The Nothing: A Book of the Between
Read The Nothing: A Book of the Between Online
Authors: Kerry Schafer
THE NOTHING
A Book of the Between
Kerry Schafer
THE NOTHING Copyright © 2015
by Kerry Schafer
Cover art by Derek Murphy
Interior design by Alex Hughes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the character’s names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Kerry Schafer’s books may be ordered through booksellers. Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
ISBN: 978-0-9861202-0-6 (sc)
978-0-9861202-1-3 (digital)
Library of Congress: 2015904108
For David, who kept the dream alive
SOONER OR LATER, the Between would try to kill them.
The fact that it appeared peaceful at the moment only made Vivian more uneasy. Any moment now, they could be attacked by poisonous butterflies or stabbed in the eyes by rabid hummingbirds. Maybe the fragrance of the flowers was toxic, or the ancient oak behind her might crack open and swallow her whole.
They needed rest, though, and she leaned back against the gnarled trunk, her travel-weary legs stretched out before her. Zee lay in the grass with his head in her lap, eyes closed, while her hands smoothed his forehead and combed through the tangles in his long dark hair.
He lay perfectly still but was not asleep. Vivian’s wandering fingers registered the tension in the line of his jaw, the knotted muscle at the base of the skull. His right hand, open and seemingly relaxed, just grazed the edge of his sword hilt. It was both disturbing and comforting to know he could be on his feet in a heartbeat, sword drawn and ready.
“You think he’ll be okay?” she asked, curling a lock of dark hair around her fingers.
“Weston, you mean?” Zee’s eyes opened and looked up into hers, light-filled agate etched in umber. Her own face reflected back to her from his pupils, tiny and upside-down. She swallowed, her heart thudding erratically under the directness of his gaze. A warm hand on hers, tracing her fingers and up over wrist and forearm, did nothing to calm either heart or breath.
“It felt wrong to leave him alone. What if he never wakes up? He’s got nobody.”
The hand had reached her shoulder, lingering on the place where neck and collarbone met.
“So soft,” Zee murmured. “Sometimes, when the light hits this place just right, the scales shine as if they’re real, but when I touch it, it’s only skin.… Weston is an incredibly tough old bastard. True definition of survivor. He’ll be all right. Safer back in Wakeworld than here, although he may not thank you for making that decision for him.”
The fingers began moving again, tracing the line of Vivian’s collarbone. It was hard to get her breath. “Safer if he’s really healed. We only have Callyn’s word on that.”
Zee’s fingers paused in their exploration. “You don’t trust her.”
“Do you?”
She followed his gaze along the grassy path to where it bent around a corner into a grove of trees. Callyn, the Giant, impatient with her companions’ need for rest, had gone ahead to scout things out and get a line on the best way to navigate the unstable world of the Between.
“Insofar as our paths lie together, I do. She wants to stop Aidan. And her concern for Weston seemed genuine enough. I can’t see any ulterior motive for her putting herself in exile in order to help us.”
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
Zee’s eyes moved back to Vivian’s; his fingers continued their journey. She held her breath, all of her, body and soul, waiting for the inevitable moment. She kept her eyes open and held his gaze, not allowing herself the escape of closed lids as his touch faltered on the edge of the healing knife wound just above her breast.
His eyes darkened and closed. A long, shuddering breath escaped him. “Does it hurt?”
“Only a little.”
This was true, as far as it went, but not the whole truth. There was very little pain at the site of the dragonstone wound, but a constant uneasy discomfort gnawed at her, as if the injury were to her soul more than her body.
“I almost killed you. If my aim had been more true…”
“You have to let this go,” she said, her hand covering his. “I was a dragon. If it had been any other, you’d be damning yourself because you missed.”
He stiffened and drew back his hand, sitting up and pulling away from her. “I hate this whole ‘born to be a dragon slayer’ business. Killing without provocation, without need. It just… I can’t trust my instincts. Can’t trust myself. What if I hurt you again?”
“Since I’m not going to be turning into a dragon again, I think you can trust your instincts just fine.”
Her effort to lighten the mood fell heavy as a stone. The moment of intimacy had passed and he was all warrior again, shields up and ready for danger. “Where’s Poe?”
“Behind you. He’s been staring at the dream door over there for the last hour.”
There had been at least a dozen doors along the way since they’d left the plains and the Black Gates behind. None had been of any interest to the little penguin, and his ongoing vigil in front of this one was becoming unnerving.
Zee stood and stretched, eyes moving all around, glancing at the sun, which hung directly overhead. “What time do you think it is?”
Vivian shrugged. “Time means nothing here. The sun hasn’t budged. We need to get moving.”
“Or make camp.”
“Could.” But her eyes went again to Poe. The restless feeling intensified, manifesting in a need to get moving and keep moving. “Help me up.”
Zee reached down, and she marveled all over again that his hands could be so strong and yet so gentle. She shook her head. “Other hand. I really wish you wouldn’t use that right arm until it heals.”
By the time she’d had a chance to treat the jagged laceration that ran the length of his right bicep, shoulder to elbow, it was too late for stitches. All she could do was keep it clean and try to keep him from using it long enough to let it heal.
His lips quirked in a smile, pulled crooked by the scars on his cheek. The right hand remained outstretched. “As if you’re heavy enough to do it any harm.”
“I’m a doctor; you should listen to me.” But she let him pull her to her feet, groaning a little despite her best intentions. Her bones ached with exhaustion. She felt bruised and battered from head to toe, her muscles sore with the constant tension of waiting for the Between to attack. Both of them needed time to rest and heal, but they’d pushed hard the last couple of days, driven by a sense of urgency.
“Look out!” Zee put his arms around her and pulled her out of the way as a small dragon, about the size of a draft horse, careened down out of the sky and crashed into the branches of the tree where she had been taking shelter. Wings hampered by branches, flailing with all four feet and snorting smoke all the way, the creature bounced and slid down to the ground, leaves swirling around him in a small storm.
“If a dragon is ever going to kill me it, will probably be this one,” Zee said. “By total accident. Can’t you tell him to stay on the ground?”
“He doesn’t listen very well. If I had a way to mend that broken wing he could fly better.”
The little dragon butted his head against Zee’s broad chest, and Zee scratched the skin around his horns. One wing folded properly along his back; the other, skewed and bent, hung at an awkward angle. It didn’t seem to be causing pain, at least. A burbling sound, almost like a purr only much louder, vibrated in the creature’s throat. Puffs of steam escaped his nostrils and Zee leaped back. “Easy, there, Godzilla. You’re going to roast me.”
Vivian stifled a laugh. The little dragon adored Zee, following him around with a puppy-like devotion to which Zee responded with off-handed gruffness and a touch of bewilderment. He’d come up with the name Godzilla, grumbling that having a pet dragon could not end well and they would all likely be trampled and spiked in their sleep.
Vivian’s amusement faded as her eyes went back to the penguin. Poe’s fascination with the door worried her. Just an ordinary dream door, so far as she could see. Unpainted wood, weathered to a pale silver by sun and wind, half obscured by vines. But Poe had an uncanny sense of things, and his scrutiny meant the door needed investigation.
Just as she took a step toward it, Poe hissed, turning around with such speed, he tangled his feet, impeding a mad waddle in her direction. Before she could react, a twist of pain knifed through her vitals. She doubled over, gasping, both arms wrapped around her belly. Her vision darkened at the edges, her knees went weak, and she would have fallen if Zee’s strong arms hadn’t caught her.
“Easy,” he said, lowering her to the ground. “Head between your knees.”
She tried to tell him that something was wrong behind that door, but the words wouldn’t come. Her vision kept checking in and out, giving her glimpses of grass and earth between her knees. Then even that gave way to flashes of dark layered on dark, and with each one a sense of loss, of something gone missing from the worlds.
“Vivian.” Zee gave her shoulders a little shake. A blast of hot wind struck her, gritty with dust. Poe pressed up against her, shivering. She was shivering too, head to toe, but the pain in her belly eased and she managed to get her eyes open, surprised to see that the sky was still blue, the sun still shining. But the Between, as far as her eyes could see, was now nothing but rocks and sand.
“What happened?” Zee demanded.
“The door, the Dream World just…” Vivian broke off, staring. Nothing was left of the door but splinters. Through it she could see what looked like blackest night. She could feel it reaching for her.
Zee shook her again. “Just what?”
“Went black.” Words were far away. Her tongue felt clumsy and thick. But what she had sensed was beyond her ability to describe. The world behind the ruined door was gone, leaving a hole in the balance of things.
And then the wind struck with a high-pitched howling. It was thick with sand, carrying tumbleweeds and dead branches. Vivian’s face burned and stung, scoured by the tiny wind-driven particles. It was hard to breathe and she bent her head down and pressed it into her knees, waiting for the wind to die away. It didn’t.
“We need to move.” Zee spoke directly into her ear. “Find shelter.” A moment later, she felt him tying something around her nose and mouth, blocking out the sand so that she could breathe. She managed to get a look at him to see that he had a T-shirt tied around his own face, and then took the hand he held out to her and staggered to her feet.
Keeping her head bent, eyes toward the ground, she shouted, “Which way?”
Visibility was limited to a few feet in any direction. Wind buffeted her body and ate away at her exposed skin. Something soft and heavy thudded against her legs and she peered down to see Poe, windblown, unable to stand his ground. She picked him up and clung to him as the wind tried to snatch him away.
