Challenged (Mates for the Raskarrans #8)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rardek

M y use of the showers is uninterrupted this time. Though the hot water feels wonderful against my aching back and tired muscles, I cannot help but be a little disappointed. Standing under the spray, it is too easy to picture my Angie pinned beneath me, eyes full of fire and rage. And fear. The memory of that douses the building heat that grows in my groin.

The water shuts off, and I grab a drying pelt, scrubbing at my skin until the water is all soaked up. Pulling on my freshest clothes, I run my fingers through my hair, before tying it back out of my face, then head out of the shower room with the bag containing my Angie’s new clothes and boots in hand, ready to find her.

I have taken a single step when I hear voices.

“ Nunofthismaykesenysense.”

My Angie. Not angry, but definitely high in her emotions.

“Budyoostarttuhseemahpoynt?” Liv, calm, firm. “ Weevedunwotchosayisimpossibul.”

“Wot Mercenia wanted ,” Brooks adds.

“ Theycumere-” Liv again, her voice hardening. “ -theytaykearrkids.”

“Ahnweernotgunnaletthathappen .” Sally, who is normally so softly spoken, but says these words with as much authority as her sister carries.

They are sitting in one of the rooms full of the machines that Lorna sometimes uses, looking for information on what Mercenia was doing here. They do not use the machines , just sit in the chairs, gathered in a cluster. Sally clutches Marsal to her side, the little one beaming her gummy smile at everyone else in the room, oblivious to the tension. My Angie stares at her, and I do not think it is because Marsal is adorable.

I clear my throat before I step into the room, four pairs of eyes immediately locking on me. Marsal follows a moment later, and she burbles at me, her little arms outstretched towards me. I know it is because she wishes to grab at my clothes and my hair, not show me any particular affection, but I indulge my own heartspace and take her from Sally for a brief cuddle.

“Are you being a good youngling, little Marsal? You are causing your mother no trouble?”

She makes a cooing sound and I nod, expression serious, as if she had just told me all the secrets of Lina’s forests.

“That is very interesting to hear. I shall take it under advisement.”

I draw her close to my face so she can paw at me with her little hands. She cannot yet laugh, but there is definite enjoyment on her face as she explores my features, grabbing my nose and twisting sharply.

“Oh, Marsal,” Sally says, claiming her back. “Must you always aim straight for the nostrils?”

“They are just such a convenient size and shape for tiny youngling fingers,” I say, touching a hand to Sally’s shoulder. “I have beaten Jaskry back, but hopefully he is not far behind me.”

She smiles, and there is relief in it. While she is not short of help here, all the support the rest of us can offer is not the same as having her mate by her side.

“Sally, would you please let my Angie know that I have brought her some clothing that Rachel found for her.”

My Angie’s eyes narrow at the sound of her name, and I unhook the bag from my shoulder, holding it out to her. Sally says something using human words, and my Angie opens up the bag, examining the contents. The three pairs of boots are at the top, and she frowns a little.

“ Noshoosisesere,” Liv says. “ Pikthewunthafitsyoobest. ”

My Angie nods, pulling off her large Mercenia boots and holding each of the three pairs of boots I have brought her against her feet in turn. She selects one pair, slipping her feet inside them and walking round in a circle a few times as she tests the fit.

“ Mushbetter, ” she says, then glances over at me. “ Howdyusaythankyoo?”

“Thank you,” Liv says, my Angie repeating the words once to Liv, then again to me.

“Thank you.”

Her pronunciation is clumsy, but her words are earnest. I press my hand to my heartspace.

“We’ve been discussing Mercenia’s business here,” Sally says to me, turning my attention away from the rest of the room with her hand. Behind me, I can hear my Angie and Liv talking in low voices, their back and forth rapid. “Your Angie has much learning. She questions things we would not have thought to.”

I feel a buzz of pride in my chest. Already my linasha is finding ways to be useful to the tribe. It took many of her sisters much longer to settle into their new lives, and I would not have thought ill of my Angie for taking her time to adjust. But I should have known that fire in her spirit would not allow her to do nothing for long.

“She was looking for ways to contact Mercenia, though,” Sally says, her voice soft, as if to ease a blow to my heartspace. But her words do not strike at any tender part of me, because they do not surprise me. I think of what she said to me in the dreamspace - querying if I would follow her in dreams across the stars.

“I do not think she has accepted yet that her old life has gone.”

“She’s not denying the truth of her situation anymore,” Sally says.

“I know. But it is one thing to accept a truth, another to accept a reality. Truth is just a thing someone tells you. Living it every day is a different thing altogether.”

Sally tilts her head to the side as she considers this. “Yes, I do think that is where her headspace is right now. Accepting truth, but not reality.”

“You have told her you do not wish for Mercenia to return?”

I glance in my Angie’s direction. She speaks with Liv still, Brooks speaking up every so often. And though emotion continues to shape their voices, anger remains absent.

“We have, and we’ve explained why, also.” Sally grimaces. “I do not know if it has made her see things as we do. She is more concerned about how our younglings should not be possible. I do not think her thoughts have extended beyond that to the idea of Mercenia taking them away.”

“Well,” I say, tickling under Marsal’s chin. “It is quite clear that they are possible.”

“Yes, and she doesn’t understand it. It troubles her headspace.”

“It is a puzzle, then. What better distraction from reality than a puzzle?”

Sally lets out a small laugh. “Yes, I suppose that is true. At least she is blessed with a mate clever enough to see and understand such things. Would you like me to help you speak with her?”

“If she is amenable,” I say, smiling to myself.

Sally gently interrupts the conversation between my Angie and Liv, directing my Angie’s attention toward me. There is no hostility in my Angie’s expression, but there is wariness. I grin at her, delighted to see the colour my expression puts in her cheeks.

“Please tell my Angie that I am braced to find out how discomforted I should be by all she has shared with you about our conversations in the dreamspace.”

Sally gives me a puzzled look, but dutifully translates my words. My Angie scowls.

“ Ahbarelymenshunedyoo,” she says.

“She says she’s kept your conversations private,” Sally says. I have long suspected that she sometimes softens the messages she is asked to pass between humans and raskarrans, being the kind spirited female that she is, and here is proof.

“She did not say that,” I say, laughing.

“Well, not quite in those terms,” Sally admits.

“Please tell her that I hope she is comfortable in the new clothes,” I say, still chuckling. “I will return the unneeded boots to Rachel now. Tell her I am eager to meet again in dreams this night.”

I do not force my Angie to make a reply, collecting the boots she has not chosen and pressing my fist to my heartspace once more, before leaving them to their discussions.

Paskar is by the fire when I emerge from the hut, Shemza administering djenti berry paste to some jagged cuts on his side. Anghar and Darsha are close by, watching the proceedings. I greet Darsha with a clap on the shoulder before turning to Paskar.

“You encountered trouble?”

Paskar grimaces. “Merka beast. As skinny as I have ever seen one. Ribs jutting out so far it was an easy thing to count them. Coat so patchy, it was not worth saving for our supplies. But it fought like it possessed the strength of ten. Took some flesh out of my side before I managed to drive my spear through it.”

“The scratches are not deep,” Shemza says, his voice full of his healer’s calm. “You will be sore this evening. Sleeping might be a challenge. But you will be mostly recovered by the morning. No running for you tomorrow, I suggest.”

“A good job Vantos and the others have arrived then,” Anghar says, gripping Paskar’s shoulder. “You think Callif might be well enough for some mapping?”

“I think I would not trust him not to push himself far too hard,” I say, taking a seat opposite Paskar. “How much has the merka beast encounter delayed you?”

“I was on track to arrive not long after the midday meal,” Paskar says. “The blight extends maybe a half day’s steady running. I was pushing to get back in case any more of the frozen females had been woken.”

Darsha laughs. “You could have taken a more steady pace. None have been woken, even now.”

Paskar’s expression twists with disappointment. “What is the delay?”

“They do not wake them with the curiosity of the unmated only in their minds,” Shemza says. “It is a difficult and complicated process. Not easy for the frozen female or the one doing the waking.”

It is so light a rebuke it barely registers as one, but Paskar is not so oblivious as others in the tribe. He nods to Shemza, having the good grace to look a little embarrassed.

“I do not mean to sound like Larzon,” he says.

I laugh. “You have a long way to go before sounding like Larzon. Still no Jaskry?”

Anghar shakes his head. “Not yet.”

It does not worry me. Not right now, anyway.

Sally and Brooks emerge from inside the Mercenia hut, but my Angie does not come with them. They go to Rachel and Grace, Sally introducing Brooks, who smiles shyly, holding herself as though she is uncomfortable. They talk for a while, then Brooks, Rachel and Grace head back inside, taking Shemza with them.

Not long after that, the first of the new females emerges, holding herself as though she is afraid a blow is going to land across her shoulders, hands clenched tight together, back hunched. Long dark hair falls about her face, dark eyes looking round at everything - the trees, my brothers, the other females - with wide-eyed fear. She is guided by Grace, who brings her to sit by Molly and Sam at the fire. Molly is all friendly smiles, looking relaxed and happy, while Sam is her usual exuberant self. They are good choices to assist with the waking. Molly being young and Sam being so small makes them appear vulnerable. If they are happy and comfortable around us raskarrans, then it only emphasises that the new females have nothing to fear from us.

The new female is given a bowl of broth, which she eats quickly, as though her stomach hungers nineteen seasons’ worth. Grace talks to her, keeping up a constant stream of reassuring conversation. If the new female responds, it is with single words, not full answers or questions.

“She is as skittish as an arrika,” Paskar says, studying her. There is no wonder in his expression, no joy lighting up his eyes. This female does not make his heartspace sing.

“You would be far worse if you woke up on another world,” I say.

Paskar grunts. “True enough. Though I do not think sitting hunched in like that would be my response. I think I would behave as a merka beast cornered.”

He touches his fingers to his belly, wincing as he probes at the edges of his cuts.

“Stop poking them,” I say. “You are already relieved of your mapping duties tomorrow. You do not need to make your injuries worse to escape them.”

Paskar laughs, but then shudders. “I would take mapping duties over this. The warmth of the fire does not fully chase out the chill the Mercenia hut puts in the spirit, does it?”

A short while later, another new female emerges - this one pale and staring blankly, as if she looks but sees nothing. Rachel’s expression is full of concern as she guides her to sit down, trying in vain to coax any sort of response out of her. Molly tries to hand her a bowl of broth, but she does not take it. Does not even give any indication she is aware it has been offered.

“They are both confused and frightened,” Rachel says when I ask after them. “Neither was aware they had been frozen, never mind brought to Lina’s forest. It is much for them to process and they are not taking it so well as your Angie. Be grateful for her anger. At least her spirit is not…” She thinks for a long moment, searching for an appropriate word. “Squashed.”

“I think my Angie has had much practise at resisting being squashed,” I say, thinking again of the cruel things other males said to her. Things she repeated back to me, expecting my thoughts to take the same shape.

Rachel smiles at me, though there is a sadness to the expression. “Then I am glad she has you to guard her spirit from now on.”

The afternoon fades into evening, and still Jaskry does not return. I catch Anghar watching the tree line, concern weighing down his brows.

“I am thinking we should look for him,” he says to me. “I trust that Jaskry can handle himself should he run into trouble, but it would help Sally’s nerves, I think, to know that we are out there, trying to find him.”

I nod in agreement. “I can be ready to leave in a moment.”

I am taking everything I do not need out of my pack, so that I might travel light and quick, when Jaskry saves us the trouble, bursting through the trees and staggering to a seat by the fire, collapsing into it. I dash to his side, passing him a waterskin. It is a long moment before he has breath enough to drink.

“You have run very hard,” I say. “What trouble did you encounter to delay you so?”

My headspace is whirring with thoughts of other raskarrans - the remains of Basran’s tribe lurking in the trees, or perhaps some other threat we were not previously aware of. But before my thoughts can gain too much momentum, Jaskry waves a hand.

“I’ve encountered no trouble,” he says, then pauses again until his breaths are almost even. “The forest in that direction is as silent and empty as it is in every other. But the blight - it stretches much further. Further than I could run in one day and make it back to the fire. I’ve pushed hard to get back at this time and I didn’t see the end of it.”

“You did not see the end of it?” Paskar leans forward in his seat, clutching at his wounded stomach. His expression reflects my own confusion.

“Did you track round at all? See how far the rot spread?” Anghar asks, appearing next to us.

It cannot spread so far, or Paskar would have stumbled into the area Jaskry was mapping.

“It’s strange,” Jaskry said. “But it spreads in a narrow band, almost even. When it became clear that I would not find the end of it, I mapped out the edges.”

He leans over, scraping clear a patch of ground before him with his foot. Then, with a finger, he traces first a circle, a line extending out of it.

“If this is the edges of our hunting territory, how much further did you find the blight extends? You have been back from your mapping for some time, so it cannot be so far.”

I drop down to draw a second circle. “Our hunting territory extends about as far as to the horkat caves from the village,” I say for Anghar’s benefit. “It is about the distance from the village to the second outpost beyond that. A half day’s steady running.”

Jaskry nods, drawing a line on either side of his original one. “Then this is the distance from the village to the hunters’ hut, perhaps twice over. Not far at all. And there is no fading out of the blight as we have seen around the Mercenia hut. It’s worst closest to the hut, and improves the further out we go, yes? You’ve found the same in each direction?”

Anghar nods. “As if the Mercenia hut is the source of it, and the further away from it we get, the less the trees are afflicted.”

“Here, it’s more abrupt. There is blight, and then there is not. The fade happens over a much shorter distance.”

I squint at the map, trying to make this new information make any kind of sense in my headspace.

“And you checked in both directions?” I say, certain he has, but needing to hear it said.

“Both ways. And I’ve run back along the edge of it, to see if it widened at all, or changed shape in any way. It does not.”

I have no idea what to make of this. My usually busy headspace has gone completely blank, not a single idea or thought rising up out of my spirit. And the longer I stare at the shape of our map, the further away thoughts and ideas feel.

It makes no sense to me.

No sense at all.