"What is this?" the Bealorn leader demanded. "How is that possible? What are you?" He pointed the spear at Naatos.
Hmmm. Might as well have thrown that handful of ilthun salt in Naatos's face. It would have been a little more effective.
Naatos cast a dismissive glance at the Bealorn as he walked over to Amelia. Cupping his hand over her cheek, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "The veins haven't ruptured. Prove your worth, doctor."
"The way you described her, I'd have assumed these would have burst or be far closer to it now," the woman said. She had several tattoos along her cheeks and down both sides of her neck as well as along the tops of her hands, a rich henna-brown ink a few shades darker than her skin. None of the marks were familiar though.
"The fever reached its peak last night. Since then, it's held steady." AaQar joined them. "She's keeping fluids down. The veins aren't expanding as swiftly."
The doctor removed a silver palm stone from the inside of the bag and wiped off her hands. "Well, she might have a chance then. You should know that when I said that she had about as much chance of surviving as you had of flying, I didn't realize you could fly. But, maybe I was right anyway. Do any of you know why the veins haven't ruptured? Did you give her something?"
"No," QueQoa said.
AaQar remained silent.
WroOth shrugged. He didn't like questioning good luck when it came. It just had. Proof she was going to make it, of course. Because why wouldn't she?
"I said, who are you?" The Bealorn leader stepped closer as did the rest of his team, encircling the hammock. "What do you think you are?"
QueQoa pushed two back when they got too close. "You had your chance to help. Don't be nuisances now. Why don't you empty out some more bags?"
WroOth kept his hand on Amelia's shoulder as he watched. The thrum of her pulse had slowed even just while he was here. Her breaths harsher and slower. She still held the bluebird, but—had her fingers loosened a little?
"Do you think you can just ignore us?" the Bealorn leader demanded.
The doctor sighed. "Get her out of the hammock. I suppose it was too much to hope there'd be a table or something. The ground will do well enough. Everyone who isn't doing something I tell you to do, get back! I need space."
WroOth stepped back as Naatos lifted her up. The bluebird slipped from her fingers and rolled.
She would be all right. Just a loose grip. Relaxing probably.
Except her lips were blue again.
His ears rang as that centipede sensation tightened up his spine and along the back of his skull.
93
Relief
Amelia curled deeper into the darkness. The cold was returning again, not so frightening this time but much heavier. It pulled at her limbs.
The Ki Valo Nakar muttered in the distance, little more than a vague humming and sighing.
A little stone bird had appeared in her palm a little bit ago. Odd that it was there. She hadn't been holding it before, had she? Or maybe she had?
She shivered.
It was a good reminder though.
An edge of fear cut against her.
The floor seemed to slide beneath her. Just a little. Hard to tell in so much darkness.
The bird fell out of her hand. It struck the dark ground beak first, not making a sound. She reached for it, but it slid beyond her fingertips.
The floor was tilting.
Oh.
Don't fall.
Falling away—bad—it would be bad.
No.
No, no.
She tried to put her hands and feet down to catch herself. The Ki Valo Nakar's voice droned on, unchanging, unaware. But she was falling, fading, leaving.
And she didn't know how to stop.
She wasn't supposed to go now. Elonumato? Wasn't she supposed to stay?
The cold and the dark deepened as the little stone bird rolled away.
* * *
Naatos focused on Amelia. He knew these signs. There wasn't much time. Blue lips once more. Drenched with sweat, even on her eyelashes. Bulging black veins along and near the arteries.
He resisted squeezing Amelia's hand. The brittleness of her bones could not be trusted.
Laachtue's eyes widened as she saw Amelia. "This woman really is a Neyeb." The Tiablo doctor had thought he was lying about everything he'd said. Apparently proving he could turn into a dragon and fly her back hadn't been enough to convince her of the truth of everything else.
The Bealorns whispered among themselves. Naatos did not acknowledge them, but he knew the signs. She had gone from being disposable to valuable in the span of a single sentence. Not that they could ever know how much she was worth.
Laachtue examined Amelia quickly, her lips pinched and her gaze narrow. Her broad black bag sat next to her, already open. Twice she removed small devices as well as a slender blade, tested the veins, and took Amelia's vitals. Each one she noted with a faint nod of her head as her eyes tilted back as if to mark it.
Her expression grew more and more somber.
"You can save her," he said.
"Maybe." Laachtue didn't have the assurance he would have preferred. "I don't know what kept these veins from rupturing. But it gives me a chance. A small chance. Now." She tilted her head as she fixed him with a stern gaze. "You need to do precisely what I say."
"Abliato," the besred-cloaked Bealorn said, stepping closer. "Step back from that thing and leave, or we will take you as well."
QueQoa held his arm out, blocking his path as the Bealorn snarled at him.
Laachtue remained focused on Naatos, her hands resting on her thighs. "I've handled dozens of cases of long leech venom. Saved my own mother and uncle. They weren't as far gone as this. The good news is that she isn't going to feel a thing. The bad news is that this isn't going to be pleasant."
Standing, she put her hand to her mouth and clicked her teeth. "I've never done this with a pit of water. It isn't the most sanitary."
"Get the venom out of her. I can heal her from anything but the venom. That's all you have to do." Naatos's stomach twisted.
She narrowed her eyes as if she had never heard of that, her tone incredulous. "You can heal—"
"I can. Just not the venom."
"They lie. What is—" The besred-cloaked Bealorn stepped around QueQoa.
"Enough." AaQar put his staff in front of him. "Enough, or you will all regret this."
"Will we?" he sneered. "Will we, skinchanger? You know who we are. What we are."
Who were these insolent fools? Naatos shot a glare at them as his brothers formed a barrier. AaQar spoke so softly now, it was little more than a sinister whisper. He knew his brother well enough that the only reason these cretins weren't bleeding or fleeing was because AaQar was either attempting to get the cure or information. Or both. He'd trust his brothers to deal with them for now.
"I can heal her," Naatos continued. "As surely as I flew you here, I can heal her. Just get the venom out."
Laachtue nodded, then clicked her teeth together again. "All right. You're on standby until I finish. Then you work your magic. You must do exactly as I say." She pointed at QueQoa. "You, brown-haired shifter boy with the pretty blue eyes, get over here."
QueQoa pointed to himself, hesitated, then crossed over as WroOth took his place. "Me?"
"I need you to hold her for me. We're going to put her in the water and take care of this venom. You have a strong stomach?"
"Strong enough for this." QueQoa nodded, but the darting in his eyes confirmed he'd rather have run than face this.
Laachtue looked back to Naatos. "I'll tell you when I need you. Until then—" she gestured loosely toward the Bealorns. "Make sure they don't intervene."
"If you require ice, I can provide it," AaQar said. "Her fever was so high, I didn't want to risk it until there was no other choice. Mercifully, we didn't reach that point."
"I have medicine that will do the same and better. If we had time, I'd have
you transport her to a safer facility, but given who and what you are as well as her condition—" She broke off as she shook her head and then indicated the large water hole AaQar had dug. "Get her on in there. I'll finish making preparations."
QueQoa glanced at Naatos as if to ask for permission. He nodded. Whatever it took. At this point, he didn't care. Whatever she needed. Even if for now he couldn't hold her.
His brother carried her gently, not even faltering as he stepped into the cold clear waters. When he submerged her, she didn't even flinch or twitch.
Naatos stiffened. That water was near to freezing. How could it not provoke at least a small response? Especially with the fever so high. Not that he wanted her to suffer. If she was truly resting, recuperating, fine. But some response—any response.
His throat was too tight to say anything else to the doctor. What good were his words now? The rage simmered now, kept in check only because of necessity.
Laachtue removed a small steel bowl from her bag, set it near QueQoa, then joined QueQoa and Amelia in the pit of water. She held a small scalpel-like device in her right hand. With a small click, she placed the tip of the blade along the thickest vein laying across Amelia's carotid artery. A hot humming whir hummed from the tool. Carefully she drew it back. A long shining black strand clung to it, shimmering like oil in the golden sunlight. She lifted it away until her reach strained, then she clicked the top of the device. The whirring intensified, pulsed, and the black ribbon fell slack. She deposited it in the steel bowl.
That device she used was similar to one he'd witnessed Tiablo doctors using in the past, albeit a little slimmer and more angular in shape. She was using her telekinetic abilities to remove the venom as well as the leeches.
She did the same in the exact place a second time, a third, a fourth. At last, she moved to the next artery.
Naatos kept his gaze fixed on her, watching as each vein slowly decreased. Once all of the arteries were cleared, she'd deal with the smaller veins.
He set his arms akimbo, his breaths shallow.
The Bealorns murmured and fidgeted.
Just start something. Anything.
"How much longer is this going to take?" the besred-cloaked Bealorn demanded.
"Enough," AaQar hissed, leaning toward his face.
Naatos shot the Bealorn a glare.
Laachtue removed yet another vein. "It takes as long as it takes, but if I were to make an educated guess, no less than four hours." She glanced over at QueQoa. "You doing good there, big fella? I can call in for help, but you look about the strongest. This job is more about endurance and steadiness than anything."
"I'm fine," he said softly, his expression still downcast. "Just keep going. Faster if you can. She doesn't feel good."
Naatos's gut clenched. Of course she didn't. But she would. Soon. Very soon.
The waters sloshed over her. Her lips remained blue, but most of the sweat had dried or been replaced with splashes from the water. Bits of blood and the residue of the oily venom spilled into the waters and were swept away through the second channel his brother had dug.
"We could put together a carrier," one of the Bealorns said. "Take her to our community. The physician could finish tending to her there."
"This woman has been moved far too much. She's barely holding on," Laachtue said, ice in her voice. "Weren't you listening? Move her again, and she will die."
"How valuable is she really?" one of the Bealorns called out.
"Four hours is too long," another murmured.
"Is that really a Neyeb?" the besred-cloaked Bealorn demanded, pointing at her. "There are many who claim it."
Laachtue rolled her eyes. "Yes," she said testily as she continued to draw out another vein. "I don't know how there's a Neyeb here, but this isn't some pretender. She's as much a Neyeb as I am an Abliato. A fact you would do wise to remember."
"We will remember." The besred-cloaked Bealorn snapped his fingers. His followers stood to attention with a snap of feet and weapons. "Take them all. If the Neyeb doesn't survive, we can still harvest her organs. Assuming they're any good."
A blade of anger sliced through Naatos, creating a broader and broader wedge as he turned to face this challenger.
The besred-cloaked man pointed his spear at AaQar, then Naatos. "If you cooperate, you will not be harmed. Fight, and I cannot guarantee your condition or the condition of your former mate."
"Who in all the realms and galaxies are you, you pathetic stain?" Naatos growled.
The besred-cloaked Bealorn sneered though a spasm of fear flickered in his expression. The animals pulled back as well. "Just because you have one form you can draw on for thirty seconds doesn't mean you're better than your worthless kind, skinchanger. You are no better than filth beneath a mantis claw."
Naatos laughed, shaking his head. "You don't want to pursue this course."
"Do you want to finish him?" AaQar asked with an annoyed gesture.
The besred-cloaked Bealorn chortled, his mouth twisting with disgust. "I will kill you first," he said, pointing at Naatos. "And then I'll kill that one. I'll chop your bodies into pieces, and if you are strong enough to heal from that, I'll chop them off again. Unless—"
Naatos removed his own spear and shot it out into a sweeping triple blade. He slashed it down across the Bealorn's chest.
The others bellowed their challenge as they rushed in on his brothers and him. Not that it mattered.
Blood sprayed in an arc, drenching the ground. He ripped the spear back and then struck again and again. The Bealorn's eyes bulged, the light fading as he fell back. Naatos struck him again and again. Then lashed out at the next nearest Bealorn.
He didn't even shift. He tore into them with his spear and his hands. Hot blood covered his hands and his clothing. Life poured out. Then—it was over.
Not a battle. Not even a skirmish.
Six were dead, their animals scattered. The rest they put on their knees in a line. Panting. Terrified. Disbelieving. Eyes wide, clothes drenched.
"You will regret this," the moss mantis handler snarled though she trembled. "Our people will come looking for us, and when they find us, they will make you pay. They will make all of you pay."
The others responded with their own curses. One spat on Naatos.
"Well, that was an intelligent decision," WroOth said.
Naatos glared at the man before backhanding him. "So your solution to this problem is to suggest that there are no witnesses?"
AaQar lifted his chin, jerking his head then toward Laachtue.
Please don't be someone who had an issue with this. Naatos closed his eyes as he prepared to turn. He'd do anything to save Amelia, but if it could not involve further restraint—
"As long as no witnesses doesn't include me, I don't especially care." Laachtue removed another long leech. "They're Oonfil Death Weavers, and they've caused more than their share of grief. But they're right. If their kin learn you did this, there will be war. Not just on you but any skinchanger they find." She stiffened. "All right, shifter, get over here and heal your mate. She needs a boost."
"Deal with them." He ground the words out as he lunged down beside Amelia and grabbed her by the throat.
Blood and spittle stained the corners of Amelia's mouth as she wheezed, each breath somehow so quiet that it was easy to miss in his brothers executing justice. Her eyelids had half lifted, but they exposed only the whites of her eyes, her body trembling. Half the veins along her neck had collapsed. There were still too many.
The healing energy pulsed out from his hand and seeped into her. Her breathing softened, and her eyelids relaxed.
"Well." Laachtue shook her head. "I've never seen anything like that. Keep close, shifter. I guess you're not a liar."
At least not on matters like this.
He loosened his grip on her, his thumb brushing the edge of her chin. Blood streaked her cheek and throat. Cupping his hand, he washed it away. Some of it clung to the dried veins and
scars.
Laachtue clicked the device again and tapped it to another large vein. The veins from which all the venom and leeches had been drawn had collapsed to little more than dark marks similar to lightning strikes.
Five times more she asked him to heal Amelia. Then she gently shooed him. "We've got it from here. I'll call you if I need you."
Naatos stepped back. Letting go of her wasn't getting easier, but her lips weren't quite so blue. The large bulging veins were all gone now. Just the smaller ones.
WroOth tugged on his sleeve.
He glanced at his brother silently, expecting to see the harsh glint of fevered madness once more. His brother was grinning. "This might make you feel better."
"Unlikely."
"Come see anyway." WroOth pulled on his arm just as he used to when they were small.
The bodies of the Bealorns sprawled out near the fire. AaQar had already set to cleaning things up as the bavril feasted. One of the corpses lay a little off to the side, the Bealorn pale, a shocked expression livid upon his face. Two large pieces of a broken wooden spoon—his polished long-handled spoon—had been thrust through the man's heart.
Naatos raised an eyebrow. "You killed him with my stirring spoon?"
"He broke your spoon. You said I was too predictable. I used the spoon." WroOth nudged him with his elbow. "Better than stabbing you in the kidney."
"You are creative."
"So you're saying you were wrong?" WroOth glanced at him sidelong, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"My perspective has been—altered. Though it could also be said that you should never have been questioned."
"I don't know if I can handle all this praise."
"Well, if there's one thing that hasn't been altered, it's that we need to finish moving out these bodies before Amelia wakes."
"You have time," Laachtue called from the pit. "If this woman is awake before nightfall, I'll be amazed."
"I could still use the help." AaQar dragged another corpse to the bavril. The bavril pricked its ears up. At least this method of destruction wouldn't allow for any evidence. "Naatos, we let the animals go. The bonds were weak. Shockingly so. These Bealorns—they aren't what we knew."
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