by Lizzy Bequin
He cast away his axe and his spear and drew a gleaming dagger from the sheath at his hip. He stooped and carved open the chest of the nearest nith corpse to retrieve the still warm heart.
Carrying the dagger and the heart, Slaine approached the dais and climbed up the steps one by one to the place where Ika stood waiting.
Slaine knelt before his caged goddess. He bowed his head and held out the dripping, black heart.
“I am your servant, Ika,” he said. “I offer you the hearts of your enemies.”
Her small hand reached through the bars of the cage and pushed Slaine’s gift away.
“That is not the heart I want.”
Slaine raised his eyes to look upon her painfully beautiful face. It was like staring into the sun. An ukkur could go blind gazing on such beauty.
“Which heart do you want, Goddess?”
Ika’s dark eyes held his for a moment then dipped to Slaine’s chest. A cruel grin bent the corner of her lips.
“Ah,” Slaine whispered. “I understand.”
Slaine tossed the nith heart away, and it thudded wetly down the stone steps of the dais. He raised his gleaming dagger, aimed it at his chest, and without hesitation, without even the slightest flinch, Slaine drove the blade in and started to cut.
“Slaine!”
Thusar’s voice. Leader’s voice. Urgent, urgent.
The dream faded, and Slaine sat bolt upright on the rug of fur. The cave was cold, the walls lit by the snow-reflected daylight streaming in through the entrance. Thusar and Gunnar were already up and getting dressed in their kilts and fur cloaks. Muk was struggling to his feet with sluggish uncoordination.
It only took one breath of the cold cavern air for Slaine to realize the problem.
Ika was gone.
Someone had stolen her in the night.
Slaine got to his feet, but his legs were unsteady beneath him. His brain felt thick, like his skull had been emptied out and filled with cold porridge.
“What the fuck?” Muk grunted. “Why do I feel like this?”
“Oneirix,” Gunnar answered. “Ika must have gathered some when I took her out to urinate. Once we fell asleep, she dosed us to keep us under while she made her escape.”
Escape?
Ika had escaped?
So she had not been kidnapped, but she had abandoned them of her own choice. This thought caused a sharp pang in Slaine’s chest. Sharper than the dagger from his dream.
Slaine looked to his leader. Thusar’s eyes were bloodshot and bruised-looking. He rubbed the sleep out of them and smirked.
“She is a resourceful little creature, whatever she is.”
“I just hope she’s resourceful enough to survive out there in the wild,” Gunnar retorted.
“Come on, you two,” Thusar snapped at Slaine and Muk. “Get your clothing on. We have to get out there and find her.”
Despite his onierix-induced dizziness, Slaine found his kilt and tunic and clothed himself. He fastened his stone dagger at his hip and took up a spear. Within the space of thirty heartbeats, he was out of the cave and ready to go.
“Easy,” Thusar called after him. “We need a plan.”
But Slaine could not be stopped. His brain was inflamed with the obsessive need to find Ika. To get her back. To ensure her safety.
She was his goddess.
Slaine rushed ahead through the snow, following the tracks made by Ika’s tiny feet. He did not have to follow them far. Those prints led up to the snow-covered bank of the river and abruptly stopped.
Slaine stopped with them. His muscles tensed with worry. He drank in the tree-scented wind, searching for any hint of his Ika’s aroma.
A moment later, and his pack brothers were there at his side.
“The tracks go right up to the river’s edge and then stop,” Gunnar growled.
Muk gasped.
“You don’t think she…”
Muk did not complete the sentence. It was too horrible to think about.
Silence gathered. The wind whispered through the trees, swirling snow-dust from the sagging dark branches.
“No,” Thusar said at last. “Look.”
He gestured at a massive slab of ice that was floating down the river, born on the lazy current like a frozen raft.
“You think she rode away on a block of ice?” Muk asked.
“Could be,” Gunnar said. “She’s only a little thing. A big enough block would hold her.”
“Resourceful,” Thusar growled admiringly.
“Okay, great,” Muk said. “Then we can follow. Let’s catch a ride on this chunk of ice—“
The youngest ukkur was already preparing to jump onto the passing ice-raft, but Thusar caught him by the arm.
“Easy, boy,” Thusar said. “That will take too long. Now listen—we know she’s on the river. And she’ll have to come to shore eventually. When she does, she’ll leave tracks.”
“What do you propose?” Gunnar asked.
“We split up,” Thusar said. “Two of us on each side. Two will stick closer to the river, and two will venture farther inland. That way we can cover more ground and find her more quickly. As soon as one of us finds her, he will call out to the others.”
“Good plan,” Gunnar said. “But look.”
He gestured toward the western sky. A storm front was rolling in. Thick, gray, snow-laden clouds that would soon blot out the sun.
“We must make haste,” Thusar said. “We must find her before that storm does. Slaine, Muk, you two take the far shore.”
“Aye,” Muk answered.
The youngster leapt, landing lightly on the huge chunk of ice drifting past, and immediately jumped again, arcing over the rippling dark water to land in the snow on the far shore. Slaine repeated the maneuver.
“I’ll go farther inland,” Muk said. “You follow closer to the river. Understand, Slaine?”
Slaine grunted, nodded, and then sprinted in the direction that the river was flowing.
He did not feel the cold wind biting at his skin. He did not smell the snow or the bitter odors of the needled trees. He did not even feel the rapid pounding of his own heart battering at the cage of his ribs like an enraged prisoner.
There was only room in Slaine’s obsessed brain for one thought.
Ika.
He had to find her.
He had to get her back.
And when he did, he would never let her out of his sight ever again.
CHAPTER 17
Ika was beginning to doubt the wisdom of her plan.
Even with the thick cloak of fur, she was freezing. Numb fingers and toes. Chattering teeth. Shivering muscles. She had underestimated just how cold it was when she set out this morning, and now with thick clouds blotting the sun, it was just getting colder.
Ika had also underestimated how long the trip would take.
She was still very far from Rolf’s den. The river was flowing sluggishly, dragging her icy raft along at a numbingly slow pace. In some places, the water was shallow enough that Ika could use the long spear to push along the riverbed. But soon her bare hands grew achingly cold, and she was forced to tuck them back inside her cloak.
At this rate, it wouldn’t matter that she was leaving no tracks.
Eventually, the ukkur would wake up, and sooner or later they would figure out Ika’s plan and follow her downstream. At the pace she was going, they would catch up with her before she got anywhere near Rolf’s den.
Rot.
Ika huddled and watched the silent trees slowly drifting past on the shore. As she did so, her thoughts began drifting too.
The farther she got from the ukkur, the stronger and more painful that tug at her heart became.
It didn’t make any sense. She shouldn’t miss those awful brutes. After all, they had taken her captive and held her prisoner against her will. Not to mention the other things they had done to her.
Beneath her cloak, Ika’s fingers worried the steel ring dangling around her
neck.
She always did that when something was troubling her.
And many questions were troubling her now.
For example, hadn’t Rolf kept her prisoner in a way too? Had he not kept Ika hidden away like a dirty little secret? Had he not made sure her horizons never extended far beyond the boundaries of their territory?
Why?
Ika sighed.
She shouldn’t doubt Rolf. Surely he’d had a good reason for treating her the way he did. Surely.
It was for Ika’s own good, right? For her protection.
And where had she heard those words before? From Thusar’s stern mouth while he had her bent over his lap. While his broad, flat palm thrashed her naked bottom until it felt like it was on fire.
Ika’s hind quarters throbbed at that memory. She thought of all the other shameful things that they had done to her in that cave, and a ticklish shiver ran the length of her spine.
Then something prickled between her shoulder blades.
That was something different.
Danger.
Something was watching her from the shadows of the forest.
Growing up in the woods, Ika had developed a sensitivity for these things, and Rolf had heightened that sensitivity through his training.
Ika knew when she was being stalked.
She must make no sudden movements.
Ika turned her eyes to the shore where the dark trees were gliding past in parallax. At first she saw nothing, just snow-covered limbs and deep shadows.
Then her sharp eyes caught a hint of movement. Something large weaving silently amid the trees. Slowly she dropped her hands to the ice she was crouching on and took up the spear.
There was a growl.
The beast knew that it had been spotted, and there was no longer any reason to hide.
With easy, graceful movements, the thing slinked out of the shadows and prowled along the rocky, snowy shore. Thick, brown fur clotted with snow and dirty rime. Four powerful legs tipped with razor-sharp claws. The beast was as long a two ukkur from its snout to its hind quarters. Even longer when one factored in the hairless tail.
It was an abolith.
The most dangerous predator in the northern lands.
The monster stared at Ika across the flowing water of the river. Four obsidian black eyes that blinked out of sync with one another. Its nose twitched as it scented her, and its flexible lips curled back to show yellow fangs twice the length of Ika’s thumbs. Fangs designed to catch and hold prey.
That’s what Ika had become.
Prey.
Her grip on the spear tightened. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her breath came and went in short and shallow gasps.
Steady Ika. Don’t let it smell your fear.
Easier said than done. A minute ago, she had been freezing. Now beads of sweat were breaking out beneath her cloak.
The abolith continued stalking her, pacing her from the shore as her ice raft drifted downstream.
There was still a lot of space between Ika and the creature. A lot of frigid water. But that would never be enough to stop an abolith. They were known to be strong swimmers, and the thick layer of fat beneath their hide kept them warm even in the coldest water.
The abolith was perfectly suited to this environment.
Ika was not.
The patter of her heart was out of control. She felt lightheaded and giddy from the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Steady, Ika. Steady…
Without a signal, without even a twitch of the muscles to give Ika warning, the abolith leapt. Its furry, snow-encrusted mass drew an arc over the surface of the water. For a heart-stopping instant, Ika thought the beast would land right on top of her.
But the abolith came up short. Its weight hit the water with a slap, and it dipped beneath the surface.
Ika had no chance to be relieved.
The wave caused by the diving abolith rocked Ika’s makeshift raft. She lost her footing on the slippery ice and tumbled back into the water.
Cold.
Mind-numbing, bone-chilling cold that robbed the last vestiges of warmth from Ika’s body.
The fall disoriented her. For a panicked moment, she didn’t know up from down.
Then she felt the weight of the drenched fur cloak dragging her to the bottom. She flailed, trying to swim, but her limbs tangled in the oversized garment.
Take it off. Get free.
She pulled the fur cloak up and over her head, stripping herself to the skin in the dark, frigid depths.
Now she could swim unencumbered.
By some miracle, Ika had the presence of mind not to drop the spear. Or perhaps it was just cold and fear that kept her fist welded to the wooden shaft.
She was going to need it.
A surge of panic exploded through her body. That thing, the abolith, was somewhere in the dark water with her.
Fear worked in her favor this time. Another burst of adrenaline fueled her kicking legs. She sped upward and broke the surface with a gasp of chilly air that froze her lungs.
Get out of the water. Get to shore.
Ika swam, expecting with every stroke for the abolith’s claws and fangs to seize her and drag her under.
But somehow she reached the ice-encrusted shore alive.
Ika dragged herself up and out and rolled twice before struggling to her feet in the shin-deep snow, spear still clutched in her numb hands.
Her naked skin was pale and nearly blue with cold.
Ika felt nothing.
Her body was as cold and insensate as if it had been carved directly from the chunk of ice she had been riding.
She was going to die.
The only question was how: by cold or by fang?
There was a churning of water, and the abolith surfaced, climbing its dripping bulk onto the shore less than ten paces away. Its breath smoked in the chill air. Its four black-glass eyes blinked away the river water.
The abolith shook, sending sprays of water spiraling away from its fur.
With its coat and its layer of insulating blubber, it seemed to barely even notice the cold that was slowly killing Ika.
“Come on, you bastard,” Ika snarled when the beast was done shaking. “Let’s get this over with.”
The abolith roared.
Its enormous jaws parted, revealing the shockingly pink interior of its mouth. And at the back of that mouth, surrounding the black hole of the beast’s gullet, a second mouth clicked and chittered. The curving outer fangs were for catching prey, but these smaller, sharper interior teeth were for eating. A hundred tiny razors for chopping prey into a bloody sludge.
Ika shuddered.
Her heart was trying to claw its way up her throat.
But she stood firm. She would not run.
There was no point. No chance of outrunning a full-grown abolith. And even if Ika did somehow manage to escape, she would simply freeze to death in a matter of minutes.
She would die like a warrior. She would make Rolf proud.
Ika conjured Rolf’s image in her mind’s eye. She regretted that her last words with him had been spoken in anger. She regretted that she hadn’t had a chance to properly say goodbye.
She thought too of the four ukkur, and wondered if they would find her remains.
But most of all, she felt the comforting weight of the metal ring hanging around her neck. It was the one thing that her numb flesh could feel. The one warm place on her entire body.
The abolith charged, and Ika planted her feet.
The monster was less than seven paces now, and coming on fast. Clawed paws gobbled up the snowy distance between them.
Ika aimed the spear for the monster’s chest and recalled the way Rolf had taught her to kill a charging urwulf or krelk, both of which were far smaller than an abolith.
Five paces now. Wet grunting sounds. Footsteps that shook the ground.
Keep the spear steady Ika. Don’t flinch. Don’t stab. Let the creature bring
itself onto the spear.
Two paces.
Ika braced for impact.
CHAPTER 18
A roar in the distance.
A scream.
Slaine halted, his heart hammering. That scream had been Ika. And the roar had been an abolith. It was a sound he knew all too well.
He sprinted ahead in the direction of the two sounds.
Dark storm clouds chased him, billowing behind like muddied water. Ice cold winds shoved at his back, speeding his progress.
Slaine silently prayed to the gods that he would not be too late.
Muk was somewhere out here too, farther inland. Thusar and Gunnar were searching the other side of the river. With the whipping winds rising up across the land, it was possible they had not heard the roar and the scream.
It was up to Slaine to save Ika.
He was ready. His spear was clutched tightly in his fist and his knife was sheathed at his hip. He charged ahead, leaping over boulders and weaving among the sparse trees that dotted the shore.
Ika could not be dead.
It was impossible.
The gods would protect her. Slaine had faith.
He sprinted ahead. He refused to stop until he found Ika and made her safe by killing the abolith.
As Slaine soon discovered, however, that would not be necessary.
Ahead of him on the snow lay a huge mass of fur with a long stick protruding at an angle. As he got closer, the musky scent filled Slaine’s nostrils. That was the abolith alright, and its body shuddered as it breathed its last breath.
The beast was already vanquished, pierced through the heart with a spear.
It was a perfect blow. Slaine could not have done better himself.
But who had done this?
There was a weak groan from behind the dead monster. Slaine rushed around the massive corpse, and his heart clenched with emotion.
It was Ika.
His Ika.
And she was still alive.
But just barely. She was naked and wet, and her skin was almost blue from the cold. Her muscles were shuddering uncontrollably and her legs were too weak for her to stand.
Slaine dropped his spear, rushed to Ika, and gathered her in his arms.
He turned her over to check for wounds.
Miraculously, she had not been wounded by the abolith’s fangs or claws. Her only apparent injury was a bloody nose from the impact when the creature must have charged onto her spear.