Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (41 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five: Finding Hope

(ETHAN)

L
ANDING WITH A MUTED THUD
of hooves against packed ground, Thunder slows to a trot. It’s dark and my eyes need a moment to adjust. When they do, I can make out the silhouettes of massive trees and thick undergrowth. They air is rich with the sharp smell of pines mixed with a deep pungent aroma of mulched leaves and wet dirt. We’ve made it safely to Oden’s Forest, but my pulse is still running haywire. Sam and Jamie need help fast. It’s all I can do to keep them from slipping off the side; they haven’t moved voluntarily during the journey at all.

Duck!
Thunder’s voice in my head makes me jump on the inside, but I react without having to think about it, dipping just in time. A branch whiffs harmlessly above my back. We drop in elevation, breaking through to a large clearing lit by flickering torches, and my jaw hits the ground.

I’ve never seen anything like it. Even though it’s in the middle of the night, the place is hopping. Humans and animals both are swarming the area in some kind of structured chaos. Watching the movement, it’s an easy scenario to read: Soldiers readying themselves for battle.

I slip from Thunder’s back as a team of obvious Healers rushes to our side; in the lead is a dark-eyed, solemn-faced woman. She and the others load the boys onto stretchers, working together with nonverbal synchronization. Within a heartbeat, they are gone and in their place is the most massive bear I have ever seen. My gulp catches somewhere in my throat but, since Thunder remains calm, I try to release the panic the six-inch claws induce within me. This must be Oden.

Thunder makes the introductions before they excuse themselves, leaving me to make my way to whatever first aid I can find. I guess since I can still stand upright after my tangle with Maldyr, I don’t warrant special care. I make my way across the courtyard, I guess you could call it, watching as troops of soldiers continue training and drilling to barked orders. Literally barked. A massive golden retriever seems to be their leader.

Other people and animals run around completing more business-related activities, like sending and receiving reports. By bird. Appearing out of nowhere, wounded figures are triaged and whisked away. It’s a small military base. And I want to be out of here. I can picture myself jumping into a squad and being taken to wherever I can help. My blood is boiling; I’m ready for a fight. I don’t want to waste time here. There’s a war going on.

But I have to wait.

I need to make sure the guys will be okay and, my aching body reminds me, I’m supposed to be getting fixed up as well.

Heading in the direction I’d seen the Healers go, I walk on the outskirts of the chaos, shaking my head at the ease in which everyone fits into it. They’re waiting for their turn to be sent wherever they’re needed. Working each other up with boisterous and sometimes crude jabs about their strengths or weaknesses. Their words feed the adrenaline and hype. And still, above the playful teasing, there’s the steady shouting of whoever’s in charge of the details. Guiding, directing, repositioning. Finalizing.

Apparently, when Maddix and Storm had shown up earlier in the afternoon, the news of the salamander attack had spread like wild fire in a drought. The response was immediate. The pieces are falling into place; the Dwellers are making their stand against all the darkness that has penetrated their layer.

I lose my trail and look around, unsure of where I’m supposed to be going. A shadow slips out of the center of a jumble of small boulders. As I grab my dagger, a beam of light falls across the figure. It’s the same woman who helped carry away Olivia’s brothers. She gives me a tired smile.

“You must be Ethan. The boys are just beginning to talk. We’ll give them a moment while we check you over, then you can go visit everyone.”

“Maddix and Storm? How are they?”

“They’ll be fine.” Something in her tone sounds hesitant.

She leads me through the hidden entryway and down a dark tunnel system that ends in an open cavern. It echoes with the gurgling of water; someone had mentioned that a river runs somewhere near here. The room is lit with lanterns that hold a steady light and give off a warm glow. The walls here, unlike the volcanic caverns, are a muted dirt color and cool enough to help regulate the temperatures of fevered bodies.

The air is clean and moist and my lungs expand with relief as I scope out the place. Various tables, mats, and work stations are positioned uniformly around the room; some areas are curtained off. It’s a small-scale subterranean hospital. Busy, but with plenty of room. And the Healer doesn’t let me take two steps into the place before she pushes me down onto an empty table. She orders me to undress and slips away to give me privacy, telling me she’s going to grab something decent for me to wear when I’m done. I strip and grimace at the burned and bloodied state of my clothes. I don’t bother checking out my body. I know I’m a wreck.

When she returns, her arms are full. She sets the bundle to the side and formally introduces herself as Tawna, the sister of Maddix’s father. As she cleans my injuries, she tells me her story. When they’d received news of her brother’s death, both she and her husband had traveled here as quickly as possible, missing Maddix by a couple days—when he’d headed off with Olivia’s brothers. They have no children of their own and are glad to be able to welcome Maddix into their home, though, of course they’re saddened by the circumstances. I’m relieved to know the kid has someone to watch out for him; he’s been through too much already to be left completely without a solid family.

Since I don’t need anything more than disinfecting and a few stitches, within minutes I’m free to hop down. I thank Tawna and make my way to the other patients. First, I greet Maddix and Storm as I pass by their area, letting them know I’ll be back after I satisfy for myself that Olivia’s brothers are going to make it. They’d been pretty far gone when I’d last seen them.

The guys are in the back of the cavern, behind a curtained alcove, soaking in tubs of lukewarm water. It’s the best thing for lowering the temperature of an overheated body. Both of them are awake, if groggy. The Healers had been quick with their duties; the guys have already been loaded up with meds, and they’re looking much better. That is to say: Alive. I’ve kept my word to their sister.

When Sam notices my approach, he grunts, “’S’up, man?” He barely bothers to crack open his lids. “You made it.”

“So far.”

Both of them are less puffy and red than when I’d lugged them onto Thunder’s back.

Jamie rolls his head in my direction and his voice croaks when he asks simply, “Liv?”

I shrug my shoulders. We haven’t had any news on her. Technically, not a whole lot of time has gone by since we’d separated. To me, it feels like a lifetime.

“Why’d you come for us at the volcanoes? You were s’posed to stick with Olivia. Scared me when they said you’d been the one who’d brought us here. Didn’t think you’d ever leave Livs anywhere.” Sam’s voice is ragged, resigned, but not accusatory. Which makes it worse.

“I didn’t exactly just leave her ….” I pull over a chair, twisting it around to straddle the seat. Resting my arms against its back, I get comfortable and begin to tell them everything that had happened since they’d left Faisle. Starting with Olivia’s dreams. Jamie jumps when I bring it up, slamming his head against the hard rim and cursing in a way that reminds me of Olivia.

“Frappity frackin’ shoist!” He rubs at the new knot and struggles to sit all the way up, water streaming off of him. His eyes are trained on me. His voice sounds stronger as he demands, “Say that again. What did she see?”

After I explain everything in as much detail as I remember, Sam heaves a frustrated sigh. The two brothers share a look and Jamie whistles low through his teeth.

“What?” I ask.

“Livs was right; I had some of those dreams,” replies Sam.

“Me, too.” Jamie nods in agreement. “How’d that happen, though?” He swivels his head towards Sam. “Anything to do with Mr. Nicholas, do you think?”

“No way should that be possible,” Sam muses. “But that’s got to be it.”

“Wait a minute,” I interject, bewildered by their conversation. “Storm told us about a Nicholas guy. But what’s he got to do with your dreams? I thought he was like some manic woodcarver.”

“Take a gander at what’s sitting over there,” Sam gestures towards a small desk-like surface behind the tubs. It’s covered with fresh, neatly folded clothes, towels, and personal belongings. I’m about to ask what I’m searching for, when my eyes land on two miniature dream catchers. They’re out of place in this catch-all of guy-styled adventure gear. I reach out to grab one, but jerk back in surprise, flexing my fingers to thaw my hand.

“Holy cripes!” I yelp. “That’s cold! What are they?” Expecting the icy bite this time, I pick up one of the catchers by the hoop and the crystals clink cheerfully together.

“Those ….” Jamie states in an awed voice, “Those are what must’ve kept us sane enough and cool enough to live. Now that’s a good gift. Sheesh, that’s awesome. I wonder how Mr. Nicholas knew?”

Sam responds drily, “He struck me as the type of person who’d know all sorts of things.

“What? You’re saying he gave these to you, and they somehow helped save you?” I don’t know if I understand fully. Seems like a tall order for a dream catcher, no matter who it’s from.

Jamie explains the unique qualities of the dream catchers. They’re made from something called Heart Ice. A substance that retains its frigid properties without ever melting. Handy. That could do the trick of keeping the guys cool enough. And I was in there. There’s no way they could have lived without something helping them, Thunder was right about that. The dream part is even crazier.

“See,” explains Sam, “for me, even though what I was seeing was horrible, the whole time I was aware they were dreams. Like the emotions and images were filtered somehow. Maybe the Sliders primed our nightmares to be hyper-powerful because they were trying to drive us crazy, but the catchers were able to take out the sting. And because they didn’t know we had the catchers, maybe the Sliders looped our dreams to Livs’, hoping they could mess more with her brain.”

“Yeah,” says Jamie, “Or maybe the catchers on their own somehow siphoned some of the imagery over to Liv, in order to dilute the Slider’s images and keep us from going insane. Anyway, without running into Mr. Nicholas, we’d’ve been hosed.” He tips his head to the side trying to see around the curtain. “Storm! Hey, Storm! Are you hearing this? You totally saved our rears by bringing us to that woodworker. You’re amazing, Bud!”

“Thanks, Jamie,” Storm calls back, but his voice seems withdrawn.

I stand to go see what’s happening over at the other side of the room, but Jamie stops me briefly and whispers that Storm has been blaming himself for the way things happened, for them getting trapped.

I nod my understanding. Storm needs some positive attention. I replace the dream catcher and walk back around the curtain. Both Storm and Maddix are on the same cot. Maddix’s hand is lightly bandaged, but there’s a fierce glint in his eye that speaks highly of his zest for moving past hardships. I bet he’s ready to get cracking with his new life. In fact, I see a pencil gripped in his left hand. He’s been practicing already. I like this kid. He’s got spunk.

We talk a little and I can tell he’s focusing already on the positives of this new challenge. Given time, he’ll be fine. It’s Storm I worry about.

“Hey,” I ask him, “you want to go find where we’re sleeping?” Before we’d come into the Shadows, we hung out together quite a lot. He’s like a little brother and I’ve missed his company. Nodding his head, he jumps down, and I call out that we’ll catch up with everyone later; they’ll be staying the night in the hospital area.

We walk up the path through the tunnel and come out to Oden and Thunder, still deep in conversation. They break off when they hear our approach. I decide to act uninterested. I’m too tired, really, to care much anyway. If it’s something we need to know, they’ll share it. Instead, I ask for them to point out sleeping quarters. Oden gets this smaller bear named Truban to show us where to go. Pretty much it’s a sleeping platform up in the trees; like a treehouse without walls. The air is cold but, as soon as I lay down on a mat with the warm blankets over me and Storm curled into my side, I’m out for the count.

The next morning arrives way too soon, but I hear from the voices floating up to us that the boys are already awake. Storm stretches at my side, rolls over and goes back to sleep. I climb over him and down the tree. I follow the early morning sounds until my nose leads me the rest of the way. My gut feels hollow and the noises are too loud; I try not to picture what Olivia could be going through right now, while we’re here playing Sherwood Forest. A huge fire pops and hisses as the wood performs its final death throes. Food’s been cooking. Meat. Betraying me, my mouth waters.

Spread along massive tables are all sorts of sausages and pancakes, porridge and fruits, and mugs of something hot. I can see little steam curls rising from the stoneware. Maddix, Sam, and Jamie are sitting on the ground, plates half empty on their laps. Getting ready for the day will wait. I join them, but the food, as good as it is, turns to dust against my tongue.