Page 24 of Shifter King
They agreed that they would move into the bunker on the fourth day. At that point the headache and nausea inducing remnants would be entirely gone. That meant that they would take this time and visit Darmoste.
WHAT ONCE WAS DARMOSTE
That electric tension of returning to the former city of Vawtrian power and culture as well as the dread of what lay ahead reached a painful pitch as everyone rose, ate breakfast, and made the necessary preparations. Amelia took the strips of cloth and bound her elmis once more. When Naatos gave her a strange look, she twitched her shoulder. "It's harder for me to keep the boundaries up since Dry Deep. And if we're going into a city…"
He nodded, then adjusted the band over her forehead elmis so that it looked more finished. "Do whatever you must. It will be unpleasant."
That was certainly encouraging. "How far did you get into Darmoste before?" she asked.
"Just beyond the first of the outer walls. We're going to follow those and go to the Temple of Cynaras. They say that the Tue-Rah has been broken down, but it may still function in a smaller fashion. And we may be able to access other resources."
"Get through and reset the timeline and all of this will be over." She bit her lip, the tension roiling within her stomach. It couldn't be that simple, could it? Would it actually erase all of this, or would it just take them back and let them start on a separate path while this one continued?
Naatos adjusted her band once more, then tucked the loose ends beneath the fold. " If it becomes too much, you have to tell us."
She nodded. Right now, she didn't want to remain here alone or at the bunker. Or even with anyone else. It felt as if it would be safer if they were all together.
The heavy silence remained over them. They traveled slowly toward Darmoste, making their way through thickets of brambles, copses of trees, and sections of short dark grass. As it had been before, predators attacked with regularity but in fewer numbers. She had expected to feel more vulnerable, but somehow this had all become normal. They kept her in the middle as they walked.
The pace was not too swift, which was good. She had gained a great deal of strength in the past couple days, but running was still out of the question.
A low clicking hum filled her ears. She grimaced, her ears popping. QueQoa shook his head as well. WroOth winced, and AaQar appeared more annoyed as he pressed his hand to his ear.
Naatos continued on, breaking his stride just enough to reach for her arm. "They have sonic devices set up to drive back the predators. They intentionally set them to frequencies that affect some of the races. You'll get used to it in a few minutes. More or less. It gets worse in the city itself though."
"They've gone to such lengths to make us feel welcome," WroOth said with a wry chuckle. "Do they think it will keep us from shifting?"
"Aside from minor changes, most can't," Naatos said, his tone dark. "It was not a joke when the Bealorns thought we were using trinkets to transform. Not only are those a common item for purchase, they use a substance from our blood to fuel it. It is one of the levies."
She continued to rub the side of her head, the aching intensifying. What a nightmare of a place this was. These poor people.
They wound through the forest, breaking through the underbrush and moving between the massive elms and chiron oaks. No animals disturbed them now. Not even reptile song or serpent calls broke the silence. It was just that annoying clicking hum. Like an army of deep-voiced mosquitoes racing around her. And everything had become duller. She stopped short. "I can't smell as well." The sharper and deeper scents got through, but not the subtler ones.
"Yes," Naatos said, still moving ahead. "It suppresses scent too."
That would certainly keep predators from wanting to circle the area. If there wasn't even a trace scent of prey, why come? Yet that didn't seem to be the only reason. Scent was such a powerful tool for Vawtrians. Yet another advantage that assisted them in battle as well as negotiations and more. Limited smell meant limited taste. How could anyone be happy in a place like this?
As if on cue, sweat rolled onto her lips. She wiped it away, but it was simply wet with only the vaguest tastes of salt. Had the Abliatos wanted to create the worst of nightmares and existences possible among the living? Or was it only at certain points that this was enforced? Perhaps within their own sectors and private chambers, it was different.
Naatos gestured toward the forest's edge. "We will not go through it, but you need to see this." He moved a little farther ahead and then gestured past a pair of pale elms. "Not all live within the city. They aren't permitted near the gates, but they take what protection they can living within the sphere."
She drew alongside of him, already aware of an uncomfortable mash of emotions and sensations. Beyond the thick brush and a few more trees, a makeshift community sprawled. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of people, milled about, all dressed in rags and most barefoot. The structures had been slapped together with scraps of rusted metal and splintering slabs of wood. Some had literally been tied up with grass ropes and old clothes while others had nails.
Small fires sat in front of many of the houses, some seemingly shared between families. Steam rose from the pots, but the smoke carried only a fraction of its smell. The one mercy was that the stench of a place like this was not prominent either. The vague smell of sweat, feces, urine, and rot was even less than the smoke.
It was hard to pull out the individual reactions from the brothers. QueQoa's face wore the shock most plainly. The others had hidden it behind masks of neutrality, yet the heat of anger burned hotter with each passing moment.
She had to drop her gaze for a breath as the emotions swelled through. Fractured thoughts and images struck her repeatedly, far too rapid to see but heavy. These people had next to nothing. Bealorns. Vawtrians. Shivennans. Awdawms. They clustered here because it was better than death. But how much better?
As she scanned the community, she caught sight of a woman in stained grey-blue robes, her shawl wrapped tight about her shoulders and drawn up around her face. She held a bony infant who whimpered. That distended fifth finger indicated the child at least was Machat. And the woman holding the child—
A sharp presence pierced her mind, making her blink. Images flashed into her mind, raw and grating. A cradle made out of scrap with only rags, rusted metal and tattered cloth. Not enough food even for the baby. Not enough of anything."Why were we abandoned?""Don't let the children know. There's barely anything left."Holes gaped in a rotting roof. A massive grey cliff whose bare stone side was darkened with blood. Storm clouds billowed green and black above the cliff. A sense of panic and the knowledge thattheywould come.
She swayed, trying to catch herself and process the many other images that stampeded through her mind. Her hand scraped the nearest tree, grating over the bark. Stop. It had to stop. Swallowing hard, she pushed more energy into her barriers.
Naatos grasped her arm. "Come on. We can't delay."
The gruffness of his presence grounded her. Nodding, she followed, not daring to open her eyes for a few seconds more. The Grey Season would destroy these people without a doubt. Even if they had shelter, did they have food? Supplies? Medicine? All had fallen and suffered a similar fate, sitting on the brink of death and ruin.
