The sky was clear, deep blue, without a cloud in sight. And the sun — which had been setting in the forest below — was almost directly overhead, marking midday.
Nina twisted to glance behind her and was struck by a second wave of disbelief. The edge of the cliff they’d scaled was still there, but it wasn’t a forest stretching out beyond it. Instead, a second valley lay below, its gentle hills sweeping toward low mountain peaks that were blurred by haze.
“How is that possible?” Vortok asked. “Where did the forest go?”
“The forest is no longer visible, I take it?” Balir asked. “I imagine it is still down there, but it is obscured by whatever illusions Kelsharn has woven.”
“It’s…all his making,” Nina said, frowning. “How could anyone have this kind of power?”
“It is his making, and we see only what he wants us to. His primary power is deceit,” Aduun replied. He sniffed the air, and his quills rose in brief agitation. “I can still smell the cave-scent.”
“It’s like he created an entire world down here.” She shook her head; the valley below looked real enough to make her doubt whether they’d come from that direction or not. “We should keep going.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, she lowered her mental shields and listened.
The voices were distant, faint, weak, barely more than whispers in the back of her skull, but she locked onto them.
She pointed. “That way.”
“We will have to follow the valley until we can find a way through the mountains,” Aduun said. She opened her eyes to find him standing beside her, gazing in the direction she’d indicated. “At least there are herds of frostfur grazing in the hills. They will provide ample meat, even for our hunger.”
Holding a hand over her eyes, Nina squinted to pick out the white, shaggy-furred frostfur gathered together on the far side of the valley. They were large creatures with heavy builds and massive horns; Orishok had taken her to hunt them a few times and explained that they had been an excellent source of meat for his people in their old lives. Despite their size and build, frostfur could move quite fast over short distances and weren’t afraid to fight back against predators.
She didn’t think that would deter her valos.
“The sooner, the better,” Vortok said. “I’m hungry enough to eat a rockfur.”
“You are a rockfur,” Balir said.
“Exactly.”
Nina laughed and turned her attention to Vortok. He grinned at her, displaying teeth and tusks.
Though they had relieved themselves once while traveling across the branches — Nina with some difficulty — they took a few minutes to do so here. She was grateful for the boulder that granted her little bit of privacy as she peed. Once she finished, she cleaned up and hurried to rejoin her valos.
They walked together in a loose formation, picking their way down the rocky slope until they reached gentler ground. After spending so much time moving from branch to branch through the trees, the short, soft grass here felt odd under Nina’s boots, but she welcomed it; this was the easiest travel they’d had since leaving the cages behind.
The air was pleasant, carrying the hint of a chill that was counteracted by the warm sunshine. After the stress and hardships of the forest, this terrain lightened Nina’s mood. It seemed to have the same effect on her companions — they talked freely, joking with one another, and even Aduun smiled occasionally. The first time Nina saw the expression on his face, she was nearly undone; his shining amber eyes and pointed teeth lent it a wicked charm that threatened to rekindle her arousal.
It was midafternoon when a sudden, cold wind blew over them. Nina shivered, bringing her hands up to rub her arms, which had broken out in goosebumps. A huge shadow crept over the group as it sped across the valley. The sloping ground on either side gave the shadow an ominous, predatory appearance, like the gaping maw of some gargantuan beast.
Nina turned and looked skyward.
Dark, roiling clouds were building overhead and approaching with unnatural speed. They swept across the sun as the rapidly dwindling swath of clear sky shifted from pure blue to bleak, menacing gray. The wind blasted into her with increased strength. It flowed through her clothing, whipped her loose hair, and bit at her skin with teeth like shards of ice.
Shivering, Nina shifted her gaze to her valos. They wore grave expressions that only deepened when the first fat snowflake fluttered between them on the wind. Its delicate, silent landing amidst the grass seemed to trigger the snowfall in earnest, filling the air with tiny puffs of white.
“More tricks,” Aduun growled, sweeping his eyes over the valley ahead.
“Aduun,” Nina said, staring back in the direction from which they’d come. “Look.”
He twisted to do so. Most of the ground they’d already covered was obliterated by the white of fallen snow and the dark shadows of angry clouds.
“We can’t go back,” she said, worry constricting her chest. There was nothing to go back to. All they could do was press on and hope to find shelter from the storm.
The flurry intensified, obscuring their view and assailing them with freezing cold from all sides. Aduun clamped his hand on Nina’s right shoulder, and Balir took hold of her left. Vortok moved in front of them. Nina reached forward and clasped a fistful of the fur on his lower back. The snow quickly accumulated around their feet as they trudged on, soon almost higher than her boots despite the trail Vortok was breaking for them.
Balir’s pace slowed, and she swayed slightly as he leaned on her shoulder. Nina glanced back to see him trudging forward with his head down, his free arm tucked against his chest, maintaining a staggered, irregular stride. Shivers coursed through him, matching those that wracked her body.
Nina turned her face forward again. She breathed shallowly; the air was so cold it burned her throat and lungs with each inhalation. Ice crystals slowly formed under her nose, in her hair, and on her brow. Her joints were stiff, especially her fingers, but they were soon numb enough that they caused her no pain. She’d experienced snowfall growing up, but never to this degree, and she was ill-equipped to deal with it now.
She couldn’t survive this. Not for long.
“W-we cannot manage this f-for long!” Balir shouted. “We need shelter for Nina.”
He needed shelter, too.
Vortok slowed and turned to face her. Snow and ice crusted his fur and mane, but the set of his brow made it clear that his only concern was for her. “I will change. Help her onto my back, near my mane. It will give her some warmth and protection.”
“W-What do y-y-you mean ch-change?” she asked, unable to prevent her jaw from chattering.
His response came when he stepped away from her. His face contorted in pain, but he released only a soft grunt, barely audible over the wind. His body expanded and elongated as she watched, bones snapping and cracking into new forms. Though he maintained his silence after that first grunt, she felt his agony.
This is Kelsharn’s gift, she thought, and my valos pay the price for it every moment of every day.
Vortok the man was gone now, and in his place was the massive rockfur she’d first encountered when she fell into his cage. He shook his body, whipping the accumulated frost off his fur.
“V-Vort-tok?” she asked, tentatively reaching out to him with her mind.
His thoughts were jumbled and inarticulate, but she felt his possessiveness, felt his concern. He stepped forward, a hulking, terrifying beast with horns, tusks, and hooves, a beast that could break trees as easily as a human body, and gently nuzzled her shoulder with his snout. She brought her hands to his face and cupped it, gazing into deep, familiar brown eyes.
You’re still you, Vortok, she projected. Touching her mind to his felt right; it was comforting, intimate in a way she’d never allowed herself to fully experience. She’d so often held herself back, knowing that most people would react to her ability with fear, but she didn’t have that concern with Vortok. He trusted her and
what she could do.
He nuzzled her shoulder again, but this time lifted his snout as he did so, tugging her forward.
“Come, Nina,” Aduun said from behind her, voice raised over the howling wind. His hands settled on her hips, and she didn’t resist as he guided her to Vortok’s side. He picked her up her with ease.
She straddled Vortok’s back, grasping handfuls of his mane to anchor herself in place, and settled into his fur. His heat radiated into her, and she welcomed it. She breathed in his earthy scent, barely able to detect it through the stinging cold air.
“Go up with her,” she heard Aduun call.
“I can continue,” Balir replied.
“Share warmth with her, Balir.” There was an edge to Aduun’s tone — one of authority, but also of envy. She knew, then, despite the fog of cold settling over her mind, that he didn’t want anyone else touching her. This was for the sake of two people he cared about, neither of whom were made for such weather.
Balir climbed onto Vortok’s back behind Nina, took hold of the thick fur, and lay his body down over her. He didn’t allow his full weight to settle upon her; he shared his warmth, shielded her from the biting wind.
“It seems our positions have reversed,” he said, lips close to her ear. It sent a different sort of shiver through her.
Nina savored the heat coming from both valos. She shifted her arm, brushing her thumb over the back of Balir’s hand. “Seems so.”
Between Vortok’s windblown mane and the torrents of snow, Nina couldn’t see anything; her world was white and gray. There was little distinction between sky and ground, and there were no visible landmarks to provide any sense of where they were. All she had was that faint, far-off call for help, fading in and out as her concentration continually faltered.
Vortok trudged forward, his steady pace never faltering save for when he shook his great shoulders to shrug off the gathering snow; Balir anchored her in place each time to keep her from falling. Though her front and back were warm, her legs felt frozen, and her exposed skin was numb from being blasted by wind and snow. She tried not think about it, tried not think about what might happen if they didn’t find shelter soon. Instead, she focused on Vortok, who’d so selflessly suffered the pain of shifting into his beast form to aid her, and on the feel of Balir’s body pressed against her back.
At some point, she realized the sky had darkened. She couldn’t recall if the change had been gradual, and after straining — and failing — to remember, she decided it wasn’t important. What mattered was the rapid drop in temperature that accompanied the encroaching darkness.
“We n-need sh-shelter.” She’d tried to shout, but her words came out wavery and weak.
Balir released his hold on Vortok with one hand, running his palm over her exposed skin. His touch was scalding, though his body was shivering against hers. “Aduun! She cannot continue like this!”
Aduun yelled something, but she couldn’t make out his words.
Vortok’s muscles trembled. He turned, veering off the course they’d been following, and sped his pace. It was jolting; she jounced atop him, and the impact caused prickly pulses throughout her body, tingling bursts of sensation like a thousand needles dancing on her skin.
They stopped suddenly. Balir sat up, allowing the chill wind to sweep across her back. A deep shudder wracked her, and she clenched Vortok’s mane as though it could provide relief.
Several hands touched her; she felt them as little more than dull pressure on her cold-numbed skin. Together, Aduun and Balir pulled her down from atop Vortok, and she found herself sagging against Aduun’s broad chest. He held her for a moment. She buried her face against him, seeking desperately the warmth that hid beneath the ice dusting his short fur.
“Stay with her,” Aduun commanded. She felt the words rumbling through his chest.
Distantly, she felt her body moved, passed to someone else. She recognized Balir through the smooth texture of his scales against the few patches of skin on which she maintained some degree of feeling.
He sat down, drawing her onto his lap, and wrapped his arms and legs around her. Despite the warmth coming from him, she couldn’t stop shivering. She pressed her face against his neck, panting in shallow breaths. Each inhalation felt like the points of countless knives stabbing her throat and lungs.
“Do you hear me, Nina?” Balir asked.
“Y-yes,” she replied, eyelids too heavy to lift.
“I am s-staying w-with you.” His stammering reminded her that he was affected by the cold, too. Could it kill him like it was killing her? “Stay with me, too.”
She battled the exhaustion threatening to overtake her. She was so tired, but she couldn’t sleep. Not now, not yet. She needed to stay awake for Balir.
“T-Tell m-m-me something about y-you b-before th-the change,” she said.
His hold on her tightened. Dimly, she sensed his internal struggle, sensed him reaching for something to say, combing over memories that were already old long before humans ever crashed on Sonhadra.
“I had the sharpest eyes of all our t-tribe,” he finally said.
Nina had known that, hadn’t she? She’d heard it somewhere…
“I was called upon f-for every hunt,” he continued, “because I c-could spot prey before anyone else. I was called upon often to w-watch, b-because I could notice danger before anyone else. I took great pride in my gift. M-My people were grateful for my contributions.”
She frowned. That had been taken from him. Kelsharn had taken his sight, had taken those eyes that had once been so sharp, so perceptive.
“But my true joy was n-not in the hunt. The others defined me by what I could see…but I was driven more by w-what I could not. Many times, before and after I-I w-was grown, I would visit the clan’s rokahn. I begged her for stories. S-Stories of our people, stories of our lands, stories of Sonhadra. I w-would t-try to picture those stories in m-my mind, longing to see them with more clarity than with which I saw the w-world around me.
“At first, the r-rokahn must’ve thought me a nuisance, but she always t-told me a story before she sent me away, and I have held th-those stories in my heart even after Kelsharn changed me. At the worst of times, I-I recall th-those tales and know that my p-people have struggled through much. That we have endured. We have known great hardship, we have made great s-sacrifices, but we will always endure.
“And so will you, Nina.” He lightly grazed the tips of his claws over her forehead and combed them through her hair. “Y-You are ours, and you will endure with us.”
Nina clutched at him with her numb, stiff fingers, and rested her head against his neck. “Y-You will h-h-have t-to tell me th-those s-stories.”
“I w-will tell you all of them, in time.”
He continued to speak to her, his voice preventing her from tumbling over the edge into unconsciousness, as Vortok and Aduun worked nearby. She only caught glimpses of them, occasionally heard their shouts to one another or saw sprays of snow and dirt in the air. What were they doing?
She was too tired to guess. The edges of her vision were dim; she couldn’t tell if it was because the sky was darkening further, or she was slipping away. She just needed some rest…
Balir’s strong hands brought her back to the moment, rubbing warmth into her arms and legs. His touch brought pain — the friction between his palms and her skin produced heat that felt like it would sear her flesh — but that pain heightened her awareness. She battled her uncooperative eyelids, fought to keep her head upright, and latched onto the underlying thoughts thrumming from her valos.
—to the fires with you, Kelsharn—
—will rip this world apart—
—Sonhadra will not take her—
Their combined rage was colder than normal, but it wasn’t because of the weather. It was tempered by their determination, by their mutual adoration of Nina, by their concern for her wellbeing and the sense of helplessness they each harbored.
Time seemed to ha
ve lost meaning. Every minute could have been an hour, every hour a lifetime; all she knew was that at some point Balir rose and picked her up. Many hands touched her, and despite her numbness, she knew them by feel; the long, graceful fingers of Balir, the strong, sure palms of Aduun, and the rough-skinned, gentle hands of Vortok.
Together, they moved her through an opening in the snow, entering some sort of shelter. The wailing wind immediately lost its strength and volume. It was an instant improvement for her chilled skin. She shifted her head, taking in her new surroundings. They’d dug into the dirt, creating a deep rut in the ground with a roof of packed snow over the top of it.
Someone carefully lifted the strap of her bag over her head, and the next thing she knew, she was being laid down on something soft. She lowered her hand to brush her stiff fingers over it, but her fingertips were too numb to discern any detail. It would only take a small amount of strength to turn her head and see what was beneath her.
Instead, her eyelids drifted shut. The valos spoke. Their voices swirled around her, sounding as though they came from a great distance away. She tried to lift her hand, to move her leg, to do anything, but her limbs were heavy and unresponsive.
It would only take a small amount of strength…
But finally, Nina succumbed to her exhaustion.
Aduun frowned as Nina slipped away. He crouched beside her and pressed his fingers to her throat; her life beat was as weak and slow as the pulsing of his own heart.
“We need to warm her,” he said, though the words were unnecessary. They all knew.
Vortok crawled forward. The shelter was too low for any of them to stand up, Nina included, but all that had mattered was making it big enough for them to fit inside. To save her. The big valo turned her gently onto her side, wrapped his arms around her, and drew her back against his chest.
Unleashed Page 13
