Forsaken Dreamscape (Nevermor)

by Lenore, Lani

  When her tongue grazed his sharp teeth, she gasped, drawing back.

  “It’s alright,” he whispered when she tried to pull away, and was quickly back against her mouth.

  Perhaps she was foolish – maybe everything she’d ever believed in the past had been foolish – but she chose to trust him. Her lust was strong, but it did not manage to prevail over the abrupt turn as her desire swept into uncertainty.

  As he kissed her, she began to feel impossibly hot inside, burning in her mouth and down her throat. She could feel her own pulse pounding at her temples, and her stomach churned, boiling.

  Too hot! His fire’s spreading to me. I can’t do this!

  Wren groaned and pulled away from him, covering her mouth with one hand and her burning stomach with the other.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked innocently, gripping her arm to steady her.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him, unable to bring herself to speak of what had happened. “I thought I heard something.”

  Rifter looked around, listening, and she felt guilty that he had fallen for her ploy, but she let it be. It was better than telling the truth.

  “You said there was no time to waste now that I’m here,” she reminded him, hoping to escape further talk of the kiss. “We are to find the boys?”

  “There is one more thing that I didn’t make clear, I’m afraid.”

  She was silent, still waiting for the terrible burning sensation to fade.

  “Wren, we can’t stay together.”

  Her chest clenched with fear and confusion, worse than the burning. She had been alone in this world before – before it had changed – and it had never gone well for her. How could he expect her to survive by herself?

  “You expect me to carry on alone?” she gasped.

  “When you find the others, they will protect you.” He seemed very sure of it, but she wasn’t so confident.

  “What if I don’t find them?”

  “Wren, it’s not safe for us to be together,” he insisted, resting his hands on her shoulders. She almost backed away, but forced herself to stay near him. “I told you, the world has turned against me. The nightmares seek me out – You’ve seen it yourself already! – but I can draw them away and you can cross the land undetected.”

  She was still shaking her head, and he lost his patience.

  “Wren!” he said forcefully, “I can barely keep myself alive.” He paused to look in her eyes, and she saw that he wasn’t going to change his mind. “I can’t protect you.”

  It was a harsh pill to swallow, but Wren knew she could not argue. He was set and believed it was the only way. An argument would only waste time. After a brief pause, she nodded her agreement. Once he saw that, he was ready to move on. He took her back to the mouth of the cave, hesitating just inside.

  “Here; I want you to take this.” He placed a dagger in her hand and closed her fingers around it. This was not the first time he had given her a knife, and it had not gone well for her then, either. Wren stared at it, saddened. The blade gleamed up at her. She had seen Rifter kill, many times, and it had always disturbed her. She had seen the broken bodies of children smashed onto the street. No, she could never kill anyone. This was not how she wanted to live her life.

  “Wren,” Rifter said firmly, clearly sensing her doubts. “If you don’t learn to fight back, then you’ll be killed. There’s no sweet way to say it; it’s as simple as that. Please don’t refuse this. I don’t know what I’d do…”

  She stared into his tired eyes. Though the color disturbed her, she could see the sadness in them. She began to nod slowly in understanding. Perhaps he was right. She drew the dagger closer to her, wrapping it in her gown at the waistband.

  Was this the end of their reunion? Already, this was goodbye?

  “What is it that you will be doing?” she asked.

  “I must keep that to myself for now,” he told her. “You understand.”

  Wren wasn’t sure if she did, but she accepted it.

  “Make your way towards the old Tribal camp on the cliff-side,” he instructed her. She knew of it; she had been there before. “No one is there anymore, but there will be much to do along the way. I need you to take the Pack there. I will be there to meet you in a few days.”

  “You’re sure this is the best way?” she tried again. “For us to be separated?”

  Her eyes pleaded for something with less danger, but taking chances was always in Rifter’s nature.

  “I’ve thought this through and there is no other way now. This is how I can keep you safe. I don’t want anyone to know you are here, and if we are seen together, it will be worse for us.”

  Wren knew she had to accept this – knew what had to be done. She nodded her agreement.

  “Thank you,” he muttered. “I know it’s been hell for you, but this place has been through it, too. The land doesn’t deserve this punishment. Now, to get to the ruined Tribal encampment, you have to pass through the woods and the plains. It will take a while for you to get there on foot. By that time, hopefully I will have found what I am after as well. Round up the boys as you go. They will help you because you are special to them. And please be careful.”

  Wren took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if what she had received was a warm welcome, but she would try to accept it, for him and for this place. There was no other option if she wanted to get the world back to the way it had been – to salvage a life.

  Above them, a sharp cry echoed through the trees, and they both jerked their heads toward it.

  “They’re coming for me,” Rifter said hurriedly. “I’ll lead them away. They won’t notice you.”

  “Rifter…” She caught his arm, and even after what he had told her – and with the sounds of the creatures coming on – she could not quite let him go.

  “Wren, this is important, and you are the only one who can help me. It won’t be for long, and then we’ll be together again; I promise. Just find the Pack. I have to go.”

  Without any more than that, Wren released him and he shot up into the air. He had just cleared the trees when several dark shadows swooped up after him, leaving the area quiet and still.

  Chapter Seven

  1

  After Rifter had left her, Wren stood at the mouth of the cave, listening to the sounds of the withered forest. She waited, shifting her gaze this way and that before bringing it back toward the sky, as if at any moment she might be delivered.

  As if Rifter would change his mind and come back.

  You’re on your own now, she decided sternly, and that acceptance freed her. She forgot about lurking horrors and was brave enough to leave the vicinity of the cave, moving in the direction opposite the way Rifter had brought her into the woods.

  Strange noises came at her through the trees, and she often jerked her head toward rustling sounds in the thorny brush, but the most she ever saw were a few stony hawks staring down at her, rigid and absorbed. Wren kept quiet, holding her arms around herself for comfort.

  Nothing good had ever come about while she was walking through the woods alone.

  As she traveled, her eyes drifted downward to seek out her shadow, but she was not quite surprised to find that it wasn’t there. She was, however, shocked at herself for being sad about it. Though she had not liked it when the shapeless imp had first chosen her, she had been warned that she would miss her mimic if it ever fled, and she believed that now. She felt as though she was missing a part of herself.

  Who knows where it might be now.

  As Wren was pondering these things, she fought her way through a curtain of ivy in order to move ahead, and what she saw on the other side of it widened her eyes and gave way to doubt.

  A heady cloud of smoke and burn hit her head-on. The forest here was full of charred trees, ashes spinning in the wind like snowflakes. There was an orange glow above her and she lifted her eyes to the tree tops, ablaze in the evening air. While the other half of the woods had already burned, this stretc
h seemed to be going strong, but there was only to go forward.

  Wren had never seen a fire like this – seeing that it only kept high in the branches as she passed beneath – but she did not like it here. The heat didn’t seem to bother her, but she did not want to breathe any smoke.

  She took in limited breaths of air as she trudged on, her hand against her gown where she could feel the solidity of the dagger. She had a terrible feeling that this was to be a quest of ordeals, and that everywhere she went, she would meet with new trouble.

  Here, the crackling of the branches above kept her on constant guard. Was this a relevant place to search for the members of the Wolf Pack? If it was a safe place to inhabit, why hadn't Rifter thought to live here? No one would have looked for him in this place, for who would be foolish enough to live in an ever-burning wood? But these were unimportant thoughts. She dismissed them and began to busy her mind with what she could remember of the boys she sought.

  I must think as they would if I want to find them.

  The first that came into her head was Toss. He’d never been the best at making his own decisions, needing guidance, but he was definitely the kindest among them. He had always been a bit naive, and was the favorite for teasing by his brothers, but Wren had thought highly of him. He had been the first one of them to stand up for her when she’d been in danger, and he had never been anything but a perfect gentleman in her direction. In appearance, he had been a tall and hefty boy, and she imagined that he still was. Some frames simply couldn’t grow much thinner.

  She wondered if he was all alone in the world, and that thought saddened her. He and Finn had been close in the past. Surely they hadn’t drifted so far apart?

  Finn… He had always made her laugh. He was naturally charming, but unfailingly brought trouble on the group from his antics and daring-do. Of course, he was only a boy back then; Wren supposed all boys had their moments. Despite what the others thought of him, he’d always had brilliant ideas for making things – in the home or in the field – and had a nose for scavenging. She remembered his grin and his amazing curly hair, which he’d never liked to brush.

  Despite Finn’s faults, the twins had always idolized him for his engineering feats.

  The twins, Mach and Mech – mischievous, secretive, naughty, with blazing red hair. They had never been easy to distinguish, even among those who knew them well, but Wren had been especially keen to a slight variance in their personalities. It was fairly clear to anyone who paid attention that Mech was the dominant one, whereas Mach was slightly more reserved. He followed his brother. Rifter had never tried to tell them apart, content to treat them as the same person.

  Wren did remember one thing particularly well: the twins only liked to be the same when it suited them. They hated it when they spoke the same words or finished each other’s sentences, but in ways they were each half a person without the other. Wren wondered if these two brothers – once so close – had drifted apart in this corrupted world. And could any of them survive without Sly to keep them in line?

  Sly had been in Nevermor the longest, therefore was an elder among the immortals. He was also the smallest, but what he lacked in stature, he made up for in mental acuity. He was the most intelligent of the boys, though Wren thought they were all brilliant in their own ways. Sometimes silent in what he knew, Sly would steer the rest of them onto the right path, often without them even noticing. Sly might have made more rational and logical decisions than Rifter, but his respect was always greater, and he kept himself as an obedient follower.

  And then there was Nix.

  Wren and Nix had never been friends, and yet she had never done anything against him. He had taken an immediate dislike to her, and that was the end of it. Over the past four years, she had considered their relationship, and yet she had not quite decided on why he had been so hostile toward her. He had told her that it wasn’t personal – that it was actually Rifter he was angry with for bringing her into the group – but yet they had never sorted out the problem.

  Will he be able to see past it for Rifter’s sake this time?

  Putting their differences aside, Wren would have to admit that Rifter had a loyal follower in Nix. He was the most skilled of the boys, and why shouldn’t he be? He’d spent much of his days practicing the art of battle. Nix had a great finesse with any weapon he put in his hands, but he often let his temper get the best of him. She’d always believed that he loved violence too much, yet the same could have been said about Rifter, who was possibly the only one who could win against Nix in a fight. Nix was by far the most opinionated, and unlike Sly, he was not afraid to tell Rifter so. Even when defeated, he always held his head high and looked down his nose at the rest of them – that was how she would recognize him.

  Will any of them be the same as they were? she wondered. Will they know me?

  Had all these boys grown older? It was a bit hard to imagine, but Rifter had told her that it was true. He had also told her that some of the boys had seen the Scourge’s side of things. If she did indeed meet all of them, how would she be able to tell which ones were on Rifter’s side and which were secretly against him?

  I’ll have to take it as it comes, she decided. It’s what I have to do to get this world back in order.

  Wren was lifted from her thoughts when a flicker of light in the boughs caught her eye. Suspecting the shift of a flaming branch, she raised her head – and stopped in her tracks. Up in the treetops, untouched by the fire, there were several bulbous nests made of leaves, mud, and shimmering fibers. The glow she had seen was not from a flame, but in fact a small creature hidden in a globe of light, bright as a star. Wren knew what it was, and a wave of panic rushed over her.

  A wisp!

  Rifter had once told her that the fairy wisps were dangerous creatures that did not like humans, and their nests should be avoided at all cost. Looking out over the trees, Wren could see now that she had not even noticed the nests until she had come into a large cluster of them. They were silent and inactive for the most part, save for the wisp drifting around overhead, but this told her that not all of the sacks were abandoned.

  Wren remembered Rifter’s words as clearly as if he were standing next to her now. They are like tiny witches. They could curse you, turn you to stone, burn you alive, pull you inside out… Passing through this stretch of forest was like crossing a minefield.

  She was not sure what to do, frozen to the spot. The fairy had not seemed to notice her yet, and she understood she needed to avoid that. Moving carefully, Wren slipped behind a patch of blackened trees. She crouched low to the ground, thinking that the spot would do until she decided on her next move, but she didn’t know what that would be.

  This is just like sneaking through the hallways at the asylum, she told herself with a calming breath. She hadn’t liked that at the time either, but she had done it. She could do this now.

  Wren looked around, wondering if she should try to go back the way she’d come and attempt to go around, when she noticed a figure coming through the trees. She hadn’t expected to see another living soul in these charred woods, but she did not dare to make herself known until she had discovered who he was, even though he appeared to be alone.

  As he came closer, she was able to identify his traits. He was tall and young, wearing a sleeveless coat of red-brown fox fur that stood out like the fire in the black woods, but she could not see his features clearly. He was still too far away. She did, however, notice that he was not afraid to walk beneath the fairy nests, and gave no mind when a few more of the wicked creatures began to swarm above him. Didn’t he know that they were dangerous?

  She didn’t want to see him be killed by them. She had a mind to call out, but it would be a greater risk for her to do so. Crouched behind the trees, she could do nothing but watch.

  He stopped beneath the nests, looking up at the wisps who were growing more agitated. Wren could hear the fairies hissing, and she guessed what was coming.

  She he
ld her breath but could not look away. She did, however, clamp her hands over her ears so as not to be affected by a whispered spell. She watched as he lifted up a narrow pendant that was on a string around his neck, put it to his lips and blew into the hollow cylinder. A whistle? It made no sound that she could hear, but that did not mean there was no effect. The wisps began to complain in harsh whispers like she had heard once before, and then, one by one, they burst into a thousand flecks of glitter.

  Wren gasped when she saw them explode, seemingly for no reason, but she knew this man had done it. The pitch of the whistle must have affected them somehow.

  Once the wisps had all been reduced to a rain of shimmering ash, he took a bow and an arrow, wrapped on the end with cloth. Setting it on fire by a patch of flame that was twisting near the base of a tree, he shot into the nest above, which promptly erupted in flame.

  She watched him for a long time, keeping quiet and low. He was methodical and precise – in no hurry. He took great care with his arrows, setting them perfectly, lighting the end and making sure his aim was accurate before he let them fly directly into the nests. When the wisps began to swarm, he blew into the silent whistle and they exploded in bursts of dust.

  Wren could not say whether or not she thought this was horrible, but she knew what it was. It was an extermination.

  When he had done this to several nests and no more wisps presented, he stooped to gather handfuls of the fairy remains into a small bag, collecting the ash of the forest floor along with it. Once he was done with that, he rose and turned to go. By this time, however, Wren knew she could not let him get away – not without getting a good look at him.

  Could it be one of them? She didn’t believe that he was a pirate, and though he may have belonged to a number of other peoples on the island, she had to take the risk to know him. She would put herself at his mercy.