Vortok grunted. “To me, as well. I dreamed them last night.”
“As did I,” Balir said. “And though the dream has grown hazy since waking, both of you—” he dipped his head toward Vortok and then toward Nina “—were in it.”
“We were in the foothills.” Vortok raised the roasted thigh — held daintily by the bone between forefinger and thumb — to his mouth and tore into it. “Keeping watch on the rock. That place the clan usually camped before the snows came.”
Nina slowly chewed; the meat in her mouth, juicy and delicious a moment before, was suddenly like a clump of ash on her tongue. She had wanted to keep her abilities a secret, terrified of what they might think of her when they found out. What would they say, what would they do? Would Aduun use it to accuse her of having ties to Kelsharn? He’d had psychic abilities, too, and had often used them against those he deemed lesser than himself — which had been essentially everyone.
But could she lie to her valos? Lies had a way of revealing themselves, in time, but it was more than that. These males were her tribe, her people. Their trust would not be earned through deceit.
“We…shared the same dream,” she said, dropping her gaze.
Balir leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, face lighting up with interest. “The rokahn of our clan spoke of such things, but I have never known them to be true. Is it a sign from Sonhadra?”
Nina shook her head. “No. It was because of me.”
Vortok noisily swallowed his mouthful and brushed the back of his hand across his mouth, unmindful of his tusks. “How is it because of you? Are you a rokahn, Nina?”
The word rokahn had no translation into the human tongue that meant much of anything to Nina; Quinn had said a rokahn was like a shaman or a seer, but those words were just as meaningless. Orishok had explained it as a wise person who could commune with Sonhadra, a person who knew all the stories and traditions, and who could sometimes perform impossible acts — healing the mortally wounded, predicting the weather, or foretelling the fortune of a hunt.
“No, I’m not a rokahn.” She inhaled deeply, straightened her back, and lifted her head to look at them. “The woman who birthed me was a prisoner on a prison ship. She and many others were experimented on. They all suffered, and many died, but some of those who survived were…changed. Like you and your people. Now there are humans far stronger than the natural limits of our kind, humans who can manipulate ice, or withstand terrible heat, or…or never die. The woman who gave birth to me…she could read minds.”
Aduun’s gaze gleamed with reflected firelight. “And because the female who birthed you was changed,” he said, “you are also different.”
Nina nodded. “Yes. Because I share her blood.”
“And you have looked into our minds?” Balir asked.
She shook her head. “No! I mean… Sometimes I catch glimpses of your thoughts or feelings, especially when they’re particularly strong, but I never purposely look into anyone’s mind. Most people are always projecting outward,” she set her portion of meat down on the cloth draped over her lap and raised her hands, sweeping them out from her temples to demonstrate, “and it takes a lot of concentration to block them out.”
Aduun’s quills rose, and his eyes narrowed. Nina had a feeling whatever respect or trust she might have gained with him had just grown even more tenuous until his lips fell into a deep, remorseful frown.
“Being around us must not be easy,” Vortok said. The bone in his hand was completely cleaned of meat. Frowning, he snapped it in half to get at the marrow inside. “I can barely handle my own thoughts since I was changed. I am sorry you have to deal with them, too.”
“Like I said, I try not to pry, but when there’s so much being projected, or when your anger takes control… It’s difficult.” She absently toyed with the frayed edges of the cloth in her lap. “Last night, while we were sleeping, there were no barriers. Our minds were vulnerable. Somehow, I found my way into one of your dreams and connected the three of us.” She looked at Balir and Vortok. “I saw you both as you once were.”
In the ensuing silence, a sense of loss drifted over Nina. It wasn’t overpowering, like some of their other emotions, but it still affected her deeply. She couldn’t tell which of them it came from; all three, most likely.
“For a little while,” Balir said, breaking the long quiet, “we got to be as we were. And I saw you, Nina. With my own eyes…or the eyes of my mind.” He extended an arm and cupped her jaw, brushing his thumb lightly over the tip of her nose, her lips, and down to her chin. “I saw your face, Nina, and I will remember it always.”
Tears stung Nina’s eyes. Though Quinn and Orishok had told her time and again that her abilities were a gift, though they’d encouraged her to use them and explore them over the years, she’d never quite shaken what had been instilled in her during her youngest years — she was an abomination, an intruder, and she should be ashamed of what she could do. This was new to her. Even if it had been inadvertently, she’d brought Balir and Vortok joy after so much suffering.
That made her feel good.
“You gave us a taste of something we haven’t had in a thousand years, however long that is.” Vortok’s features creased with deep thought. “Is that even a real number?”
Nina laughed. “Yes. It is.”
He grunted and shrugged as though brushing off the matter.
“We need to move,” Aduun said, voice tight.
Balir’s hand lingered on her face for a few more heartbeats before he lowered it.
Nina shifted her attention to Aduun as he cast aside the broken bones of his meal and rose to brush dirt over the fire with his foot. Once the flames were extinguished, he turned and walked to the other side of the camp. His mind was shielded again, projecting nothing, and that was worrisome; he was clearly agitated, but she couldn’t guess why. Now that he knew what she could do, it made sense that he’d make more of an effort to guard his thoughts from her.
She didn’t think he’d actually harm her, but the beasts within these valos were so volatile, so wild, that there was no telling what any of them would do if those beasts seized control.
Finding herself suddenly without appetite, she offered her remaining food to Vortok. He took it with a questioning look on his face.
“You need your strength, Nina,” he said. “Eat more.”
“I’m full.” She collected her knife, which Aduun had borrowed, wiped the blade clean, and returned it to her bag. “I’d rather you have it than let it go to waste.”
He frowned, the expression making his tusks more prominent, but wolfed down the meat without further argument.
Once Nina was on her feet with her bag strapped on, Aduun approached her. She reflexively stepped back when he extended his arm. His features hardened, but a shred of vulnerability gleamed in his eyes. He lowered the butt of the spear in his hand to the ground.
“This will do better than a knife if we are set upon by predators.” His voice was low, strained, laced with discomfort or…pain.
Ashamed by her own reaction, Nina dropped her gaze and accepted the spear. “Thank you.”
The shaft was heavy enough to add some force to her thrusts, and yet not so heavy as to tire her out quickly. It was a primitive weapon, even by the standards of Orishok’s people before their change, but it was by far more effective than having no weapon at all.
He nodded, and unspoken words seemed to linger upon his lips. She found herself staring into his intense eyes and wondered if they’d been the same color before he had been changed. She did not doubt that their intensity, their magnetism, had belonged to him all along.
His gaze dipped to her shoulder. He touched the pad of his finger to the skin beside one of the puncture marks. The wounds were still a bit sore, but they’d greatly improved overnight thanks to the moonweed.
The muscles of his jaw bulged. He lowered his arm and turned away without a word, tossing the largest of the three spears he’d made
to Vortok. He gave the last one to Balir before striding beyond the camp.
Vortok watched Aduun walk away before glancing at Nina. “We should follow.”
Nina nodded and moved forward, grasping the strap of her bag with one hand. Vortok fell into step in front of her, slowing his stride to match her pace, and Balir took up the rear. She found herself more than once looking past Vortok to seek out Aduun far ahead. Even from such a distance, his loneliness was apparent in the set of his shoulders and the stiffness of his movements.
Chapter Seven
Balir marked the passage of time by the warmth of the air; when they’d first set out, he’d felt no difference, but as the day wore on he grew more and more aware of the shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopy as they danced over his skin.
He continued to produce the clicking noises in his upper chest as he walked. It was an instinctual, subconscious thing, one he’d never truly understood. Though he’d lost his sight, his hearing had grown so keen and sensitive that it acted as its own sort of vision. His ears could distinguish the way sound reflected off the objects around him, allowing his mind to piece together rough images. The clicks, however soft, enhanced that sound-sight.
He could determine distance, shape, size, and even texture to a degree. But there was always information missing, details that his senses, however enhanced, could not obtain. He knew the lithe forms of Nina’s calves and thighs but could not determine the color of her skin or the long fur on her head. He could identify her merely by the sound of her breathing, and yet the intricacies of her facial features were lost to him. Though touch had filled in some of those details, he would never have truly known were it not for their shared dream.
His attention shifted to her again. She walked not far ahead, her soft footfalls accented by the gentle crunching of leaves. She’d served as a distraction during the journey; normally, he’d focus entirely on monitoring his surroundings, on watching and listening for danger, on keeping his fellow tribesmen safe. But Nina was something new. Something different.
Something he wanted more than anything.
His blood heated at the grace with which she moved. The sensation was enhanced by the remembered image of her face and the compassion in her eyes. Her skin was lightly browned, like a supple, freshly cured hide, and her eyes were the same shade of blue as the sky on a clear day. Her fragrance permeated the air, distinct and separate from the countless scents of the forest. He’d never smelled anything sweeter.
Did he desire her as man or beast? His heartstone held sway over both sides of his nature, but he didn’t believe his attraction to Nina was merely the result of her blooding the stone. Though it had forged the initial bond, it had not forced his want of her.
“These trees are getting…strange,” she said.
Her voice, with its gentle, feminine huskiness, jarred Balir from his thoughts.
“The forests we used to walk didn’t have trees like this,” said Vortok.
Balir extended his attention beyond Nina. She was right; the trees were taller, with larger trunks and thicker branches. The change had been gradual enough — and his distraction complete enough — that he hadn’t noticed, but the trees around them now were unlike any he’d encountered. They stood surprisingly straight, and many were so large that even Vortok wouldn’t be able to wrap his arms halfway around their trunks. The ground at their bases was largely devoid of the exposed roots that were so common in the forests he’d known in his youth.
“The ground is really flat and even, too,” Nina said. “That’s not normal, is it?”
“It is angled slightly,” Balir replied. “We’ve been moving gradually downhill all day.”
Their brief conversation ended. Unease soured the air. The place smelled like a forest — living wood, rotting leaves, moist earth, and faint animal scents — but the dank, cave-smell seemed suddenly more pronounced. The chittering calls of the small creatures in the surrounding woods warped as they echoed, making it difficult to determine their sources.
For the first time since they’d left camp, Aduun fell back to join the group. “Something is wrong. Listen to the animals.”
Balir focused on the calls anew and understood what Aduun meant after a few moments. There was a panicked note to the sounds, and recognizing it made his skin prickle.
The changes in the trees came more rapidly as they advanced. Larger and larger trunks, thicker and thicker branches jutting ever higher overhead. The normal forest sounds diminished — rustling foliage and creaking wood, the distant snapping of branches, the whisper of dead leaves falling to the ground — all fading to something far-away and dreamlike.
A faint tremor pulsed through the ground.
“Stop,” Balir called.
The others halted, turning to face him as he crouched, brushed aside the leaves, and pressed his palm to the dirt.
“What is—” Vortok began; Balir silenced him with a hiss.
The rumbling slowly gained strength. Balir closed his eyes and listened; the startled gasps of his companions signaled the moment they became aware of the vibrations underfoot.
“Do you hear that?” he whispered.
“Hear what?” Nina asked.
No, they couldn’t. Not yet. But he knew what that distant roar meant. Fear pulsed through him, locking his muscles and stilling his heart.
Nina ran to his side, dropping a hand to his shoulder. “Balir, what’s wrong? I can feel your fear.”
Balir’s thoughts blasted into Nina.
—water, a flood, need to get to safety—
“Get to high ground,” he said, and then raised his voice. “Climb! Now!”
Fear slithered down her spine as a distant sound grew audible — rushing water. She straightened and swung her gaze from side to side, seeking the source of the noise, only to realize it was coming from all directions at once.
They sprinted the short distance to the nearest tree. Without hesitation, Aduun leapt onto it, burying his claws in the wood. Nina tilted her head back to stare up at the massive trunk. The bark, though rough, offered no evident handholds. Her thunderous heartbeat battled the growing roar of fast-approaching water.
Vortok tugged her spear out of her grip. He’d already taken Balir’s spear; holding all three in one hand, he jabbed them into the ground. Then he turned to her, circled her waist with his huge hands, and lifted her off her feet.
“Vortok?” she asked, concerned, confused, terrified. The rush of approaching water was reaching a deafening volume, punctuated by the snapping and cracking of wood.
These trees would hold, wouldn’t they?
Vortok made no reply. He lifted his chin, and Nina followed his gaze up to Aduun, who was latched onto the tree with his claws embedded just beneath the lowest, thickest branch. The two exchanged a nod.
“Catch his hand,” Vortok said just before he threw her straight up in the air.
Nina drew in a startled breath as she flew upwards. Her eyes locked with Aduun’s as he twisted and extended a hand, palm open. She swung her arms wildly, straining to reach him, her heart in her throat. The pain of his powerful grip around her wrist was the sweetest sensation she’d ever known. She clung to his forearm with both hands, digging her fingers into his skin, just before her upward momentum faltered.
Her stomach lurched as she dropped, but her fall halted almost immediately. The strain on her shoulders was immense, but Aduun’s grip didn’t relinquish so much as an inch.
From her peripheral vision, she saw Balir scramble up the trunk, his hook-like claws tearing into the bark to propel him over Aduun and onto the nearby branch.
“Balir will catch you,” Aduun said.
“Wait!” she cried, looking down. “What about Vortok? He has no claws!”
Aduun didn’t answer her. He swung her away from the branch, and between her dangling feet, she watched the first floodwater crash around Vortok, spraying his face as it broke against the tree to leave him thigh-deep in dark, dirty water. He spr
ead his arms and clamped them on the trunk, anchoring himself in place.
She lifted her gaze to see angry waves, churning with debris, racing toward them. “Vortok, hurry!” she shouted as Aduun reversed the direction of her swing.
Nina’s focus leapt to Balir. Aduun released her arm, and she hurtled toward the branch. She screamed, flailing in the air, barely able to hear her own voice. Her midsection took the brunt of the impact with the branch, knocking some of the air from her lungs. She curled around the wood, wheezing and clawing desperately for a solid hold.
Balir hooked a hand under her arm and supported her as she swung her legs onto the wide, surprisingly sturdy branch. For a few moments, she lay on her stomach, trembling. When she braved a peek over the edge, she immediately regretted it; the height of the branch and the violent water below made her head spin. Aduun drew himself onto the branch beside her and briefly placed his hand on her back.
Swallowing, Nina pushed past her lightheadedness. This wasn’t done yet. She looked down at Vortok, focusing only on him to stop her head from spinning.
The huge valo below took a moment to tug the spears out of the ground, position all three on his flattened palm, and toss them up. Aduun caught two. The third fell into the water and was swept away on the current. Vortok turned back to the tree and spread his arms as though embracing it. His muscles bulged as he attempted to pull himself up, but his power wasn’t enough to overcome his lack of solid hand- and footholds.
The roar of the floodwaters strengthened. Nina shouted Vortok’s name, but she could no longer hear her own voice over the cacophony.
Brow low and expression grim, Vortok clenched his fists and punched one into the tree. The boney, horn-like protrusions jutting from his knuckles sank into the bark. Reaching up, he slammed the other hand in and pulled himself up. His big muscles flexed and strained, their definition clear despite his fur. His legs swung as he hauled himself out of the water, hooves struggling for purchase against the bark. He didn’t allow that to slow him down; through sheer strength, he climbed higher and higher.
Unleashed Page 9