"And I think Rasha's in trouble."
"Oh?" He sounded no more surprised about this than the revelation that his cadre companions lived. Almost as if he were humoring her. Had she told him this before? Had she told any of them? The sour burn in her stomach intensified.
"I've seen her several times in here. But—I don't think it's her. Something is pretending to be her. But that means she's stuck in my mind somewhere. How am I supposed to get her out?"
WroOth contemplated this, his face scrunching slightly. "I don't know," he said at last.
"Don't tell AaQar yet. I don't want to hurt him." She tilted her head. An odd tightening sensation in the back of her neck made her wonder if she had and simply forgotten. "I haven't told him, have I?"
He offered her a shrug. "You've said a lot of the same things these past few days. Not that there's anything wrong with that. We'll sort through all this when we get to the other side."
"But Rasha—"
"You said you didn't think it was her, and you're right. Rasha would never say family is only blood. But that doesn't mean that Rasha's consciousness is trapped somewhere inside your mind. You have more than enough going on inside you to have a whole Vawtrian consciousness in there as well. She's at least three thousand. And you haven't spoken as Rasha. Her memories would surely overwhelm you, and you'd have to speak of her at least once."
She pressed the bird harder to her cheek. It was all she could do not to start tearing at the back of her head. It was deep, deep in her mind. Her breaths tightened. "I have to—I have."
"You don't have to do anything except breathe."
A memory so vivid and sharp it took her breath away flashed into her mind. She straightened, pressing her shoulders down. The garden labyrinth in Libysha wasn't the first time she'd met WroOth. Bloody rags, a sharp pressure in her chest, so much terror, but something to focus on. Sorrow and loss. She'd wanted to stop that pain. His pain. His grief. "I didn't think you could see me. I thought you were going to crush me. But you didn't. You heard me. And…"
His eyes widened. A twisting fragment of fear cut into her. His. He grabbed hold of her hands. "Amelia, I don't know how this works, but you need to switch to something else. Tell me something that happened to you in this Indiana. Your tarantulas. What were their names?"
Her throat tightened. Random images flashed in front of her mind's eye as the bitter taste swelled in her mouth.
QueQoa took one look at her and started toward AaQar who was investigating one of the felled trees with the deep bite marks.
WroOth struck her cheek lightly. "Amelia, tell me about Jacinda. She was your friend, and you said that you used to do things together. What did she enjoy doing?"
"She loves—" Jacinda's face blurred in front of her mind's eye and then vanished, along with every trace of awareness except that she should have known. Had known. The taste in her mouth grew bloodier as the itch in her mind split into a driving ache. Gagging, she leaned forward.
Light streaked over her eyes, then darkness. Wails and sobs filled her ears, ringing deep and rattling through to her soul. Blood and mud choked her throat.
Then her own screams tore her apart.
* * *
Naatos stared out over the canopy, canopy whose end should have been visible from here.
The canopy continued on for miles. They had barely veered off course at all. But the spread of Dry Deep was significantly greater than AaQar had predicted. Two cataclysmic events had seemed reasonable. But based on this expanse?
Ecekom had to have gone through at least six more cataclysmic events. Or something had happened to specifically expand Dry Deep.
As if they needed one more thing.
As if it would be the only added thing.
A heavy bellow cut through the air to his right. He turned, snarling. An arboreal crocodile bared its jaws at him and charged.
It wanted to attack. Fine. It could die in Dry Deep.
He ripped its head off and let the body fall, then dropped the head after it. The bavril could enjoy the fruit of these creatures' follies.
A quetzie wheeled in the sky. Its long lazy strokes made it appear far less interested in the sights below, but its broad orange crest had flushed darker already. Dozens of bright striped winged serpents darted about, fangs bared, teeth lining the veins in their wings. And nests suspiciously similar to the strange dragons in the canyon lined the far mountain wall.
Ecekom had no intention of letting them pass over the canopy. Even if Amelia could survive the rapid ascent, they'd be beset in moments, preventing him from healing her and potentially leaving her in utter madness. If it were only the quetzies, winged serpents, and regular denizens, they might make it. But those canyon dragons—
Four sharp blasts on the whistle cut through the air: Come back. Danger.
He snapped the mantis's neck and flung it toward the others. They descended upon their fallen comrade as if they had never known it. Two more were already stalking in his direction from the other side.
Growling, he drew back. He slid down, his feet catching hold of the brambles that formed the thick layer between the canopy and the Dry Deep.
Soul curdling screams rose from below.
Amelia?
The hairs on his neck lifted.
She'd never made a sound like that. Not even in the worst moments of Dry Deep. Not in the dungeon with the hook-fanged spiders. Not when she was flogged.
He swept down, faster and faster, letting gravity do its work. Shreds of bark and wood splintered beneath his claws.
The screams grew muffled. Someone was trying to quiet her.
Not well enough though.
He landed heavily on the ground. The bavril had shrunk back against the nearest tree, his ears plastered low against his head. WroOth had already gotten Amelia into a vice lock, incapacitating her and keeping her hands away from her face. She thrashed and struggled as AaQar tried to reason with her. QueQoa had already shifted into his iron dragon form with a considerably larger crest and spines along his back. He circled them in a broad berth, guarding against predators. As if that would be enough to stave off the sharks.
That salt tang in the stirring air warned the sharks were close. Even if they stopped her now, the sharks knew where they were.
The call had been sent.
Jaw set, he ripped rope out of one of the bags. Tie her up or render her unconscious? If she didn't stop screaming, he'd have to—
She went silent.
He straightened, his gaze snapping to his brothers. AaQar placed his hand against Amelia's throat, his other hand along the back of her neck. "She's resting as well as can be expected."
"Won't she be trapped in the nightmares?" QueQoa asked.
"All of this is her nightmare," WroOth said quietly. He adjusted his hold on her so that there was no longer so much tension in her back and arms. Picking up the fallen stone bird, he tucked it into her pocket. "She just won't be able to hurt herself for now."
"You didn't have to do that," Naatos snapped at AaQar. He crossed over and seized her. She hung limp as a doll, her pulse raging as if she were in the middle of running a race. "She's my wife."
"Which is why you shouldn't have to do it unless there's no other choice." He picked up his staff as he glanced around the darkened forest. "We may have to fight here."
Of course they'd have to fight here. Naatos kept his hand clasped over the back of her head. Where could they take her now? The memories had to be deanimating. And with them days from the edge of Dry Deep, the Ki Valo Nakar would be unleashed as well. And what could he do to stop it? To stop any of it?
"First sight," QueQoa rumbled. "Silver lockjaw." He growled a warning as the shark darted between the trees.
A seven-footer at least. Easily flying twelve feet off the ground. Probably a scout. Its tentacles moved so fast Naatos barely saw them.
The past twenty thousand years probably hadn't slowed them at all. From the scent on the air, this was a large pack. N
ot dangerous unless they let it get out of hand. Incredibly tedious.
WroOth had transformed back into the red fire dragon and taken up point, opposite QueQoa. "Second sight. Two more lockjaws." AaQar had shifted as well, this time into his psigolath form with the great venom-tipped frills and curling fangs. With his serpentine body, he formed a perimeter around Naatos and Amelia and the bavril.
The bavril lifted his hackles as he waved his trunk in the air. Another warning.
First the sharks. Then whatever in this darkness came next. Including the Ki Valo Nakar.
The air quickened, whipping faster on all sides.
He needed to put her down. Choose a form. Then fight.
Gently he placed her on the ground. That throbbing pulse had not stilled, her breaths far too shallow. How much longer could her heart maintain such a pace?
That could not be focused on for now. He pushed the thoughts away and drew up the empty space required for shifting as he took note of his new form: a black-and-green acid-mouthed dragon with a serpentine neck.
The form hesitated, his body resisting his will for two breaths as all of those concerns and hopes for his veskaro battled for his mind. Then, like a gear clicking into place, the form exploded outward. His neck lengthened, the claws cut through as his teeth transformed and protruded.
The squishing and scraping sounds of the sharkskin and tentacles on the coarse bark drew closer. Faster and faster.
He snarled.
The sharks shot out from the trees, using their tentacles to launch themselves forward.
A silver-blue beast sheared at his shoulder, the multi-rowed teeth scraping over his scales. The scraping grinding sensation shuddered all the way to his bones, but the teeth didn't do more than bend his scales. He grabbed hold of its neck, slammed it into the ground, and then flung it away.
Something familiar at least.
One day his veskaro would watch him and be as proud of his victory as she was of his losing in the canyon.
For now, he'd protect her. Get her through this. Get her back to walking and fighting.
Just in enough time for her to jump in with scorpions or chase down casket weavers with a spear or throw herself into a sarsquech's mouth.
And then he'd get mad at her. Crespa.
Worth every moment.
Another shark flung itself at him, swooping down like an eagle, its jaws spread wide. AaQar seized it in his jaws and shook it like a young dragon at play. The bavril climbed over AaQar to attach its trunk to its fin. Within seconds, it drained it to dust.
Another twenty-footer launched itself straight down, barreling maw first at the ground.
He crouched over her, taking care not to touch her as he forced the form to hold. The shark shot itself at his face. Using his scythe-like claws, he deflected it, nearly severing its head from its body.
A pulse of energy moved beneath him. He looked down, then halted, his body rooting into place.
Amelia was gone.
Somehow she had simply vanished.
* * *
She was tied up. Awaiting a horrific fate. Trapped in a cavern with limited light.
They murdered the others in front of her. All of them. All forty. Every single one. Dead. Prepared for some ceremony. Then cast the bodies back into a stone hall like refuse. Their faces floated before hers with all their terror, all their questions.
Questions she couldn't answer.
The two dark figures moved along the wall.
What were they doing?
Why were they doing this?
The two dark figures that moved around her offered no answers. They worked, quiet and relentless. Blades slicing, vials flashing.
Her vision blurred, everything grey and hazed. The blood scent burned her nostrils as the dying screams of the previous sacrifices split through her skull. It choked her.
Run.
Go.
Get out.
How?
The darkness held her fast. They expected her to wait. To accept what they did. To take it all. And then to die once she served her purpose.
One of the figures spoke almost gently. "It's for the best if you don't fight to live, little one. Let go. You'll only find more pain if you live."
But why?
She strained; her body remained limp.
Blades sliced deep. They cut and cut.
Stop, stop!
She sobbed as they continued, choked on what they poured down her throat.
Then just as swiftly all was dark and heavy. The taste of blood turned into sludge and foul water. Choking, she opened her eyes.
She lay on a black surface in the middle of a pool of dark water and there, directly across from her, a pair of large white moon eyes stared at her, the great grin already apparent.
Ki Valo Nakar.
86
Beneath the Mask
Amelia drew in a long slow breath as she stared at the strange entity on the other side of the dark pool.
The tall black-barked trees surrounded the water, framing it like a gladiatorial ring. The pond was so still it was hard to tell where the stone ended and the water began aside from the reflection. Blue-white lichens glowed along the trunks, motes floating in the air, some glowing and others fading.
The eyes and grin in the elongated figure shrunk down into a far smaller woman's form. Its hair hung thick and dark against its pallid skin with thick streaks of silver running its length, its elmis stark and vivid and its eyes as opaque as the moon. The only color came from a thick band of blood red that ran from beneath each eye to its chin. Long silver-white claws ran out from her fingertips, and it wore a black and grey gown and cloak. Blood dripped from its hands.
Her.
It had made itself look like her.
"I've been waiting for you a very long time," the Ki Valo Nakar said. Its voice overlaid with hers in an alarming harmony. "Do you understand now?"
"Don't use my voice to talk to me." She stood though her knees shook. "If you want to talk to me, use your own voice and your own shape."
"You do not like this?" It lifted its hands. The black sleeves slid back, revealing the heavily-scarred arms. "Would you like me better this way?" The scars vanished.
"I do not think I like you at all."
It laughed, more a hiss than any other sound. Something clicked wet and soft behind it as if multiple joints were moving into place. "You will. You have no reason to fear me. Fear only my corruption or denial. For that is what will destroy you."
Her hand brushed against her pocket. Something solid rested within. Something she didn't recognize. Not her gun or daggers. Far smaller. "I'd rather avoid you completely."
Its eyebrow arched, a faint smile playing along its black overpainted lips. "Can you avoid what lies within you, Neyeb? Denying what you are rather than learning how to master and use it is the fastest course to destruction."
She slipped her hand into her pocket. Cold stone met her fingertips. The bluebird. Yes. Her family was out there. Close or far, she didn't know. But they would come for her. And the whistle still hung around her neck. "Take your truest form and speak with your own voice if we're to continue this conversation."
"You may be frightened."
"I've been terrified for days now. Being only frightened would be a joy." She lifted her chin. "If we are to talk, let it be face to face. You see me as I am. Let me see you. But spare me the transformation. Turn your face down."
The Ki Valo Nakar studied her with haunting eyes, searching her face as if to understand her true purpose. Then it shrugged. "As you wish."
It dipped its head forward. The face and form melted, expanding as it transformed.
She blew the whistle with every ounce of breath and then let it fall back against the leather thong that restrained it. Now to figure a way out before she lost her mind again or the Ki Valo Nakar destroyed her.
The Ki Valo Nakar's cloak remained and grew along with the headdress with the tall narrow antlers. Only now Amelia
could see that they formed spines down the back as well. Moon eyes floated just beneath these, red tear drops sometimes falling and streaking down an invisible face. The claws shone, drawn back within the folds of the cloak until they were no more than darker lines, sometimes catching the light of the luminous eyes. With each breath, it became more and more visible. The body seemed segmented at points, smooth at others, serpentine and centipedal depending on where you looked. The arms, bony and overlong, hooked into sharply protruding shoulders. Crooked centipede-like legs folded beneath the arms and down the length of the body. The entirety of its length vanished into the darkness, perhaps even into the water. Yet already it towered over twelve feet above her. "Behold."
This had just gotten significantly harder.
* * *
She was gone. Somehow she had vanished. Naatos's mind did not want to accept her absence. He could almost see her lying there. It kept him rooted in place for a full breath, the air suffocatingly still where she had once been.
Sorcery.
He knew this type.
Ancient. Bitter. Cruel.
A shark struck him in the neck.
Snarling, he snapped it to the ground and impaled it with his claws. It writhed for a moment, its tentacles lashing at his face as the life faded.
More and more sharks came, infuriating as giant flies.
Whatever had taken her could have taken her anywhere, using only its will and energy.
He ripped another shark out of the air and flung its corpse between the rail-like trees.
Anywhere. Anywhere!
If not the Ki Valo Nakar, what then?
Would any alternative be any better?
He leaped onto the nearest tree and scented the air. Sought for any trace of her in any direction. Only salt and fish and blood. No Neyeb.
"What happened? Where is she?" AaQar demanded. He spread his frills wider and launched seven poison darts from the edges. They stunned the nearest silver-black shark and sent it crashing into the roots of a leaning tree. The bavril pounced on it, lowing happily.
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