His arm swung at her, again his reflexes so fast it was almost unnatural. She blocked him and staggered backwards beneath his power. She gritted her teeth. He was strong.
Sloane kicked out at him, causing him to stagger back, and then she launched into a combination of kicks and punches, one sequence seamlessly flowing into another. Like she was performing an intricate dance, she jabbed and swung and kicked at him. Most of her usual opponents would be knocked out by now, but he was just as good as her, blocking each return and never letting her get the upper hand.
When Sloane finally landed a blow to his face, she smiled. He lifted his hand to touch the spot on his cheek and smiled back. It was terrifying the way he looked at her, like a hunter who had finally lured his prey into his trap. She knew how powerful her blow had been, but he looked like he barely felt it. He was enjoying this, and she suddenly felt a jab of fear. This was how she must usually look to her opponents.
He struck out at her. She blocked. He struck again, but it was a feint and she noticed too late. His fist connected with her stomach, and she groaned as the wind was knocked from her.
She stood straight, ignoring the pain that throbbed in her torso and readied herself for the next onslaught. She hadn’t made a mistake like that in years. He moved forwards again, quicker now, more certain in his movements. She met and blocked his blows, but each one wore her down a little more.
She was never going to win if she kept defending herself, and she was tiring quickly. She swung at him with everything she had, but the blow felt too sluggish. Sloane knew the second she threw it that the strike was lacking her usual power. The man easily ducked under her arm and, before she could register the dodge, he’d landed another blow to her body.
She felt the fresh sting needling at her ribs and cried out in pain. He’d broken a rib, she was certain of it.
Clutching her side, she stumbled backwards. She wished she’d shot first and asked questions later. She blamed his shockingly blue eyes for causing her a moment’s pause.
Sloane continued to stand tall, though she knew it would be over soon. She could feel herself silently acknowledging that the fight was drawing to an end, and her thoughts flickered to Rowena. This man was too quick. She’d never seen reflexes like his before, and she doubted she ever would again.
He came at her once more. She staggered under each block and then, with a sickening crunch, his fist connected with her face. Her whole body reeled from the impact. She could feel her legs wobbling beneath her, beginning to give way.
She knew she had to stay standing. She couldn’t fall down.
But no amount of willpower in the world could keep her on her feet. Despite her best efforts, Sloane sank to her knees as she lost consciousness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Sloane began to rouse, her first response was to mutter a curse. Her muscles throbbed from head to toe, and she could feel each individual ache keenly. It had been such a long time since someone had landed a blow on her, let alone knocked her out completely.
As she slowly opened her eyes, she swore again and sat up straight, her head spinning from the sudden movement.
The room she was in was like nothing she’d ever seen before. It resembled something out of the Middle Ages, with a thatched roof, stone walls and a layer of dry grass covering the stone floor.
A noise sounded from the room next door, and Sloane jumped from the bed, pulling herself into the corner of the room. Her hands reached for the back of her pants, but she’d lost the gun she was searching for in the fight. Crap. Her muscles tensed as she fell into a defensive stance.
Who the hell was that guy? Why didn’t he kill her? She would have killed him. Where was she now?
She had too many unanswered questions and they sat heavily in her chest. They made her feel vulnerable. She couldn’t adequately protect herself with so many unknown variables to account for.
Sloane scrutinised her room, trying to find some clues as to where she was and who her captor might be, but there was little to give her any indication of either. The room was dark, with no windows through which she could glimpse the outside world. The only furniture in the room was the small bed she’d woken in. It could have been a prison cell, but there were no bars across the doorway. Only an animal pelt covered the entrance.
Her eyes darted to the doorway as she heard movement from the next room. It was the slow, steady sound of someone contently going about their business. There were soft footfalls moving through the room, and then the gentle sound of a drawer being opened and then shut. They weren’t the sounds of someone standing guard, like Sloane would have expected. Another surprise. Why weren’t they guarding her?
She looked around the room for a weapon; for anything she could use to defend herself. But, aside from the bed, the room was empty. She considered breaking one of the wooden bed legs but decided it would make too much noise. Instead, she began to unstrap her belt and held it loosely in her hands, before creeping towards the doorway.
A heavy animal pelt was strung up, acting as a barrier to the other room. She stood just inside the entrance and listened for how many people were in the house. From the sounds of it there was only one, and judging by the weight and drag of their footfall they were hobbling and using a stick to help them move.
The soft scraping sound of a chair being pulled across the floor sounded, before the footsteps ceased and the person softly exhaled as they sat. They sounded like they’d be easy to get by, but Sloane felt hesitant to make a run for it. Why had she been left with someone who wasn’t capable of guarding her? Was she being lulled into a false sense of confidence?
She took a measured breath. That wasn’t her problem to worry about. All she needed to do was focus on getting out of there. She positioned herself close to the pelt and slowly pulled it back with one hand, so there was a small gap between the doorway and the material.
There was a large hearth with a roaring fire burning in the other room. Even through the small gap in the doorway, Sloane could feel the warmth the flames breathed into the air.
Her eyes drifted past the fire, to the far end of the room, where a woman with long dark hair sat. She was facing away from Sloane, her hair spilling over the back of the wooden chair. There was a knife in her hand, and she looked to be chopping some sort of plant.
Sloane’s eyes were drawn to the plant. It was nothing like the ones on Earth. It was a strange, luminous blue colour and seemed to be glowing. It was about the size of a potato, and she really hoped the woman wasn’t going to eat it. It looked like it’d been dipped in radioactive waste.
Sloane couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she could see the long cane that lent against the table next to her. The knife the woman held in her hand was a concern, but it wasn’t the first time she’d had to disarm someone wielding a knife. There was a doorway on the other side of the table, and Sloane could see a bright light streaming in under the pelt that was strung across it. That was her way out.
Sloane eased the flap back and crept past it, into the room. She held her belt taught between her hands, and her feet didn’t make a sound as she moved. She could be as silent as her shadow when she needed to be. The woman continued chopping, completely oblivious to Sloane’s presence. She’d have to deal with her, but something made Sloane stop from launching into attack.
‘You can put your weapon away,’ the woman said. Her words were in English, though her accent was strange. Sloane stilled but continued to hold the belt taught in her hands. ‘There will be no fighting under my roof. At least, I hope, not between us.’
The woman turned in her chair to face Sloane and smiled. She was incredibly beautiful, with unearthly blue eyes and dark hair that fell to her waist. She had willowy, long limbs and the kind of smile that could chase the darkness away. She must’ve been in her late twenties, but her eyes held the wisdom of one far older than her years.
Sloane gritted her teeth, unsure of how to react. She had no idea how she’d ended up with this wo
man, or what she wanted with her. There was only one thing she was certain of: she needed to escape. Her gaze flickered towards the pelt that hung across the doorway and the bright light streaming in through the small gap at the bottom of it. She had to find a way back to the rest of her crew. These people knew where they were, and the first response team needed to be warned.
Her curiosity wrestled with her desire to escape though. Aeris clearly wasn’t as deserted as her crew had believed. There were other people living there, and they could be the cause of her brother’s disappearance. They’d taken her captive, so they easily could have done the same to Ash and his team.
‘Who are you?’ Sloane eventually asked, dragging her gaze from the doorway to look at the woman. The kind regard that greeted her put Sloane on edge. No one smiled at her with such warmth; not even Rowe. It was weird.
‘My name is Orelle,’ the woman replied. ‘And this is my house. Would you care to sit with me?’
Sloane ignored the invitation. ‘Why am I here?’
‘You were brought here so I could tend to your injuries.’
Sloane instinctively reached for her ribs. She had been so certain the man had broken a rib in their fight, but there was no longer any stabbing pain.
‘How did…’ she began to ask the question, but then shook her head. She had more pressing concerns. ‘How long have I been here?’ she asked.
‘Since yesterday. Your injuries were quite bad, and I’m not used to treating one as weak as you.’
Sloane frowned. She hardly considered herself weak. In fact, she prided herself on her ability to fight through any pain. She had lost this fight though. The man could have easily killed her, but instead he’d brought her to this woman and had her injuries tended to. He wanted her alive, and there had to be a reason for that.
‘What do you want from me?’ she asked.
‘I want nothing from you,’ Orelle replied. ‘And I cannot explain why Rhyn brought you here. I only know that he wanted my help with your recovery.’
Sloane’s frown deepened, confusion threatening to distract her from the purpose behind her questions.
‘Rhyn…’ she murmured to herself. Orelle had to be speaking of the man who moved like lightening and had fists that struck like sledgehammers. The blow he dealt Sloane had knocked her out completely. She felt lucky to have woken up at all.
Her mind was ticking over the facts, trying to piece together the few things she knew about the place, but she was drawing a blank. She didn’t know enough, and she couldn’t adequately assess the risk these people posed. She needed to find out what they wanted, and she needed to know if they had Ash and the others in his team.
Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinised Orelle. The woman’s face was open and her eyes were honest, which only irritated Sloane. She’d rather be faced with someone she could threaten; someone she could beat the answers from. Instead, she’d landed in a cabin with snow-bloody-white.
‘Have you taken other prisoners like me?’ she asked, her eyes watchful as she waited for the woman to answer. There were certain tells people had when they lied, small changes in their body language and facial expressions.
‘No, we do not take prisoners,’ Orelle replied, before smiling softly. ‘I would prefer you think of yourself as my guest. You are not a prisoner here.’
There was no dishonesty in her body language; no indications she may be holding back the truth. It was too much of a coincidence though. Ash and his team go missing, and she finds another race of people on a planet that is supposed to be uninhabited. A race of people who captured her and held her captive.
If Ash wasn’t there though, she had no reason to keep questioning this woman. Orelle didn’t have the information Sloane needed. And, even if she did, there was something so gentle about the woman that Sloane couldn’t bring herself to contemplate torturing her for answers. She’d find another way to get the information on her brother.
‘Well, if I’m not a prisoner…’ Sloane strode past the table and over towards the door. She felt tense as she walked, but Orelle did not try to stop her. The woman merely smiled, amusement playing in her eyes.
Sloane didn’t pause to consider why Orelle was allowing her to leave so easily. All she knew was that she needed to get out of this place. Ash and Rowe needed her, the crew had to be warned, and she wouldn’t stay captive there a moment longer.
When she reached the entrance she threw back the pelt that acted as a shield to the outside world, a smug smile tugging at her lips. She was free of the small thatch-roofed prison. A cold breath of air whipped at her hair and caressed her face, and as she stepped across the threshold to her freedom, Sloane shuddered to a jarring halt.
Her mouth gaped open and her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. What lay beyond the house was nothing like the wooded world she’d crashed landed in. Instead, she was confronted with a place covered in snow and ice.
The light from the two suns high in the sky was dazzling as it reflected across the cold world, and Sloane had spots in her eyes as they adjusted to the brightness. There was so much raw beauty to the place, and she struggled to take it in fast enough.
From the hut’s perch on the top of a small hill, Sloane had the perfect view of her surrounds. The hut was part of a small village of tiny stone huts; all almost identical to one another and dotted throughout the valley. They were linked together by a series of icy pathways that cut between tall banks of snow.
Sheer cliffs towered over the village, with long, thick icicles the size of skyscrapers hanging from the jagged rocks. The cliff faces hugged the snow-covered houses in a V-shape, surrounding all but the far, open end of the village. The cliffs stopped at the widest point of the valley, and all that could be seen across the horizon was a frozen ocean that extended into the distance to greet an intensely blue sky.
Her gaze roamed across the wide opening, where the valley was brighter. It was so different to the opposite end of the valley. At the point where the two cliff faces met was a thick, craggily scar. As her eyes narrowed in on it, Sloane could see that the scar was in fact an opening, and at the base of the scar was the start of a ravine. Orelle’s hut was in the middle of the valley, and the small village of huts became few and far between the closer they got to the ravine. It was so dark and shadowy that even Sloane shuddered at the thought of exploring it.
Turning her attention to the path in front of her, Sloane moved to continue forwards, but then rapidly halted as the reason why Orelle hadn’t attempted to stop her became distressingly apparent.
The mound of snow beside the pathway shuddered and two of the most terrifying creatures Sloane had ever seen emerged to block her path. They shook the snow from their white bodies, rearing back as they stared her down. They were beautiful and awful all at once, and one look at the beasts made Sloane quite certain there was no way she’d be able to get by them unarmed.
They reminded her of demented swans, if swans were the size of horses. They had sharp, metallic talons for feet and cruel, pointed beaks that were coated in a blue tinged metal that glinted in the sun. Their soft white feathers were hackled, and their obsidian black eyes were honed on her.
Sloane swallowed tightly as she eyed the beasts. She had to run now if she was going to escape. Her eyes kept glancing at their vicious claws and razor sharp beaks though. The belt in her hand may as well have been a flower for all the good it would do against the creatures. She could perhaps take on one. But two? She had no chance.
She took a hesitant step forwards and had to throw her hands over her ears as the two creatures squawked a high-pitched cry of alarm. They began to prowl towards her; predatory in the way they moved. They snapped their beaks at her, each bite sounding like two steel blades clashing. There was no awkwardness like she’d usually see in birds back on Earth. No, these animals looked to be as deadly on the ground as they would be in the air.
She wouldn’t get to the edge of the yard without being torn to shreds. She retreated a step
, scrambling as she fell back through the doorway and into the hut. As soon as she was inside, the squawking stopped. She peaked through a gap between the door flap and the frame, almost to confirm she hadn’t imagined them.
One of the creatures caught her eye. The look it gave her was menacing, and its intelligence radiated through its glare. She whipped the pelt shut and held its edges against the doorframe.
‘What are those things?’ she murmured.
‘You’ve met the glacies,’ Orelle said, not looking up as she continued to cut the plant Sloane had seen her with earlier. She was still seated in her chair and was acting as if nothing had happened at all. She didn’t appear smug about the glacies. In fact, she seemed entirely disinterested.
Sloane swiftly turned to the woman. No wonder she was so relaxed about having a prisoner walk around unrestrained. She’d be stupid to try and get past one of those creatures. Escaping this place would be more difficult than she first thought. She would have to wait for them to sleep, or at least find something sharp to use against them. It was a much better plan than becoming lunch. She could be patient—when she had to be.
‘Where are we? This place is nothing like where I was when I was knocked out.’
‘That is because you are not in that world anymore. Our world, Ellysia, is connected to the World of the Woods, and Rhyn brought you through the rift to us.’
Sloane’s eyes widened and her lower lip slightly dropped. Of all the explanations she’d been expecting, she never would have guessed that. A rift—Orelle had to be talking about parallel worlds, though Sloane didn’t know much about them. She’d heard rumours there were openings in the seams between worlds on Earth, but she’d always assumed they were just stories.
She tried to remember more about the shimmering mirage she saw before fighting Rhyn, but she hadn’t had a chance to get a proper look at it. She bit down on her lip to hide her disappointment with herself. She needed as much information about it as possible if she expected to have any chance of getting back to the woods. She could vaguely recollect seeing glimpses of the frozen world beyond from certain angles, but nothing distinctive enough to give her any hint at where the rift was that connected the two worlds.
In Ice We Burn (The Liftsal Guardians Book 1) Page 6