camp.

  Both QueQoa and WroOth looked in his direction. "What's wrong?" QueQoa asked.

  "Did Amelia get up? Have you seen her?"

  "Not that I'm aware of." QueQoa scratched his head. "She was with you last I knew."

  WroOth picked up the blanket from their sleeping spot and shook it out. "She would have had to pass us if she wanted to leave unless she can fly or scale that cliff." He gestured to the broad and sheer cliff face that formed the back of their camp, its edge went far beyond the circle of firelight.

  "Amelia." Naatos called again, louder this time. Her scent had vanished as well. All that remained were traces. "Amelia!"

  He crossed to the edge of the clearing and peered out through the trees. He hadn't even felt her pull away. She'd just collapsed within his arms. "She can't have gotten far. Find her!"

  * * *

  The odd haziness remained, intensifying the dreaminess of her situation.

  At least she could move.

  Amelia turned about, expecting to see a hallway but she stood in a small clearing in a forest of ancient trees. They stretched up and up into the night sky, awash in the pale moonlight, each of the tiny conifer-like needles stark or shaded. A faint breeze brushed the hair against her face. It was cold. The air smelled of—pine needles. Not a trace of wood smoke or her blood or the salty bile of burning leeches.

  The haze weighted her limbs and burned at her eyes. A mist trailed over the forest floor and through the air.

  Fear crept along the back of her spine, digging deep into her nerves and mind. But somehow those feelings detached like moths flying from a branch. It left behind only a sense of quiet anticipation, loose and fluid, coursing through her veins.

  It was not idle chance or mindless wandering that had brought her here.

  She turned to face a particularly broad sequoia-like tree with skeletal branches and scant foliage. The sobs swirled around her like ghosts in the strands of mist. No direction sounded closer than another. But what waited for her was first in that direction.

  Motionless, she watched. Seconds passed into minutes. The branches stirred.

  An unformed one stepped out from behind one of the trees. Shadows hid half his face, but those bleeding eye sockets with multi-faceted fly eyes could not be mistaken for anything else.

  His cry intensified in her mind, a child sobbing in a dark corner of some tiny cramped place. Beyond the fragmented eyes. Beyond the acid. Wrapped in so much pain that consciousness could scarcely support it.

  Vaguely she heard Naatos's words in her mind, that these unformed ones were preying on her. The unformed one had been sent to destroy her.

  But did he know what she was?

  What she really was?

  Perhaps he did.

  Perhaps that's why this unformed one stood this way. Perhaps some little part of him held out and fought the evil that had destroyed his physical forms and overridden his mind, trapping him in a mangled form drowning in his own suffering.

  The will that sent him had a purpose all its own, but his soul wept and wept. He called like a siren on a rocky shore.

  The trill that ran up her spine wasn't fear this time though. No.

  No. Something else. Something all its own. Something she had never felt before.

  She tilted her head as she studied him. Cool energy flowed into her arms and her hands, tingling in her fingertips.

  "I hear you." She stretched out her hand. "I hear you so clearly. Dakal. That's your name. Your favorite name. And you've had many." The energy brightened in her fingertips.

  The unformed one lunged at her, trying to seize her. But she stepped back. "No. I am not going with you."

  He hissed. His eyes bulged at her, venom dripping from his wrists and fingertips like water. The weeping intensified as if he had gnashed his teeth together.

  She returned his gaze as she widened the gap. This flow of energy was simple. As simple as sealing the hole in AaQar's mind. As simple as floating in the suphrite. As simple as breathing so long as she didn't hold it. Dreams could make everything easy. She strummed her fingers through the air. "Are you certain you want to go though?"

  The answering sob left no doubt. It echoed in her mind and in her heart despite the malice in his face, the blank cruelty in his eyes. A blue-white light began to glow within its chest.

  Dakal leaped over the log and crouched in front of her. The acidic toxin dripped from his wrists and palms.

  That cry intensified, a child sobbing in a dark corner. Beyond the fragmented eyes. Beyond the acid. Wrapped in so much pain that consciousness could scarcely support it.

  That brilliant pearlescent orb burned clearer.

  He lunged again.

  Sidestepping him, she snatched her fingers through the air. There was more than ten feet
of space between them, yet that orb snapped to her as if magnetized. It happened so quickly, instinct overpowered every other point of awareness. And then the orb was in her hand. The unformed one's body collapsed, lifeless.

  She held the glowing orb close, hearing the soft murmurs of relief. It was so natural. So simple. She held him to her chest, whispering and shushing as if holding an infant. "Shhh. It's over. Your suffering is finished. I'm so sorry, Dakal. I'm so, so sorry. You didn't deserve this." She smoothed the edges of the orb as if he were a child. And she listened, listened and soothed and stroked, not fully understanding the energy she herself poured into this little orb that cried so softly now.

  "It's over now. You can be at peace."

  Lifting her hands, she released the orb. It floated into the night sky. For the briefest of moments, the sky opened into light. Soft gentle light that reminded her of the Tue-Rah, luminous and healing. It vanished inside that rift, and then the sky closed again.

  Satisfied, she stepped back. The night wind kissed her gently, and it made her miss Naatos.

  She closed her eyes. All dreams had to end eventually. But there had been something comforting in this one. She felt—good. Somehow.

  * * *

  Naatos searched the darkness and the shadows, desperate for some sign. She couldn't have gotten far. Especially not without leaving a trail. There was no scent of any predator either. And no blood portal could have been opened in their camp without them seeing it.

  He struck his fist against a tree, splintering the bark. "Amelia!"

  His brothers called for her as well. Even AaQar had awakened and joined in. From the sounds of their calls, their slow spiral away from the camp was yielding no results.

  A strangled cry of surprise rose from the base of the cliff back at the camp. "What is this?!"

  Naatos ran toward the sound. "Amelia!"

  Somehow he had missed her. Somehow. Her scent had returned, and he glimpsed her arm beneath the rock face. How had she gotten in there?

  She wriggled out, cringing and grimacing as she shook the dirt from her face.

  "What are you doing?" he demanded. He seized her by the arm and dragged her up.

  "I don't know." She stared back at the cliff and the small indent she'd crawled out of. "I don't—I don't remember how I got there."

  QueQoa circled them and paced down to the base. "It's enough of an incline. She might have rolled here."

  That didn't explain the disappearance of her scent or how she slept through his shouting for her. She was many things, and a deep sleeper was not one of them. Could his brothers have missed her movement if she was sleepwalking?

  AaQar frowned as he studied the ground. From this angle, Naatos could tell that there weren't any footprints or disturbances to suggest she had moved. But what answer was there?

  He clutched her close, reminding himself that she was there. Her silky hair beneath his fingers and her breasts pressed firmly to his chest were both reassurances of that.

  Tacky tapped at her ankle, chittering with a speed that suggested the dolmath was fairly upset. She stooped to pick up the dolmath and then returned to his arms, leaning against him. "I don't know how I did it," she murmured.

  QueQoa gestured to the sheer cliff face. "Unless she can fly, then she must have just slipped. Stranger things have happened."

  WroOth nudged her. "You're sure you can't fly, dear heart?" He said it half joking, but his gaze searched her as if some part of him feared she had changed in some substantial fashion. Something was different about her. What exactly Naatos couldn't put his finger on. She smelled odd too. Not just the dust and soot of a mountain and the woodsmoke and scent of pine as well as Neyeb. But something cold, metallic, and almost electric. So faint he had to focus to catch it.

  "I think I must have dreamed it. I feel as if I had flown. There was wind in my hair." She spoke in a distant fashion as if she wasn't fully there at all.

  "Do you recall what else you dreamed about?" Naatos smoothed her hair back, studying her face. There were scrapes and bruises over her cheeks, forehead, and chin. Perhaps it was his own uneasiness, but there seemed to be two thick bands on her face, as if pillars of stone had scraped down her cheeks to her jaw. And her eyes—those expressive cacao and black eyes with red and gold flecks were muted, the pupils constricted to pinpricks despite the darkness.

  She tilted her head as she pulled away. "A little. Um…" She cupped her hands then to her chest as if she had been holding something. "I was holding something. It was scared. And small. So small. It was so upset about what had happened. It wanted me to help it fly. So I did. And—that's all I remember."

  She stared down into her arms as if she had lost something precious.

  He placed his hand on her arm. "Veskaro?"

  She looked at him, her eyes half shaded. Then she smiled, a dreamy sort of expression and decidedly not her. "I must have fallen. That's all." She squeezed his arm and stepped away. "I think I've had enough sleep for tonight."

  He had as well.

  AaQar glanced up into the sky. "We might as well continue. I don't think anyone will be sleeping any further."

  72

  Setting Up Camp

  It did not take them long to get moving again. Some part of it still felt like a dream. They traveled at a relatively fast pace until dawn. The mountains loomed closer than ever now. The canyon appeared quite thin in comparison, and the ground dropped away into a broad expanse that AaQar said contained Dry Deep. More mountains rose beyond that, towering into the sky so far that their tops were not visible. In the moonlight they held an almost mystic quality.

  The dragon roars and bellows gave them a far more sinister aura though. Occasionally she glimpsed their enormous dark outlines against the moon. Chills ran through her each time. Some odd mixture of excitement and terror.

  The attacks resumed with the sun's return and drove them back into the forest. Though during the night the dragons seemed to stick closer to the mountains, they now hawked the skies. They never quite spotted them but patrolled the air currents as if their lives depended upon it. When an eighty-foot quetzie crossed into their space, half a dozen of the dragons coordinated an attack, bringing the massive winged creature down with ease. Just through the glimpses past the branches and leaves left Amelia with a clear enough impression of the horror of that hunt.

  All four of the brothers noted the dragons as well. Sometimes they spoke about their observations, all in preparation for their attempt to pass through the canyon. Advice about how to handle the more difficult aspects of the forms as well as the behaviors they'd need to mimic.

  She listened more than she spoke, her mind constantly drawn back to the previous night. No matter how hard she tried to avoid it though, her gaze was constantly drawn to the path toward Dry Deep. That sense of dread intensified each time she looked, and each time she tried to turn away, a pang of nausea struck her. Yet the dream comforted her, even though she couldn't remember it.

  Each time they paused for water or after an attack Naatos checked on her. No matter how much he denied his concern, she knew he worried. Even when he didn't use words, it came through. All her attempts to comfort him failed. After he checked her eyes for the fifth time, she laid her hand on his arm. "Even if my eyes do turn, what then?"

  "We make that bridge when we come to the river." He spoke as firmly as if that was more than enough of an answer.

  She stepped back and trailed her fingers to his hand. The Ki Valo Nakar reminded her of a terminal cancer diagnosis. There was no cure. No treatment really. Just keep it from getting too strong and overrunning her. Yet for now, she wasn't afraid. Her breaths came easily, her chest was free. She smiled at him. "You should know I love you."

  His eyes widened briefly as he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.

  "I'm fine." Laughing, she lifted a shoulder. "I guess I got enough rest last night even with everything." When he did not appear convinced, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Don't wor
ry so much."

  "You're telling me not to worry?" Naatos's brow arched as he studied her incredulously.

  "Fine. Worry if you want. You cut my leg off yesterday and dug into my back and got the cursed leeches out. I am feeling significantly better, but let's think of all the ways this could go badly instead." She poked his chest. "Don't you have enough things to worry about? Like being able to master that new dragon shape?"

  "Well, first, I am not worrying. I have concerns. Reasonable concerns. Second, I will always have concerns about you. Third, I can be concerned about more than one thing at a time. Why are you so cheerful? This isn't like you."

  "You don't like me cheerful?"

  "I don't like not knowing why you're cheerful."

  She took a long drink from her canteen and shook her head at him. "I'm a ray of sunshine, you bitter shifter. An absolute delight." It was a good question though. She'd felt so heavy these past days. "I no longer have a diseased foot, and cursed leeches were pulled out of me. Why is it so hard to believe that's why I'm cheerful?"

  "Perhaps." He looked her up and down, his brow still furrowed.

  "I hadn't realized how much my foot was bothering me until it was gone." She flexed her booted foot.

  "And if you weren't fine, you would say something."

  That wasn't a question. She fastened the top back on the canteen. "If something rises to the level of concern that requires I tell someone—"

  "Crespa, woman."

  She grinned at him. "Would you rather I pass out?"

  "I'd rather you tell me things before they're dire." He did not appear tremendously amused with his arms akimbo, his brow creased, and his gaze narrowed.

  AaQar approached them, the expression he gave his brother an odd one she couldn't interpret. An uncomfortable reminder she was slipping more than she wanted to believe, especially after the removal of the leeches. Not all was well. "Change of plans. It looks like there's a good spot for setting up camp ahead. The river breaks around another butte. We can use it to help form a perimeter. You both should set up camp. QueQoa, WroOth, and I will make observations of the dragons and see if we can find any corpses to examine."