Joseph no longer wore his green and brown Ayamin combat uniform, and he appeared older with wrinkles lining his cheeks and forehead, silver tingeing his coffee-black hair. Now he wore coarse blue trousers with the knee poking out of the left leg, along with a tattered burgundy shirt with paint smears on the front. But it was still him. She knew it was him.
"Joseph!" Inale shouted.
Joseph stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. He seemed just as surprised as she.
Inale ran to him and threw her arms around his legs, bursting into sobs. She didn't know what had happened or where her parents were—or what would happen to everyone in Libysha or how she was going to save everyone—but for the moment, she didn't have to know.
Joseph simply stood there in stunned silence. He stared down at her as if in a dream. Inale looked up into his eyes, tears streaming down her face. "Joseph, what happened?"
Joseph shook his head as though to rouse himself, then he leaned down and took her hand. "It's going to be all right, Inale. Let's get those cuts taken care of."
All Inale could do was sob. Now that the danger had passed, it crushed in upon her with a horrible strength. She couldn't even understand what had happened, and Joseph wasn't able to explain much.
Still, all was quiet. The inside of his home smelled like fresh bread, tomatoes, and garlic. The furniture was wooden, and a strange dull black screen sat in the back corner of the room. Clocks ticked throughout the house, rhythmic and soothing. Off in the distance, a hunting dog bayed.
After giving her another glass of water to drink, Joseph wiped her face clean with a coarse blue rag. Inale grabbed his hand.
"I have to go back," she said, hiccupping. "I have to stop them."
Joseph shook his head. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and then pressed down a sticky brown bandage. "I don't think that's going to happen."
"But I have to! I'm the Third Nalenth. I was supposed to stop them, and I didn't. It was—" Inale's breaths quickened. Another hiccup squeaked out of her.
"Shhh." Putting his hands on her shoulders, Joseph leaned down until he was at her eye level. "Nothing that happened was your fault. There was nothing you could have done."
"But…I have to go back. You got back here. Take me back to Libysha! I have to go back!"
Inale's eyes filled with tears again. She hiccupped harder. The one thing she knew for certain was that she needed to return. She had to return. She pleaded with Joseph. Begged him to take her. After all, he had passed through the Tue-Rah before. Clearly that was how he was alive now. The Tue-Rah must have taken him when WroOth attacked. The Tue-Rah sometimes had good timing like that. She'd heard stories of such things before.
Joseph remained firm. He took her to a thick overstuffed couch with plaid stripes and sat beside her. "Inale," he said. "I can't control the Tue-Rah. I don't even understand it. It is an interdimensional portal to all the other worlds and times, but it's alive in and of itself. It isn't under control right now. Our access points aren't working. It does what it wants when it wants. Probably under Elonumato's bidding, but not necessarily."
"I need to go back. They'll kill everyone if I don't!" Inale struck her hands against the soft cushions. Why couldn't he understand how urgent this was?
Joseph sighed. He looked much older than she remembered, as if he had aged ten or more years since the battle at the palace. But his eyes were the same, and just as he had done when he was able to visit her in the garden, he stayed with her now.
Joseph spent hours reassuring her that her family would be all right. Surely they would. After all, King Theol was the First Nalenth. They needed him alive. He also told her that this place they were in now was the Indiana on the place called Earth, his home before he was brought to Libysha.
After a while, Inale rubbed her hands over her eyes, exhaustion creeping over her. The tears continued to leak out, but she wanted to be brave. She had to be brave. It wasn't easy. All she could do was pray and hope that Elonumato would take her back the next day so that she could save her family like she was supposed to.
* * *
But Elonumato didn't.
* * *
Inale stayed with Joseph in the white two-story house for a very long time. Her days were spent trying to understand what had happened and doing her best to prepare for her return. To her surprise, Joseph did not insist that she stay in a single room or a labyrinthed garden. The house was hers to roam as she chose with no guards outside the doors. Mealtimes were shared, and he spent more time with her here than he ever had when they were in Libysha.
But her nights were plagued with nightmares. Horrible, sweat drenched dreams of all that had happened and all which was probably happening while she wasted time here, helpless to save her family and people. Joseph said this was normal. That she was in mourning. And that in time she would go better.
Little by little, Inale grieved. It was as if the events filtered to her through narrow glass, followed by countless questions.
Did her parents escape?
Was Josiah all right?
Did Shon and Matthu make it to the warning beacons or Plaohi?
How many people died?
Did it hurt to die?
Was Elonumato surprised at all the people who reached the other side that night?
And, most painful of all, how could this have happened when she wasn't ready? No matter how much she asked, Joseph had answers to none of these questions.
When she closed her eyes, Inale saw the dead bodies again. Crushed, fallen, destroyed. But worst of all, she saw Naatos. She saw him in her dreams more than WroOth and AaQar. Eyes glowing as he transformed into everything she feared.
Each time she woke up screaming in the night, Joseph was there. He came into the little white room, flicked on the eagle lamp, and held her until she stopped trembling.
Most nights, Joseph told her stories to calm her. She had heard some of them before, like the ones about how he had once lived in this place he called Earth and served in his nation's version of the Ayamin. Apparently he had found her during some sort of mission, a baby wrapped in embroidered cloths with nothing but a note. Other nights he told her stories she had not heard and ones he made up entirely.
The one story he could never tell her though was how she would get back or how she would fulfill the prophecy.
"I'm not a Machat, Inale. I can't see the future," he said one night as he smoothed down the soft brown blankets. "But I know a little bit about what you're going through. The Tue-Rah ripped me off this world without so much as a warning, and I stayed in Libysha for almost five years before it returned me. It's been another twelve here before you came. Pretty hard to predict what the Tue-Rah or Elonumato is going to do. But I think that right now this is where you belong, and I promise…I'll take care of you for as long as you're here. We're going to find a way through this."
Inale was sure it wouldn't be much longer than a few weeks. Things would change. But the only thing that actually changed was her name. Joseph said he had named her Amelia when he first found her, and it was better for her to use that name now. Inale was too foreign. Just the suggestion angered her. Inale was her name. Her identity as a Libyshan. Though she tried at first to ignore him when he called her Amelia and attempted to correct him and others she met, she eventually relented.
In time, she also began to call him Uncle Joe instead of Joseph. After all, he explained to everyone that she was the daughter of an estranged brother no one knew he had. And since they still didn't know the nature of the blood curse or whether it was safe for her to be around other children, Uncle Joe taught her at home and through online courses.
Despite the changes in names, who they were was the same. Inwardly, she knew that she was Inale, the princess of Libysha who was a monster herself if she didn't become a hero and die before she did something truly horrid. And the one thing she never released or denied was the knowledge that one day she would return to Libysha and to her destiny as the Third Nalenth. When she
did, she would face Naatos and his brothers.
She pestered Uncle Joe to train her to fight. To help her to prepare for that time and all of the terrors it would hold. Those requests always made Uncle Joe uneasy. She was, after all, under a blood curse, and she would have to fight Vawtrians. No one seemed to know what Vawtrian weaknesses were, or even how to fight them in battle. What would it unleash from her though? Despite his concerns, Uncle Joe promised to help her as much as he could.
For a time, Inale and Uncle Joe did a fair amount of traveling, searching for answers in the oddest of places. No one could help them. No one had heard of the Tue-Rah or true mindreaders and shapeshifters or the blood curse. The money and resources at last gave out. The training, at least, continued forward.
Though she was young, Inale flung herself into all her training. Whatever Uncle Joe asked her to do, she fought to do even better. She pushed herself as hard as she could in sprinting, distance running, kickboxing, marksmanship, and survival skills. She wrote down everything she could remember, quizzed Uncle Joe on all his knowledge, and journaled extensively, backing everything up in several locations. It didn't matter that she didn't know for certain if these skills or activities would help her succeed. What mattered was that she did something.
Still the Tue-Rah did not come.
By the time Inale turned nine, Malcolm, an old friend of Uncle Joe's, bought the farm next to theirs and moved in with his family. He had three sons and one daughter who was close to Inale's age, Jacinda. Despite Jacinda's efforts and the adults' desire that they be friends, Inale remained distant, uncertain how to respond. She'd never had a friend close to her age. It was difficult to know what to do, and it was also somewhat pointless. After all, she became convinced that when she turned sixteen, the Tue-Rah would take her back. Everything revolved around that return.
She poured all of her spare time into training, coming up with new exercises and researching additional tricks on her own. Nothing Uncle Joe said could temper her enthusiasm or her hope.
* * *
Inale's sixteenth birthday came and went. The Tue-Rah did not take her. It was then that Inale accepted she was Amelia and no longer Inale. Devastated, she resigned herself to remaining for an unknown time. She enrolled in a community college to become a veterinarian and work with Jacinda's family in their animal clinic.
But she could not fully give up the possibility that the Tue-Rah would take her back. Little by little, she regained that conviction and attacked her preparations with a new enthusiasm.
Inale had been passionate before, but now, as Amelia, she was zealous. She expanded her knowledge, studying cryptozoology, cryptanalysis, mythology, ancient history, biology, anatomy, and more. No matter when she was taken, she would be ready. She even stopped sleeping in night clothes in case the Tue-Rah took her unannounced. And though it was never easy, each birthday made it harder, a painful reminder of the time she had spent on Earth, not knowing what had happened to her family.
Though it had been many years, the nightmares had not ceased, but they had slowed. Amelia no longer called to Uncle Joe when they came. The truth was that he could not save her from them or tell her that everything would be all right. They were no longer about monsters. Instead, they were all the same. A thick blackness enveloped her, so dark she could feel it. And from the darkness came a woman's soft voice that mocked her, whispering, "You'll never be ready for what was planned. It's already too late. Choosing you as the Third Nalenth was all a mistake. You've been forgotten. You can only become a monster or a worm."
One night in early fall, the dream was particularly vivid. The voice sounded as if it spoke directly in her ear, deafening and faint all at once. Amelia ducked her head and covered her ears. She tried to will the voice away, but she couldn't make her own voice work. Then, icy hands seized her by the throat.
Amelia woke with a start, soaked in sweat and trembling. Silver moonlight streamed over her bed. The house was silent except for the clock ticking downstairs. She lay there, her heart thundering.
At last, she rubbed the back of her neck and sat up. The cool night air surrounded her. She walked to the window and pushed it open farther, leaning on the white-painted frame. Up above, the moon and countless stars shone. Slowly she caught her breath and let her hands fall to her side. The air smelled damp. An owl hooted in the distance. It was probably about three in the morning.
Amelia propped her chin on her hand. A knot formed in her throat. Even now that the dream had vanished, a heaviness hung over her. "Is it true, Elonumato?" she whispered. "When can I go back? Have you forgotten me?" The silent question "Will I be a monster?" was too painful to speak.
The wind blew gently in the oak beside her window. The leaves and the tall grass all whispered, but there was no voice. There were no words.
Amelia sighed and stepped back. Whether there was an answer or not, she had work in the morning. She had to pick up the flea medications at six. Few things were less epic or connected to her destiny, but at least she could try to maintain a good attitude. She pulled the window shut, but before she left, she glanced outside once more.
"Please," she said softly. "Please don't forget me."
8
Vet
Amelia bumped the door shut to the vet's office, her arms filled with the latest shipment of flea medications. "Jacinda, have you fed the dogs?" she called.
"They're fine.” Jacinda's cheerful voice came from the overflow room where they handled whatever miscellaneous tasks cropped up throughout the day. “But could you check the scorpions? Bethany is coming by to pick them up today, if they're healthy enough."
"Sure. I think they like Ethan's special mash." Amelia cut the box open. With a sigh, she removed the plastic and peanuts and then slid the boxes into the white cubbies for distribution. Another typical day in the vet's office if all went well. Whether that was good or bad, she hadn't decided. But she wouldn't let anyone here know. "What time is Bethany coming by?"
"Three. Maybe four. I'm not sure. Maybe earlier. You know Bethany." Jacinda sang the last words out as a macaw repeated some German swear words its previous owner had taught it.
Amelia knelt in front of the large tank set on the wall marked "pick-up." Today they were shipping out a selection of black emperor scorpions, but it could have been any number of animals they rescued or nursed back to health. They handled a far wider variety of animals than most other vets, due in no small part to Jacinda's large family and their diverse interests and passions for animals. The shared love of animals had given Amelia an easy topic to connect to Jacinda and her family on, even while maintaining as much distance as she could.
Inside the glass tank were eight beautiful black scorpions. Amelia slipped her hand inside the tank, palm up. "Come on, sweetheart," she whispered.
One of the smaller scorpions crawled onto her hand. Its curved tail twitched in the air and caught the sunlight. Its crooked legs grated on her skin, prickling ever so slightly, but she remained motionless.
Once the scorpion reached the center of Amelia's hand, Amelia lifted it slowly. She didn't pick it up by its tail. No. That would risk hurting it. With her palm perfectly flat, the scorpion was as safe as it could be. And it looked to be quite healthy as she examined it from every side. It stared at her, its left claw easing open and sliding closed.
"Well?" Jacinda asked, coming up behind her. She had her hands thrust into her white lab coat pockets, and she beamed as if waiting for something delightfully exciting. "Are you going to say it?"
Amelia examined the scorpion's legs, tail, pincers, and body. There was no evidence of molting. "Say what?" she asked.
"You know." Jacinda shrugged. Her long feather-and-polished-stone earrings jingled. Even though she worked a minimum of eight hours in the vet's office or on the recovery farm every day and often more, she was always immaculately dressed with a blend of functionality and beauty, typically set off by contrasting colors. In this case, the magenta of her short-sleeved blouse and the
turquoise in her earrings. "That weird thing you would say when you were trying to hold a scorpion and kept crying when we were kids."
"Oh." Amelia smiled sadly. That was a long time ago. About twenty-five years. She forced down the emotions that swelled inside her. "It was just something like 'stare into the eyes of a scorpion, and a Vawtrian will respect you. Stare into the eyes of an angry scorpion, and a Vawtrian must listen to you.'"
"Yes! Where did you come up with that?"
"Just a book." Amelia's heart ached to return to Libysha. Regardless of what Shon and Matthu and the Ayamin accomplished in her absence, if anything, twenty-five years was a long time for anyone to be gone. Deep down she was afraid that they had forgotten her.
"Those scorpions are in gorgeous condition," Jacinda said. "Dad's got the list of duties for the day done. Want me to get yours?"
"Nope. I've got it." Amelia lowered her hand back into the tank. With its usual elegance, the scorpion scrambled off and dug back into the deep, layered bedding.
Amelia washed and dried her hands quickly, but she still got her fingerless gloves wet. They left most of her palm exposed and put firm pressure on her elmis. Which was good. The world felt more contained when they were under pressure. Plus, it was safer. Keeping the markings on her forehead covered was a little trickier. Most days she used a headband, sometimes a hat or a Band-Aid. Today was a headband day, another indicator of last night's drama and her melancholy mood.
The vet office was large with lots of rooms sprawled about in the random order of Malcolm's creation rather than proximity to needs. Malcolm, Uncle Joe's best friend, had developed a thriving practice over the past couple decades years, and all four of his children as well as Amelia worked there in some capacity. First thing in the morning, or at least by ten if he didn't get his coffee with cube sugar and Himalayan sea salt, he always had a to-do list for each of them. Not that they waited until he had those lists done. Very few things really required his approval, and there was always more than enough to do.
Identity Revealed: The Tue-Rah Chronicles Page 7
