The sort-of-there path, and the trail of scent I’m following along it, veers suddenly around a large rock face. I curl with it just in time to avoid tumbling down a steep hill. I regain my balance and start to sprint again—
I collide with a crouched beast; his moonlit fur makes him blend perfectly with the shimmering white rocks.
Liam jerks his attention away from the trail and launches himself at me instead. With one massive paw and a threat of bared teeth, he pins me to the rocks. His ears are flat against his head, his dark eyes fierce with irritation from having his hunt interrupted.
He’s all wolf, completely locked into its instincts and senses, until I manage to think a single word: (Hey.)
He takes a step back, shaking his big, shaggy head.
(Elle?)
(The one and only.)
(You…)
Hearing his voice in my head—an actual response to my thoughts, that magic form of communication I was afraid I would never experience again—makes me feel oddly warm and peaceful in the midst of everything.
It lasts about a tenth of a second before Liam’s shocked words interrupt it.
(You’re alive. How, why did you—)
(Where is Carys?) I deflect.
(Elle—)
(You can be pissed at me over all the other stuff later, okay? We don’t have time for this conversation, so bury it down inside and save it all up for a great rant later on, I’ll be looking forward to it. But at the moment, Liam—that was her being carried away by those Anima creatures, wasn’t it?)
(Yes.)
(Then what is our plan? We’re going to lose them, just standing around here.) As I speak, I’ve already started to walk again. Liam grabs the sleeve of Soren’s sweater in his teeth and yanks me back. His nostrils flare as he takes in the scent of that sweater, and I’m pretty sure it’s taking all of his power not to rip it into pieces.
(They’ve stopped a mile or so up ahead,) he says evenly. (Taking a break or making camp or something. That’s why I stopped, so I could come up with some sort of strategy. Can’t you sense that they aren’t moving anymore?)
(Not really. It’s been a rough past few hours. I’m kind of scattered.)
(Rough as in how? What happened?)
(Not important right now.)
And people say I’m the easily distracted one.
(Was it him again? That asshole blood sorcerer? Where is he and what the hell is he doing, anyway? How did he manage to take you in the first place?)
(Take me? I jumped into this world on my own, you saw me—)
(Not then. That was just you and your usual poor decision making, heroics bull crap—I’m talking about before that moment. You were going to meet us at Craggy Gardens, remember? On top of the mountain. But you weren’t there.)
Words fail me for a moment.
Somehow, I’d almost forgotten about how I’d decided to lie to my two best friends in an attempt to keep from following me—to keep them safe.
A decision that was apparently a gigantic waste of time.
My silence is clearly frustrating Liam; the fur all over his body is bristling, and he’s started to pace, teeth bared and muscles tense and prepared to launch him at the next thing he sees.
And so of course, that ‘asshole blood sorcerer’ chooses that moment to saunter his way onto the scene.
Liam takes one look at Soren, and he springs.
I drop my sword and intercept him with my bare hands, narrowly avoiding outstretched claws as I catch him around the neck. The force of him knocks most of the air from my lungs. Chest heaving, I cling to the thick ruff of fur around his neck and I shove him back.
He tosses his head irritably until I finally let go.
Still gasping for breath, I pick up my sword and position myself between the two of them.
Liam keeps his ears pinned back and his hackles raised, but after a few seconds he takes a reluctant step backward. (Has he really brainwashed you so completely?)
“He didn’t brainwash me or kidnap me, you big idiot. I lied to you and Carys and ran away on my own. I didn’t want you to follow me. Not to that place where Soren and I used the keys to open the way to this other world, and sure as hell not into said other world.”
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t want her to follow me here, either,” Soren interjects, extremely unhelpfully.
Another vicious growl rumbles Liam’s entire body. He takes a step toward Soren, and I maneuver myself more completely between them. Because we so don’t have time for the two of them to rip each other apart.
“That’s wolf-speak for shut-up,” I say, tilting my head back at Soren, “because he hates the sound of your voice.”
“Whatever,” Soren replies with shrug.
“More importantly,” I say through clenched teeth, “what about Carys?”
(I’m going to save her. You can stay here I guess, since you apparently prefer his company to ours.)
(That’s not fair.)
(Neither is running away from your two best friends and trusting someone like a Blackwood sorcerer over them.)
He’s already out of sight before I manage to get over the sting of his words and think I’m sorry in response. No way he’s far enough that he doesn’t hear it loud and clear, of course—but I still get no response.
“You wanted to get abducted by the Anima, right?” I mutter to Soren, gripping my sword more tightly and starting to jog after Liam. “Well hey, here’s your chance.”
He cuts into the path in front of me, shaking his head. “No—you were right. We need a better plan than that. Especially if you want to get your friend back alive.”
“Why would they take her?” I wonder aloud. “I thought you said they targeted and fed on magical energy? Carys has never shown any ability outside of shifting, unless you count her magical ability to recite textbooks from memory until I fall asleep, which I don’t.”
“They probably realize she’s from Earth. They may want to interrogate her, or they could be hoping she’ll lure in other Earthlings that might have energy they can feed on. Others like…”
“Us?”
He frowns, slowing down until he’s several feet behind me. “Exactly. So we may be walking right into their trap.”
He doesn’t look thrilled to continue that walk.
But I don’t have a choice.
“There’s probably a safer way that you can find out information about what happened to your family, right?” I say. “So you should probably turn around and walk away while you can.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t need magic to fight, so maybe they won’t realize I have it.” I offer him a smile that’s much more confident than I feel. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
I sprint away before he can protest. I don’t expect him to follow me this time—and I don’t sense him doing it, either. He’s not as stupidly loyal as my pack members.
And soon I’ll be with that pack, and he’ll be free to continue on his own mission, alone.
Exactly how he wanted it.
We’re probably both better off this way. So I’m not sure why I feel like I’m missing a part of myself as I race toward that pack of mine. But I squash the feeling down and focus on directing my thoughts toward Liam.
(Wait for me before you do anything dumb, please.)
Silence for several long, excruciating seconds, and then: (I don’t want your help.)
(No one seems to want it here lately,) I muse, running faster. (Although in your case, I’m pretty sure you’re lying. You’re lost without me and you know it.)
He doesn’t reply, except to slow enough that I’m able to catch up with him—and he doesn’t growl at me when I do reach his side.
(You’re alone?) He sniffs the air, confirming Soren’s absence for himself.
I shrug, trying to look like I’ve already forgotten about him. (Not completely—I have my pack, right?)
He stares at me for a moment, and I feel some of the tension betwee
n us slipping away. But before it can dissolve completely, the sound of cracking and popping and the scent of smoke reaches us; a fire leaping suddenly to life, I think—a guess that’s proved right a moment later, when I spot a plume of smoke curling above the forest canopy. The distant flames are difficult to pick out through the red-tinted trees.
(Seems my theory about them stopping to set up camp was right.)
(You don’t think they’re into fiery maiden sacrifices, do you?) I ask, only halfway jokingly.
Without answering, Liam pads closer on silent paws, his body low to the ground.
I follow just as quietly. We pause as the trees begin to thin somewhat—there’s a clearing up ahead, and now I can clearly see the fire’s shifty dance of red and orange through a particularly large gap in those trees. I see the looming, shadowy figures of the Anima circling around it, too, and my heart skips a few beats. I crouch down beside Liam and brace a hand against his leg. He’s so big that my head doesn’t even reach his shoulder.
(Have you tried reaching Carys through thoughtspeech?)
He dips his massive head in a distracted sort of nod. (No reply. Either they’ve drugged her or there’s something about that prison that’s blocking us out.)
(But you’re sure it’s her.)
(I saw them drag her inside it.)
My heart doesn’t just skip at that; it feels like it stops completely for several seconds.
I lied to them because I was trying to keep them safe—so they wouldn’t have to see any more terrible things like…well, like brutal kidnappings by nasty magic-sucking creatures.
I thought I was doing the right thing.
We don’t have time for apologies right now, but I’m still desperately trying to cobble one together when Liam says: (Maybe I can create a distraction, and you can head for that thing they’re keeping her in? You probably stand a better chance of breaking her out, since you currently have actual hands and all.)
I nod without hesitation.
It’s insane, given our enemy’s numbers, but I’m wracked with just enough guilt and desperation over the whole situation that I think I might be able to pull off a miracle—like those stories you hear about parents who lift cars and crap to save their children who are trapped underneath.
I’m hoping for a similar phenomenon here.
As my fingers clench my sword, it does the same thing it did earlier—the blade darkening, stars blinking out as if swallowed up in my emotions. Earlier it was anger. Now it’s more like pure fear. We’ll see which one makes for the better weapon, I guess.
Liam darts forward without warning.
He must be really pissed at me, because he’s acting even more reckless than I usually do.
He weaves in and out of the trees, gaining speed as he careens toward the Anima’s campsite. Trepidation numbs me to the spot for a few precious moments before I come to my senses and scramble forward as well. I slip behind the largest tree I can find that’s close to Carys’s prison, while one-by-one the Anima turn their creepy, masked, eyeless stares in the direction of the wolf barreling its way through their camp.
Liam barely slows down as he approaches the fire. He grabs the non-burning end of one of the limbs fueling that fire and he races away, streaking a trail of embers that leads all the way to a pile of supplies stacked in the campsite’s corner. He deposits the torch there, causing a chorus of strange hisses as flames catch on something particularly combustible—causing a BOOM that rattles my bones and sends flames rapidly licking their way across the rest of the supply pile.
Then Liam wheels around and heads back to the fire for round two.
A bolt of what looks like blue lightning flies from the fingertips of one of the Anima. There’s a yelp, the scent of singed fur, and it’s punctuated by Liam’s voice roaring through my head—
(FOCUS, ELLE.)
Oh, right.
Sword in hand, I creep toward the golden prison carriage. There are two Anima still guarding it. Their heads are turned—as best I can tell with those eyeless masks disorienting me—in Liam’s general direction, but their brutish bodies are rigidly fixed in place. Their arms are folded across their chests. And to fold so fluidly, I know there must be ample openings in that black metal armor they wear.
I can’t see my exact target until I get closer, but I know where to look once I sneak my way behind them.
Yup; there are slits under their arms that will allow me to strike for their chests if I can maneuver things just right.
Extremely narrow openings, and there’s a huge, likely deadly margin of error here, but…
A breeze, cool and heavy with rain, blows Carys’s scent over me.
I race forward and reach the first Anima in a flying leap, my sword stabbing downward. There’s a cringe-inducing scrape of steel on steel as I just barely sneak my blade into the narrow target. I cling to it, balancing my weight and forcing it down, down, down through what feels like thick, leathery skin judging by the way it resists my puncturing.
But then it finally gives way, with a gruesome and startling pop! like I’ve just punctured a weirdly thick, underinflated balloon.
The creature screeches right next to my ear, leaving me deaf and disoriented for a moment as it flails around.
I lose my grip on my sword, tumble off the creature’s back and smack the ground face first, lodging several painfully sharp pebbles into my skin as I do. As I sit up and brush them out, the creature falls next to me, clutching for its chest. It writhes about on the ground while a white, smoky substance starts to rise out of the armor opening that my sword is still lodged in.
The smoke billows out more and more quickly, and it wraps around its body as it screeches louder.
I yank my sword free and stumble back, turning to face the second Anima.
But instead of diving after me, it dives for its own comrade.
Its mask flings upward, revealing a gruesome pinkish face that looks like it’s been melted, its eyes and nose drooping toward a gaping mouth that has insect-like feelers instead of proper teeth.
I watch in disgusted horror as the gaping mouth begins to suck in the smoke-like substance from around its fallen partner. The more it sucks, the less energy the fallen one seems to have to put toward moving. Or breathing. Or living.
They feed on magical energy.
And apparently they aren’t picky about where they get it from.
Soon the slain Anima is nothing more than a withered-looking shell of its former self, and it’s no longer moving. Bits of energy still wisp around it, and the second Anima is suddenly too rabid, too distracted with gorging itself on that energy to pay much attention to me.
So as soon as I get over my shock, it meets the same fate as the one it made a meal out of.
As the smoke begins to drift up from its wounds, I quickly gather its surprisingly light body up and heave it toward the chaos that Liam has created. Its rolling body swirls magical energy through the air as it goes, drawing a handful of the others toward it like buzzards to carrion.
I don’t see Liam.
But I have to focus on one thing at a time, and my path to the prison is finally clear, so I rush back to it and stab the tip of my sword into the heavy padlock that hangs from the door.
It was another flash of desperation, and I can’t believe it—but it actually works. The sword flashes its starry brilliance for a moment, and then that glow transfers to the padlock in the form of shining little cracks that spread wider and wider until it all finally shatters.
“Too easy,” I whisper, voice almost gleeful over my stupid plan succeeding.
Then the universe makes up for it by having two more Anima appear, seemingly out of nowhere, to grab both of my arms and slam me onto my back.
The forest spins above me. The wolf inside of me rears its head, and I feel the frightening, familiar sensation of my control slipping. Of my magic side mingling with the powerful beast side, and those two sides threatening to wreak havoc together.
&nbs
p; Wait—no. That’s not me anymore.
The curse is gone.
I’m in control now.
So why do I feel the air around me beginning to shake all of a sudden?
I forget about what I was doing for a moment, all of my attention now on getting to my feet and backing away from the creatures that attacked me.
I focus on the weight of that sword in my hand.
Not on magic, not on shifting into a wolf that might not be able to remember to suppress our powers…
No, all I need is a sword.
I have to be in control. I can’t let these monsters realize there’s magical energy in my blood, or I’m going to end up just like the ones I stabbed—devoured. And that is not at all how I want to go.
The two Anima approach, once again moving in that same creepy, unified way that they marched in earlier. Electricity dances from each of their raised hands.
I dart forward before they can strike, slicing toward the opening at the right one’s elbow.
I miss.
The Anima on the left grabs the front of my shirt and lifts me off the ground, bringing my face inches from its own. The mask peels upward, revealing that gaping, insect-like mouth—
The prison door bursts open behind them, and a lycan with fur the color of a moonless midnight sky—Carys— bounds forward and tackles the Anima holding me. I’m nearly squashed in the process, but at the last second I mange to roll out and avoid the full weight that she uses to crush the creature to the ground.
The second one attempts to intervene.
This time, I don’t miss my target.
I get my sword into the skinny space between the armor plates at one of its knees. Not a fatal blow, but it’s enough to make it stumble, and to get that energy oozing out rapidly enough to draw the other’s attention. While the two of them fight it out, Carys leaps to my side.
(We meet again,) she thinks cheerfully, kneeling to offer me a ride.
(We really need to stop meeting this way,) I reply as I clamber on and balance myself between her shoulder blades. (I feel like we’re always running for our lives here lately.)
(Believe me, I’d much prefer we hung out somewhere quieter—like a library, perhaps. But you’ve just got to keep things interesting, don’t you?)
Silver and Shadow (The Canath Chronicles Book 2) Page 6