The Alpha's Concubine (Historical Shifter Romance) (40 page)

Netya's eyes flitted about the cave, glancing from one twisted animal pelt to the next. They were eerie enough as they were, and she did not relish the idea of meeting the spirits that had once inhabited them. She was riding down the ravine again, chasing the drove of horses into the unknown. Whatever awaited her in the spirit world, she was as curious as she was terrified to meet it. Of all the journeys she had made over the past year, this one was the first to truly stray beyond the boundaries of everything she knew. But somewhere in the spirit world, deeper than the waking senses could reach, perhaps she would at last find her calling.

The poison seemed to take a very long time to begin working, but Adel insisted she keep eating the nut meal slowly. Too much, and she might not realise until it was too late. The den mother sat patiently with her hands on her apprentice's shoulders, saying little, and moving even less. Her tense grip only heightened Netya's unease, as if her mentor was expecting a demon to burst from her body at any moment.

Gradually, the edges of the world began to soften. The flames of the lamps grew brighter and more keen, but rather than driving back the darkness, they instead seemed to be absorbing what little light remained in the room. They grew bigger, whiter, until they were curling and dancing in the air like the tails of snakes. Awed, Netya reached out to try and touch one, but her fingers were unable to grasp it.

"Is this the spirit world?" she whispered. A noise rumbled from behind her that no longer sounded like Adel's voice. Forgetting why she had asked her question, she stared into the dancing flames again, becoming lost in the light as the cave walls rolled past until she was staring up at the roof, then the opposite wall, and then herself as her spirit came loose from her body and drifted away into the flames.

Netya gazed in wonder as she watched herself sitting cross-legged against a great tree that had sprouted from the middle of the chamber. Its branches were curled about her shoulders like claws, and she could feel the dry twigs pricking at her skin. The woven grasses in the mat beneath her were growing again, and they writhed against her legs as they spread across the rocks like spilt water.

For a time she drifted, floating across the cave walls until, without knowing exactly how, she found herself looking through her own eyes again. The branches of the tree were still curled about her shoulders, but she was able to stand despite their tight grip. She was not sure whether the body she inhabited was her own any more, but it seemed willing to move with her.

When she tried to leave through the cave's entrance, the drapes swallowed the shadows until they turned into pure night, an endless pit of black that held neither moon nor stars. She tried to touch it, but something warned her away. The twigs wrapping her shoulders crackled, and the rocks beneath her feet became like mud, clinging and dragging at her ankles as she crawled back to the safety of the tree. But the tree was gone. In its place was a bowl covered by a bloody piece of animal hide. Had she not emptied it into the river already?

Netya peeled the covering away. Blood spilled from the edges of the bowl until it covered the cave floor, rising up around her legs as she backed away in shock, a terrible sadness coming over her. She clutched her knees and wept, tears turning to ice on her cheeks.

When she finally opened her eyes it felt like a long time had passed, but the blood around her ankles was still there. Was she still in the cave? Something about the tightness on her shoulders made her think she was, but all around her the shallow lake of crimson stretched for miles around, ancient trees breaking the surface and clawing their way up into the misty sky.

She was lost. She had gone too far. How would she ever find her way back home to her mother? The spirit world was very large, and it had been hours, days, months since she came here. The pelt of a long-dead bear drifted past, and it reminded Netya of something someone had once told her.

"Will you help me?" she asked, but the pelt only rolled over listlessly as it floated to the base of a nearby tree, climbed half way up, and then hung itself in the branches as if it were an ornament. All around she began to notice the skins of more animals draped in the trees, foxes and deer and wolves, stoats and bears and great cats...

The horizon darkened and closed in until she was sitting once again in blackness, the pelts of the animals hanging around her in a circle as they watched the girl who had strayed into their realm. The dark sockets that had once held their eyes stared at her, flickering with the flames of the lamps as shrivelled lips pulled back from empty jaws.

They cannot hurt me
, Netya reminded herself, but she could not remember how she knew such a thing. Had her mother told her, before she left the village? A sickening growl sounded from behind her, and the world spun dizzyingly as she whipped her head around. She did not know what she was kneeling on, but the darkness suddenly rushed up around her as she lost her balance, engulfing her like a blanket as her stomach lurched with the sensation of falling.

Her skin was damp with sweat. Her heart was beating too fast, pounding in her ears like the blows of a hammerstone. Nothing but blackness surrounded her. In a panic, her eyes darted back and forth, searching for some chink of light, but she was afraid to turn her head in case she lost her balance again and tumbled even deeper into the dark.

Low, wet, and echoing, the growl sounded once more. Netya froze, but her shivering body betrayed her, the hammering of her heart drawing the beast out of the shadows. A white wolf, his snowy fur brushed through with streaks of black and grey, appeared before her. The flames of the lamps burned where his dead eyes had once been, but rather than white, they were now crimson. His lower jaw was gone, and black poison dripped from the monster's fangs as he prowled closer, the unearthly sounds coming from his throat increasing in volume as he locked eyes with Netya.

The terror she felt was like nothing she had ever known. This wolf was no phantom, he was real. She could smell the musty scent of his dead fur, taste the tang of the poison in the air. The branches around her shoulders turned into talons, piercing her flesh as she screamed and writhed to escape. She could not be here any more! There had to be a way out. This place was not meant for her. It was too far, too deep. Where was the light? Where was her mother? Why had she ever left home?

Netya's thoughts abandoned her as she covered her eyes and curled into a ball, sobbing hysterically. She did not know how long she hung there in the darkness with the growls of the monstrous wolf in her ears. It seemed like years. All the while she fell deeper, sinking into the place beyond the stars where even the spirits fell silent. The wolf faded too, and so did the darkness, the talons, the terror. When she landed, it was in the arms of a soothing presence, and she crawled closer to its warmth, clinging on desperately to the only thing that felt safe in such emptiness.

Someone had found her. They had come to save her from the darkness she was lost in, and they were bringing her back.

"Mama," she wept as she buried herself in the woman's bosom. "Take me home."

Her mother embraced her, stroking her hair gently as she murmured soothing lullabies. She spoke in a strange tongue, but the sound of her voice was calming and filled with love. Netya hugged her tighter, letting her mother chase away all of the nightmares until the lights of the cave came back. She slept, knowing she was home.

It was hard to remember what had happened. She had been somewhere far away. The images in her mind were vivid, but they made no sense to her. Netya's mouth was dry, and her head ached terribly. She felt like she was waking from a long sickness, before the last traces of fever had completely left her.

Adel cradled her in her arms. At some point Netya had fallen to the ground, and her head now rested in the den mother's lap. When she moved, her mentor blinked, the distant look in her eyes snapping back from wherever her thoughts had been, replaced by the cold severity Netya was used to.

"Are you back with me?" Adel said.

Netya nodded, wincing at the way it made her head pound.

"Sit up, and drink this water. Your head will start to clear soon, but you will feel unwell until your body cleanses the last of the poison." Adel helped her to her knees and handed her a waterskin, from which she drank gratefully until it was empty.

Netya stared at the woven mat beneath her for a long time, feeling nauseous every time she tried to move. Her experience in the spirit world had shaken her more than anything in her entire life. It had seemed so real, and yet parts of it were as foggy and surreal as the wildest of her dreams. When she thought of the wolf, she wanted to curl into a ball all over again.

Now that she had experienced her first real vision, she finally understood the gravity of what it meant to be a seer, and the bravery that would be required of her if she continued on her path. To return to the spirit world willingly, to seek out the things she had seen all over again, seemed beyond her will to endure.

"How do you go back there?" she said, the words coming out of her throat like dry treebark.

"With experience, and with discipline," Adel replied. "Whether you can learn it will determine whether you are ready to be a seer or not. I told you, the spirit world can be a terrifying place. If you go there again you may see worse things yet, or you may witness blissful wonders that make you wish you could never leave."

Netya sipped from another waterskin when the den mother offered it to her, taking deep breaths until her stomach began to settle. Seemingly satisfied that her apprentice was no longer about to faint, Adel stood up and tidied away the bowl of nut meal that had spilled over the floor. As she moved away, Netya found herself staring past where the den mother had been sitting, directly into the eyes of the white wolf.

A small cry left her lips, and a wave of dizziness made her stomach lurch as she jolted away. Adel looked from the girl to the animal pelt she was staring at in terror, then lifted it from its wooden frame and carried it over.

Netya inched back, still trembling from the memory of her vision. Even though the red flames no longer burned in the wolf's eyes, even though its upper jaw did not drip with poison, it still had the same musty smell she remembered as keenly as ever.

"This wolf's spirit spoke to you?" Adel said.

"No, but he was there in my vision," Netya stammered out.

"The spirits do not always speak to us in words. Did any of the other animals here seek you out?"

Netya shook her head. "I remember them being there. It was as if they were watching me, but only this wolf came to me alone." She swallowed the unpleasantness in her throat and forced herself to look at the white wolf's pelt. Even though it was a harmless thing back in the world of the living, she knew she would never be able to look at it in the same way again, having seen the face of the spirit that clung to it.

Adel stroked the pelt's ears, brushing it down as she unfolded it in her lap. It was not as old as most of the animal hides in her chamber, and it still seemed soft and warm. At some point, someone had fashioned it into a carefully stitched article of clothing, with small loops of hide to allow the forelegs to sit over the wearer's arms, and a tie to secure it about their shoulders. The rest of the pelt formed a large cloak, and the jaws had been designed to sit over the wearer's scalp in the customary animal headdress of a seer.

"You are still frightened of this wolf," Adel observed.

"He is what makes me afraid to go back."

"Then allow him to be your guide. The next time you go into the spirit world, take him with you." Adel held out the pelt to Netya. She hesitated to accept it, but the den mother's expression made it clear that refusal would not be wise. Trying not to remember the monster she had met in her vision, Netya took the white wolf and laid him across her lap.

"If he is what you fear, make him your strength," Adel said. "Wear his pelt with pride, and his spirit will give you power. A seer has no room to be timid."

Netya ran her fingers through the wolf's fur, closing her eyes and trying to imagine it as her protector rather than predator. His pelt was soft and majestic, nothing like the spirit creature she had seen. But the monster had been powerful. Perhaps there were worse spirits still waiting for her in future visions. She would need a strong guardian at her side if she were to brave the same journey again.

"I saw myself," she said, "and a forest, and a lake of blood. What did it mean?"

"Likely nothing," Adel replied. "As I told you, our visions are not premonitions. It will be a long time before you fully understand how the things you see in the spirit world can be used to help others. Until then, you must watch, listen, and learn to explore that place. We will not use the nightwood berries again. Even in small amounts, they can sometimes detach a person's mind from their body permanently if taken too often."

Netya was relieved to hear it. She preferred the version of the spirit world she saw in her dreams over the disturbingly vivid place the nightwood berries had taken her to.

After allowing her a while longer to recover, Adel permitted Netya to leave without any further duties that day. When she stepped out of the cave, she realised that night had already fallen. Adel must have sat with her for hours while she was lost in the spirit world.

She made her way groggily back to her tent, finding it empty, and sat staring at her wolf pelt cloak for a time before trying to sleep. With it so close by, she was afraid the monster might return again to haunt her dreams. At last, swallowing her fear, she slipped her arms beneath the forepaws of the garment and fastened it about her shoulders, letting the wolf's head sit atop hers. Despite her unease, the pelt was warm and comfortable, and she felt a hint of pride in wearing the headdress of a seer. When she eventually drifted off to sleep, no wolves appeared to torment her.