savage 06 - the savage dream Read online

  Philip and Adahy had already loaded the girls up at one end of the ledge. Jim took Elise's hand, and together they shuffled along what seemed like too narrow a space to maneuver. They made their way to the small slit that led to a deeper recess.

  Jim went first, crawling to enter, then found he could stand once inside.

  He'd never wished for an LED handheld light more in his life.

  Ambient light filtered through the opening, but it wasn't enough to fully illuminate the entire cave, which on initial inspection seemed shallow.

  He turned and headed back to the entrance and saw Elise, stripped down to her undergarments and sunk into the pool.

  Goddammit.

  Jim tried not to notice every line of her body as the water sucked the thin clothing against her like a second skin. It was sort of a challenge. But he wasn't a perv, so he tried to ignore her shape. It kind of went against the biological imperative.

  “That's not good for the fever,” Jim said, exasperated.

  “I am chilled to my marrow. I only try to warm myself.”

  Right. “I'm going to get these backpacks inside the cave.”

  Her eyebrows drew together.

  “The gear?” Jim held the gear up for her inspection.

  Elise's elbows rested on the ledge as her body swayed inside the hot spring water.

  Beside him, on the widest part of the stone ledge, Calia groaned.

  “The rucksacks?” Elise asked, and he nodded.

  His eyes ran the length of her bare arms. Spots covered every square centimeter.

  Jim raked his fingers through his hair. “Okay, rucksacks in the cave, then Calia.”

  Elise shook her head. “Let us get her warm. She is probably as chilled as I.”

  Mucho awkward.

  Jim stilled. “Nah, let's just hustle her inside the cave. Then I can swaddle her in blankets.” He nodded his head vigorously as if to say, Please see reason.

  “No. Be reasonable, Jim—she needs warmth.”

  Jim felt his cheeks heat. “Listen—maybe. But you have to understand how uncomfortable it is for me to, you know, take off her clothes and stuff.”

  Elise nodded, a neutral expression on her face. “Yes, just as uncomfortable as it is for me to use my hands to heal near places that are private.”

  She didn't look at his crotch, but Jim felt naked right then. Yup.

  God. “Okay,” Jim scrubbed his face again. “I'll help, but if Adahy and Philip come back, and you guys are in your underwear, they're going to kick my ass. Just saying.”

  “You are just saying what?” Elise asked, clearly puzzled.

  It was so difficult to drop his slang to get his point across. “I'm restating that the Band guys will hurt me if I'm left responsible for you both, and they return and you're naked. With me.” He splayed his fingers against his chest.

  “You are not naked,” she pointed out.

  They stared at each other. “Fine.”

  “I shall help,” Elise said, beginning to get out of the water.

  “No!”

  Elise halted, and Jim put up his hands in a warding-off gesture.

  This is going to be so dumb. His breaths were plumes of frost as he slowly removed the cape thing, the tunic, and the pants that Calia wore.

  They were damp with her sweat. That meant she'd been sitting in semi-wet clothes. Not good.

  Maybe there was a dry set in the gear bag.

  He removed all the outer clothing to reveal bright-red undergarments. It was a little shocking after all the drab colors of Outside.

  Her skin pilled into tight gooseflesh. But that's not what caught his attention—nor the scarlet underwear, which ordinarily would have been riveting, nor the pockmarks of scarring from what he assumed was some old abuse. What caught his attention were the dots. They swarmed her legs in a blanket of red.

  Chicken pox usually dominated the torso.

  Smallpox wasn't picky and would erupt in the mouth and all over the body, including the legs. The confirmation of his amateur diagnosis was disheartening.

  “What say you?” Elise asked, seeing his expression.

  “It's definitely smallpox.”

  “Yes, as you said.”

  He looked into her dark-brown eyes.

  “But now I'm sure.”

  Elise didn't ask, and Jim didn't expound. Things were not looking good for Calia. Historically, the survival rate was bad. She was full Band, and that seemed to accelerate the disease instead of dampening it. His gaze swept her body a second time.

  She was too thin—almost malnourished, which was also bad. If there was not enough fat on the body, it cannibalized its own resources, and she didn't appear to have enough.

  With another defeated exhale, Jim inched his arms underneath her and slowly slid Calia, with a gentle roll, into the heated pool.

  Her eyes snapped open and she tried to struggle out of his embrace, frightened and disoriented.

  “Don't,” Jim said too loudly. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

  Calia groaned, her fingers gripping the ledge as her body floated behind her. “I hurt.” It was an honest admission that came out of her in what appeared to be a forced way. He didn't know Calia—or any of them, really. But she didn't strike Jim as a whiner.

  Jim closed his eyes, wishing for a miracle that went beyond the guys coming back with a dead pheasant and a few liters of water.

  No, they need that bridge Pathway, and to get someplace where the women could be properly nursed. They didn't need to be in some hole in the woods with a mid-twenties other worlder with zero doctoring skills and who played Dungeons and Dragons as a hobby.

  Jim clutched Calia's forearms to keep her from drowning, his spirits sinking.

  Calia's eyes remained barely open slits as she curled her fingers around his arms.

  He gave her a small smile of encouragement that he didn't feel, and her eyes closed in exhaustion.

  Jim would do his best.

  But would his best be good enough?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Vaughn

  “Are you sure about the communiqué?”

  Alanna's golden eyes drilled into his gaze, penetrating and accusing.

  “Yes. There is no mistaking the seal of Edwin.” Vaughn flicked his fingertip against the deeply embedded wax cast of the family seal of Edwin. Crimson flakes floated to the floor like lost snowflakes.

  Vaughn lifted his head a notch, careful to show no disrespect. He needed to offer perfect clarity.

  “Edwin returns to us—with Calia.”

  Tears filled Alanna's eyes at the good tidings, and that sun-kissed gaze appearing to melt. Vaughn reached out with his free hand.

  Alanna—Calia's mother—took his in both of hers.

  “Bring her back to us, Vaughn.”

  “I shall.” Vaughn felt the noose of pressure tighten. It was unlike any he had ever known. He read Edwin's words a second time.

  Dearest friend,

  Great news finds you this day. Calia, my long-lost sister and your betrothed, has been discovered and journeys with me even as this dispatch has been sent.

  We anticipate arriving through the bridge nearest our clan before February is through.

  Yours,

  Edwin

  The note was tantalizingly vague. Vaughn was not one to entertain imbecilic speculation. Filling in the gaps of the missive would have made his anxiety more acute. He kept his mind on the facts:

  Calia was coming.

  Her impending arrival should have filled him with joy. Yet the Rite would need to be fulfilled as usual. A betrothal was not an absolute guarantee of mating. The arranged match amounted to two wishful families with the same aspirations—to align the largest clan families with one another.

  Many families did it that way. The foreteller had even said that Calia would be his match, if she lived.

  And now it was clear that she did.

  The news was more than Vaughn could stand. He must move through the
bridge himself and meet them.

  He could not wait idly by as Calia made her way to him during the darkest and most treacherous part of the year.

  That would not do.

  Fragment were at large, as well as the Red Men who, though they were not their express enemies, were not their allies.

  And there were the whispers of another people. As the forest had grown depleted through needs of fire and shelter, a new threat had been gaining ground.

  There had been the sphere-dwellers of the central region as well as clans sparsely populating both coasts of the continent and the central region.

  Fragment and Red Men had been bountiful—both were nomadic by course.

  But now a new people were revealing themselves from the forests.

  They were creatures of legend. From whence did they come?

  There were those who lived in the deepest part of the woods. And it appeared the use of the wood had awakened them.

  Edwin had left the sphere before the Clan of Massachusetts could send a returning pigeon's cautionary reply.

  Edwin and Calia traveled unawares, and Vaughn must be assured he got to them before any other.

  *

  Jim

  Jim started with a jerk.

  He'd fallen into a doze. Calia's fingers still lightly cupped his arms as she floated.

  Elise was totally pruning out, her fingers so deeply wrinkled they looked like flesh-colored fruit.

  He shook his head, trying to shed his drowsiness, and scanned the water. The heat immediately evaporated as it met the cold air that kissed the surface—a cycle that kept the very closest part of the perimeter ten degrees warmer.

  Jim hadn't realized he was so beat on his feet. Just the stress of worrying about his effed-up future had worn him out. Add to that the fact that they had one trail-mix bag between them and a half a canteen of water. Things were shaping up in grim fashion.

  “Time to get in our cave,” Jim said softly. Back in box.

  Elise, her head resting on the cradle of her arms and her body floating behind her, opened her eyes and looked at him. “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

  She'd been in the hot water too long. Fever and heat were siphoning what little energy she had left. “Let's get in the cave and see if we have some dry stuff.”

  Elise nodded. “We packed quite thoroughly. We have all that we need.”

  Jim thought of Taco Bell and a hot shower.

  Not quite all we need.

  He'd have given his left nut for a burrito.

  Elise's lips curled as she studied his expression. “You wear your thoughts very plainly.”

  Jim had been told that. It fried his noodle. Not a cool trait.

  He ignored her observation and tightened his grip on Calia, Jim pulled her out of the water. Calia groaned, her chin touching her chest. Her red undergarments steamed, the color bleeding into rivulets that ran off her like diluted blood.

  Jim gathered her up, getting soaked himself, then squatted down and knee walked into the mouth of the cave. He cleared the short ceiling inside the entrance and stood then strode with Calia in his arms to the nearest gear sack and extracted a blanket with one hand.

  After spreading it out, he gently arranged her on it.

  “There,” he muttered to himself. One down, one to go.

  He turned. Elise was already crawling in much like he had. She stood closer to the entrance than he had as he was much taller.

  “There is my rucksack.” Elise pointed to the gear pile.

  Jim turned and eyed a smaller sack. He plucked it off the top of the heap and walked it to her.

  “Please turn around.”

  Jim's Adam's apple did a painful slide. Thank God for small mercies. He listened to the rustle of cloth for a minute or so as he faced the cave entrance. Then Elise said, “You may turn.”

  She'd put on fresh clothes that were dry and held the wet undergarments in one hand.

  “Shall I spread these on the rock above the entrance to dry them?”

  Jim nodded. Good plan.

  He glanced down at Calia, who was pale as a ghost. Her stillness scooped his guts. She wasn't going to make it.

  She breathed shallowly, flailing.

  Jim dropped to his haunches.

  “Calia.”

  Her eyes flew open.

  “It's okay, I'm here.”

  She looked at him without recognition. All Jim could think of was she'd die here with virtual strangers. Her brother was traipsing around wherever, and Philip had entrusted Jim to her care.

  He didn't have to be a doctor to figure out that she was dying.

  Jim wasn't one of those guys who cried easily. But the thought of this virile woman dying of smallpox made his eyes sting. The injustice was a horrible reality.

  Elise came back inside, saw the situation and, with a little noise of alarm, sank to her knees at Calia's side with a her gear sack. “Please turn again, Jim.”

  He stared at the mouth of the cave a second time while Elise dressed Calia. Unshed tears of frustration and sadness made his eyelids feel as though they were on fire.

  “You may turn.”

  As Jim began to pivot, a shadow fell over the entrance. He dismissed it as a trick of the light.

  He finished turning, and Calia was sitting up, held in Elise's arms as she leaned against her. A dry blanket covered her completely.

  The cave felt warm to Jim, the steam holding them prisoner, which also felt good.

  He tried to smile at Elise but her eyes were not on him, but a point behind him. Her eyes were wide with terror.

  I don't want to turn.

  That's the way shit worked. And here he'd thought there wasn't a primal impulse inside him any more. Jim was from a modern world of political correctness and little violence. But being in an environment in which instinct was not ignored had already changed Jim in ways he couldn't fathom.

  What he did understand was he had seen something and had ignored the trigger of alarm.

  And Jim would not ignore that again—if there were second chances.

  His epiphany took seconds.

  Jim turned in a graceful pivot, his training on the dojo as automatically falling into place as the qì that centered inside him.

  Figures crowded inside, blocking out the light.

  They were not clan, sphere or Band. They were certainly not Fragment.

  They were other, and Jim didn't know what that was.

  Jim realized he wasn't as much the pacifist as he'd believed, and with a roar, he charged the newcomers, the safety of the females beating inside his brain in an instinctive pulse.

  Protect.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Adahy

  Adahy slung the seven knotted pheasants over his shoulder, their brightly colored feathers in sharp contrast to the snow-covered hills and forest that surrounded the pair as they headed back to the hot spring.

  Philip led the way, his own truss of pheasant swinging back and forth with his gait.

  They had stopped at a river and filled the six canteens. Adahy felt the weight of the gathered supplies. Sometimes, it was a burden to carry his hunt. Today was not one of those times.

  Every step brought him nearer to Elise. The bridge that Edwin had spoken of was the key to a possible cure for her. The Band woman, Calia, was in even more desperate straits.

  Adahy was deep in thoughts of cleaning the pheasant as quickly as possible and getting the water distributed to the females, when Philip abruptly stopped.

  Adahy stalled, very accustomed to stealth and body language. No voices were needed for him to see there was something grave enough to halt Philip's progress to his own female.

  Philip sank to his haunches. Adahy strode the five paces to his side and slid down as well.

  Both men stared at the prints.

  They made no sense.

  A series of large footprints—mostly pad with short, slim toes—headed into the deepest part of the woods.

  Adahy stood q
uickly, gooseflesh riding his skin in waves, and said “Otneyarhed.”

  Philip stood as well, his hand hovering above the hilt of his dagger. “What say you?”

  Adahy struggled for the translation. Finally, he arrived at an approximate one. “Stone Giant.”

  Philip stared then gave a single blink of understanding. “Forest Devil.”

  Adahy shook his head. “I do not know, ʻForest Devil.ʼ”

  “It matters not. They are here, and they might find the females. Jim will not be sufficient defense.”

  Adahy knew it had been wrong to leave Elise. But what choice did they have? They were without food and water—and had been for nearly two days. They could not move on without sustenance. The females were sick with this pox.

  Philip jerked his chin toward the footprints. “We will move fast. It might be that they have missed them, hidden inside the crevice of stone.”

  Adahy nodded once.

  But his mind ran wildly through the legends. If the Stone Giants were real, and not the myth of his childhood, they would be formidable adversaries.

  All the tales said the same thing: they never left the forest, preferring to dwell in the trees. Game was plentiful outside the woods and as Iroquois, Adahy's tribe had no need to venture inside. A highly superstitious people, the Iroquois had great respect for peoples who claimed a unique part of the world, and were not inclined to intrude on it. In addition, a few disemboweled tribesmen every twenty years or so had served as sufficient warning.

  What could make the Stone Giants leave the safety of the woods?

  When Philip and Adahy had left the meadow behind, Adahy gave an uneasy glance at the stumps that rimmed the great forest. An idea took shape.

  Perhaps the encroachment of the plains people and Fragment had done something to make them desperate enough.

  Adahy did not like this new, faceless enemy—a people who were part animal and scaled the tallest trees with an ease that would make Philip and him vulnerable to attack from above.

  The gloom of the deep woods surrounded them. A squall from a nearby bird pierced the silence of dripping greenery. It was all Adahy could do to not jump at the noise.