The Healer sighed heavily. Jetta was right. The way the clouds were gathering, it wouldn’t be long before a mountain storm hit, and that could kill them if they didn’t descend to a safer altitude. On top of that, she wasn’t sure how much farther the Temple would be, and trying to go anywhere on foot without food, equipment, or shelter would be next to impossible. The wolves were domesticated, so they had been trained to gather edible plants if their handlers became incapacitated and to use their bodies as shelter if they weren’t able to find cover. There was a small chance that they could get by with just Gray Paw, but she knew that Jetta wouldn’t stand for abandoning the other wolf.
Triel touched the back of her leg, stirring distant memories. The wounds were long gone, but the pain was still there. She knew she couldn’t judge an entire species based on one experience—she wouldn’t do that to any Sentient—but still.
Jasen...
Tears brimmed as her heart surged with unexpected emotion. She looked at Jetta. Her green eyes looked back intently, watching her every move. There was confidence in her eyes, a familiar comfort there.
“You exposed me to the pack’s memories,” Triel said, remembering their first encounter. “I know they’re not evil, but I can’t—”
“You must trust me, Triel,” Jetta said, offering her hand. “And trust in what you experienced. Their familial bonds are in some ways stronger than ours. They are honorable and worthy comrades.”
The Healer heard her father’s song in her head.
Scarlet eyes
Black disguise
(Jasen)
Phantom pain bit down on her leg. She reflexively winced. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“I will be here. I won’t let you go.”
Triel looked at White Neck. He was whining softly, his tail tucked under his belly as he licked his injured legs. He looked up at her, his fiery eyes betraying their fearsome appearance, beseeching her for mercy.
Triel gave Jetta her hand, and they each placed one on the wolf.
“What’s there to be afraid of?”
Jetta’s tone wasn’t overconfident, but still the Healer didn’t say anything. Triel decided that it was better if her friend didn’t know the cautionary stories the elders told of the unfortunate Prodgies who tried to heal a beast. Or about her past. Her teachers had repeatedly warned her against restoring any being when her heart was not fully committed. It left the Healer vulnerable, and more importantly, malleable to any destructive facet of the host.
“Whatever you do, don’t let go,” Triel whispered.
Jetta squeezed her hand. “I’ve got you.”
Triel closed her eyes and tipped her head back.
JETTA DIDN’T KNOW WHAT to expect when she suggested they use each other’s gifts to heal the injured wolf, but she knew she had to do everything in her power to try. Her encounter with the fighting-ring wolves of Old Earth had imprinted her with new instincts, and being around the wolves of Algar only strengthened these primal impulses. It wasn’t normal for any being, Sentient or not, to stay at the forefront of her mind for such an extended period of time, and Jetta couldn’t account for this aberration. All she knew was that they were a pack now, and saving White Neck was paramount.
It was like diving through perfectly clear waters as Triel pulled her down into a parallel universe unlike anything she had experienced. The new world streamed by, iridescent colors swirling with starry constellations in an intricate dance of shifting energy and light. Jetta’s only impression of her own existence, and those of her companions, was the impossibly long filaments threading between three distinct halos of light.
She had never acted as an anchor and eyeshot before, and keeping herself grounded while simultaneously accessing the wolf’s mind was more of a challenge than she had anticipated. As Triel’s psionic rhythm wound around hers and entered the wolf, Jetta struggled to keep her grip on the physical world. Before, on Old Earth, she had merely connected with the wolf’s shared memories, not integrated with his biorhythm. Now she was locked in tandem with Triel, coursing through an uncharted world of living cells and biological energies.
Somewhere in the distance she felt her lips curl and her head fall back. Something growled, and a strange sensation slid down the axis of their world between worlds.
(Jetta,) Triel called across to her, voice stricken with terror. (He’s fighting me—)
Something lashed against her hold, and the constellations froze. A flower of singing black sound blossomed from within the threads holding them together, blotting out the confusing amalgam of neurofeedback.
It was suddenly very warm, and the air she breathed was spiced with lavender and the lingering scent of afternoon rain. Jetta looked down at her hands and saw the Healer’s markings. She was experiencing one of Triel’s memories, but she wasn’t alone. There were eyes behind her own, watching intently as the events unfolded.
The memory progressed. She was running in a field under the bright afternoon sun, her fingers gliding over the prickly tips of orange grass, humming a bedtime tune her father sung to her every night. Her youngest brother, Jasen, was at her heels, trying to keep up as she ran down the hill towards the river.
Scarlet eyes
Black disguise
Winter skies and raven cries
I know you’re there
Shadow in the trees
Call to the moon
when you’re done with me
A thunderous cry rang out, stopping her in her tracks. The sound was so desperate and agonized that she immediately thought of her father and sprinted toward the noise.
“Father!” she cried, legs pumping furiously as she rounded the stables toward the pasture.
Unrecognizable carnage lay steaming in the sun. It was a fresh kill, dragged from the stables, leaving a trail of blood and yellow gristle. Its flesh had been so badly mauled that she couldn’t tell which of the livestock had been slain.
Her eyes followed the bloody footprints to the forest, where the breeze carried the scent of burning timber and flesh. Her brother had caught up to her and grabbed onto her shirt, begging her to take him back home as he tugged with all his might.
But she didn’t go back. She heard the whimpering, the yips of pain, and knew she had to see.
“Father?” she timidly called.
She wrestled herself free of Jasen and pushed through the pricker bush, ripping her clothes and scratching her face. But the pain disappeared as soon as she saw the wolf’s eyes, burning like embers as he pawed at the ground, trying to gain purchase despite his shattered legs. Her father loomed over the massive creature, drawing back his bloodied ax for another strike.
Triel screamed as the wolf lurched forward and his teeth snapped down on her leg. He thrashed her sideways, turning the forest into a green blur before her head smacked against an exposed tree root. The world wobbled and seesawed. She wasn’t sure what was going on, whether she was really seeing another massive, black creature come bounding through the brush. But there was no mistaking her brother’s shriek or father’s cry.
“Jasen!”
Before Jetta could see more, the memory split apart at the seams and coalesced in a different time. It was perhaps a few days later. The wounds on Triel’s leg had been healed, and she lay bundled up in her bed. Her mother sat at the foot, her back to Triel as she stared out the open window at the evening sky. The sweet-smelling breeze carried in the sound of her father arguing with the neighbors somewhere away from the house.
“Where’s Jasen?”
She asked several times before her mother finally replied. She never looked at Triel, keeping her tears to herself, but spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “Your father is in trouble with the tribal council for killing the remainder of the pack. They should have never allowed them to come down from the mountains. What use do we have for them anyway? They’re dangerous—they can’t be trusted.”
“But father was training them—”
�
��And look what happened. That wolf turned on him. Your father is lucky to be alive.”
“Why did he have to kill the others?”
Her mother didn’t answer her. She clung to the bedpost, her body rigid and frail.
“Don’t you understand?” her mother whispered, her tears flowing freely now and wetting her blouse. “Jasen can’t come back anymore. He’s gone forever. They never found his body.”
Jetta listened to the inner voice of Triel’s memory and realized what Triel’s mother had meant. Since they couldn’t find the body of her brother, they would never be able to give him a proper burial or preserve the memory of his biorhythm.
Somewhere in the distance, back in corporeality, she felt herself gulping for air. The wolf was fighting back viciously now, tearing at the fragile lifelines connecting the three of them. He had seen Triel’s memories through Jetta’s eyes but only understood the slaughter of his kin. He didn’t grasp the implications of the wolf’s challenge for dominance that had nearly killed Triel’s father, nor did he understand why wolves should not kill livestock. The pain that had shattered Triel’s world when the second wolf abducted and killed Jasen paled beside the image of her father piling the wolves onto the wood pile, dousing their lifeless black bodies with colorless fuel and erasing entire generations of shared consciousness with one swift motion of his firestarter.
Jetta was thrust backwards with impossible force, skidding several meters on her back before coming to a halt dangerously close to the mountain’s edge. She opened her eyes, surprised to find herself back in the physical world. Triel straddled her, teeth bared and eyes ablaze. Jetta batted away the Healer’s attempts to claw her face while defending against her biting teeth.
“Triel!” Jetta shouted. It was as if Triel had gone feral. She was crazed, attacking with wild strikes and cursing in a language Jetta had never heard. Her eyes were unrecognizable, their predawn blue festering an angry purple and cutting through Jetta as if she had no psionic defenses at all.
The fight unfolded too quickly for Jetta to see what the two wolves were doing. She caught sight of Gray Paw looking at her curiously when her viewpoint flipped. Jetta bucked off of the ground as Triel’s mind pressed into her with vicious intent, tearing through Jetta’s insides with invisible claws.
A memory hit her suddenly. The Motti weapon. The voices she heard inside their machine when she breached the horizon. Their whisperings, their words that she heard within her bones—
(Ai-lĕ, ime, Ai-lĕ—nos k’etekµe imæ Ai-lĕ)
(Umnïero, Amaroka, f’ro ime nos wrli e)
(Dk’a ovŋĭl sh’dar’o)
At first she had no breath to speak. Triel had bitten into her neck, anchoring her position while asphyxiating her with unseen hands. The colors of the world were fading.
Still, she remembered that place of pain within the weapon’s inner realm and the blistering halo of light. She remembered the voices whispering those words over and over—
(Ai-lĕ, ime, Ai-lĕ—nos k’etekµe imæ Ai-lĕ)
(Umnïero, Amaroka, f’ro ime nos wrli e)
(Dk’a ovŋĭl sh’dar’o)
Then it made sense. She finally understood why she felt their words rattling inside her, jarring her fading mind.
“Ai-lĕ, ime, Ai-lĕ—nos k’etekµe imæ Ai-lĕ, Umnïero,” Jetta choked out with ragged breath. Blood spilled from her neck as Triel shook her like wounded prey.
Jetta fought for every word, “Amaroka, f’ro ime nos wrli e.”
Triel seized Jetta’s throat with her teeth as the words broke free.
“Dk’a ovŋĭl sh’dar’o...”
TRIEL TUMBLED BACKWARDS, landing flat on her back, slamming the air out of her lungs. Snowflakes melted on her face as she caught her breath and came to. Her mouth tasted like warm copper, and her body felt alien and sluggish. A strange growling grated in her ears, only to cease when Triel realized she was the one making the noise.
The Healer sat up, shaking her head to rid it of the disconnect between her body and mind. It wasn’t right. She looked at her markings, tracing the familiar pattern with a fingertip but not knowing who or what lay beneath the flesh.
The wolf.
She looked over at the injured wolf, who was lying unconscious where she had left him. Gray Paw was circling him, nudging his packmate with his nose.
“Jetta—”
Jetta lay motionless. Triel rushed to her side, turned her over, and gasped in horror when she saw the deep gouges in Jetta’s neck. The marks were made by teeth, but not by the fangs of a wolf.
Triel touched her mouth, fingers scraping at the crust of congealed blood on her lips. “Oh Gods—”
The Healer’s stomach spasmed, purging every last drop of its contents onto the mountaintop.
As the heaving began to slow, she realized her worst fears had come true. First Jasen and now Jetta. Why didn’t Jetta listen to her? Wolves were wild and unpredictable, and now her brother and best friend were dead.
Gray Paw snapped at her, setting her back on her heels. His scarlet eyes, twin flames of unfettered spirit, glowed fiercely in his black face. His snarled, showing the sharpened tips of his canines as he bowed his head and locked his gaze with hers.
Suddenly there was a new voice in her head, speaking in a foreign tongue she had never heard. Somehow her consciousness translated the words into recognizable feelings.
It’s not too late.
Triel took no further cues and lunged back toward her friend. “Come back—”
She interlocked her fingers with Jetta’s and laid her opposite hand over the wound. As she plummeted beneath the surface of her skin, she realized the internal damage was even more extensive. It was as if a wild animal had torn through ligaments and tissues, cracking bones and thrashing organs.
It was too much, and she had too little time to resuscitate Jetta’s vital organs without neglecting the totality of her being. Besides, their attempt to heal the wolf had depleted her own reserves.
It was hopeless. Cells were dying off at exponential rates. Blood supplies were drying up, clogging pathways and congesting her senses. At every turn another system was failing. It wasn’t just Jetta’s mutated genetics foiling her—she was just too far gone.
I killed her—
But just as she was about to fall to pieces, something warm and furry bolstered her. An aggressive, savage dynamism galvanized her flesh, not unlike what she had experienced within the other wolf. But this time the biorhythm was strong, vibrant, and easily accessible, sliding down her fingertips like liquid energy and flowing into her lifeless friend. Coruscations of light flowed through her veins, repairing Jetta’s injuries much faster than she had ever healed anyone.
Jetta’s heart began to vibrate with electrical impulses that Triel quickly guided into an organized, viable rhythm. Tears of joy streamed down Triel’s face as she cupped her friend’s heart with her hands, nursing its pump and directing its flow within her body.
Green eyes fluttered open, full of disbelief and shock. “Triel?”
“It’s okay,” Triel said, smoothing away the hair on her forehead. Triel let go of Jetta’s hand and scooted back a little bit. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Hei Meitka.” Jetta winced as she sat up, checking for the wound on her neck, but it had already healed. “You... weren’t yourself.”
Triel dropped her gaze. “It’s one of the reasons why Prodgies were forbidden to heal animals. Their biorhythms are difficult to navigate and they usually end up infecting us with their primitive instincts.”
“So you took on his fear?”
“In a sense, yes. That’s why I attacked you.”
Jetta looked at the injured wolf lying a few meters away, a thin layer of snow blanketing his charcoal fur. “He saw something in you, in your memories—the deaths of his brothers.”
Triel shivered at the nasty bite of the wind. “You saw what happened to Jasen?”
“I’m so sorry, Triel,” Jetta whispered.
“Now you know why I couldn’t heal him.”
Jetta frowned. “You couldn’t heal him because you don’t trust him. That’s why he won’t let you in.”
“I was only seven, and they had killed my brother. How would you feel?”
“They have a pack mentality, Triel,” Jetta said. “And in a pack, if you can’t trust your mates, then everything falls apart. He saw the deaths of his brothers, but he also saw the inception of your distrust. With the way you feel, you’ll never accept them.”
“That’s not true,” Triel said. “At least, not anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
Triel reached out and stroked Gray Paw’s head. “I found a reason to trust.”
“As you should,” Jetta said with a smile.
“It turns out the elders were wrong. At least about reading them. I understood Gray Paw when he told me I could still save you. It’s not like sensing other Sentients, but it’s very distinct. Maybe not all of the old teachings were as accurate as I thought. Or maybe it was because of your guidance.”
Triel stopped petting Gray Paw and looked up. “Jetta,” she asked carefully, “how did you know that prayer?”
Jetta frowned. “What prayer?”
“Ai-lĕ, ime, Ai-lĕ—nos k’etekµe imæ Ai-lĕ...?”
It took a moment before Jetta remembered what she had uttered while under attack. “I... don’t know. I remembered it from when I made contact with the Motti weapon. I heard the voices chanting it. I just felt like I had to say it. What is it?”
“It’s a protective prayer. It’s to keep a Healer grounded.”
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know how well it will translate into Common. Something like take me, take me, for I know not what I do. I give myself to the Great Mother so that she may wield my spirit, for her will is of the greater good.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Prodgy believe that the Great Mother is the channel between the spirit world and the mortal world. By giving ourselves to her, we can maintain our inner peace and restore a Falling Healer.”
Triorion Omnibus Page 107
