"You'll start smelling traces of fresh air soon," WroOth said as he walked beside her. He didn't shake her any more. Thank mercy for that. "Almost there. A little bit farther and we'll stop for water and rest. So almost."
"Almost," she agreed weakly. She ran her palms up her temples. The veins had stretched out into her arms now. They were like living ink streams bulging out of her skin, throbbing with an uneven pulse. Oh for the days when it was only the scars. The skin covered by the veins was numb, but between it was nothing but pain.
More spasms rocked through her. Don't think about the venom. Just don't. An image of the leeches inside her shot into her mind. She lurched to the side of the path.
Nothing that she could get out. Nothing left. She braced her hand against the tree as she gagged.
Her stomach muscles ached. They didn't even want to exist right now. No part of her but her mind really wanted to exist. And even her mind was sending her hateful messages about the lack of sleep among other things.
As she glanced back, she realized Naatos had come to stand beside her. He'd collapsed his spear and hung it back at his side. "I'm sorry," she said.
He said nothing, only watched her with concern.
She knew what he wanted to ask, what she needed to say. What she had to say. She swallowed hard, the words burning her. "I can't—I can't go any farther. But if you put me over your shoulder, I'm going to throw up all over you. No matter how you carry me, I might."
He picked her up with both arms then, one arm beneath her knees and the other along her back. "Aim away from me then."
90
Running Out of Options
It was always difficult watching someone you loved suffer and being incapable of stopping it. Naatos had known that pain before. But it reached new levels within Dry Deep.
Amelia didn't like him or anyone noticing how badly she was doing. If she could hide it—for all the good it accomplished—she did.
The only reason he hadn't flung her over his shoulder or strapped her onto the bavril was because the long leech venom would progress more rapidly if she stopped moving even as limited as her movements were currently. Over these past days she had been in denial as her body fought to adapt to the new atmosphere. But denial had its purpose. Sometimes it kept you fighting.
She had used that well. And she would be fine. Of course she would be.
Sometimes he even believed she might walk out of Dry Deep on her own two feet. Most of the time he kept a countdown in his mind for how long she had before she couldn't keep anything down, how long before they finished the ascent, how long before the fever raged, how long before—
Then she lurched off the path to heave for the third time that morning.
The cold queasy knot expanded in his stomach. Not even halfway up the ascent to the Forest Between. She couldn't keep this up.
Collapsing his spear, he went to stand behind her. She braced herself against the tree, barely standing. Her fingernails dug into the coarse black bark as she strained and gagged.
Whatever she could vomit was precious little.
Was he going to have to ask her? Or tell her? He adjusted his grip on the spear handle and hung it at his side.
She glanced back at him and sagged, shaking her head blearily. Then she asked.
Cold dread pooled inside him, the grains of sand in her hourglass sliding away all the faster.
She'd asked for help.
Asked him to carry her.
Even stubbornness had its limits.
He took hold of her at once, hiding the fear that rose to announce itself. Cradled her to his chest.
She went limp in his arms almost immediately, her head resting against his shoulder. She'd lost even more weight, her body moving to metabolizing muscle most likely as the fever brewed and the venom burned. Her face had little color left, her eyes dull. The flesh between the veins was angry and dying. For hours at a time, she lapsed into a listlessness that was neither sleeping nor waking.
If they'd had the cadre house or the temple or the palace, he would have placed her in one of the sick rooms with cool flowing air and soft beds with clean linens and healing herbs in marble bowls. Given her medicines to comfort and soothe.
The Shrieking Chimera Cadre had had one of the best sick homes of any of the cadres in its day. How many had they nursed back to health in those walls? How many had been saved? And his wife had to be carried through the dirt and poison of Dry Deep with nothing to ease her or even let her rest. Not even clean clothing.
All he could do was get her out of there.
His brothers took turns leading the way. The farther they went along the ascent, the fewer predators stalked them. But Amelia grew less and less responsive, her breaths slower and heavier.
When they stopped for the night, he smoothed her hair back, brushed out the tangles, and bound it away from her face. There wasn't any mint or anything even remotely similar in Dry Deep to help combat the nausea. But at least it was no longer in her face.
She winced when he pulled it too tight. Carefully he loosened it. "I'd put flowers in your hair if we had them. I doubt it would annoy you as much."
"If you keep pulling my hair it might," she mumbled. The edges of her mouth flicked in an attempt at a smile. She then curled down farther, her arms tightening around herself. "Fever's going up. Did you know that Kylee—Ki Valo Nakar is keeping me from having hallucinations from the fever too?"
He grunted, less than impressed. "Something better than nothing."
She swallowed hard. "I am trying to keep focused on just making it through these next days. I don't think the Ki Valo Nakar will be a problem for us for a while. After I recover, I don't know how we're going to manage it."
"If I could kill it, I would."
She smiled faintly. "I don't know if I should be alarmed or amused that there's this—entity, and you want to kill it. And apparently killed its last host."
"It tried to take my brothers." He stroked her hair as the painful memories fought to rise again. "They were grieving, but they weren't ready to go."
"Even if they were, you wouldn't let them. But I don't think they would have wanted to as long as you were here."
"And you?" She had an unhealthy focus on death. At times he wondered if it was because she didn't see any other way for it to go. But if she had the choice—if she could—he shouldn't have asked, but it had already left his lips.
"Leonas asked me if I wanted to die." She paused, her breaths ragged. Then her dark eyes flicked up to his, her expression somehow almost coy. "I said no."
That was something. Warmth flared through him. Comfort as well. She'd chosen to remain with him. He kissed her once more, gently.
She'd chosen to remain with him. For all the good that did. As if her choice would be honored. Anger rose to replace the warmth as he clenched his jaw and held her tighter. If he prayed, he would pray that Elonumato not be so spiteful as to take her now that she had made that decision.
The pall over their camp remained. His brothers did not ask him to keep watch, and he did not offer. He stayed with her, lay beside her.
Sleep came slowly. The darkness of Dry Deep had become oppressive and relentless, crushing over them without relenting. Up above, shrouded from sight, the stars shone, all manner of pale hues. He'd vestov her beneath them one day soon, out in the open air, with no one to interrupt and no creatures to attack.
Her bones had gone brittle. Even as he nestled her as close as he could, he knew to be cautious. It felt at times as if she might snap with a small puff of dried leech venom.
Whoever had done this to her, someone had to still be alive. When he found them, he'd destroy them slowly. No swift snaps of the neck or breaks in the spine. Especially this Okalu. He still couldn't accept that Sinara would have done this knowingly to Amelia. It had to have been a mistake.
That old woman had been many things, but evil was not one of them. Yet he could not imagine what possible explanation there was. And if she had d
one this to Amelia—he shook his head, the rage spiking within him.
His sleep passed in fitful bursts. When morning came, he tried once more to get her to drink broth. She accepted it with murmured thanks but lost it almost as soon as she swallowed. Both the broth and water wound up on the packed dark soil as she moaned and recoiled. Dust and sweat covered her drawn face, her breathing labored and wet despite the cracking in her lips.
The countdown had gone almost to zero.
He had no more words to soothe her except empty promises that she probably did not hear. But he washed her face and her neck and hands. Those veins had nearly reached her fingers, cutting and biting through her.
What point was there in taking the ascent slow aside from sparing her suffering? What good was that if it cost her life? Her sanity wasn't at much more risk now.
All had gone silent. As he looked up, he realized his brothers were watching him, waiting. All was ready to depart.
He had to make a choice.
Once again he had to hurt her.
He bit back the agony and steeled his voice as he spoke. "We rush the ascent. Get out of here as fast as we can."
QueQoa's brow bunched with concern. "But that will—"
"You think I don't know?" he shouted. She twitched. He placed her on the ground and stepped away, lowering his voice as the rage built. "But she can't even keep down water now. That fever is climbing. The venom spreads by the minute. She has hours, not days now. Yes, it's a risk, an enormous risk, but she has no chance if we don't move faster."
AaQar kept his arms folded over his chest, his expression carefully neutral. "He's right. We have given her all the time we can to adjust. But now we need all speed. There's no argument."
WroOth said nothing, only stared off into the forest.
Final plans were made, tasks divided, the time estimated.
There wasn't much any of them could do now. The bavril would adapt faster as would the dolmath. But speeding a Neyeb out at this pace was like ripping an Awdawm diver up from the depths of the ocean. If they acted fast enough, he could save her once they reached the surface.
She stirred back to consciousness as they finalized the preparations. Her arms buckled when she tried to push herself up.
"Don't waste your strength," he said, crouching beside her. He slid his hand up to cup her cheek and tilted her face back. "I'm sorry, veskaro, but we're going to have to rush this. It's going to be painful, and you're going to struggle to breathe by the time we get out of here. But I swear I will heal you as soon as we are free."
"I'll be fine," she said with obviously false cheer, her voice cracking at the second syllable. "Probably won't remember a thing."
He hoped that was true.
WroOth shifted back into his modified fire dragon form with the cradle bones along his back. AaQar placed her up there and checked to make sure she was secure as Naatos stepped away. "Keep your breaths as slow and steady as you can, Amelia." He gripped her hand. "It will buy you more time. The longer you can avoid panicking the better. The more you panic, the more it will feel like you're drowning."
She nodded weakly and wrapped one arm around a bone spike. "How long will it last?"
"Once you start feeling the effects?" AaQar cast a glance back toward the ashy hill that rose steadily before them. "You'll feel like you can't breathe longer than it will truly be. And we'll get you out of this as fast as we can."
Her expression wavered, her eyes misting. But she lifted her chin and nodded. "I know you will." She glanced up as if searching for Naatos, and when her gaze fell on him, she managed a small smile. Then she leaned back and took in a long steady breath.
"Just hold tight, dear heart," WroOth said. "You'll be out of here in no time. Then, when you're all better, we'll find a nice cliff and throw you off and teach you some good new tricks. Maybe we'll even get you a wraith warg or a mountain scorpion."
She murmured something in response, but Naatos did not catch it. He turned his focus inward and brought the veldrok wolf form to the forefront. It took a couple seconds more to continue the transformation as it ripped him apart and remade him. He checked to ensure his family was ready, then sprang forward.
His claws dug into the dark ashy earth, making soft thuds as he tore ahead. A few branches flipped away beneath him. He intentionally broke through the low-hanging vines and took a broader path to ensure nothing snagged WroOth while QueQoa and AaQar guarded his sides.
Faster and faster they went. They scaled the steppes leading out of Dry Deep and into the Forest Between. The haze receded with each loping stride they took.
Faster.
Faster.
Naatos glanced back at Amelia. She had gripped onto the horns of the bone cradle, her face twisting, panic flashing in her eyes. With each passing minute, it worsened. The hours had to be unbearable.
Almost there, veskaro.
At last the trees started to thin, becoming shorter and bending toward Dry Deep. The soil grew lighter. The air sweeter and clearer. Life-giving sunlight broke through the crooked trunks. But Amelia's panicked gasps as she choked and fought for breath cut into his mind. That terror slid along the tendrils, slicing through his consciousness.
He blocked them, blocked her. Couldn't let them distract him.
Then she screamed. Not loud, not shrill. A gagging cry that gurgled as it finished, filled with terror.
He raced ahead, seeking out any threats and scenting for predators. The ashy soil kicked up beneath his claws, looser and dustier now. He fanned out to the right to avoid striking WroOth. Those screams of hers continued, straining and hoarsening with each battled breath.
Nothing poked a head out or hissed in response. Whatever might have been there had disappeared ages ago. All the better for them. Something was as it should be.
He crested the top of the Forest Between and emerged out onto the open grassy plains, enclosed on two sides by a continuation of the Pelcaps. A flock of winged serpents circled in the sky. Some large figure moved in the distance.
WroOth halted at the edge of the ascent from the Forest Between. He slid Amelia off his back and laid her down. The red scales fell away as he returned to his state of rest. "Hurry."
Amelia writhed, her eyes rolling back as she gasped for air like a fish stranded at low tide. WroOth supported her head. "Just a moment longer, dear heart. Just a moment longer."
Naatos crushed a rels into his palm and dropped to his knees beside her. "You're all right," he said. "Keep breathing. You're almost there."
She struggled, lacking the strength to even push herself up. Her lips had gone entirely blue, her eyes bloodshot, blood vessels breaking along her cheeks, neck, and forehead.
He pressed his palm over her heart and channeled the golden healing energy into her. It pulsed and spiraled out, encompassing her entire body.
She gasped, her head lolling to the side. Her glassy eyes slid shut. Though she tried to answer, the syllables slurred together.
"Shhh. Don't talk. Just rest."
She went limp, but her breaths evened out as she finally slipped into sleep. The color eased back into her lips. Sweat covered her body, soaking her hair, but the bunching of her brow finally smoothed. Sleep sweet, as sweet as sleep may be.
WroOth fell back, holding his head. His shoulders twitched as he drew in harsh breaths.
Naatos covered Amelia with a blanket before he glanced at his brother once more. "She'll be all right, WroOth." The words fell hollow in his own ears. Here in the light of day, it was far easier to see how extensive the damage was. Tendrils of the long leech venom had reached up to her neck already and spread down her arms.
Crespa! The Ki Valo Nakar had done her no favors in nurturing this curse to the limit of its productions.
WroOth managed a ragged laugh as he shook his head. Standing abruptly, he turned his gaze toward Dry Deep. "This will make as good a place for camp as any. I'll go help QueQoa bring up the animals."
He passed AaQar as he departed.
AaQar took one look at them and then pointed over Naatos's shoulder. "Let's move her there. It'll be safer for an extended stay."
The point he indicated had at least one side entirely covered by a broad grey hill of stone and rocky debris. That side was so sheer that little could scale it without aid. Not the right sort of stone to protect them even temporarily from the Grey Season, but enough for now.
Taking great care, he lifted Amelia back into his arms, blanket and all. He then carried her through the knee-high grass to the safer location. The afternoon sun seemed pale, all colors oddly dim. It felt more natural in the muted shade of the chiron oaks with their spike-like branches. The oaks as well as several elms and a few roca trees provided abundant shade and additional shelter though AaQar had to drive several mantises away. To the left and along the base of the hill ran a river. Ordinary water, not suphrite.
He sat with his back to the largest of the chiron oaks, holding her close, his hand still over her chest, confirming the subtle rise and fall of each breath. His world had shrunk from entire galaxies and whole worlds down to this one place and time in the shape of a Neyeb woman who was withering in his arms at this very moment. It was crushing him, and he could not let go.
Would not let go.
Not unless he found the solution.
Those cries of hers though, they disrupted his analysis. They echoed through his mind. Tore through his heart and soul.
Did she think they had abandoned her? She had when she was in the throes of madness. She'd thought she'd been left alone in a place more horrible than any she had witnessed. But she had also forgotten their names. What they meant to her and she to them.
Given all that she had been through, maybe she wouldn't remember. It had happened nonetheless. He kissed her cheek, then her lips. Blood had dried in the corner. After he wiped it away, he brought her head back to his shoulder.
Bitterness filled his mouth.
Hatet had sworn she would never lock with a non-Vawtrian though Igrold had convinced her it was worth the risk. Shander and Miako had held true to that sentiment. Both agreed that there was too much pain involved in joining with one who was not equal in strength, stamina, and recovery. Not for the reasons that most suggested, especially Awdawms with their chuckling jokes and less than sly innuendo. But because it was heartbreaking to watch the one you loved suffer again and again under agonies you yourself would never have to endure.
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