by Lori Holmes
Finally, Kyaati got to a reasonable height and Nyri started up after her, supporting and guiding. They were three quarters of the way to the top when Kyaati could go no further. Wedging themselves into the crooks of the branches, they settled themselves in to wait. At this height, they would be invisible unless anyone chose to look closely. Their clothing and skin were the perfect camouflage.
“Where do you think Dar is?” Kyaati asked once she had regained her breath. She shifted in discomfort. Nyri’s heart went out to her. She was uncomfortable, sitting crouched on her branch; she could only imagine how Kyaati was feeling.
“Hopefully keeping himself out of harm’s way and not trying to prove himself,” she answered.
They fell into an uneasy silence, isolated in the night. The bark of the tree was rough against Nyri’s cheek and hands as she leaned against the trunk. Time passed and the temperature dropped. The air pinched painfully at any exposed skin. Her hands and feet grew numb. Focusing inwards, Nyri raised her body temperature to counteract the effects. This took energy. She would not be able to keep it up for long.
They waited. Anxiety crawled over Nyri’s skin. She had no way of knowing what was happening outside of their worried little world. She imagined her tribe captured and killed by the Woves; leaving her and Kyaati alone in the world.
No, she denied her spiraling imagination. The tribe was safe. She would feel it if something had happened. She would know. Had the Woves moved on? There was no way she could know that.
It seemed like the entire night was passing as one thought after another skittered restlessly through Nyri’s mind. A stiffening breeze unveiled Ninsiku’s roving eye. Silver light and black shadow chased each other silently through the undergrowth. The leaves stirred around them, lulling. A night bird hooted softly.
Nyri’s head was just beginning to nod forward when a presence rattled against her senses. She was fully alert in an instant, straining to see into the darkness below as her throat tightened.
They were no longer alone.
“W-what’s happening?” Kyaati whispered through chattering teeth, unaware of the closing danger. “I c-can’t stay up here much l-longer—”
“Shhh!” Nyri hissed. “Something is coming.”
Kyaati’s body stiffened as she felt it, too. Her hand clutched at Nyri’s. For a few endless moments, all that could be heard was the sound of the restless trees rustling around them and the occasional chatter of a wakeful bird. Then it came, the soft, rhythmic brushing of undergrowth, getting louder and louder.
A large figure burst from the trees nearby. Nyri flinched at the sight of the Wove. A vision from her darkest nightmare made solid. A grishnaa skull was in the place of a head, the bloody pelt partially scalped from the bone. One eye socket was empty, the other housed a milky, lidless eyeball. The gaping fangs curved down towards the beast’s man-shaped shoulders where grisly furs hung about the tall frame. Bile rose in Nyri’s throat. This creature was the embodiment of death and misery.
Nyri always forgot just how big they were. Hatred mingled with her fear. Her mind flashed again to the moment she had dangled from the fist of one of this demon’s kind, fighting for her life, all the while knowing the flaming-haired monster would throw her into the burning beast and feel no remorse. A small child.
Unblinking, she and Kyaati watched the demon from their lofty hiding place. Any sound from them and it would be over. Kyaati’s hand tightened painfully on Nyri’s as the Wove came to stand right beneath their feet.
What are we going to do? Kyaati thought at her. She was close to panic. He’ll see us and eat us!
Be still, Nyri urged. It stood beneath their tree, eyes scanning the darkness. It was tall and lean beneath the furs but in the dimness, Nyri could make out little else with her eyes.
Leave! She wished with all her heart that she possessed the power her people once had. She would have stopped the demon’s heart and watched it choke. Instead, all she could do was sit, perched in a tree thinking pathetically, leave, please leave us alone. She dared not extend her will towards the creature. The demon would surely pick up on their presence with its dark power and it would be over.
Why wouldn’t it go? It was just standing there. Then Nyri understood. It was waiting. One by one, more of the skull-headed devils emerged from the darkness. There were ten of the beasts. They seemed wary of the dark forest, turning often to watch their backs, weapons held ready against any threat. If she weren’t so terrified, Nyri would have found such a scene amusing. What could possibly be more of a threat than they?
The rest of the Woves came to stand beneath the tree in which Nyri and Kyaati hid. Most were even bigger than the first. Nyri studied their weapons with revulsion. Some appeared to be tipped with stag antlers, the crowns honed into deadly points, there were stout sticks with heavy rocks attached to the end, spears tipped with sharpened bone and knives fashioned from grishnaa teeth. Every one of them a bringer of death.
Kyaati was shaking so badly Nyri feared her friend would give them away. All it would take was for one of them to look up. Nyri nearly cried when several of them sank to the ground and squatted before their leader, muttering discontentedly among themselves.
Nyri was still staring balefully down at them when it happened.
“Nyri!”
She was powerless to stop it. The branch supporting Kyaati gave way under her weight. As the sound of splintering wood cracked through the silence, the startled Woves leaped to their feet. Their lifeless faces turned upwards, fixing on Nyri and her stricken friend as the branch broke away completely.
“Nyri!” Kyaati screamed as she tumbled away into empty space.
“No! Kyaati!”
Nyri tried to hang on to her but it was no use, Kyaati’s hand was torn from hers. She could only watch, horrified, as Kyaati fell, striking another branch on the way down and then hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Her cries of fear and pain abruptly choked off. She lay motionless in a crumpled pile.
“No!” Nyri cried. Without a thought she threw herself down the tree after her friend. The twigs and branches tore at her skin and coverings. Nyri barely noticed. The Woves were recovering from their shock. The leader had started to approach Kyaati, one hand outstretched. A bone knife was clutched in the other.
Furious, Nyri leaped the remaining distance to the ground, ignoring the painful jolt through her feet as she landed squarely in front of her fallen friend. She grabbed the nearest object she could find, the broken branch lying at her feet. Nyri could barely lift it but she struggled to brandish it in front of her nonetheless.
Unperturbed, the Wove continued to approach.
“Get away!” Nyri screeched up at the lifeless eye of the skull. She swung her weapon back and forth, the tip of it scraping the ground pathetically. “Leave her alone! Get away from us!”
The rest of the Woves standing away in the darkness began to laugh, the sound grating out between bared jaw bones. They were amused. Nyri could see herself in their eyes. A tattered Ninkuraa woman heaving a stick twice her size in an attempt to frighten them. A mouse before the grishnaa. She bared her teeth.
The lead Wove continued to approach.
“Get away!” Nyri hissed. It towered above her, dark and dangerous. It was now close enough for her to smell the rotting stench of a corpse. She took an involuntary step back. The laughter grew louder. To her surprise, the approaching Wove turned and snapped sharply at them. Nyri could not understand its words but the meaning was clear. The rest quieted instantly.
The demon’s small show of compassion, however, held little weight with her. So what if it did not want its followers to laugh while it did who knew what to them. Nyri stared at the blade in its hand. The tip was cruel and stained with layer upon layer of dried blood. Helpless tears started to fall down her cheeks. She knew it was over. The demon took another long stride towards her.
“I’m sorry, Kya,” she whispered.
Caught up in her defeat, she did not sense t
he approach. A large grey form flew past her ear, coming to her rescue for the second time in a day. Only this time it was followed by another and another. The air was suddenly filled with snarls and the snapping of teeth. She could not count the strength of the pack and Nyri did not care. Then the voices came, shouting and angry.
“Leave them! Leave us alone! Monsters!”
For an endless moment, the wolves and the Woves stared each other down. The Woves were woefully outnumbered. Both sides knew it and with a howl of challenge that raised the night itself, the wolf pack charged as one.
The greatest of hearts would have quailed at such a sight. Ancient instinct consumed the fierce will of the Woves. They turned and ran before the pack, many dropping their weapons in their haste to escape. But it was too late. The fleet wolves fell among them, bearing several to the ground, ripping at exposed flesh.
Nyri collapsed slowly to her knees, all strength leaving her. The need to protect Kyaati had been the only thing holding her up. The world blurred in a bloody mess of fur and flesh. Dazed, Nyri found her eyes being drawn to a strange thing. The lead Wove was still standing close to where she knelt, strangely unmoving and untouched amid all the chaos. Its blank face stared at her. The moment stretched before the demon finally disappeared into the darkness, swift as a deer. Those of the demons who had managed to avoid the lupine jaws had already fled, running for their lives between the trees. A few wolves followed, snapping at heels, driving their message home.
A cheer of victory was the last thing Nyri heard before the shock and exhaustion caught up with her. A wave of white noise and darkness sent her crashing to the ground.
9
Tragedy
“Nyri? Nyri! Can you hear me?” Someone was tapping her cheek. Nyri wished they would stop. It was irritating. “Brave child, wake up! Baarias needs you.”
Baarias. Nyri wrenched her eyes open. His name was like a douse of cold water. She sat up quickly and the world swam before her eyes. She was on the forest floor. A cotton-moss drape was covering her body.
“Wha-” she rubbed her forehead, fighting against the disorientation.
“Easy, child.” Sefaan was beside her. “The Woves are gone. You’re safe.”
Woves. That dreaded word brought everything flooding back in gut-twisting detail. One grisly image stood out high above the rest. The sight of Kyaati lying crumpled at the base of the tree, broken and silent. Nyri was glad that she was still on the ground.
Her eyes darted around the immediate area. Where was Kyaati? All she could see was Sefaan and, beyond the Kamaali, the blood soaked ground where the slaughter had taken place. One wolf had been lost to a lucky spear, the remaining pack stood mourning their fallen with soft whines. Nyri closed her eyes, breathing deep as her stomach heaved. Nausea crawled up her throat.
“Nyri,” Sefaan insisted. “Baarias needs you. It’s–”
“Kyaati,” she finished.
Nyri pulled herself unsteadily to her bruised feet. She did not stop to listen to Sefaan’s warning of what she might find. Nyri pulled from the Kamaali’s weak grip and stumbled away. She could feel Baarias’ presence a way into the trees.
The crowd was the first thing Nyri saw. The entire tribe was there and the collective sense of fear and despair was overwhelming. She fought her way through them with difficulty. By the time she neared the centre, Nyri had had enough. She could hear Kyaati now, crying out in pain. The sound fuelled her anger and irritation. The tribe’s despondent emotions threatened to crush her and she exploded like a wild cat on its prey.
“All right!” Nyri shouted. “Baarias needs to concentrate and you are not helping. Leave! Go home!” She could not bear to feel what they were feeling.
Their eyes widened at the ferocity of her will but they heeded her words and retreated. Nyri spied a couple of Elders eyeing her reproachfully but could not find it in herself to feel any remorse or embarrassment for her actions. That would come later.
Baarias appeared at her side, reaching up with a bloody hand to touch her arm.
“How-?”
“She’s no longer in danger,” he said. “Aside from severe bruising, she had a head injury, which I’ve stabilised, and a broken arm.”
Relief sluiced through Nyriaana. Kyaati was going to be just fine. A miracle after such a fall. “Thank Ninmah,” she breathed. Guilt and embarrassment at how she had overreacted in front of the whole tribe swamped her. She would have to apologise.
Baarias took her shoulder in a steadying grip, his face grave. “But Nyri,” he continued, solemnly. “The baby is coming.”
Nyri stiffened. “No!” she gasped. “It can’t be, Baarias! It’s too soon!”
“Shhh!” he hissed. “Kyaati was fairly close to her time. There might still be a chance. I need you to be strong, Nyri. I know you’re exhausted. I know you have already gone through too much this day, this night, but I have to ask more of you. We need to deliver this baby safely for Kyaati’s sake.”
Nyri straightened her aching body under his gaze. Baarias did not have to tell her what would become of Kyaati if they failed tonight. They could not fail. Gathering strength she did not think she had, she turned with Baarias to the task at hand.
Kyaati was lying upon a hastily gathered bed of cotton moss in a sheltered thicket, heaving in the throes of labour. Sweat was pouring down her reddened face mixing with the blood of her head injury. One of her arms was crooked. Nyri swallowed back bitter tears. Why had Ninmah allowed this to happen? Kyaati did not deserve this fate. Her father, Pelaan, was at her head, whispering rapid words of encouragement and support but his eyes were wild.
Baarias sensed Nyri’s struggle and squeezed her arm. Can you do this?
She balled her fists. Yes.
Nyri felt his pride in her before his thoughts turned back to Kyaati with a single-minded focus. Nothing would distract him now. He moved to kneel beside Nyri’s friend, placing his hands on her belly, assessing the situation. Nyri dropped onto her heels beside him. Her teacher was the only calm force present. It made it all the more frightening when his hands tightened into tense fists.
Nyri, he thought, grabbing her shoulder so that only she could hear. The baby is facing the wrong way. I need to turn her if she and Kyaati are going to live. I have given her extracts to ease the pain but she will need more than herbs for this. I need you to help her while I try to deliver the baby safely. His words were quick and to the point. Ease her pain. Quickly.
Nyri moved to Kyaati’s side and took her hand. Kyaati gripped her fingers so hard she thought her bones would crack. Her friend’s eyes were glazed as they rolled in her head. “Nyri,” she gasped, “what’s happening?” She was barely lucid. Her face contorted as another contraction convulsed her. Although the night was cold, the air inside this sheltered place was hot and heavy. It stank of sweat and blood. The leaves above them hung unmoving, even they seemed to feel the gravity of the situation.
“Shhh,” Nyri tried to soothe, “everything will be fine, we’ll get through this, Kyaati. J-just do everything Baarias says and your baby will be here soon.” Her voice cracked. She was trying to focus, to do her job but she could not find her centre. She could not extend her power. Kyaati began to scream as agony racked her. Pelaan was barely holding himself together. Nyri squeezed her eyes shut as she began to drown. Her friend was going to die. Torn from the inside out.
“Nyriaana!” Baarias’ voice cracked the thick air. It cut through the waters of despair closing over Nyri’s head. She sucked in a breath and then another. She had to do this. She reached out to the surrounding forest, drawing on its power. Great Spirit, lend me strength!
Placing her free hand on Kyaati’s heaving side, half way down her back, Nyri focused and extended her life’s energy inward. Kyaati’s body became hers. Nyri found the column of bone that was Kyaati’s spine and all the vital connections contained within. She fought the backlash of sensation leaking through the connection and numbed the searing messages, stopping them from
reaching their target.
Kyaati sank into her bed of leaves, panting in relief. The grip on Nyri’s right hand loosened. Grabbing a handful of leaves from Kyaati’s bed, she wiped at her friend’s sticky brow. Pelaan was frozen, watching Baarias work. Nyri shied away from the silence she heard coming from Baarias’ direction lest it break her concentration. The air should be filled with the lusty sounds of a baby’s cry by now.
“Nyri,” she heard Baarias whisper softly. Careful to keep her connection with Kyaati, Nyri moved around to her teacher. He placed a hand, sticky with blood and fluid, on her spare wrist. Can you feel anything?
Nyri floundered for a second, unsure of what he meant. Then she understood. She reached out, searching for the baby’s signature presence only to come up against… a void. Nyri shook her head in violent denial. No, that could not be. No, no, no.
Do something, Baarias! She pleaded, tears spilling from her eyes. She hoped Kyaati could not see, she hoped she was so drugged on Baarias’ remedies and exhaustion that she could not sense that her baby was lifeless.
The head started to appear.
“Kyaati. Push hard,” Baarias commanded, no hint of a waver in his voice. If the infant could not be saved, he still had a duty to save the mother. Exhausted as she was, Kyaati gasped and strained, giving her all to deliver her precious child.
At last she was out. Naked and helpless, she did not gasp nor fight for her life. She did not cry at the harshness of this new world. She lay blue and limp, dwarfed by Baarias’ steady hands. Her tiny mouth hung open. One arm was wasted and both feet were deformed lumps of flesh.
Baarias! Nyri was desperate.
“Dry her,” he urged. Together they rubbed the baby down with the leaves from Kyaati’s bed. “We have to try and get her life force moving.”
“What’s happening?” Kyaati had regained enough sense to understand that something was wrong. “Where’s my baby?”
