Unleashed

by Tiffany Roberts

  A soft grunt from Balir drew Nina from her thoughts. She realized suddenly that the wind had eased significantly.

  “That is…strange,” he said.

  She lifted her face, peeking out of the fur cloak. Lazy snowflakes still drifted down from the gray sky, but the storm had broken. A vast, white landscape stretched out before them; they were still in the valley, but at a much narrower point, where it climbed steeply on both sides toward mountains with huge slabs of exposed rock. The ground in the center — immediately before their group — was jarringly flat.

  “What is it?” Nina asked.

  “Hold!” Balir called.

  Vortok came to a halt, snuffling and stomping a hoof on the ground.

  Balir slid out from beneath the cloak, settling it fully over Nina, and climbed down from Vortok’s back. Aduun drew up beside Vortok, snow crusted quills flat against his back, as Balir moved ahead producing a series of clicks.

  Nina frowned. “Balir?”

  Balir stopped at the edge of the perfectly flat snow. Nina squinted and soon realized there was a faint shadow, indicating a dip in the snow level, running across that edge. Whatever lay ahead was lower than the surrounding ground.

  He leaned forward and plunged a hand into the snow. Nina’s heart thumped; something was wrong, something only he could sense, but what?

  After several seconds, he rose and made his way back to them. “It is a lake,” he said.

  “How do you know?” she asked. “Everything is covered in feet of snow.”

  “I heard the water,” he replied.

  Aduun’s body changed, the quillbeast rising onto its hind legs as it took the form of a man. Baring his teeth, he growled and shuddered, shaking frost from his shoulders.

  “When I dug into the snow, I found ice,” Balir continued, “and could feel the water moving beneath.”

  “Is it safe to cross?” Nina asked, looking out across the expanse of white.

  Aduun followed her gaze with his own. “Where do we need to go from here?”

  “That way.” She pointed toward the rocky peaks on the far side of the flat area. “I think we’ll need to find a way through the mountains somewhere over there.”

  “The ground is too steep on either side of the lake,” Aduun said. “Going over the ice is the only route.”

  Vortok snorted and shook his head hard from side to side. She could guess his thoughts, even if they weren’t being projected — he was heavy, and the ice that would be between him and the frigid water beneath it offered no reassurance. If it broke and he fell in, he wasn’t likely to get back out, either as man or beast.

  Nina tightened her fists on his mane and lay against him. “We’ll be fine.”

  “The ice is quite thick,” Balir said, “at least near the shore. If I remain in front, I may be able to tell where it is safe to walk.”

  Aduun nodded to Balir and gestured him forward. “Let’s move on then.”

  Balir hurried back to Nina and Vortok and passed her the bag he’d been carrying before assuming the lead. Aduun remained a few feet behind him, and Vortok hesitantly stepped onto the ice after them. The thud of his hoof coming down rattled Nina; it was a hollow sound, confirming what she didn’t want to acknowledge — they were crossing a frozen lake, and there was nothing but freezing water below them.

  They moved slowly, following Balir’s silent guidance as he slid forward, occasionally pausing before slightly altering their course. She couldn’t imagine how sensitive his hearing and sense of touch were to detect changes in the thickness of the ice, but she didn’t doubt his ability. If anyone could see them across safely, it was Balir.

  As they moved farther out over the lake, Nina grew increasingly aware of the open space around them. It was exacerbated by the soft wailing of the wind — greatly diminished from what it had been during the storm — and the low, creaking groan of the ice, which she felt more than heard. She’d spent the last few days enclosed in a small shelter, secure and shielded, and during their time outside their vision had been so reduced by snowfall that the world around them had only existed within a forty-foot radius.

  This lull in the storm provided Nina no relief after the dangers they’d already faced. Instead, it tightened her chest with anxiety.

  Vortok was tense beneath her. She buried her hands in his mane and did her best to massage away the knots in his muscles, meeting little success. He was nervous, too, and not just because of the ice. When she glanced ahead to Aduun, she noted that his quills were raised as though in agitation.

  Nina sat up only long enough to glance behind, running her gaze over their tracks, which stretched on up the valley. It was difficult to judge how far they’d come across the lake; she felt as though they’d traveled miles over the ice already and still had miles more to go. She knew that wasn’t right, that it was simply her uneasiness clouding her judgment, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

  Up ahead, Balir came to a stop, raising one hand. Aduun and Vortok halted.

  Balir stood with his head tilted, listening. After a moment, he crouched, lowering his hand to the ice under the snow.

  A flicker of awareness pulsed through the back of Nina’s mind; it wasn’t a thought, wasn’t an emotion, it was something deeper. Something more primal, something purely instinctive. And it was moving closer.

  Eyes wide, she sat up straight. “There’s something beneath us!”

  “Something big,” Balir affirmed. “We need to move n—”

  The sound of the ice shattering was as deafening as a boom of thunder. Balir and Aduun leapt away from the explosion of ice, snow, and water, and Vortok staggered backward. Nina’s heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat. The pulse of fear from her valos only solidified her own terror.

  Nina knew of many dangerous, frightening animals on Sonhadra. She’d faced a good number of them herself. But this was beyond anything she could’ve imagined.

  A massive, wormlike creature shrugged off the chunks of ice and swung its gaping maw toward Aduun. Rows of jagged, inward-pointing teeth ringed its mouth, which looked wide enough to swallow even Vortok whole.

  Aduun was faster than the worm, diving aside, rolling, and regaining his feet in an instant. The worm’s front slammed down onto the ice, producing another loud crack. Vortok trembled with the vibrations.

  To Nina’s horror, the worm leaned forward and hauled more of its body out of the water. A writhing ring of tentacles encircled what she could only imagine was its middle, latching onto the ice for purchase.

  “Run!” Aduun roared.

  The worm bent its body and straightened, whipping its head toward Aduun. The tentacles not touching ice or snow waved in the air, their teardrop-shaped ends shifting to follow Aduun’s movements as he bounded away. Something launched from the end of a tentacle, something small and thin, hitting the snow just behind him.

  Vortok scrambled forward, snow crunching beneath his hooves. Nina leaned down and grasped his mane to anchor herself in place. Her heart raced, so fast she couldn’t count the beats, and it felt more likely to burst from her chest than to slow.

  The worm reared back, lifting its front up high, and lunged at Vortok. Nina caught a single glimpse of its massive mouth rapidly approaching before burying her face in Vortok’s fur, muffling her scream.

  Vortok’s panic became her own as he skidded to a sudden halt, scrambling to find purchase with his hooves. His body turned sideways, and Nina clenched her hands and squeezed him with her legs as her forward momentum threatened to pitch her off his back and directly at the worm.

  The massive creature slammed down beside them, spraying her with snow, bits of ice, and freezing water. Vortok released a growl that built into a roar and powered forward. His hooves slammed hard into the ice, the impact jolting through him and into her. Somehow, she held on, and found the courage to look up again.

  They were charging toward what had to be the far shore. Aduun and Balir were just ahead, a quillbeast and a shriek
er, tearing through the snow in a desperate flight.

  Can that thing follow us onto land?

  It didn’t matter. They just needed to get off the ice, to safety.

  Without relinquishing her viselike grip on Vortok’s mane, she twisted to glance back.

  The worm had receded, leaving only a gaping, jagged hole in the ice that displayed grayish water. But Nina knew it wasn’t gone. It followed them, stalked them beneath the ice…and it was swimming faster than they could run.

  “Keep going!” she shouted to Vortok. “It’s coming!”

  Another thunderclap of cracking ice deafened Nina as Vortok was suddenly thrown into the air. Her body rose off his back. She screamed, clutching his fur tightly enough that her hands hurt; her desperate hold on his mane was the only thing keeping her from being catapulted into the snow.

  Nina slammed onto Vortok when he landed, and the bags slung across her back struck her hard. The impact rattled her bones and made her teeth clack together. She shook off her momentary daze as he slipped, found traction, and resumed his wild run. The presence behind them surged closer in pursuit.

  Aduun roared, and Balir released a piercing shriek. They were running on either side of Vortok now, radiating fear and concern that combined with Vortok’s to hammer into Nina. Added to her own fear, it was overwhelming, clouding her mind.

  But that primal presence remained. It was beneath them now.

  “Go left!” she yelled.

  Vortok’s hooves slipped, but he banked hard to the left without falling. The ice to their right burst upward in large, broken chunks, sending up more snow and bits of frost into the air as the worm smashed through it.

  Somehow, Nina’s heart sped. She didn’t want to die, didn’t want her valos to die, but they were going to die on this ice. This was too much, too dangerous…

  Kelsharn had never meant for the valos to succeed. They were meant to die, one at a time, as they progressed through this world he’d made.

  But he hadn’t counted on her, and she refused to allow him his victory. She refused to lose her valos.

  We will not die. Not here, not today. Sonhadra will not claim us.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head, pressing her cheek to Vortok’s fur. His booming pulse — in perfect time with hers — and his ragged, snorting breath filled her ear. She used them to block out everything else — the cracking and groaning ice, the chill wind, the fear — and turned her focus to the worm.

  Clenching her jaw, she isolated its primitive mental projections from those of her valos and reached out toward it. Her mind strained; she’d never done this on purpose before, had never intentionally delved into anyone or anything’s mind. It had always been reactionary, instinctual, the result of heightened emotion.

  Weren’t her emotions heightened enough now?

  It was like taking up a new tool for the first time; even knowing its purpose, she wasn’t sure how to use it, didn’t know what to do. The only clear thing was that she had to do something.

  She pushed. Her mind slammed into the worm’s, and she projected a scream, white and disembodied and full of fury and fear. For an instant, the worm’s mind slithered in her awareness. It was primal, driven only by functions so deeply instinctual that they momentarily froze her own thoughts. This was not a creature that would flee a battle because of fear; it could not feel fear. It only had a dim sense of self-preservation to power its own survival. It could not comprehend loyalty, greed, affection, or contentment. It knew only the need to eat.

  And anything that made sound was prey.

  Nina cried out and severed the connection, sagging atop Vortok. Her body trembled, and her mind reeled, but she couldn’t afford weakness now. Drawing in a shaky breath, she sought the worm again.

  For a moment it was still, as though stunned by her psychic scream. That was enough to open some distance between it and the valos, but would it be enough?

  She lifted her head. Ahead, a slight incline in the snow marked the end of the lake. Two hundred feet, perhaps three hundred.

  Her mind pulsed; the worm resumed its pursuit, lured by the noise on the ice’s surface.

  “We’re almost there!” she yelled. “You can do it, Vortok! We’re going to make it.”

  Vortok’s muscles strained. Nina sensed him reaching within himself, dredging up reserves of strength, calling on everything he had with the single-minded focus of getting off the ice. The spark of rage that always seemed to burn within him flared, and she felt his fear melting away in the face of his fury.

  They neared the shoreline rapidly, but the worm’s approach was faster.

  It burst through the ice in front of Vortok, towering impossibly tall at the apex of its upward thrust. Nina tilted her head back to look up at its bluish, segmented body, terror once again stealing her breath. Its tentacles lashed over the ice as though seeking prey.

  Vortok veered to the side, following Aduun, who’d dashed past the worm to reach the higher snow. The worm twisted toward them, ready to strike.

  A piercing shriek from Balir demanded the creature’s attention. It slowed and shifted its momentum, finally falling onto the ice. Vortok’s hooves thumped as he made the final push to reach the shoreline.

  Nina glanced backward, ragged breath burning her throat, and her eyes went wide. The worm was turning toward them again, the tentacles along its underside grabbing onto the ice to draw its massive body out of the water. Its other tentacles straightened, pointing toward Vortok and Nina.

  She remembered seeing the worm launch something at Aduun an instant before the tentacles whipped down.

  Piercing agony burst across Nina’s shoulder. She swayed forward, her grunt of pain swallowed by the volume of Vortok’s roar. Nina turned her head to check her shoulder. A thin, black, thorn-like spike protruded from the back of it. Her head spun, and her vision blurred.

  With her opposite hand, she reached over and grasped the spike, hissing as she tugged it free. The pain of its removal was distant, diminished. She didn’t understand why until her hold on Vortok’s mane slipped. She dropped the bloody spike and clawed at his fur, struggling for a grip, but her suddenly numb fingers refused to cooperate.

  Vortok ducked his head and plowed into the built-up snow along the edge of the lake. Nina’s world tilted as she fell backward, giving her a dizzying view of the gray sky. She heard the impact of her body hitting the snow but didn’t feel it. A moment later, all sound faded, and her vision went black.

  Aduun watched, helpless, as Nina fell. She and Vortok had been directly behind him a moment before, but now…

  Vortok’s forward momentum died. He stumbled to a halt, crashed into the snow, and spread his legs to heave himself up. Several short, black spines jutted from his backside.

  Despite their frantic flight across the ice, Aduun’s heartbeat had slowed to an unnatural degree. The spikes had to be coated with some sort of venom.

  Nina lay some distance behind Vortok, unmoving, a dark spot in the snow. Beyond her, the worm had hauled itself fully onto the ice, water streaming from its thick hide as it dragged itself forward. Whether it knew Nina was there or not, it was moving toward her.

  Aduun’s beast was conflicted; it resisted when he pushed toward Nina, making his muscles strain. He shook his head, trying to shrug off its influence. Nina was its mate, its possession, and it needed to protect her, but the worm was a massive, dangerous predator, a thing worthy of fear.

  Aduun the man knew fear too, but it wasn’t simply fear of the unknown creature. It was fear of failing her, fear of never seeing her again, fear of losing her forever. He refused to be discouraged by his fear, refused to succumb to it. Instead, he chose to be motivated by it.

  And his beast would comply, no matter what form his body happened to be in, no matter what instincts had risen to the forefront.

  He charged forward, tearing through the snow with his large paws, and built a roar in his chest. When he opened his jaws wide and released the sound, it ec
hoed across the ice lake, resonated through the valley, and grew into something much larger than the worm. Aduun’s beast responded, shifting from fear to ferocity; its mate was endangered. The size or number of the foe did not matter, only that it was made to bleed.

  Speeding past Vortok, he leapt over Nina and ran at the worm head-on. A shriek to his side signaled Balir was on the attack, as well. The shrieker entered his peripheral vision, running parallel to Aduun.

  The new sounds seemed to confuse the worm. It reared up, swinging its attention from Aduun to Balir, and shifted its bulk from back and forth as though unable to determine which to attack. Its hesitation was enough of an opening.

  A crimson haze settled over Aduun’s vision. He bunched his hind legs and launched himself at the creature. His claws sank into the flesh beneath its mouth, tearing bloody gashes over its pale blue skin. The creature thrashed to shake him free, but Aduun only sank his claws in deeper. Its bitter blood was made sweet by his need to inflict pain and suffering on the creature.

  The worm’s tentacles thrashed, and it violently snapped its front end from side to side to dislodge the valo latched onto it. Balir darted around the creature and pounced from the other side, his shrieking roar of savagery rising over the thunderous sound of shattering ice.

  It hurt Nina. It hurt her, my Nina, my mate, my Nina. Mine.

  Anchoring himself with his front claws, Aduun raised his lower half and raked his hind claws across its side, shredding through flesh and spilling blood. He sank his teeth into the worm’s hide and tore off a chunk. Below him, the tentacles flared, shooting venomous spines into the snow. The worm bent, and several of its tentacles reached for Aduun.

  Growling through the flesh and blood in his mouth, Aduun curled his body, clawing along the worm’s side with his hind legs for purchase, and turned his quills toward the reaching tentacles.

  The worm reeled as Aduun’s quills pierced its limbs. It swung its front end backward, raising it high in the air, and shifted its momentum to come back down.