by Sadie Moss
All three men freeze around me, their eyes going unfocused as they listen to the ruckus and analyze the threat. Then, as if by unspoken agreement, all three slip off the bed, knees bent in fight stances. Callum yanks me to my feet, hurriedly righting my clothes.
“Time to go,” he grunts as he pulls me against his body. I can feel the lingering proof of his arousal pressing into my stomach, but his expression has settled into the focused determination of a warrior.
Something like an apology flickers in his moss-green eyes, and he dips his head to kiss me once, hard and fast. Then he draws back, his big hand wrapping around mine.
“We need to get out of here. The other messengers have found us.”
14
Callum grips my waist firmly, pressing our bodies flush together. All three men pluck at the weave, preparing to move away from the threat. The familiar tingle of weave magic touches my skin, and I relax against Callum’s strong embrace, not even angry that he’s carrying me this time.
His cold distance from earlier today has vanished, and to be honest, just having his arm around me is enough to make me ignore the annoyance I once felt at the manhandling. When I was bemoaning his distance while we traveled to Caelfall, it never occurred to me I would one day see his domineering hold as a sign of affection.
But it certainly feels that way now.
We’re not fast enough though. Before we can make our first leap to safety, the bedroom door crashes open.
The hinges buckle under the force, and the door slams against the wall, dangling sideways with a crack down the center of the solid oak. A massive creature with gray fur and sharp, bared teeth looms in the doorway. I recoil as I realize it’s some kind of hellhound—or at least, that’s what it looks like. Its eyes are a vicious yellow, and its hackles are raised. The beast has paws bigger than my head and claws nearly as long as my dagger’s blade. The ungodly snarls emitting from its huge barrel chest are enough to make the blood run cold in my veins.
“Go! Now!” Callum commands, shoving Paris.
Then we’re on the move.
Callum travels so quickly that everything blurs around us. I have a moment to admire his stealth and speed, and I’m so lost in the flurry of activity that we’ve made two leaps before I realize something has gone wrong. There are yells raised behind us—Paris and Echo, their voices bleeding in and out on the quickly changing landscape. Not raised in pain, but in a combination of anger and panic.
That’s when I realize the beast’s snarls, which should have been left behind in the inn, have followed us.
I peek over Callum’s shoulder, watching the blur of space passing around us for a glimpse of either man. When Paris pops into view behind our next leap, terror rushes over me.
Oh, farse.
The hound-like beast has latched on to Paris’s tunic and is traveling the weave with us.
On the bright side, the magic forces us to travel so fast that the beast can do nothing but hold on for dear life with its legs flopping uselessly behind it. Despite its massive size and bulk, it flutters like a flag on the breeze while Paris flies through the weave. The whole scene would be quite comical, if the creature wasn’t such a threat.
I know when we stop, and the massive wolf-creature finds purchase on the ground again, we’re in for a deadly fight.
“Trouble!” I shout, hoping Callum can hear me over the rushing of wind in our ears.
Thankfully, he doesn’t miss my warning, though he doesn’t try to respond either. The speed of weave-travel is enough to take one’s breath away, so words didn’t have much space to maneuver between us. When we release the weave a moment later, he lands gracefully on his feet—one arm spinning me out onto my own feet—and draws his sword in the same fluid movement.
We’ve landed back among the hills outside Caelfall, with the city just a dusky shadow on the horizon in the sunset. I only get a split second to recognize where we are before the snarling beast arrives, latched on to Paris, his teeth clamped around the blond messenger’s shoulder. Echo stops right behind the two of them, already drawing his sword.
I yank my borrowed dagger from my belt and fall back into a fighting stance, adrenaline pumping through my veins.
Echo, Callum, and I all converge on the monster, and Callum catches it with a body blow that shoves the hound away from Paris. The hound barrel-rolls and scrambles back up to its feet, its gigantic paws digging into the earth. Paris grunts, but when I look over at him, he shakes his head quickly, letting me know the injury from the hound’s teeth isn’t bad.
Then the beast leaps.
Callum jams his sword out, but the blade glances off the monster’s hide without even drawing a spot of blood. I blanch as I realize that the massive creature has skin so thick it will be hard to penetrate, grimacing as I glance down at my meager dagger. Next to a giant, impenetrable hellhound, this blade seems only good enough to slice cooked veal.
But my blood is already on fire, my heart pumping furiously, and despite the disadvantages we face, there’s no way we can back down from this fight now. I spread my feet, dropping into a fighting stance and readying my weapon.
The beast snarls and whirls around, unfazed by Callum’s blow.
Paris tosses a strand of the weave around the hound, lassoing one lanky leg in an attempt to trip it up. But the hound shakes its leg, and I feel the zing of the weave being manipulated again before Paris’s strand snaps and falls away.
“What the… did that thing just brush off your magic?” I call out, shocked. My heartbeat is pounding in my throat, and I glance at the beast with newfound respect—and heightened fear.
That wasn’t one of my companions using the weave, and it definitely wasn’t me. Which leaves the creature as the only other possible culprit.
Nobody has a chance to answer my question before the hound leaps back into action.
All four of us battle with the beast for several minutes, ducking and rolling with our blades. We chop off plenty of fur, but not a single slash draws blood. It’s as if the creature’s abnormally thick skin is an impenetrable shield of some sort. But while the hound is large and heavy, it isn’t exactly fast, which gives us an upper hand in trying to wear it down.
So we dance and parry as long as we can, the four of us coordinating our attack as we leap in and slash, hoping for a weak spot. The beast dodges many of our blows and returns them in kind with its giant claws, or lunges at us with powerful snaps of its jaw.
I’m the closest when the hound whirls around for another slash. This time the monster goes low, and I can’t duck the blow. I drop to the ground entirely as its huge paw whips out, but I’m penned in by rocks on one side and Echo on the other. In the split second it takes my body to hit the grass, I calculate my next move.
Roll into the rocks or roll into Echo?
But I choose neither. Instead, I decide to roll into the hound and go for its legs. Most of our blows have been concentrated on its body and head, so while I’m already down here in an attempt to salvage my face from its claws, I can check for weaknesses.
I roll three times, putting me close enough to whip my arm out and slice at the hound’s legs. The blade bites into thin flesh, and I feel tendons tug and tear beneath the metal. Blood spurts hot over my wrist, and I grin ferally.
Weakness.
The hound roars, and I backtrack quickly, scrambling out of range of its giant paws before it can stomp on my head. I leap to my feet, holding up my bloody dagger. “His legs! Cut his legs!”
None of the men hesitate or question me. Echo doesn’t even look at me before he bounds forward and throws himself beneath the beast’s paws. For a half-heartbeat, I stand frozen to the spot, my dagger still above my head, flabbergasted by how quickly he listened to me and heeded my word without needing any evidence.
He trusts me.
I shake off the strange surge of emotions that well up inside me at the thought and leap back into the fray.
We return to parrying, but this time, we
move low and quick, slashing the hound’s four legs into shreds of meat and muscle. The beast puts up a valiant fight, but it doesn’t take long before the creature is no longer able to support itself. It collapses with a whine into the bloody dirt, curling in on itself.
Callum swoops in from behind, gripping its giant head between his hands. With a tug and jerk, he breaks the hound’s neck.
Breathing hard, I let my bloodied dagger fall to my side.
Callum sits back on his heels and surveys the dead hound a moment before he reaches for his sword in the dirt. “Well done, men.”
I glare at him, ready to give him a tongue lashing for disregarding all my effort, when he looks me in the eye and says, “Brilliant catch, Sage.”
As he gets to his feet and stalks off to clean his blade, I stare after him, feeling like I’ve been a victim of whiplash.
Paris, who’s still on the ground from his final slash, looks up at me and grins. “I’m quite fond of beautiful women. But I’m very fond of beautiful warriors.”
My face burns, and I look back at the hound for something else to look at besides Paris’s seductive, proud grin.
The air around the hound begins to shimmer as if magic is at work, though I don’t sense anyone using the weave. Then the creature morphs, torso lengthening, arms and legs adjusting to humanoid lengths, muzzle disappearing in favor of a smooth, shaven chin and patrician nose. When the transformation is complete, the dog-like beast has been replaced by a handsome, muscular blond man.
Echo steps closer to Paris, crouching beside him and moving his fingers over his brother’s wound as he says, “One of Kaius’s hounds.”
“As I expected,” Callum grunts. He’s staring at the setting sun, his sword replaced in its sheath, clearly lost in thought.
Paris grimaces as his skin knits back together under his brother’s touch, hissing as Echo prods at the wound.
“Pretty obvious when it broke my magic with a shake of its filthy leg.”
“Kaius’s hounds?” I’m still stunned by the metamorphosis I’ve just seen. I’m doing my best not to look at the landscape of vicious slashes in the man’s arms and legs—years of killing, skinning, and preparing meat for my village meant a tolerance for animal insides, not human. Too much of him is visible that shouldn’t be, and quite frankly, it’s making me woozy.
“Messengers who can shift into beast form.” Echo makes a face, still concentrating hard on the magic he’s weaving to heal Paris. “He uses them for tracking.”
“That explains how he found us,” I muse. “But if he’s a messenger… I thought messengers were immortal?”
“Gods are immortal.” Paris cocks an eyebrow at me. “Messengers are slightly indestructible—until they’re not.” He motions to the dead man as if to punctuate his point.
“He’s dead, in a sense,” Echo explains. Satisfied with his handiwork, he claps Paris on the shoulder, and they both stand. “When souls—even messengers—die, they don’t cease to exist. Their energy remains in this plane, and a god can easily bring them back at any point, if he or she chooses. It’s only being extinguished by a god that destroys one forever.”
I shudder. The word “extinguish” has turned into a terrifying and tangible nightmare for me. I’ve been at that precipice twice now since death, and both times, I was spared only because these men fought for me. I’m frightened that I’ll step onto that ledge again before we can get safely away from Kaius’s reach.
As if he can somehow guess my thoughts, Echo raises his voice and says, “We need to get going before another hound tracks us down.”
Callum, who’s still staring in the direction of Caelfall with his hands on his hips, glances over his shoulder, then gives a single nod. “Yes. We’ll be safer when we reach Sierian’s realm. Take care of any necessities, and we’ll be on our way.”
Paris and Callum disappear into the woods—presumably to “take care of necessities”—so I lean over and grab the hem of my skirt, since I lack anything else to wipe my blade on. As the blood rushes to my head, I sway and go down hard on one knee, though I try to pretend it’s exactly what I meant to do so that Echo doesn’t notice.
The sudden, abrupt shift between experiencing the heights of ecstasy and fighting for my life has taken a toll on my senses, leaving me wobbly and dazed. I’m still processing the fact I’ve revealed to the men how I feel about them—not to mention the fact that they touched me the way they did. Having to jump from that absolute elation straight into killing Kaius’s hound has left me feeling disoriented.
Breathing deeply through my nose to banish the dizziness, I clean my blade on the edge of my dress, assuring myself I have another in my bag that I picked up from the inn. The fresh cotton dress is already dirty and torn from our fight with the hound, so what’s a bit of dried blood too?
“I have another rag,” Echo says from above me.
I slide my dagger back into its holster and shrug. “Women aren’t afraid of a little blood.”
He laughs and offers me a hand up.
With his tug, I stand, a little sturdier on my feet now. Our chests press together, and he doesn’t make a move to release me or step away, as he might have before. Instead, he entwines our fingers.
A flood of warmth fills me.
He trusts me.
And I trust him.
We don’t speak, but the moment of silence that hovers between us encompasses more than words could convey anyway. Echo’s dark eyes soften as he brushes a strand of my wild hair back from my face, his knuckles grazing the line of my cheekbone as he does.
A moment later, Callum and Paris return from the woods, and we set off. Even as our bodies separate, Echo doesn’t let go of my hand. I don’t understand how I can be so terrified yet so overjoyed at the same time. But that’s how I feel as we walk into the growing dusk, our hands still clasped.
Something has shifted between all of us again.
And this time, it feels permanent.
15
We travel the weave quickly and silently. I know if I’m on edge imagining Kaius sending another hound our way, my three companions must be too. So all four of us remain on guard, mouths shut and gazes missing nothing as we leap through space along the lines of the weave under Callum’s lead.
I don’t voice my concerns, but I’m a little worried that using the weave will lead Kaius—or his hounds—right to us. The fear remains first and foremost in my mind as we move, becoming ever greater as my adrenaline fades away.
I still haven’t caught my breath between my tryst with the men back at the inn and the battle with the hound, so I tire quickly once the adrenaline is gone. But I push on, unwilling to be the dead weight that slows our party, even though my fingers struggle to latch on to the threads of the weave, and my reaction time slows.
When Callum stops abruptly, I nearly miss his sudden departure from our path. I readjust and move after him, with Echo close at my heels. We tumble out onto a snowy mountain peak like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
We’re high above the surrounding landscape. The mountain pitches over a rocky edge only yards from my feet—one wrong turn of the weave could have sent me tumbling over the cliff side. But the view is magnificent here, with the sun a riot of purples and reds on the horizon, and a vast green valley spreading below us. Six peaks dot the sky behind and above us, stretching to each side in a jagged, majestic line. Even the bitter chill can’t take away from the view.
“Are we in Sierian’s realm?” I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself in a vain attempt to stay warm.
“Not quite,” Callum replies, tugging his canteen from his bag. “There’s a mountain spring where we can refill, then our next leap will take us there. Just beyond the mountain range.”
“Down there.” Echo motions with his chin to the lush green valley below. “The mountains are the barrier between realms.”
We follow Callum down a crevasse and onto slippery rocks that lead us across a small spring. He uses the bottom of his
canteen to break the thin layer of ice covering the water, then dips in. The only sound that joins us beyond our own frosty breaths is the musical trickling of the water.
Maybe the silence should be comforting, but it’s not. Despite the idyllic setting, I won’t be comfortable until we get out of Kaius’s kingdom.
We take turns filling our bottles, and I snag a much-needed drink that chills my insides. My shivering intensifies, but the water from this spring is quite possibly the best I’ve ever tasted. The shock to my senses fortifies me, and I refocus, ready to keep traveling.
True to Callum’s word, only one more leap lands us in the green valley I saw from the cliff’s edge above. As we release the weave and step into the valley, the entire craggy mountain range looms behind us. It’s surprisingly warm here, though I can’t decide whether it feels that way because of the cold wind we just left behind or if it’s really a hotter climate in this part of the world.
We might be in Sierian’s realm, but we haven’t reached our final destination yet. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I try to push away my exhaustion and summon strength from somewhere inside myself.
But instead of reaching for another strand to continue leaping, Callum drops his satchel beneath a small copse of evergreens. “We’ll rest here for the night.”
I slump a little with relief, harboring an urge to kiss him for those precious little words. No more pretending that I’m capable enough to keep going, when all I want to do is sleep.
I’m not even ashamed when I’m the first to curl up on the soft grass, my eyes dropping closed of their own accord. Not long after, I’m vaguely cognizant of two warm bodies flanking me and the warmth of an arm over my waist.
Then I slip into deep dreams.
Sierian’s city of Aeheamel is an entirely different world than any I’ve seen before.
The thriving metropolis flanks two sides of a slow-moving river that spans wider than the whole of my village. Buildings on the banks tower higher than I’ve ever seen in colors I didn’t realize could be made in nature. We walk right into the city—no forbidding gates or drawbridges to be seen.
