Unleashed

by Tiffany Roberts

  Just as he neared his companions, the larger waves slammed into the tree. The entire thing shook, dropping dead branches and leaves from overhead. Vortok slid down an inch before catching himself with his knucklebones. He reached out with one hand, the other arm trembling with the exertion of holding his entire body up. The floodwater churned mere feet below his hooves.

  “You’re almost here!” Nina called, digging her nails into the bark.

  Balir and Aduun lay down beside her, extending their arms toward Vortok.

  The wood around his knucklebones cracked and splintered. He slipped another inch before thrusting himself away from the trunk.

  Nina’s breath caught in her throat.

  Stretching forward, Balir and Aduun caught Vortok’s forearm in their hands. His blood welled beneath their claws, flowing from fresh gouges, but, somehow, they held his massive body up. The tip of one hoof skimmed the surface of the water for an instant before they hauled the dangling valo up, grunting and growling with the strain.

  Nina moved back to give them space as Vortok crawled onto the branch. The immense relief that swept through her at seeing him safe couldn’t ease her nerves; she looked out over the angry water below. Entire trees — not just logs, but trees with roots and branches and leaves — floated on the surface amidst the smaller debris, some getting caught between the trunks of the surrounding trees.

  Where had the water come from? Though there was at least one stream relatively nearby, there was no way a flood of this magnitude could’ve happened so quickly without heavy rains — and even then, it couldn’t have come from all directions.

  The crashing waves subsided, but the debris on the water’s surface continued to flow rapidly, some of it swirling wildly as conflicting currents clashed.

  Balir shook his head, features strained.

  “Are you all right?” Nina asked.

  “The noise is…uncomfortable. Overwhelming,” he replied.

  Aduun crouched at the edge of the branch, scraping a set of gouge marks into the bark with the claws of one hand. “The water is still rising. We need to move higher.”

  Nina glanced worriedly at Vortok.

  The big valo tilted his head back to look up at the next set of branches. “It’s not as far. I will make it.”

  Though the flow of blood from the gashes on his arm had slowed, Nina noticed crimson smeared around his knuckles, staining the protruding bone. She took one of his hands in hers and pulled it closer. “Your hands…”

  “Do not worry for me,” he replied gently, withdrawing his hand from her loose hold. “We need to move.” Pressing a palm against the trunk, he stood up, and before she could protest, took hold of her hips and lifted her.

  With his arms fully extended, her shoulders were just above the top of the next branch up. She reached out, curling her arms over the limb, and swung her legs up once Vortok released her.

  Aduun joined her a moment later, and Balir, spears clutched tight in his long tail, climbed up behind him. Heavy grunts and the thump-crack of bones slamming into wood marked Vortok’s slow ascent. Nina hesitated when Aduun guided her toward the next branch overhead.

  “He will make it,” Aduun said. Even if she didn’t feel it herself, she could not dispute the certainty in his voice.

  She continued the climb, and though she refused to look down, another wave of dizziness momentarily blurred her vision. This was higher than she’d ever been. When she was young, she’d occasionally climbed trees with Quinn to gather riverfruit, and even those branches — perhaps eight or ten feet off the ground — had been high enough to strike her with a crippling sense of vertigo.

  Of course, avoiding almost certain death was a bit more powerful a motivation than picking some fruit.

  “Stay there,” Aduun said from a branch below her; she peeked down to see him and Balir helping Vortok up.

  Focusing her gaze on the branch, Nina crawled along its surface until she reached the trunk and shifted into a sitting position, leaning her back against the bark. The sound of rushing water below seemed undiminished from its peak.

  Nina closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to push aside her fear and calm her nerves. After a moment, she tilted her head back and opened her eyes, looking up at the branches above. She gasped as a long, clawed limb swiped down at her.

  Crying out, she threw herself forward. The tip of a claw caught in her hair briefly.

  “Treeclaws!” she yelled. She rolled onto her back as the creature swung itself to the underside of the tree limb overhead, using its numerous upper arms to haul itself toward her. She reached for the dagger on her belt.

  “Nina!” Balir shouted.

  The shaft of a spear appeared in the corner of her vision, held up from below. She wrapped her fingers around it and thrust it upward with all her strength as the treeclaw dropped.

  The sharpened point hit the beast in its exposed throat. She grasped the spear with her other hand as hot blood flowed down the shaft and over her fingers. Wincing against the exertion, she shifted the treeclaw’s momentum past her. Its weight tugged the blood-slick weapon from her hands.

  The beast’s thrashing, impaled body tumbled into the water with a splash.

  Warbling calls sounded in the branches all around as Balir and Aduun pulled themselves up beside Nina. Aduun’s quills were raised in agitation, and he held his claws at the ready.

  “Have you been harmed?” he asked, glancing at her bloody hands.

  “No.” She wiped her sticky fingers on her skirt.

  Balir offered her the remaining spear. She gripped the shaft, and he held it firm as she pulled herself to her feet. “I should have noticed them sooner,” he growled.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered,” Nina said as Balir released the spear. She watched as spindly, many-limbed treeclaws swung from branch to branch, closing in from all sides. “Can you get up in time, Vortok?”

  “No,” he called from below, “but the water is not rising as quickly. I can hold here.”

  A pair of the treeclaws dropped onto Nina’s branch, landing to either side of her and her two valos. Despite its thickness, the branch stuttered and swayed under the weight of the beasts, causing Nina’s stomach to lurch. More creatures moved over them, rustling leaves and snapping twigs. She’d never heard of so many treeclaws gathering to hunt the same prey.

  The things were terrifying enough when they were alone.

  Balir smoothly swapped positions with Nina, placing himself between her and one of the treeclaws.

  “Take the spear,” she said.

  “Watch above,” he replied before the creature in front of him attacked.

  Balir moved with surreal speed and control, faster than any man — or shrieker — she’d ever seen. His bursts of movement stopped with mind-boggling immediacy as he dodged the flailing, thrashing limbs of the attacking creature. He lashed out with his own claws, severing one of those spindly limbs as he released a piercing shriek.

  Aduun snarled behind Nina. She chanced a glance over her shoulder to see him with two of the treeclaw’s legs caught in each hand. He wrenched the long, thin limbs apart, snapping bone, and sank his teeth into the creature’s throat.

  The blood seemed to send the other treeclaws into a frenzy. Several leapt from adjacent branches to join the attack on the valos, and Vortok grunted and roared below as more attempted to swarm him.

  Watch above.

  Nina shook off the crimson haze threatening to overwhelm her — the combined bloodlust of the treeclaws and her valos — and turned her attention upward. Adjusting her hold on her spear, she jabbed the point several times in quick succession at an approaching beast. It snapped at her with a mouthful of sharp teeth, but her weapon met its flesh again and again, opening numerous minor wounds, keeping it at bay. Finally, the creature screeched in pain and retreated.

  Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t block the numerous mental projections, so she embraced some of that fury. She bared her teeth and growled wh
en another treeclaw took the wounded creature’s place. Her spear thrust buried the tip of her weapon in the treeclaw’s ribs. Blood dripped onto her cheek, but she didn’t flinch away from it.

  Before she could tug her weapon free, the beast twisted, tearing the shaft out of her hands.

  Nina stumbled forward, thrusting her arms to the sides to regain her balance. The pounding of her racing heart drowned out all other sound as fear coiled in her gut.

  But this was survival. This was what Quinn and Orishok had prepared her for. Fear would not be her master.

  Dropping a hand to her belt, she tugged her dagger free and turned to face the injured treeclaw as it lowered itself onto her branch.

  Driven purely by instinct, she stepped into the only open space — between the beast’s long arms — and swung her arm in an upward arc. The point of the dagger plunged into the underside of the creature’s jaw, burying the blade to the hilt. The fleshy, violet frill around the treeclaw’s neck quivered, and fresh blood pumped over Nina’s hand.

  The creature sagged forward. Before it fell atop her, Aduun roared, dragging the twitching carcass backward. The dagger’s handle slipped out of her gore-slickened palm, and the weapon fell with the body as Aduun heaved it off the branch to tumble into the water below. She met his gaze for an instant.

  He sported several fresh wounds, and his eyes were wild and bright, but she knew somehow that he saw her through it all. His thoughts flowed into her; he was excited, impressed, aroused.

  Then another treeclaw crashed into Nina from the side, enwrapping her in its gangly legs. She saw Aduun’s eyes flare before her feet left the branch and she was falling, rushing to meet the angry, debris-filled water below. She cut off her blossoming scream, sucked in a breath, and squeezed her eyes shut.

  She plunged under the surface, and the water’s cold felt like thousands of thorns stabbing into her skin. The treeclaw released its hold on her. She heard its fearful cry in her mind as it thrashed in the water nearby.

  Opening her eyes, she swung her gaze around until she found the light. She kicked her feet hard, battling the force of the current to keep from tumbling end-over-end, and swam toward the glow overhead.

  Nina gasped for air when she broke the surface. Limbs flailing, she sought something to grab hold of, but the current swept her along. She turned her head just in time to see a massive log speeding toward her on the surface. Sucking in another quick breath, she ducked underwater, avoiding the log so narrowly that she felt it displace water above her.

  Kicking back to the surface, she reached for the log, desperate for something to hold onto, but her clawing hands made the log roll, dunking her under again.

  The powerful flow of the floodwater caused her to spin and tumble. Its sound became her entire world, a muffled rush that pressed ever inward, fought only by the pounding of her heart, which felt ready to burst from her chest at any moment. Her lungs burned. She needed air, but she didn’t know which way was up, didn’t know where to go, didn’t know—

  A strong hand closed around her ankle. It pulled her through the water until another hand settled on the small of her back. The hands forced her upright, and her head finally broke the surface.

  Nina sucked in a choking breath, kicking her legs to tread water, and found herself looking into Aduun’s face. His gaze searched Nina’s for an instant before he turned her around, drew her back against his chest with an arm around her middle, and started swimming.

  Bits of debris battered their bodies — the leaves were negligible, but the branches and chunks of wood poked, and scratched.

  Even his strength, bolstered by the motions of his powerful tail, was not enough to overcome the current. He pushed hard, but they were slowly moving in the opposite direction. After several seconds of struggle, he altered his course. Their speed immediately increased as he swam with the flow of water.

  Nina twisted to look over her shoulder; Aduun was swimming backward, and they were rapidly approaching one of the huge trees. She turned in his grasp, clung to him, and hid her face against his chest, bracing herself for the impact. She could only hope he wouldn’t be hurt.

  Aduun kicked and swung his tail, angling them toward the outside edge of the tree. She felt his muscles flex and stretch as he extended his free arm. His body jerked. The flowing water dragged them to the side, straining to carry them away, to claim them, but somehow, they moved no farther. She lifted her face to see Aduun’s claws buried in the tree trunk, anchoring them in place.

  “Wrap your legs around me and hold tight,” he commanded.

  Nina raised her knees and looped her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles to lock them. She squeezed him tightly with her thighs as she slipped her arms beneath his. The undersides of his quills brushed her forearms as she clasped her hands together behind his back.

  The sound of his low growl was drowned out by the water, but she felt it rumble through his chest. Biceps bulging, he dragged them closer to the tree. He released his hold on her to slam the claws of his other hand into the trunk. She clutched at him and clenched her jaw to hold in a scream as he climbed partly out of the water; her body weight reestablished itself, threatening to pull her back down.

  Aduun’s powerful thighs rose and fell as he climbed higher, one leg always brushing her backside, serving as reassurance that she was caged in by his body, that he would not let her go. Soon, they were fully in the air, water pouring from their bodies, her soaked clothing strengthening the feeling of heaviness that had settled over her.

  Shivering, she buried her face against his chest again; she didn’t want to see the violent water, didn’t want to see the treeclaws, didn’t want to see what her rash decision to go to Utopia alone had led her to.

  But my decision to leave Bahmet led me to them. It freed them from their cages…

  I would do it again.

  “Nina.” Aduun’s voice rumbled from his chest to flow through her, calling her back into the moment. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her close, and he was standing upright.

  When had they stopped climbing?

  She couldn’t bring herself to lift her head, couldn’t bring herself to let him go. She tightened her hold on him, pressing herself into his short, soft fur, welcoming the heat he radiated. Her awareness slowly expanded to the feel of the muscles of his back beneath her palms, his woodsy, primal scent, and his shaft extending and hardening against her lower stomach. Her breath quickened.

  Aduun released a deep groan. One of his hands fell to her thigh, squeezing her flesh as it trailed to the back of her knee. His ragged breaths whispered over the top of her head, making her scalp tingle. His entire body stiffened when his hand reached her knee. With a shudder, he pried her leg off — firmly, but not painfully — and guided it down until her foot settled on the branch.

  Her other leg slid down along his outer thigh until she had no choice but to drop it as well. He lifted his hands to her arms, and she knew he was going to pull them away, that he would break the embrace, but he hesitated. Instead, he ran his palms along the backs of her arms until they reached her shoulders and dipped his head. His nose brushed the side of her neck. He inhaled deeply and groaned again.

  “You are safe now,” he said.

  Nina curled her fingers against his back. “What about the treeclaws? Vortok? Balir?”

  “Balir has nearly arrived, and Vortok is coming. The treeclaws have fled.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Why did you save me now, when you wanted to kill me yesterday?”

  He was silent for a long while, and though she guessed he was in deep thought, she couldn’t pick up anything from his mind. She didn’t dare delve deeper than the surface.

  “Because the conflicts between myself, Balir, and Vortok are not of your making,” he finally said, tightening his fingers on her shoulders, “and you are part of my tribe.”

  Nina tilted her head back and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

  His amber eyes bore into hers for a
moment before he dipped his head in acknowledgment. Then he lifted his gaze, focusing on something beyond her.

  “Nina! Have you been harmed?” Balir asked from behind her.

  Aduun’s hold on her tightened as she turned, but he relented and lowered his arms. She glanced back at him; though his expression was neutral, there was a tension in his stance. Her gaze fell, and she swallowed hard at the sight of his erection. Heat flared in her core, reminding her that the rest of her body was chilled from the floodwater. She forced her attention away.

  Balir had reached their branch. At least a dozen cuts stood out starkly against his pale skin, and he was smeared with blood, but he made no indication of pain. He hurried forward, pulling her into his arms. Nina was caught off guard by a wave of relief — Balir’s relief. She settled her hands on his sides.

  “I’m fine,” Nina said. “Aduun saved me.”

  His mouth drooped in a concerned frown. “I smell your blood.”

  “I was roughed up a little, but it’s nothing serious. Especially given how bad it could’ve gone.”

  The branch shook suddenly. Nina’s heart leapt, and her hold on Balir tightened.

  “Nina!” Vortok called.

  Balir twisted slightly, turning his face toward Vortok, who’d landed on the branch behind them. The big valo’s heavy steps vibrated through the wood beneath Nina’s feet, but now those rumblings brought joy instead of fear. Despite his own collection of cuts and gashes, he smiled when his eyes met hers, displaying his tusks.

  Without hesitation, he tore Nina from Balir’s grasp and swept her into a hug, one of his hands covering the back of her head. Her feet dangled in the air.

  She was overcome by a powerful sense of belonging. It wasn’t a projection from the valos; this was a feeling from deep within herself, one that she’d only ever felt with Quinn and Orishok. These men were her tribe, but they were also…more.

  “Our little huntress!” Vortok boomed. Nina laughed and threw her arms around his neck as he swung her from side to side. His motions halted abruptly. She looked up into his dark eyes; his bony brows were low, his expression solemn. “Do not scare me like that again.”