by Milly Taiden
18
Gunnar turned over on his bedroll, coughing. He opened his eyes to thick smoke swirling around them in the lodge as fire climbed the wooden walls, igniting the beams above them.
“Shit! Get up!” He scrambled to his feet, keeping low to breathe. He coughed again, trying to yell. “The building’s on fire! We have to get out, now!”
Gunnar shook Damen’s shoulder, before crawling to wake everyone else. “C’mon! We gotta go!” He helped Henley to her feet. “Stay low, babe. It’s bad.” He rooted for a scarf he saw near one of the lamps, handing it to her to cover her mouth and nose.
She followed close behind as he made his way through the smoke. “Is the door still unlocked, you think?”
“I hope so or we’re fucked.” Damen coughed, eyes streaming.
Gunnar reached for the handle, but pulled his hand back with a hiss. “Fuck! It’s red hot! What now?”
“We have to go through. It’s the only way out,” Damen said, pulling his sleeve down over his palm. “Take Henley and I’ll try to break the latch!”
Jag pushed passed him and threw his shoulder at the heavy door. The wood splintered and wisps of fresh, cool air seeped through the cracks. The blaze behind them surged at the influx of oxygen.
“Shit! Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!” Jag scowled, shielding his face.
Henley took the scarf from her face and handed it to Jag. “Use this!” she nodded.
He wrapped the knit material around his hand and gripped the red hot handle, hissing as he lifted the latch. The five of them staggered into the dark, sucking in deep gulps.
The Hatun raced toward them, woven buckets in hand. They formed a line from their well, throwing bucketful after bucketful to put out the flames.
Coughing, Henley staggered toward a tree far enough from the flames. Damen called after her, but she shook her head. “I’m fine. Go help the others.”
He hesitated, but watched as she slumped against the base of the trunk, still waving him off. He jogged back to the fire, but Gunnar grabbed his arm as he joined the line.
“Where’s Henley?” he asked. “She okay?”
He jerked his thumb toward the tree across from the commotion. “She’s fine. She’s resting…” he glanced over his shoulder toward where he last saw her, but she was gone.
“Fuck!” He turned on his heel and raced to where she’d been only moments ago with Gunnar close behind.
Damen’s eyes searched the perimeter. “She was just here! Maybe she went into one of the huts.”
His eyes caught one of the Hatun warriors staggering from the edge of the woods. He ran to the man, his eyes narrowing when he saw Henley’s dagger protruding from his shoulder just above his heart.
“Where is she? What have you done with her?” Damen ripped the dagger from the man’s shoulder, forcing him to the ground.
Gunner picked up Henley’s blade from the ground, his face hard and feral. A growl ripped from his throat as he hauled the man up by his neck, lifting him until his feet dangled.
“You’d better answer, boy, or I’ll rip you to shreds in front of your own.” Gunnar shook the Hatun until the young man’s teeth rattled in his mouth.
The shaman rushed over with his captain to where Gunnar and Damen stood, eyes flaming red. Razor claws, sharp enough to cut through skin and bone, pushed through Damen’s fingertips. His roar echoed through the Tempera forests, silencing the night.
Gunnar sniffed the man’s hands as he dangled terrified. “He started the fire. The scent of it is all over his hands.”
“How can you be so sure?” the shaman accused.
Damen turned blood-red eyes on the holy man. “You would know the answer to that if you were shifters. We can smell the acrid oils on the traitor’s fingers, but that’s nothing compared to the scent of fear pouring from his skin. He’s guilty, but he’s not alone.”
“Surely, you don’t suspect me!” the holy man balked.
“No, but I know the identity of his accomplice. His scent is as clear as yours and mine.” Gunnar looked at Damen.
Gunnar turned his eyes to the Hatun shaman. “The stunned look on your face tells me you were betrayed, but your captain’s face tells a different story. His scent is bitter with fear right now. No wonder he drew such a hard line when we came into your camp last night.”
The captain sprang forward, a dagger in his hand, but Damen sliced the captain’s wrist with a single slash, severing the hand holding the dagger from the rest of his arm.
The captain screamed, cradling the stump in his other hand. Jag ran over with Vander’s guard, surrounding the shaman. The holy man held out his fingers, crooking them in the air as if squeezing something invisible. “If you value your family and their lives you will tell us everything you know. Where is the bears’ woman?”
The captain’s eyes bugged as he struggled for breath, his face red, then purple before the shaman released his grip. The captain dropped to his knees at the same time Gunnar dropped his henchman. The two knelt, shaking in front of Gunnar and Damen as well as their shaman.
“Forgive me,” the young Hatun begged. “I was forced.”
The captain hissed, but he couldn’t help the sneer on his face amid the pain. “Forced? You would have fucked the woman before delivering her to Naz Voda if she didn’t stab you first!”
Damen roared again, his clawed hand slicing the young Hatun’s throat to his backbone with one swipe. The man gurgled once before he crumpled to the ground in a spreading pool of blood.
The captain’s eyes went wide and he swallowed, his hand moving to his throat. “It was Naz Voda. He faked his death so he could continue his flesh trade with us. He…he’s behind this. Not me.”
“Where is he and where did he take Henley?” Gunnar’s voice growled.
The captain bowed his head, his hands shaking as he pointed toward the west. “The pit.”
Jag looked at the shaman. “Do you know what he means?”
The holy man nodded. “Yes. A fissure in the side of a small craggy rise. It leads to a set of three caves with only one entrance. It is where the Unduru sleep.”
Gunnar’s hand shot out grabbing the captain by the throat, but the shaman reached out a tentative hand. “You’ve taken the life of one Hatun already. This one is mine to deal with.”
With a nod, Gunnar released his hold, but no sooner had the captain dragged in a breath, then the holy man magically squeezed the life out of him with the whole of the tribe as witness. The captain released a death gasp and then fell forward, dead eyes staring into nothing.
The shaman turned to his people and lifted his hand. “My magic and our people have been tainted by two traitors. We will do whatever we can to help retrieve our guests, save their mate, and maybe even destroy the Unduru.” His eyes matched every gaze surrounding them as they stood with the remnants of their safe house still smoking. “The fire is out and we will rebuild, but now we move. Daylight is breaking.”
The shaman walked toward his people to prepare, leaving Damen, Gunnar, and Jag standing alone.
“I’m going to rip Naz Voda limb from limb and leave him for the buzzards,” Damen growled.
Gunnar shook his head. “Not if I get to him first.”
19
The shaman led a small group of Hatun warriors through the jungle. Sunlight streamed through the trees, glistening on the still damp leaves. There were signs everywhere of a struggle and Gunnar’s chest tightened. Drag marks were evident in the soft ground and snapped twigs and scarred roots showed Henley had gone kicking and fighting.
“If she’s dead, I’m going to go postal on this place,” Damen ground out.
Gunnar looked at him, confused. “Postal? I don’t know what that means, but if it sounds the way I think it sounds, I’m with you, bro.”
Jaw tight, Damen eyed both his alpha and the prince. “It means no one but us and ours leaves here alive if Henley’s life force has gone from her body.”
“Agreed,” Jag murmured.
They trekked for what seemed like forever until they came to a clearing where the ground was black with years of blood.
“Is this the clearing you remember?” Jag asked.
Damen nodded, fists clenched.
Gunnar put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Inhale. Henley wasn’t kept here. She passed through, but wasn’t restrained.”
“I know, but my gut is roiling and not from my own anger. We’re walking into a trap. I can feel it,” Damen replied.
Jag eyed the shaman. “Then we go in with our guide leading the way and claws ready to rip his heart out through his back.”
They crossed a water barrier. Not a coursing river like they found at the edge of the trading post, but big enough they needed to wade across single file. Once across, the terrain sloped upward. Pictograms carved into large boulders were clear warnings, telling them they were close.
The trees grew taller, their trunks massive and winding as they arched together blocking out the sun. It was as if darkness had wiped the day from the sky, with only small slivers of light piercing the gloom.
The cloister of trees led straight to a rock face that seemed to erupt from the ground out of nowhere. At the center was a crevice twice the width of a man. Jag motioned for the shaman to go first.
“You lead. If Naz Voda sees you first, he’ll question you while he decides whether or not to slit your throat. It will give us time to assess,” Jag said.
Gunnar shot him a look. “Nice, why not give the old man even more incentive to roll over on us.”
The shaman lifted his chin. “I will do what is necessary to protect my people. Our women are right. We cannot live in fear any more. So many have been sacrificed already, if it means my life now, then my debt to the universe will be paid.”
He inhaled and stepped through the slot in the rock face, waiting as the others followed. The interior opened to a wide, sand-bottomed hollow that seemed carved from the inside out. Tall pillars hewn from the same thick sandstone supported the ceiling, yet pebbles crumbled from the sides despite the braces.
The smell of old blood filled their noses, and Gunnar winced at the stench. Husks of dead worms and larvae cluttered the base of the interior walls, brown stains from their slime coating the sand in spots. A woman whimpered and all eyes jerked ahead.
“Henley?” Jag mouthed, and Gunnar inhaled, his face like stone as he nodded.
Damen pointed toward the direction of the cry and they progressed in quiet stealth. They moved quickly and were three-quarters through the hollow when Gunnar spied an inner cave. It wasn’t very large and partially obscured.
“The entire place is carved from the inside out,” Gunnar noted. “No sun and nothing to burn in here. What do we do when we find Henley? How do we get out of here alive?”
Jag pulled the small but lethal weapon from his waistband before securing it again. “I know we said no fusion weapons, but you gave Henley a dagger, and thank the gods you did. I brought this for insurance, and it looks like we might need it after all. This place doesn’t look too secure, so when I blast the ceiling wide open, be prepared to duck and run. One flash from this little baby and the Unduru will see their lair in a whole new light, if you know what I mean.” He winked.
Damen grinned, giving Gunnar a quick look. “The palace rule breaker.”
“Why not?” Gunnar nodded, agreeing.
Another cry in the dark and they shut up. Gunnar inhaled, and his faced paled. “She’s bleeding. Not new injuries, but enough to spark interest for the Unduru. She’s here somewhere. We’ve gotta find her.”
“How very astute, Gunnar. I guess there’s a reason they pay the alpha the big bucks with a beauty like this one.” Naz Voda walked from the mouth of the small cave, dragging Henley behind him.
With a practiced move, he lifted a bamboo shoot to his mouth, sending two darts into Vander’s guards. The men dropped where they stood, dead, and he laughed. “Two down, three to go. Shame I only had two poison darts in my pocket.”
“Let me go, you asshole!” Henley fought, trying to jerk him off balance, but the rough rope where Naz Voda tied her wrists and her feet, cut into already raw abrasions.
Damen bent to attack. “Let her go, Voda! You’re outnumbered and you know it.”
Naz drew a blade upward, holding the sharp tip to Henley’s throat. “I don’t think so, brother bear.”
Henley’s breath hitched and her body tensed, her panic sending Damen and Gunnar’s eyes flashing red.
“I suggest you give your primal urges another think, boys. One quick slice and the Unduru won’t be able to resist. They will swarm at the scent of fresh blood and we’ll all die.” Naz laughed, turning to the shaman and his men, taunting them as well. “Your people are going to have to pay in blood for your betrayal, holy man. You should have let your captain handle things instead of sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
The shaman raised his chin. “The Hatun have already paid in blood. As for my captain, he got what was coming to him as will you.” He lifted his hand, crooking his fingers into a claw as he did with the captain, but Naz Voda laughed in his face.
“I’m part shifter, holy man. Your magic doesn’t work on us,” Naz sneered.
Gunnar eyed the man, ready to kill. “Us?” he questioned. “You’re no shifter, Naz Voda. You’re broken. Two shifter parents and not one drop of shifter ability.”
“Wait…” Damen laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Are you saying he’s a scratch?”
Naz Voda stared him down, but Damen laughed even harder. “Maybe we should get a shifter female to bite him in the ass. That way the loser might stand a chance.”
The man’s face twisted and he jerked Henley toward the closest pillar. “You won’t be laughing much longer, bear boy. Not once I lash your mate to a post and slice her from cunt to throat.”
He put the knife in his teeth to grab the ends of Henley’s ropes, and that was the only opening needed. Damen crouched, his back arching as his eyes flared red. Gunnar’s arms thickened and his shoulders bulged, his eyes flashing crimson as well.
Naz Voda shoved Henley against the column, her head snapping back. “Give it a rest, Gunnar. What do you and your playmate think your lumbering asses can do so far away from the ice and snow? Your claws and teeth can’t do much if you can’t catch me. I’ll slit her throat and disappear before you heavy weights can plod your way across.”
“I can help with that,” Jag’s voice slurred through his fangs as his body ripped and reshaped. In seconds, an enormous ancient cat sprang from massive hind legs, knocked Naz Voda to the ground away from Henley. He howled, turning his big head to Gunnar and Damen. It was their turn.
The shaman raised his hands and clapped once, beginning a low chant. The sound grew until it echoed from the cavern walls. Dripping water, clinked to the ground in ice pellets. Along the walls and floor, thick condensation froze to sheets of ice.
The Hatun ran for cover, racing the spreading frost, hiding as Damen and Gunnar crouched, their bodies twisting as muscle and sinew tore and reformed. Sleek white fur replaced skin and heavy limbs replaced arms and legs. Lethal, scythed claws dug into the ice-covered ground as razor-edged teeth dripped with the need to kill.
Naz Voda screamed as he scrambled to his feet, his cry reverberating in the hollow room, sending chunks of ice and rock crumbling from the ceiling and walls. He slipped and fell, landing in front of Jag’s front paws. With a chuff, the big cat batted him across the slick ground.
Naz Voda slid like an offering toward both bears. Damen caught the man’s shoulder in one massive paw. Razor-edged claws dug into his flesh as the snow bear stood, lifting the man twelve feet as he straightened to his full height.
Eyes wide with fear, Voda watched Gunnar approach. There was no quick swipe severing the jugular. Gunnar and Damen each took a leg ripping each from his body. He screamed as they tore his belly open, before ripping his arms from his sides, leaving his head for last. T
heir white fur was smeared red with blood, and the scent of a fresh kill sent the sand floor to rumble.
The Unduru were awake.
Jag shifted back to a man and quickly untied Henley. Weak but determined, she picked up Naz Voda’s blade and turned toward the cave’s entrance.
“Hen, we gotta go,” Jag urged. “We can’t fight them, much as I’d love to. Nature has to do this with a little help from us, but you need to take cover.”
She tore her eyes from the cave entrance, taking in Jag’s naked frame. “Speaking of cover, I think we’d better get you a fig leaf or Riley’s going to kick my ass when we get back to the palace.”
Damen and Gunnar shifted quickly as well. They grabbed Henley, shoving her toward the shaman as Jag yelled for the Hatun to leave as well. Hideous creatures with gaping maws and knife-edge teeth shuffled from the cave’s depths, their reek of death and rotted flesh preceding them. Their enormous eyes tracked the darkness. They were taller than the shifters, with gray emaciated skin stretched over bones.
They seemed to move as though in a dreamlike haze, and Gunnar nudged Damen’s arm. “They smell the blood, but they’re still affected by the time of day,“ he whispered.
Damen scrambled for his pack and pulled his fusion laser from the side pouch. “It’s noon and that means lunchtime, so who are we to keep them waiting.” He pointed his laser at the ceiling, but then hesitated, watching Gunnar reach for his pack, as well. The alpha unzipped the center compartment, pulling out two more weapons, tossing one to Jag.
“Okay,” Damen said, flipping the safety off. “Let’s lock and load.”
“The palace rule breaker, huh.” Jag cracked a grin, as the alpha and omega triangulated their positions with his.
They each aimed for the ceiling. Rapid fire beams blasted the ice and rock point blank, the heat from the lasers scorching the stone on contact. The ceiling rumbled, falling in chunks to the ground. The rock exploded, breaking into rubble, crushing some of the Unduru.