Forsaken Dreamscape (Nevermor) (61 page)

Letting
out a soft sigh, Wren turned her head.

“I
could use a bit of coaching,” she said pointedly to one who stood behind her.

The
fragile-looking young man knew she was addressing him, even though she had not
spoken his name.  His ears rose to the sound of her voice, his three striped
tails twitching involuntarily.  It had been a long road from near death, but
Sly had done it, though not without the help of the Tribal girl who stood there
beside him now, watching him move toward Wren.

For
nearly a week after the demon’s demise, Sly and Calico had been believed to be
dead, crushed beneath the weight of the demon and lost among the immense pile
of pirate bodies.  They had been mourned by the others, and then out of the
blue they had come back, very much alive.  Sly had still been extremely weak,
but with a bit of help he could hold himself upright.  There hadn’t seemed to
be much to say about their situation.  The demon had not crushed them, and Sly
had not died.  Fate had allowed these things, Calico had said, and the rest of
their survival was reliant on her word that she had promised not to let him
die.

Now,
after a period of healing and a bit of help from Wren, as well as the native
people that had grown to love him, Sly was walking and moving on his own
without difficulty.  The only thing that had changed about him was that he
could no longer communicate with the land.  With the sun’s gift however, he
still knew a great many things.  He had been teaching Wren to use the power that
was formerly his, for it was her duty to carry on now.

There
was always something in the way Sly looked at her –
faced
her, rather. 
The corners of his small mouth were always soft and smiling fondly.  His manner
never ceased to astound her, and she would never,
never
forget what he
had done to save her life.

He
knelt down beside her, and she felt as though he was looking right into her
eyes from behind his bandages.

“I
know you feel that there’s a lot of pressure on you, but you can’t force
yourself,” he told her in that gentle, endearing way of his.

He
took her smooth hands in his clawed ones, pressing them to the ground.

“Think
of the roots,” he instructed.  “Ease the earth.  Make it feel comfortable and
safe, so that it won’t be afraid to be fruitful.”

Wren
tried once again to focus.  She thought of roots and blooming petals, touching
the ground very gently to soothe it, but it was still difficult, even having
Sly with her.  Perhaps she was wanting it too much?

“I’m
not relaxed,” she confessed, shaking her head and blaming herself for it.

She
turned away from him, reaching her hand into a bag to scatter a few seeds
across the ground.  She paused to look at the names etched into the boulders. 
Henry,
Nix, Mech
– and many others, along with a list of the orphans that had lost
their lives those years ago.  The fallen – they deserved to be remembered. 
These loved ones were gone from her, and they would never be forgotten, but
there was no doubt in her mind that they all would have been proud of what she
had done.

Nodding
briefly to herself, Wren lowered her hands to the ground once again, and this
time it did not take much.

The
ground accepted the seeds.  Before, the soil had possessed no imagination for
bringing things up on its own, but with these tiny maps, it was ready to
construct.  Roots buried themselves into the ground.  Green stems sprung up
before their eyes, branching out with leaves and blossoms.  Colors flowered in
their vision, and while Wren concentrated, the others were in awe as the land
began to understand what she wanted.  The seeds themselves were precious and
few, but a small number seemed to get the process started in a large area, as
if, when presented with a seed, the ground said:
Ahhh yes, I remember.

The
plant growth spread down the slope, filling the barren spaces with lush,
flowing grass and sweet-smelling flowers.  It spread to the bottom of the hill,
and that was as far as it went before Wren sank back, feeling tired.

She
let herself rest, looking around at the others in her midst – the remaining
members of the Wolf Pack, at her side until the end.

Toss
took a deep breath of the scented air, stroking Bruno.  Finn instructed Mach
concerning the Tikilin mechanism.  Calico kissed Sly, holding his hands.  They
talked softly.  It did Wren’s heart good to see all this.  It was as if none of
them were aware of the lingering darkness.

She
heard their lighthearted chatter, but the smile soon fell from her mouth.  She
looked out into the distance – toward the sky – and her brow furrowed.  Though
she was happy to have the remaining members of her family around her again, one
of them was missing and she was keenly aware.  How could she not be?  He meant
everything to her.

Wren
had tried not to mourn Rifter’s absence.  Of course she was often sick with
worry, losing hours of newfound sleep to bitter tears, but she had made her
choice in what she would believe.

He
will come back.  He has to come back!

She
did not know what had been in his mind when he’d gone into the sun, though
she’d often tried to imagine it, but she could not believe that he was gone
forever.  She
would not
believe that.

A
light touch on her shoulder drew her back, and she turned to see Sly standing
next to her, bandaged eyes directed toward the distant horizon.

“He’s
still out there, you know,” he said to her.  It was a reassurance as much as a
lie, but Wren agreed.

“I
know,” she said.  “I just hope that he’s alright.”

“He
will return,” Sly promised, and she considered his words prophecy.

Wren
lifted her eyes, glancing toward the burning orange sun for only a moment
before she looked away.  It left a black spot in her vision, much like the hole
in her heart.

Come
back, Rifter
,
she sent to him silently – wherever he was.  The world needed him to survive. 
She
needed him.  And she would be there, waiting, no matter how long it took.

In
the darkness of the fall, Rifter opened his eyes.  He was alone, plummeting
through space, chilled by a harsh and bitter cold.  His body was weak with a
pain like he’d never known, but worse still was the torment within his mind as
his last memories flashed across him.  Rifter was alone with them now.  There
was no one to take them away.

He
was still smoldering, unconscious for days, but even as his skin healed, he
opened his mouth and released a piercing yell for all the anguish that was pent
up inside him.

His
voice traveled across the empty expanse, but no one was near to hear his pain. 
He was utterly, completely,
alone.

***

Thank
you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please leave a review and rating to let
others know how much you liked it!

Look
for the final book in the Nevermor trilogy, Shadow Sun, coming 2015!

Lani
Lenore is a writer of gothic horrors and dark fantasies. In addition to
rewriting well-known fairytales with a twist, she also writes original stories
in a style she calls ‘dark fairytale’, which uses fairytale elements to build
horror and fantasy stories. Most of her tales, though horror, have a subplot of
romance.  She loves to keep readers on the edge of their seat, spook them, and
immerse them in worlds of beauty and terror.

She
is currently continuing work on the
Nevermor
trilogy.  If you’re a fan,
check out these links to get connected with news and info.

Visit
the Project Nevermor blog to get more information on the series
http://projectnevermor.wordpress.com/

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Nevermor
cover artist Omri Koresh
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