Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  She took each soul, poured her energy into it, and released it. The names and memories muddled within her. The empty sensation expanded, and the pain through her leg nearly dropped her after she freed the fifth. Something dark pulsed beneath her skin and up her calf before disappearing.

  It didn't matter, did it?

  It did!

  Remember this. Remember!

  More crept out of the shadows. They blurred in her mind. Her heart sank.

  But each unformed one that came, she caught. Caught and comforted and cast to the heavens. Until at the end, she collapsed, gasping for breath. Rolling onto her back, she stared up into the sky. Clouds obscured all but the setting moon.

  A great weight pressed upon her chest, emphasizing the empty ache in her center. "Stop," she whispered. The ache pulsed up her leg as if something grew inside her. "Please, leave me alone. I can't keep doing this."

  "This cannot be avoided." The face loomed over her, vague except for the two moon-like eyes. "Almost out of time."

  "You're killing me."

  "You won't die. You'll remember soon." It dipped closer to her, its harsh breath grating over her skin. "Soon you'll remember everything. Soon we talk face to face."

  Her eyelids slid shut, the pressure on her chest so heavy she thought it might collapse into the hollowness.

  Then, just as fast, she found herself on the ashy ground at the edge of the camp. Away from Naatos. Away from everyone. Away from the fire.

  Tacky ran to her, chirring with agitation. He made it up to her hip as she started to press herself up.

  Lifting his head, WroOth turned from the far side of the camp. He crossed over to her at once, his stride swift and his brow furrowed. Crouching beside her, he helped her sit up. "What are you doing over here?"

  No joviality. No laughter. No teasing. Just the question that she herself couldn't answer.

  She hesitated, trying to take in where she was, trying to remember. The images faded so fast, but the hollow sensation inside her had spread. "I don't know," she whispered.

  He sniffed her. "You smell strange. Cold. A little electric. Are you all right?"

  "I don't know what's happening." She put her hand over her chest. It was stronger now than before. "I don't remember taking the rope off or coming here. It feels like something is missing."

  "I didn't see you do it either," WroOth said slowly. "But—" He gestured to her ankle. "Clearly you did. It's not as if Naatos's knots just slip. You should go back to sleep, but this time, keep the blanket down from your face."

  Naatos still slept on his side, his arm extended over where she had once been. The rope lay beneath the blanket.

  "No." She pressed her elmis tight against her torso. "No, I'm not sleeping anymore." The uneasy sensation refused to pass. "Is there anything that needs to be done before we leave?"

  "Not that you can do." WroOth motioned toward the fire. "You can sit with me if you like."

  She did. The warmth didn't reach her as well as she hoped, but the light drove some of the fear away. The cold unease settled into the pit of her stomach. He placed a blanket over her shoulders. "Thank you," she murmured. "I'm probably just scared about Dry Deep. Maybe I have started sleepwalking."

  "Of course you're scared. Who wouldn't be? I know what it's like to lose your mind." He sat beside her and cast one more look around the clearing. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that it's going to be easy or that you won't remember any of it. What you'll remember will be enough to make you think you're going mad again if you think on it too long."

  "How long did it take for you to find yourself again?" She stared into the fire. The woodsmoke and salmon comforted her, familiar scents even if the warmth of the flames didn't fully reach her.

  "A few days, I think." He pressed his hands together. "It felt like an eternity. Nothing made sense. There was only the grief and the anger. I couldn't take what happened to Mara and the children, and it broke my mind. I got trapped between this form and the red fire dragon. And I was conscious for most of it."

  "I'm sorry."

  "If it weren't for Killoth, I doubt I would have ever found my way back. Crazy bastard was the only one brave enough to get close enough to do it. Vawtrians who become skinchangers are terrifying beyond almost all reason. We are cruel and vicious. We are worse than animals and harder to reason with." He scoffed, his brow wrinkling with memory. "You know, the funny thing about Killoth is he refused to be part of the cadre. In the end though, he did as much for me as any of my family and cadre. He insisted it was just because a giant red fire dragon lurching about the countryside wasn't really in his best interests. And I suppose it wasn't. But—I nearly killed him. And many others. The point is, this isn't something one finds a way through alone. And you won't be alone. Even if it feels that way."

  "I'm going to be a burden."

  "So what if you are? Everyone is a burden at one point or another." He nudged her. "Burden might as well be another word for family. But it's worth it. You are going to be difficult. People who lose their minds generally are. But we won't leave you just because you are."

  She lifted her shoulder but nodded.

  "There really isn't any other way to describe what we were to you when we fell to the ilzinium either. The only reason you wouldn't admit that we were is because you're trying to be polite, and in this case, politeness would be a lie."

  Maybe.

  "Also—" He flicked her ear and gave her a slight shove. "That's for launching yourself off a scorpion tail. Shrieking moons, what were you thinking, dear heart?"

  Shaking her head, she smiled. "Was there a better option I missed?"

  "No, but when we're out of this place, we should probably cover more advanced techniques. Of course, you'll remember…" He gave a dramatic pause as he gave her a knowing look. "I did tell you that throwing is sometimes an essential part of combat and defense."

  "Yes, you did. I can't say I expected it to go down that way—"

  "Gravity never lets it go any other way." He grinned.

  "I suppose it doesn't." She fell silent, listening as WroOth talked of various things. His mood had grown far more somber as well, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It was good to hear him talk though.

  An hour or so later, everyone roused. She and WroOth told them what happened as best they knew. No one had answers. Only concerns. Sleepwalking was the best answer, but it did not fit perfectly. They ate more fish for breakfast, packed, and covered the fire.

  It was time.

  83

  Strange Visions

  The Forest Between moved at a steady slant downward, the trees bending over farther and farther. Like teeth in a serpent's mouth.

  Getting in was the easy part. Getting out?

  Amelia shuddered.

  The ashy soil grew darker and darker until it was nearly black, and soon the trees themselves blocked out most of the sun. A strange scent, acrid and bitter, almost sulfuric at points, burned her nostrils and lungs. It was cold but somehow increasingly thick and damp. Already her head swam.

  "This I can smell." She grimaced. "How are you four handling this?"

  "We can block off the part of our brains that recognizes the scent," AaQar said. "If we so choose. This atmospheric scent is especially easy to block."

  "Proteus and Tacky will be all right here?" She placed her hand on Proteus's side. The bavril didn't even seem to notice the unpleasant scent. He leaned against her, then lowed a long slow call of contentment.

  AaQar smiled a little as QueQoa chuckled. He slid his hand into her satchel to scratch Tacky between the eyes. The sleepy dolmath purred.

  "They'll be fine," AaQar said. "Some creatures require more time to adjust than others."

  Naatos glanced back at her. "Try not to breathe too quickly. Slow breaths. Focus on what you know is real."

  She rubbed the base of her hand against her temple. The edges of her vision had gone a little fuzzy already. What was real. Terrifying to think that that m
ight not be so easy to distinguish.

  The trees changed. They grew thicker-trunked without any branches until they stretched over a hundred feet overhead. The leaves only formed high above, forming the thick canopy she and WroOth had sailed over only hours before. Many of the trunks and boulders, even some of the crooked roots, glowed with bioluminescent moss and lichens. Pale icy shades of blue and purple. Surprisingly enough, it provided more than enough to see at least vaguely. Especially once her eyes adjusted.

  It was rather like the ocean in some respects. The atmosphere filled her lungs and her ears, pressing against all her senses in a way that reminded her of water even though she could breathe. Already it took deeper and more frequent breaths to sate her lungs.

  Low rumbles and cackling calls occasionally rippled out. Once or twice she saw eyes glowing in the darkness. Each time she blinked, they had receded into the darkness. Strange wisps moved in the corner of her eye. Like smoke.

  Something was watching her. Her hand brushed her gun.

  She stopped short. A pair of red eyes lay directly ahead. "Is something watching us right now?"

  WroOth gave her a sympathetic shake of his head. "No, dear heart. We're alone."

  It felt real. Sinister and present. Just outside the range of her vision. Not an unformed one. Not anything she recognized. Only fear. And if she focused on it at all, it expanded and chilled her to her core. An uncomfortable realization pierced her as her fingers caressed the cold magazine and textured grip of her 9mm.

  "I shouldn't be carrying this," she murmured. She removed her gun from the handmade holster, checked to ensure she had indeed put the safety on, then removed the magazine, and tucked it all into one of the packs on Proteus's back.

  "What are you doing?" QueQoa asked.

  A tight knot in her throat already choked her. "I'm seeing things already. Regardless, it isn't a good idea for me to have something like this." Basic gun safety. If there was one thing Uncle Joe had driven into her head, it was that. Guns didn't belong in the hands of people who couldn't grasp reality. Nor did knives.

  Her chest ached as soon as she released the gun and her daggers. No more weapons. No more eyeliner. No more sanity.

  "It won't kill any of you," she said tightly. "But what's down here could. And if I shoot one of you because I think you're something else, you'll have to heal. At a crucial moment, that could be too much." She hated the way they looked at her so she dropped her gaze to the ground as she hugged herself. "Tell me I'm wrong then."

  "You aren't," Naatos said at last. He set his spear into the ground with a soft thunk. "We'll protect you."

  From everything without. But what about within?

  WroOth wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a light shake. "It isn't as if they would have made much of a difference in here anyway."

  She still felt naked and helpless without them.

  "Very brave, anyway," WroOth continued. He kissed the side of her head. "Reminds me of the little girl who promised me she would never hurt me."

  That felt long ago. The luxurious prison that was her home in Libysha. The emptiness. The sorrow. The bluebird. The strange man who had turned out to be friend, enemy, and family. Also, she'd shot him more than once. And he was right. It hadn't made a difference. Then.

  That little girl felt far away. So did the man, both here and in memory. Wisps of darkness flitted just within her range of sight.

  Her hair slid in front of her face as she turned her head sharply. Something moved in the darkness. She swallowed hard.

  No one else had acknowledged it. She refused to ask about everything she thought she saw. If it was real, they'd see it most likely. If it attacked them, they'd definitely see it.

  When they stopped at a river to replenish their canteens and drink, she checked Proteus's wounds. The salve had helped the scrapes heal, but a few of the cuts had taken on an angrier shade of red. As she applied more salve, Naatos came along beside her. "It's cold, but this will help you keep from completely losing yourself. Eat the greens when you're finished, if you can."

  She nodded and indicated with her head for him to put it down. Her hand shook a little as she applied more salve to the worst scrape and cut on Proteus's neck. "It'll keep me from seeing things?"

  "No. But you'll be more aware. It'll be easier for you to distinguish. Far more importantly, it will keep you healthier. What are you seeing?"

  "Dark shadows. Things moving out of the corner of my eye. Little paranoid I suppose."

  He frowned. "Shadows already? Not spots."

  "No spots. Long shadows. Is that bad?" She soothed Proteus with a pat to the neck, his fur so soft and thick it should have been soothing.

  "It's faster than preferable. Most see spots, then threads, then longer shadows."

  She dipped her fingers back in the salve and rubbed the fragrant green substance into a large wound. How had she missed that? Scowling, she scooped up more. Proteus shook his trunk and flicked his ears, but he made no acknowledgment. How was he not in more pain? Would she have to stitch this up?

  Naatos put his hand over hers. "What are you doing?"

  "I missed this." Her stomach twisted with guilt. "Something gouged him, and I didn't see it."

  "There's nothing there, veskaro." He spoke with surprising gentleness, but each word stabbed her.

  She halted as she looked up at him. His eyes were gone. Dark runny sockets had taken their place.

  Another trick of the mind.

  It had to be.

  Had to be.

  She couldn't bear to look at the others though. Couldn't stand to see if it had happened to everyone.

  Wiping away the salve, she fought to suppress the panic. It was all right. It wasn't real.

  Naatos had continued talking, but his voice droned in her ears, the words senseless.

  Closing her eyes, she pressed her hand over her brow and then her eyelids. When she opened them again, the wound in Proteus's neck had vanished. Her gaze darted back to Naatos. His eyes had returned to normal as well though they were dark with concern.

  She couldn't blame him. Her stomach roiled, and that hollow sensation in her chest pulsed larger. The humming of the bracelet was barely noticeable. She drained the tea, bitter and unpleasant as it was. And she ate every bit of the herbs and flowers though they tasted even more vile than the liquid.

  They continued on. The moving shadows grew stronger and clearer. Sometimes closing her eyes and giving a quick rub made them leave. Other times they lingered. Eyes watched from the depths. The gurgles and growls sounded closer as well. Her skin prickled with alarm.

  But nothing actually attacked. Once they stopped as a reptile with a long narrow head sniffed at the air in front of them. It had numerous red bioluminescent spots along its back. But it made no move to attack.

  "Was that real?" she whispered.

  "Young plesiotaur," WroOth said. "Just a little curious, but not so curious it wanted a bite. We've got a good-sized pack for this place. Most of what lives here won't want to take us on."

  A good thing indeed. Especially since a great pair of red eyes bulged on the other side of a shaggy tree.

  "What do you see?"

  "Is something watching us over there?"

  "No." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "There's nothing by that tree at all."

  She managed a weak laugh. "Good then. Because it doesn't look friendly."

  Deeper and deeper they went. The ache in her left leg resumed. Sometimes she felt as if she was practically swimming through the thick air. Other times everything faded and her ears rang. Still others she lost track of time. She stopped looking at her family because their eyes were sometimes right but sometimes they were empty and running. The start of terror it stabbed through her heart each time made her want to bolt.

  And with every step she knew that she was trapped in this place. Trapped beneath a dome of leaves and branches. Trapped with her own mind's images leaking out in all directions.

 
Though some conversation was attempted, she couldn't find it in herself to participate. The light remained the same. No transformation to indicate day or night. The lack of attacks made it even more monotonous.

  When they stopped for the night, QueQoa, AaQar, WroOth went to hunt and forage while Naatos insisted she take more of the tea. Grimacing, she complied.

  The hours became a murky haze of darkness with shadows playing perpetually in all directions. Though Naatos held her close and QueQoa took first watch, she could not sleep. She could scarcely close her eyes for more than a few seconds.

  The dread intensified, the hollowness aching in her chest.

  Her fingers trembled against her collarbone. No matter where she looked some horror formed. Staring at any point long enough meant eyes appeared. Sinister eyes usually. Cruel eyes often. Sad eyes occasionally. Always staring and judging.

  Each time Naatos's breath caressed her neck, she flinched. Her skin crawled, feeling raw and oversensitive.

  If something came for her, it would go through him first.

  A squicking stabbing sound filled her ears. As if something had tusked him through the chest.

  She scrambled away. No, no.

  Blinking, she hugged herself. It was ludicrous. Yet it felt that if she stayed near him, he'd be killed. She moved closer to the fire, keeping away from QueQoa in case whatever it was came for him too.

  "You should be resting," QueQoa said gently. He stood sentry on the far side of the fire.

  "I can't." She hugged herself as she stared past the fire into the dark. Something was moving. Waving long arms.

  QueQoa looked in the same direction. His brow wrinkled as he returned his gaze to her. "What do you see?"

  "It looks like a person with very long arms." She dipped her head forward. "And very yellow eyes."

  "Does it help to know that there's nothing?"

  She nodded. It didn't make the feeling decrease, but what was real mattered. It did. It always did. "Do you still get nightmares, QueQoa? Now that the ilzinium isn't affecting you."

  "Not often. I'm blessed without dreams."