Forsaken Dreamscape (Nevermor) (58 page)

They
hadn’t considered what might happen if she’d died, for they were all determined
to do everything in their power to prevent it.  If they had been able to
register cognitive thought as they drew blood from their enemies, they would
have debated what Wren would have wanted, even beyond her own life.  She would
have wanted them to keep fighting for what they loved, and not stop until
Nevermor was theirs again.  Somehow, they knew that, even without thinking.

They
had to save this place now.  Later, there could be grief.

2

Large
jaws were chomping down on Rifter, sharp ravenous teeth sinking deep into his
flesh.  He had seen Wren fall when the demon had come free of her, but he could
do nothing to prevent it.  He was caught in the creature’s mouth, and he could
not break free, despite his struggling and the power of his fist.

“Let
me go to her!” he commanded, ignoring the blood that had come up in his mouth.
“Then you can have me!”

The
demon could not speak for its full jaws, but it shifted its teeth as it smiled,
shredding his flesh.  The forsaken beast did not seem to care that it might not
have a body to go into if it killed them all.  It was much too angry to be
bothered.  Rifter could hardly feel his own pain, looking down desperately as
Wren fell away from him.  She was bleeding from the wound he had given her, and
that seemed to make her unaware that she was falling to her death.  She did not
even scream, and when she hit, her body broke like a twig.

“
No
!”
Rifter roared in protest, as if it would do any good, but as it had in the
past, the world reacted to his pain.

The
clouds swirled overheard, gathering to swell with lightning.  The earth shook
and thunder crashed.  Nevermor felt Rifter’s agony to its inner core, just as
it once had.  After being blinded for so long, it had finally recognized its
master.

The
Pack had been moving toward Wren’s position as if they might have been able to
save her, but they had not gotten there in time.  Now, they were staring at her
crumpled form with as much disbelief and anger as he was.

Rifter
turned his rage-filled eye to the demon serpent’s blazing orb.

“
You
killed her
!” he yelled, even though his lungs ached and struggled for the
breaths he took. “You killed her, you bast–!”

That
was as far as he got.  The demon turned up its massive head and swallowed him
down.

3

At
the moment that Wren hit the ground, Sly had been battling a distance away, but
he’d felt a sudden, harsh pain in his chest as if someone had kicked him in the
heart.

Even
though he faltered in battle, it was by luck that he ducked down to grasp his
chest, narrowly avoiding having his face ripped off by the nails of the
undead.  There was a dull ache inside him as he rose up, but he remained aware
of the situation well enough to accurately crack the kneecaps of his enemies. 
They fell, and he wandered away, hoping no others would come upon him.

Sly
had not been able to see what the others had seen, and he’d been too distant to
share in their concern, but he knew that something had happened.  He knew that
it had happened to
Wren
.  He’d seen her face in his head before they’d
even come to this spot.

Something
was supposed to happen to Wren.  Something
had
happened to her.

The
silent feet of the animal boy moved him through the jungle.  He avoided noises
and ignored the smell of blood invading his sensitive nose.  All around him, he
could hear his brothers battling like wild savages, and he felt something above
him that was so strong and heavy that he feared it might crush him at any
moment.  But those things were not what he was searching for.

There. 
Just there!

He
couldn’t see her lying on the ground, but he knew.  He knew how her spine was
twisted, and how her bones were shattered.  He knew that her eyes were open, unintentionally
accusing anyone who looked into them.  But there was no doubt that it was her. 
It was certainly Wren, and she was lifeless.

Sly
went to his knees beside her, sliding his arm behind her shoulders to lift her
up a bit.  Her head lolled back.  She was like a broken doll.

“This
wasn’t supposed to happen,” he murmured to himself.  He smoothed golden curls
back from her face, feeling that his hands were shaking.

Why
hadn’t he seen that this would happen?  At least he could have been prepared
for it then – could have tried to stop it in some way.  He had done wrong by
her.  He’d not been a good friend, or protector, or even worthy family.  Having
such great powers, he had not managed to save her innocent life.

There
was pain behind his ruined eyes as tears tried to rise from ducts that no
longer functioned.  Nevertheless, he began to feel warm liquid trailing slowly
down his face.  The thickness and slow movement made him understand that these
were not salty tears, but streams of blood.

Sly
recalled something then.  When he and his brothers had been locked inside the
dark cave, fearing for their lives, they’d spoken of Wren and how they all felt
strongly for her.  They’d all had something different to say in explanation of
that love and devotion, but Sly’s own words seemed especially significant to
him now.

As
if she died, I would die, too.

Was
there a reason he had felt that way, saying those words?  Almost as if he was
destined to do that very thing?  This would not have been the first time he’d
had a premonition without knowing it.  Even though he was holding the dead girl
in his arms, he did not lose his ability to give thought to this circumstance.

He
thought of Wren’s frozen face – then about the gift that the land had given
him.  Beneath him now, the tiniest tips of grass were beginning to peek out of
the ground, simply because he was sitting there in that spot.  He had been
given the ability to heal, and it was not only the land.  He could heal minor
wounds – cuts, bruises, broken bones – but Sly had never attempted what he was
about to.  Simply thinking that he
could
seemed blasphemous.

To
attempt to bring back life once it was completely gone – it would certainly not
be without sacrifice.

Careful
hands bent the girl’s limbs back into place.  Continuing to hold her up with
one arm, he put his other hand to her face.  Then, he pressed his forehead
against hers.

Sly
began to concentrate.

He
thought of how he healed the land – of how he could make things grow at will. 
He thought of the effort he’d put into specifically growing tiger lilies all
around the Tribal camp as a tribute to Calico.  He thought of how he healed the
scrapes of small children so effortlessly, and how he eased the pain of dying
elders.  That knowledge had to help him now, for he was attempting the
unthinkable.

The
war raged on through the trees, and Sly felt his strength leave him.  Healing
always fed off his own life, but he’d never let it go too far.  This time,
however, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.  By all rights, he should have
been long dead.  He’d been immortal in Nevermor for longer than he knew.  He’d
gone to the sun, but fallen back to the earth.  Somehow, he’d lived, but he
would have died if it had not been for the native people and their rituals. 
The sun had given him the ability to see, but they were responsible for binding
him to the land.

It
is my destiny to do this
, he realized. 
It has been my fate all along
.

Sly
did not hear anyone calling his name – was not aware of footsteps moving toward
him across the ground.  He heard himself groan, but the ringing in his ears
made his own voice seem distant.  It was becoming hard to think, and still
Wren’s body did not respond to his efforts.  It was true that her flesh had
sealed itself, the bones having popped back into place and grown together
again, but he could not feel her breath on his face or her pulse beneath his
hand.  Perhaps it truly was hopeless.  He winced, not wanting to believe that. 
Surely her soul had not escaped yet.  He could bring it back!

He
struggled with all his might, pouring himself into her shell.  Hands settled on
his shoulders, trying to pull him back, but he would not let Wren go; not until
he’d made it happen!  The grip on his shoulders tightened.  Someone ordered him
to release her, and he obeyed, but not because he had heeded to their wish.

Sly’s
energy left him and his body slumped back on the ground – just as Wren opened
her mouth and took in her first, renewed breath.

1

Calico
had not been surprised to find how easily flame-licked pirate flesh sliced
beneath the edges of her hatchets.  She’d sawed through cooked beasts before,
and this was no different.  She did not care that these creatures had been
human once.  They had done their fair share to her as mere men.  She hacked
through their weakened skin efficiently.

Her
arms and back bore long scratches from the creatures’ claws, but she was not
worried about scars.  It would not take Sly much energy to heal these wounds of
hers.  Calico had not forgotten the promise she’d made about protecting him. 
She’d kept a close watch on him during the battle, trying hard to keep herself
near him even as she helped the others.  This had been done well, and Sly had
not eluded her but–

Cutting
down a few pirates had given her room, she took this opportunity to peer
around.  The others were warring fiercely a short distance away, but Sly was
nowhere to be found.

Instinctually,
she searched over the ground for his body.  All she saw was bit after bit of
fallen undead.  She moved over them agilely.

“Sly!”
she called, not caring if her voice brought new wounds to her.

Perhaps
he had gone to help the others?  Their fighting
did
seem to have
intensified.  Calico rushed toward them, leaping over downed, struggling
beings.  Her eyes fell on Finn, seeing him chop off every hand that tried to
slice him.  Toss was there as well, halving the size of the scorched monsters
by bringing his hammer down onto their heads.  Goggles were resting over Mach’s
eyes, and he used them to put his bullets squarely into the brains of his
enemies – shooting away from his brothers, always.  All of this went on, but
she did not see Sly.

Wren…

The
thought of the other girl made Calico feel instantly uneasy.  But it all seemed
to fit now.  Rifter had asked Toss to stay with Wren, but Toss was
here
. 
Sly had probably known this and taken it upon himself to go to the girl,
despite concerns for his own safety.  He constantly sacrificed for others, and
he would
especially
do so for Wren.  While that first characteristic
made Calico love him, the latter made her feel sick.  Did he have no sense?  He
should not have been putting himself near anything that was as unstable as what
was inside Wren!  If this world lost Sly, it lost hope.

She
moved closer to the others, almost ready to yell to them above the noise and
ask them about Sly, but she stopped.  A stretch away through the insidious
overgrowth, she could see a gradual movement near the ground.

Sly?
  What was he
doing?  Could he have been hurt?  She started toward him, and then a glimpse of
blond curls made her move faster.  That girl was with him!  She might have been
killing him and Calico had not even known he was gone!  It was only another
moment’s sprint before she came upon them, and when her eyes focused on the
scene, she found herself unable to react.

Sly
was grasping Wren tightly, holding her head to his.  In his arms, he rocked her
gently, groaning as if he was in pain.  Calico saw the blood on his face; she
saw how his hands shook.  Wren was unmoving, her eyes open wide.  Was she
dead?  If so, how could Sly hope to–  Finally, Calico was aware of what was
happening, and her feet took action, throwing her forward.

“Get
off her!” she demanded, grasping him desperately.

Sly
did not even seem to know she was there, putting his full concentration on the
dead girl.  Calico tried to pry his hands from Wren, but the claws would not
unclench.

“Stop!”
she cried, feeling tears of desperation. “Sly, stop!”

She
was surprised when he let go.  Wren hit the ground, rolling over onto her side
and coughing as though there was no air in her lungs.  Calico looked down at
the boy that had fallen back into her arms.  His head was lying back, and his
arms rested on the ground beside him limply. 
He…
  She couldn’t feel him
breathing.

“Sly?” 
The whisper hardly came out.  It received no response.

She
shook him with a bit of effort, then lowered him to the ground and slapped his
face lightly.  He did not stir, and Calico’s breath began to quicken.  Tears
were certainly flowing now, trailing down her cheeks as she wiped the blood
from Sly’s face.