Wilderness Untamed

by Butler, J. M.

  In vowing to protect her, he had been certain he could prevent her from so much of that so long as she was reasonable and cooperated. But it was almost as if there was some divine necessity that she accumulate wounds and suffering from every type of venom and form he could not save her from, few as those were comparatively.

  It chilled him to realize that if any of his enemies lived, it would not be hard for them to recognize his true weakness. WroOth had battled that fear with Mara, and she had been content, even eager, to accept the walls and protections.

  That hadn't been enough.

  Of course if Rasha spoke the truth, then all her ferocity and power had been useless against the might and cunning of the Okalu.

  He had hated her these past years for her betrayal, for nearly destroying his brother. But a queasy unease unsettled that hate. Because if she spoke the truth, then they were in an incredibly precarious position. And he might owe her an apology.

  If they ever met again.

  Her breaths eased still further, slow but full. But her body blazed with heat. Perhaps the Ki Valo Nakar could keep the nightmares away. It owed her that and more.

  The camp had formed around him, his brothers handling all of the tasks as the sun slid toward the horizon. The bavril lowed as it drained one of the new corpses hanging from another chiron oak. Someone had gone hunting. Good. They would need food. AaQar and QueQoa were digging two channels from the river to a large pit, presumably to place ice and water in case the venom sacs and veins ruptured. A final effort that was unlikely to succeed without the proper tools and might buy her minutes.

  Two fires blazed in the center of this temporary resting place, the large pot over the farthest one and bubbling. WroOth dropped quartered onions into the broth with the skins on. He wasn't using a branch to stir this time but had fished out the large spoon from one of the packs.

  Naatos leaned his head back against the trunk. He let the healing energy continue to leak into her for all the good that it did. It was powerless against this venom.

  Powerless.

  The word soured within him.

  AaQar brushed his hand against his shoulder. "Food is ready. You need to eat, and we might be able to get her to take some broth as well."

  Nothing to argue against there.

  He took her to the fireside and fed her small sips of broth as well as tea. She barely woke to swallow. This time at least she kept it down before falling back into deep slumber.

  They ate in silence. Not even WroOth had anything to lighten the mood.

  QueQoa spoke at last. "She said that there were people here. Beyond the mountains. Our cadre as well. Perhaps there is someone out here who can provide help."

  "Perhaps," WroOth said. "But we won't find them sitting here."

  "No," AaQar agreed. The sky darkened as night set upon them. "But perhaps relatively close. We may need to split up."

  He drew his hand over his face, contemplating this. Splitting up opened them to additional dangers, especially if the unformed ones attacked again or anything else proved as devastating as the canyon dragons.

  But in her ramblings through Dry Deep, she had said that there were people beyond the mountains and the desert. Thousands. Bealorns, Shivennans, Awdawms, Vawtrians, Machat. "She said thousands. Thousands, not millions, not billions. There used to be billions," Naatos said. "If she had just been speaking without knowledge, she'd be drawing off her memories for what she said. Maybe she was actually hearing them."

  "If there are Bealorns, they might still have the knowledge to eliminate the long leeches." AaQar lifted his head as the sesame oil scent rose through the air. "The Tiablos too."

  Dozens of dolmaths scurried into the camp. Several of them clustered around Tacky who had situated itself at Naatos's feet. They had mostly grey spots and darker blue dappling, and all of them chirred and stroked Tacky while the striped dolmath chirped in response. They almost seemed more interested in this newcomer than any of them.

  Naatos straightened. The dolmaths he and his family had found when they first arrived behaved as if they were starved. Desperate for contact and connection. These appeared far more typical of the dolmaths he was used to.

  When he looked up, he saw his brothers had noted the same.

  "Someone could be out there," QueQoa said. "Quite a few. They might be able to help us."

  "We need to find the Bealorns if they are," AaQar said. "We can send up flares, the old signals. I can have those finished before the end of the night. But you three, you need to go scout for any cities or towns. Anyone. If you go as far as you can and then return, one of you will surely find someone if they're out there."

  "You expect me to leave her now?" Naatos demanded, bristling. "You can't heal her."

  His brother fixed his gaze on him, his expression grim. "You're right, I can't heal her. But I'm not as fast as the three of you. Not anymore. And I can protect her. I can slow the fever, keep her safe, and prepare the flares. Time is of the essence. You'll cover significantly more territory than I in the same amount of time, and that could make the difference between finding someone and no one."

  "If the Okalu sends more unformed ones?" WroOth asked, his hands steepled in front of his face.

  "I will remain on guard. At the first sign of trouble, I will take her and leave. I'll alert you all. You have the whistles. This is the best we can do, and it must be done swiftly."

  AaQar's words were firm and sound. More as he had been when he had been a leader. It was good counsel even though part of him wanted to fight it. The thought of leaving her for even a moment pained him and sent his blood cold. But he was faster. Only WroOth beat him for speed.

  He had to do this. Over the past days, he'd slid into a place near death. A place where he could scarcely function. She wasn't dead yet, but part of him was fading with her. He'd fight for both of them.

  Carefully, he laid her on the ground. Pressing a kiss to her pale lips, he willed her to stay strong, to hold fast. They'd find a way through this. They hadn't come this far to fail.

  The somber mood ruled over the camp as they each took an opi bag. Adopting a leaner version of his iron dragon form, QueQoa headed toward the twin peaked mountains and sequoia-like forests. WroOth slung his opi bag over his shoulder and stooped down beside her. He gave her shoulder a light shake. "I meant what I said, dear heart. If you die, I'm never going to forgive you."

  "She isn't going to die," Naatos said sharply.

  WroOth stepped back, his arms lifted. "She better not." With that, he transformed into the red fire dragon and leaped into the sky.

  Naatos shook his head as he returned his focus to AaQar. "Don't let anything happen to her."

  AaQar met his gaze as he gripped his shoulder. "She will not die on my watch, brother. I will protect her with my life. Go. Swiftly."

  Naatos took one last look at her before he stepped back and let the form of the nightgleaner tear his body apart. Then, with a powerful sweep of his wings, he leaped into the air and flew toward the mountainous forests in search of help.

  91

  Night and Day

  As his brothers' left, AaQar found himself heavy in spirit and weary in soul. The fire blazed and allowed for shadows to stretch and obscure across the low grass. Amelia lay on her back, half in darkness, half in light.

  For a moment, he regarded her, contemplating all that had happened. The flush now climbing through her face confirmed the fever's rise. And fevers always seemed to increase at night.

  Digging into the packs, he removed the hammock. He then hung it from the second largest branch and tied it securely. After he placed her in it, he set Tacky on her chest as the other dolmaths milled about.

  "If I could give you peaceful dreams, little sister, I would send you to a gentle place," he said. "I don't know if you can hear me. But I did hear you when I was ill. At least a little sometimes. Probably not all you said, knowing how much you talk. It was comforting to hear a familiar voice. So I hope you can. And I hope
it comforts you."

  He paused, so many words building in his chest. "I can't lie to you though. Even if we do find a way to stop the long leeches, the damage from their venom will remain in part. It's a long way back for you. It's hard to say how hard it will be, only that you'll be weak for quite some time. That's hard to endure, I know. And I wouldn't judge you if you decided you didn't want to fight. But if you could—if you would—fight. Please. We'll help you build back. And while it may not be easy, it will be worth it."

  She stirred, her eyelids fluttering. A slow sigh followed. If he were a man more prone to fits of imagination, he might have told himself that he heard a "yes" in that long breath.

  He got her to take a little more water and then set to preparing the flares. "This will be the simplest of designs, little sister. No more than a white flash and the scent component. WroOth would probably be annoyed that there isn't more color to it, but I don't have the finesse to make colors." He wasn't even sure if he still remembered how to convert brown sand into black powder. Brown sand there was in abundance at least.

  He scooped up handfuls and channeled his energy into the grains, transforming them into the needed explosive substance. A painful and delicate transformation that left his palms scorched and his energy seriously drained.

  He blew on his palms after he emptied the powder into the stone. The skin blistered but healed back, slowly, itching in its creeping restoration. Swearing, he shook his hands.

  "I hope you didn't hear that," he murmured.

  He rubbed his freshly-healed hands over his temples, resting them briefly on the top of his head. Reptilian coughs and higher calls sailed into the night, sleepy and muted. Like some mother rousing and checking for little ones.

  The weight of the night pressed heavy upon him as he continued to prepare the flares and look after Amelia. The veins had spread still farther, creeping closer to the elmis on her wrists. Some of the veins glistened and bulged now. If they started to rupture and burn her, the water was ready. At that point, they wouldn't have long. But it was something. Right now he'd take anything.

  The minutes rolled by slowly, but every so often there was an odd crack or snap in the forest.

  Was it possible that there was someone out there?

  In all his years of prizing solitude, he'd forgotten just how lonely undesired isolation could be. If there were other people here, it meant Rasha had lied or been misinformed. But oh, his heart twinged at the thought as he bowed over the makeshift work station. If it could be possible for their cadre to live: Shander and Khanaan and Hatet and Ngi Kinot and Diage—he blinked, tears pricking against the backs of his eyes, unbidden.

  "I hope you didn't mishear those things, little sister." He tamped the black powder and herbs down into one of the reeds with the slim handle of the long spoon. "Ordinarily I wouldn't give myself the chance to hope. Better to face life as it is rather than what it might be. But… I am hoping you will survive. Why not hope that they live as well? That there is some good explanation for Rasha? That—that all of this can be good again."

  Crossing to her hammock, he noted the long leeches had spread even more. How long did they have left?

  He glanced back at the flares. If he set those off now and someone by some miracle did hear and come, that was good. But if too many came and they were in any way hostile, well—it wouldn't do her any good to be captured and die within hours.

  Testing her forehead, he noted that her fever had not come down in the slightest. Ice baths during fever were dangerous, but it was the only way to control the venom in the veins if they did rupture.

  He closed his eyes. "Elonumato, it has been decades since we spoke. You did not answer with understanding at other points, but surely you can see what is happening here. This is your Third Nalenth, and while I could charge her with many things, I cannot charge her with being unfaithful in the pursuit of her duties. She will die if you do not intervene. And since I cannot know whether that is enough, if you require something of me to ensure that she survives, then take it. I swear that if you spare her, I will not rule this world or seek kingship. I lay aside my claim to Ecekom. If you require more of me, then tell me what it is, and I will give it."

  He bowed his head and pressed it to hers. "You need to keep fighting, little sister. If I could heal you, I would. If—"

  He looked down at his chest.

  His toal still bled. Some small measure of power remained within it, stunted and brutalized as it was.

  If the miracle happened through this. If he could just—it wouldn't be enough to heal her. And it hadn't worked with Mara. The venom had infested her heart, and he had grievously weakened himself. But this—now—what if?

  That dead sensation in the center of his chest was one he ignored as much as possible. Even feeling the edges of it brought dark waves of memories surging to his mind. He pressed his hand over the center and let the energy circulate. Did any remnant exist?

  He flattened his palm. Much healing had occurred in the past days. But not enough. Nothing that could be transformed and transferred.

  The curses that rose to his mind offered nothing. Not even catharsis.

  Dragon wings rushed in the air above. A red form sliced through the lightening sky as WroOth landed just outside the camp. The bat-like wings collapsed against his back. His form held half a moment longer before it collapsed. As he straightened his shoulders, the haggardness clung to him a moment longer.

  When he turned and caught AaQar's gaze, that careful mask fell back into place as he entered the ring of firelight.

  AaQar watched him expectantly. Was it possible? No. No, it wasn't. There was no hope in WroOth's stride nor in his eyes nor in his voice.

  WroOth lifted his arms. "Not a trace. Maybe they're hidden. Maybe—" He walked alongside Amelia's hammock. Reaching in, he adjusted the blanket. The muscles through his neck and shoulders tightened as he drew back. "Are the flares done?"

  AaQar gestured to the small pile. "Enough."

  WroOth grabbed two of them. "We light them now."

  "WroOth!" AaQar lunged for him, but his brother darted back.

  It took WroOth only half a second to light both and fling them up into the air through a gap in the branches. They flew high and fast before exploding in a great series of white sparks. "If help is out there, it has to come fast."

  * * *

  Amelia wasn't entirely sure what had happened. The memories fogged and blurred once more. Soon all would be clear. Not now. And that was all right.

  She had returned to the hall and rested within the Ki Valo Nakar's coils. It watched her with wide frightened eyes. "You still live."

  "I do. For now." She released a long slow breath. "Does holding back the hallucinations bother you?"

  "No. They are smoke and stink." It tilted its head, the high antlers stretching far above her. "Would you like to talk?"

  "I'd like to rest."

  "I can feel your heart slowing. The fever rising."

  "Can you?" She didn't feel it at all if she kept her focus here. "I'm sorry."

  "Dying hurts. I've done it many times. It isn't the worst part of having a host, but it is certainly not one of the perks."

  Her eyelids slid shut. She was leaning against its cloaked body, and it didn't even alarm her now. "I don't imagine it is."

  "It was little more than an inconvenience before. A part of the natural cycle. Now—there is nothing more terrifying."

  "It's still part of the natural cycle." She couldn't lift her eyelids even in this space. Already its voice had become distant. Drifting, drifting, drifting away. "And you know that it doesn't really matter that much in the grand scheme? I'm the last possible host unless something changes, and—well, I can't have children. And I won't live forever."

  "You must," it hissed in her ear. "Don't you understand?"

  "Let me rest."

  The Ki Valo Nakar slumped closer. "It's so loud in here. You shouldn't have opened all those doors. The Okalu is very pleased."


  "Are you afraid of the Okalu?" She cracked her eyelids, surprised. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be afraid of a mortal. Even one with sorcerous powers."

  "Well I am now," it snarled. "Thanks to you and your mortality I'm also now afraid of leeches and raptors and blood rot and a whole host of things that wouldn't have caused me to blink."

  "Being afraid helps keep you alive, I think."

  "Well good, then you'll live forever."

  She smiled. "The thing is… I'm actually not afraid right now. Not anymore."

  The alarm that snapped out of it stung like a taut rubber band whipping free. "So you are dying?"

  She pushed its face away. "No. I just—I just know it's going to be all right. Here. In the end."

  "What do you know?"

  "I know that I'm probably headed to a fate far worse than dying on the riverbank of a nearly empty world surrounded by my family. And even that, well, there's more beyond it, I think." Sadness rose within her as she remembered what Shon had told her. It seemed like a long time since she had thought about that, but it settled over her spirit like a wet cloth. "Choices matter, but every choice I make is still leading me there." No matter how good things got, it could all be lost. In more ways that one.

  But maybe it was worth the having even if it was taken eventually. Because, right now, at this moment, she couldn't imagine a way around that dark stone room. Not unless she faded away entirely here and now.

  She wanted to wake up though. Wake up and see them again. All of them. But especially Naatos.

  "You could at least listen to why this power is vital. All the things you could do. Will do—will do. Since you aren't going to die."