“Kelsharn’s kind came to Sonhadra with trickery and lies. You never failed your people, Aduun. You did what you believed was right.” She brushed her thumbs over his cheeks and along the bone ridges beneath his eyes.
“I cannot leave this moment, Nina. I must remain. If I go, I will convince my father, and we will be lost. I must stay. I must stop myself from going to him…”
The walls trembled, and the air rippled. This was not how it had happened. Nina had never been here. This place had ceased to exist long before she was ever born.
But she was here, she was with him now.
“What was done was done,” she said gently. “You cannot change it, but we can try to save those who are not yet lost.”
He lifted a hand to her face, cupping her cheek and weaving his fingers into the long, soft fur atop her head. “How are you here, Nina? How—”
She pulled back and turned her head suddenly, eyes widening. “Did you hear that, Aduun?”
“Hear what, Nina?”
She moved to stand. He clutched at her, keeping her there with him, unwilling to face this long night and what would follow it alone.
“Them. Do you hear them calling?” she asked.
The tent walls pulsed, and a chill wind blew in beneath them, creeping over his skin like the touch of icy hands. It was a familiar sensation, but he couldn’t place where he’d felt it.
Silence pressed in from all sides, a silence so complete it hurt.
He turned his head when he heard something from outside — whispers. Disembodied whispers, speaking in unison, their words indecipherable.
“I need to go to them,” Nina said, breaking free of his hold.
He reached for her, but his fingers slid off her, slid through her. “No! Do not go, do not follow!” His heart pounded in thunderous peals, making the tent quiver with its rhythm.
Nina didn’t slow. She dashed across the flames and disappeared through the tent flaps.
Aduun struggled to his feet. The air within the tent was so thick that he could feel it pressing down on him; when he stumbled forward, it was like moving through water, his limbs swinging sluggishly, his entire body weighed down like it was made of stone.
He fell as he passed between the flaps, catching himself on hands and knees. Everything in him stilled when he lifted his gaze.
There should have been other tents, should have been cooking fires, should have been a night sky of the deepest blue and violet, twinkling with countless stars.
But there was nothing.
Blackness — impossible, impenetrable blackness — stretched on endlessly around him.
“Nina!” he shouted, but his throat produced no sound. He screamed, the cords of his neck straining, but it only seemed to enhance the silence.
When he looked back, his tent was gone.
His people were gone. He had doomed them already.
What was done was done.
He called for Nina again, though he knew she would not hear.
Aduun woke with a jolt when something touched his face. His quills flared as he sat up abruptly.
“Ow,” Vortok grunted.
Panting, Aduun assessed his surroundings. His awareness developed slowly. He’d been in a dark place, a black place…
No. He’d been asleep, and he was on the branch with his companions, waiting out the floodwater.
Nina!
Chest tight, he twisted to find her sitting behind him, her features tight with concern. Before she could say anything, he reached out with one hand — a hand covered in fur, with claw-tipped fingers — and pressed his palm to her cheek.
She was solid, warm. Real.
“Aduun?” she asked.
He ran his eyes over her, taking in every detail from her sleep-tousled fur to her bare legs. His body — and his beast — eased gradually, and soon his breathing normalized, and his heart seemed no longer in danger of bursting from his ribs.
Sliding his tongue over dry lips, he turned his head. The water below shimmered with reflections of the early morning sunlight.
“I am fine,” he said finally, lowering his hand and pushing himself to his feet. It took a considerable amount of willpower to suppress the shudder that threatened to course through his body.
He felt Nina’s gaze lingering on his back.
“The treeclaws came a little closer before dawn,” Balir said, still perched in the same place he’d been when Aduun went to sleep, “but they have maintained a healthy distance.”
Vortok stood, causing the branch to tremble beneath his weight. “Is the water lower?”
Debris still flowed over the water’s surface in large patches, indicating that the currents had not subsided. Aduun swung his gaze between the tree trunks he’d used as markers the day before. “No lower, no higher, and still too dangerous to traverse.”
“The branches are thick,” Nina said. “We could find where the largest of them cross and use them to continue onward.”
He felt her behind him. It was more than the enhanced senses afforded by his beast; his heartstone knew she was near, recognized her, yearned for her. Turning to stand side-to-side with her, he glanced at Nina before shifting his gaze to the trees she was studying.
“It will not be easy, or fast,” he said, “but it is better than waiting here until something finally succeeds in killing us.”
“Perhaps I will try swimming, after all,” Vortok muttered.
“You’ll be fine,” Nina said, patting his arm.
Aduun watched her peer over the side of the branch and draw back with a shudder, her skin paling. He brushed his knuckles against the back of her hand. “We will all be fine,” he said when she looked up at him.
Surprise flicked across her expression only to be swept away by a warm smile a moment later.
His beast stirred. He braced himself, prepared to wrestle it back.
To his shock, it merely purred before relapsing on its own.
“Do we continue in the direction we’ve been going?” Balir asked.
Nina turned away from Aduun and pointed toward the rising sun, barely visible through the branches. “That way. I can…sense it.”
Aduun frowned. They’d been traveling with the rising sun to their right thus far; this would be a significant change in course.
“Sense what?” Balir asked.
“Them. I heard them calling for help,” Nina replied.
Them. Do you hear them calling?
Nina’s words from the dream echoed in Aduun’s memory, as ominous and eerie as the whispers he’d heard outside the tent. He couldn’t suppress his shudder this time.
“Who, Nina?” he asked, chest constricting; why was he so fearful of what her answer might be?
Nina looked at him. “I… I think it’s the other valos. Your people.”
Palpable shock swept through Aduun, and he knew it had stricken Vortok and Balir as well by their soft gasps. Though he hadn’t been able to make out their words, he’d heard the voices briefly, had heard their desperation…
Something sparked in his belly. He made no effort to extinguish it, though he knew it was a dangerous thing to foster — hope. If Nina’s mind was strong enough to peer into the thoughts of everyone around her, who was to say she couldn’t sense the mental outcries of his people, imprisoned somewhere within this intricate, immense trap?
“Are you sure it is them?” he asked.
Nina frowned and lowered her gaze, spreading her hands out in front of her, palms up. “No, but who else would it be? They’re crying for help.” She glanced at Vortok. “The first time I heard them was when I shared a dream with Vortok and Balir, but I think they’re too far away for me to make a solid connection. Every time I try, it’s like there’s a wall blocking me from getting through.”
Aduun appreciated her honesty, but was it enough to justify following this mysterious call?
Up to this point, they’d simply been trudging forward, pushed on by the notion of saving their people. They’d h
ad no leads, no direction, no idea of where or how they would find their people. Whether it could be trusted or not, this was some kind of guidance. That had to be better than nothing.
And even if he didn’t trust the voices or their source, he trusted Nina.
“If you think it is the way, that is where we will go,” he said.
They had no more food, and the only thing to pack was Nina’s still-damp blanket. After a quick search of the nearby branches for lurking treeclaws, the group set out toward the growing light of dawn.
It was difficult traveling; the huge tree limbs did not always overlap, and more than once the valos encountered dead or rotting branches that would not support their weight. Somehow, they managed to avoid any falls. The disconcerting calls of treeclaws gave the group pause on several occasions, but the sounds were always distant, and none of the beasts showed themselves. Aduun and Balir took turns scouting ahead, seeking the best places to cross from tree to tree.
Near midday, Vortok — who had the hardest time of the four thanks to his size, weight, and the shape of his hands and feet — spotted a cluster of riverfruit drifting among the debris on the water’s surface. Aduun broke off the from the group and retrieved it; the move wasn’t without risks, but they were all able to think sharper when they were fed, and Nina needed to eat to survive.
They stopped briefly to tear into the fruit. Aduun’s beast protested, demanding blood, meat, and marrow, but the riverfruit was sweet and satisfying enough to the man to drown out the beast’s complaints. The meal triggered faded memories of Aduun’s prior life. Riverfruit had always been a welcome treat, and the pieces that fell into the water tended to be the ripest and sweetest of all. His tribe would’ve considered this good fortune.
After eating, they resumed their journey. Nina corrected their course as the sun passed its zenith and began its descent to the far, unseen horizon. Before long, Aduun spotted something far ahead, barely visible through the trees. By late afternoon, they’d drawn close enough to tell what it was — a rockface that stretched on as far as they could see in either direction.
Aduun grew increasingly uneasy as they neared the cliff. It seemed to tower over the trees, a massive wall of jagged, craggy rock, and it ran too straight, too even, to be natural. The sunlight had taken on the first orangey tones of evening when the valos and their female reached the cliffside.
Aduun walked along a branch that led directly to the rock, craning his neck back to look up through the gaps in the canopy — which brushed against the stone — to see the cliff looming high overhead. He reached out and tentatively pressed a hand to the surface. It felt like stone, but could he even trust his own senses anymore?
“Now what?” Vortok asked.
Turning toward his companions, Aduun met Nina’s gaze and lifted his brow.
She combed her fingers through her head-fur to sweep it out of her face. “Still the same direction.”
“There may be an opening somewhere that leads through,” Balir said, “but I cannot detect anything nearby.”
“So we go up,” Nina said softly. The color had drained from her face, and an uncertain gleam sparked in her eyes, which were still directed up at the cliff.
“What’s wrong, Nina?” Vortok moved to stand beside her, placing one of his big hands on her back.
Aduun’s beast snarled inwardly; it wanted the female for itself and bristled at seeing another male touch her. When had it begun this shift toward possessiveness?
Nina’s eyes widened, directed at Aduun for a moment before she looked at Vortok. “High places make me feel ill.”
Vortok grunted, turning his face up to follow her gaze. “Me, too. I am made for the ground. But we’ll make it through this together.”
Balir stopped beside Nina and crouched down. “Get on my back and wrap your arms around my neck.”
“What?” Nina frowned, brows furrowing. “You can’t carry me the whole way. That’s—”
“Necessary,” Aduun said. “Our strength is well beyond what it was before the change. Unless you know you can make it yourself, Balir will carry you up.” He longed to do it himself, to be the one to have her arms around him, her body pressed against him, but his quills made it too dangerous for her.
“You will not hinder me, Nina,” Balir said gently, brushing his tail against the back of her knee.
Aduun’s beast responded again; he clenched his teeth against its rage and turned away from his companions. “I will climb first to ensure there is a path…and that there is something at the top. Await me here.”
Chapter Nine
Nina clung to Balir as though her very life depended upon it — which it did. Her legs encircled his waist, her arms were around his neck, and though his tail was curled around her middle, she still felt the irresistible downward tug of gravity on her body. Her muscles were on fire, strained from maintaining her desperate hold as he moved. She shook with fear.
They’d been climbing steadily higher for some time, though Nina didn’t know how long it had been or how high they’d come; she kept her face pressed against Balir’s back with her eyes squeezed shut. Based on the increasingly chilled bite of the wind, she guessed they were well above the canopy by now.
Aduun had remained nearby throughout; though she dared not open her eyes and look, she’d sensed his presence within an arm’s reach since they began their ascent. He’d been up and down the cliffside once already, and upon his return had described, with no small amount of bewilderment in his voice, the open, grassy foothills above. Nina’s mind told her such a transition was impossible because of both the unnatural barrier they were now scaling and the fact that they were still underground, but she didn’t doubt his report.
Below, Vortok grumbled and muttered to himself, making no effort to hide his agitation. Only the craggy nature of the rockface allowed him to make the climb at all. It offered just enough purchase for his immense strength to overcome his disadvantages, but it was no easy task regardless.
At any other time, she would’ve tried to shield herself from his projections of annoyance and simmering rage, but now she focused on them. Though it wasn’t necessarily comfortable to allow his emotions in so freely, they offered a distraction from her own mounting terror.
She couldn’t maintain her hold on Balir forever, and even if she didn’t look down, she knew they were so high that a fall meant certain death.
Balir’s foot slipped.
Nina’s heart leapt into her throat; it was the only thing that prevented her from releasing an instinctual scream that would undoubtedly have caused great discomfort to his sensitive hearing. He recovered quickly, tightened his tail around her waist, and continued climbing.
“Just a little farther, Nina,” Aduun called from beside her.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath and nuzzling her cheek against Balir’s strong back. The play of his muscles as he pulled them ever higher was another welcome distraction; the muscles of his sides bunched and stretched against her inner thighs, and though their position was wrong, she couldn’t help but wonder if his muscles would move the same way as he pumped in and out of her.
Nina focused on the rasp of his scales against her skin, the delicious warmth he put off, and the brush of her nipples against his back, separated only by the fabric of her top. The sensations spread through her limbs to coalesce within her core. Heat flooded her.
What would it feel like to have his cock sliding into her, for his scales to lightly scrape her skin and create tantalizing friction as he entered her body?
She bit her lip as growing arousal quickened her breath. Her sex pulsed with sudden need.
This isn’t the time or the place to be thinking of such things.
“Nina?” Balir said, voice oddly strained.
“Hmm?” Her hummed response was huskier than normal.
He grunted and paused, body tense, shifting his hips away from the cliffside. “That scent is going to madden me. Why now, of all times?”
A different sort of heat suffused her cheeks. “I… I…” She pressed her lips together and squeezed her thighs tighter around his waist as though it could alleviate the ache between them or hide her scent. “I didn’t mean to. It just…”
Balir bowed his head, shoulders rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. After a few moments, he lifted his face and continued climbing with a groan. “Had I known, I might have fashioned some sort of covering to protect myself from the rock.”
Nina raised her head, brow furrowed. “What do you—Oh.” Despite his obvious discomfort, she chuckled.
“I imagine this still doesn’t mean you’ve chosen?”
Her grin softened into a smile, and she pressed a palm flat against his chest while keeping her wrists locked. “I’m still deciding.”
“Ah, well,” he said, his movements stiff thanks to his…condition. “I’d choose this torment over all else without hesitation.”
She laid her head back down. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For distracting me.”
He chuckled between his soft clicking. “In a different situation, I might thank you for the same.”
They reached the top shortly after. Balir drew them up smoothly, crawled away from the edge, and halted to allow her to climb off him. She stood up and took a few steps; her limbs were stiff and shaky, and a sudden wave of dizziness had her stumbling toward the edge.
Balir’s hands settled on her hips, steadying her, and steered her away from the drop-off. She grasped his arms and held them until her head stopped spinning.
Vortok muttered as he finally pulled himself over the crest, crawling away from the cliff on hands and knees before shoving himself to his feet. He brushed his hands together and grunted. “If I never do that again—” his words ended abruptly, and Nina glanced at him to see his awe-filled face directed at the landscape they’d climbed up to. “How can this be here?”
Nina withdrew from Balir’s hold; he released her with reluctance, his tail brushing over her calf before he stepped back.
She turned to follow Vortok’s gaze and was hit with equal wonder and disbelief. The crest of the cliff rolled gradually down into a sloped valley, all windblown grass and lichen-covered rock. The valley seemed to go on forever in both directions. Far ahead, it sloped back up toward increasingly rockier foothills, and large mountains beyond that, which were tinged blue by distance. There were places like this around Bahmet, but the lay of this land was wholly unfamiliar to her.
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