by K. Panikian
“Astrid,” Julian groaned.
“Yes, yes. More,” I panted.
He stood and carried me out of the pond, the water cascading down our skin. He sat on the grassy bank, holding me in his lap, and we kissed. We moved urgently and slowly, noses brushing and lips devouring. I inhaled his musky scent, mixed with peppermint from the soap. My blood sang as he explored my mouth and my neck, licking and sucking. I swept my fingers across his damp torso and stroked into the blond hair that covered his muscular chest.
When I pushed him all the way back onto the grass, he pulled me down with him.
Chapter 18
Another week passed and there was still no sign of the smoking mountain. We headed steadily west each day, our packs lightening a little as we ate through our freeze-dried food and the jerky. We started relying more and more on foraged plants and vegetables, so some days were hungrier than others. We munched on dandelion roots as we walked, and raw walnuts when we found them on the tall trees along the rivers and lakes we passed.
The steppe became more broken up by small copses and groves. I could see ahead the green blur of endless trees and knew we’d be in the forest soon.
A couple of cloudy days in a row caused the vista to blur, so we relied more on the compass. Then the gray haze cleared.
I unzipped the tent that morning and looked automatically to the west. When I saw the purple and brown mountain range on the horizon, the peaks still soft and smooth in the distance, I gasped. Julian moved instantly to my side, his eyes scanning the campsite for trouble. When he saw where I pointed, he groaned and said plaintively, “Astrid, you scared the hell out of me.”
He collapsed back onto our sleeping bags and tugged me down beside him, burying his whiskered chin in my neck and snoring loudly.
I reached around his broad chest and hugged him close, excited. The mountains!
Julian murmured, “You know, we’re still probably another week away.”
Patting his back, I said, “Shhh. Contain your morning grumpiness. I’m excited.”
He rolled us so he sprawled on top, looking intently down at me. “How excited?”
ON the move later that morning, I kept looking up to check the range for any smoking mountains, feeling anticipation thrum through me.
That day I killed two rabbits, flushed from under a bush by a creek, and we found a patch of mushrooms that I knew would taste delicious with the rabbits if we made a stew. I still had some wild onion from a patch we found yesterday. What I wouldn’t give for some crusty bread? I planned the meal in my head until Julian gripped my arm and pulled me slowly down into a crouch.
I looked questioningly at him and he whispered, “Look. To the southwest.”
Glancing where he pointed, I saw a herd of steppe horses galloping west. Julian pulled binoculars from his pack, checked the herd, and then handed them to me. I focused on the swiftly moving animals and my heart froze. Not horses.
A herd of todorats thundered through the grassland, at least seven of them—too many demons for us to handle. I couldn’t affect them directly with my air elemental powers. I could only shoot them with my arrows, or try and drop something heavy on them. Julian could fight a couple of them at a time with his sword and super strength. But, in the meantime, the rest of the herd would stomp up an earthquake. We needed to stay out of sight.
“If the besy are responding to Abaddon’s call, like the rusalka said, there may be more of them. We need to be more alert,” Julian said.
I nodded.
We waited, crouching, until the todorats were a distant blur and then started moving again.
I carried my bow in one hand and an arrow in the other, ready to nock it. Julian carried his spatha unsheathed.
We stopped for the night in a glen beside a tinkling creek. Julian skinned the rabbits and then I made my stew. We stayed watchful and discussed how to be safer in our campsites.
“My only defensive magic is my air shield,” I said, “and, as you know, I can only hold that for about thirty seconds.”
Julian stared down at the skinning knife he spun slowly through his fingers. “What about defensive traps or alarms? We only need the warning that something is in the camp, so we’re not caught sleeping.”
Thinking back, I tried to recall what Rurik would do when we scouted the woods around the citadel. I said slowly, “If there were any thorny bushes nearby, we could pile them high around the tent.”
“That’s a good idea! Anything else?”
“If we had string, or long vines, we could set up trip wires, preferably with something noisy attached to them, like our mugs or our silverware.”
“Yes, I like it.”
We decided to look for thorny bushes. Staying together, we hunted the woods and built a layer of sharp thorns surrounding our campsite, wider rather than taller. Something would have to jump very far to breach it.
It was exhausting and sweaty work. When we finally crawled into the tent, moving the last pieces to cover the entrance behind us, I told Julian we should keep thinking about other ideas. Julian agreed.
Without gloves to protect our hands, we were both pretty sliced up. We put some antibiotic cream on our cuts and then cuddled up.
I felt anxiety about sleeping and about what we’d encounter the next day. Our trek before felt like a jaunt through the countryside, and now we were in for the grim work of sneaking and hiding and probably, fighting. Plus, at some point, there would be a dragon. I fell asleep that night to visions of stomping todorats and Julian disappearing into the mist, leaving me again.
IN the morning we had no new ideas to defend our camp, so we started hiking and whenever we saw a climbing vine snaking around a tree, after first checking with me to make sure it wasn’t poisonous, Julian pulled it down, coiled it, and hung it from his backpack.
The woods continued to grow denser the farther west we went. We could no longer see the western mountain range through the spruce and pine and Julian checked our path with his compass often. In the forest, we had to take more of a meandering path to get around giant trees, giant fallen trees, and giant boulders.
Flushing a pair of squirrels out of a tall spruce, I hit them with two quick arrow strikes. Squirrels weren’t my favorite dinner, but small game was getting scarcer the deeper into the forest we traveled. We did find a blue honeysuckle shrub and I filled a pouch with the dark blue, rectangular berries, after we stuffed our faces with the tangy treats.
Late that afternoon as we started to flag, I noticed Julian eyeing some of the large, fallen trees around us. Eventually, we stopped in an open glade, dropping our packs and stretching.
I started to gather rocks for a fire circle and Julian pitched the tent in the grass. While I skinned the squirrels, Julian paced around the glade. He crisscrossed his arms back and forth a few times, stretching, strode to the woods that skirted the open space, and started pulling a large, downed tree into the open.
His arm muscles bulged and strained but he moved the tree easily. He placed it only a few yards behind our tent, and then he went back the tree line and grabbed another.
By the time I had our squirrel stew simmering away, tossed with some more of those mushrooms, fully three-quarters of our campsite was enclosed by a head-high wall of dead trees and logs. Julian made a stack of woody debris to close off the final opening later, and then dropped by the fire beside me, panting.
I gave him the water canteen, which he gulped from thirstily.
“Can you do that every day? Or will your magic muscles get depleted?”
Grinning at me, he said, “I can do it every day, as long as there are enough logs around. It won’t work for a long-term shelter; most of the logs are rotting and weak. But I think it’ll stop any large animal or demon from snatching us unaware while we sleep.”
I agreed. I already felt much safer, having the log wall at my back.
“You’re pretty handy.” I nudged him with my knee.
When we were done eating, I rose to get s
ome more water for cleaning up and to boil for our canteens. We picked our campsites based on their proximity to springs and creeks, so I knew which direction to walk.
“Wait a second,” Julian called as I walked from the fire. “I’ll come with you.” Strapping on his spatha, he strode to my side.
The sun still brightened the sky, but filtered through the tall conifers, the forest floor was dim, dappled with splashes of golden light. Finding the spring, I knelt to fill my containers. Julian stood at my back, scanning the woods around us.
Returning to the tent, Julian walked in front and I watched my feet to make sure I didn’t trip on a root and spill everything. When Julian stopped suddenly, I nearly crashed into his back, almost spilling everything anyway.
He held up his hand, motioning me to stay behind him, and whispered, “Bauk.”
Peering around his side, I saw our tent and campfire in the middle of the glade, with Julian’s debris wall almost enclosing it. In the front a bauk crouched, poking at my pack with its long, sharp claws. Its light brown fur looked matted and long and its curling horns gleamed a dirty yellow in the pale light.
“Alone?” I whispered. Bauks were solitary demons, but Abaddon’s magic had been forcing them to join with the other besy in the Black God’s fight against the Varangians.
Julian shrugged.
Putting down the water, I pushed my hands in front of me, sending out a pulse of inquiry into the air. In the rebound, I felt only the bauk’s heartbeat and smelled its foul breath.
“Just the one,” I confirmed to Julian in a murmur. My bow and quiver were in the campsite, but I had a knife in my waistband. I drew it slowly and silently.
The bauk continued to shamble around, its long arms brushing the ground. Julian stepped forward and a stick snapped. The bauk’s head rose and it looked directly across the clearing at us. Yellow eyes glowing, it bared its fangs, letting out a coughing roar.
Before I had time to blink, it charged us. Julian ran forward to meet it, drawing his spatha and I skirted around them to get to my bow.
The bauk tried to grab Julian with its long arms and Julian dodged, then slashed at it with his sword. The bauk shrieked and spun away, then charged again. It lowered its head to crash into Julian, horns first, and Julian braced himself, locking his legs with one slightly in front of the other, his knees flexed, and his forearms at his chest.
I was almost to my bow, but I wouldn’t make it in time. I held my breath.
The bauk crashed into him and I saw Julian’s eyes flare blue. Then the monster rebounded hard from Julian’s clenched arms and landed in the grass, dazed, its arms and legs splayed out awkwardly.
Julian walked calmly over to it and cleanly chopped off its head.
Exhaling, I left my bow where I’d almost reached it and walked to Julian’s side. He rubbed his forearms where he’d taken the hit from the bauk’s curling horns. They were red and would probably bruise, but not too badly, hopefully. I saw no broken skin.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” I said softly when I reached his side.
He grimaced. “I don’t like to. It hurts, and it’s hard to force myself to stand there and not dive out of the way.”
“I bet,” I said feelingly. “You’re getting really good at beheading monsters though.”
He smiled sheepishly at me, still rubbing his arms.
We walked warily to where I’d left the water containers and then back to our camp. I stoked the fire up and boiled the drinking water while Julian cleaned his sword. Then he dragged the bauk by its legs out of the glade and tossed it deep into the woods. The head followed a moment later.
When we were all set, Julian pulled the remaining logs in front of the fire, closing us in entirely. I could see glimpses of grass and trees through chinks in the debris layers, but inside I felt safe and secure.
I banked the fire and followed Julian into the tent, exhausted but feeling more relaxed than I did the previous night.
I nuzzled into Julian’s warm body. The nights were cooler in the forest; the ground didn’t bake all day in the sun like on the steppe.
“I’m sorry,” Julian said. “I think my arms aren’t in any shape to hold you right now.”
“Don’t worry,” I murmured, scooting down his sculpted body. “I’ll do everything. You relax.”
I didn’t hear his whispered response.
Chapter 19
A few days later, we were still deep in the boreal forest. Julian was an expert now at building quick wooden barricades for our campsites, and we hadn’t seen any more monsters after the bauk surprised us snooping around the camp.
I chafed though, at the fact that we couldn’t see the mountain range anymore. The trees loomed so tall and the canopy above was so crowded with boughs that we could barely see the sky, let alone the horizon. I had to hope that it cleared at some point so we could look for the smoking mountain.
We kept alert as we walked, knowing that every step moved us a little bit closer to Abaddon’s stronghold. It was wearing; our hypervigilance was taking a toll.
We reached a ravine and looked down to find a path to descend. At the bottom a river flowed, fast and narrow. It looked deep, a frothing blue-white color. It crashed and swirled through the tight canyon and looked unpassable.
Peering north, I didn’t see an easier crossing. To the south, I could hear a roaring waterfall. I pointed in that direction and Julian nodded. We picked our way down the steep ravine slope and then skirted the river, heading for the roar.
When we reached the cliff where the waterfall dropped away, I realized it was an impasse. The cliff face fell nearly sheer, and it extended for miles. The valley opened below us at the base of the waterfall though, and I could see, finally, the mountain range we’d been steadily marching toward. It was still some distance away, but now, instead of a gray-brown mass, I could see distinct snowy peaks and crags. I saw no smoke rings, but I felt renewed hope that we were getting close to our destination.
The falls thundered and, mesmerized, I watched the water drop into space. The breeze kicked moisture back onto us. Way down below, I saw a rainbow in the waterfall’s spray where it hit the river.
We needed to descend to the valley floor and cross the river, which was wider and much slower below us, carving through the vast, open landscape.
We would have to hug the cliff and look for a spot to climb down.
Julian led the way and I followed, trying to see a path down. I remembered my rock-climbing date with Josh before I left Anchorage, laughing softly to myself. If only I’d known! I would have paid more attention to the footwork and less to my charming companion. I kept those thoughts to myself now though.
The footing was slick near the waterfall. We slithered carefully past the spray and then started hiking along the top of the cliff, not stepping too close to the edge in case the rocks crumbled.
We walked for nearly an hour before Julian finally stopped and gestured below. “It’s turning into more of a boulder and gravel slope here, but with our packs, we risk losing our balance and tumbling all the way to the bottom.”
I looked where he pointed and then toward the base where we needed to end up. It was probably close to a mile. Squinting at the distance, I said, “I can float the packs down.”
Julian looked at me, surprised. “That far?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, that far, and probably a little farther, though I haven’t tested myself in about a year, not since I launched the Greek fire cauldrons at the citadel.”
Julian nodded. “Okay, if you get the packs down there, I think we can clamber down along this line. We’ll scramble over the boulders at the top. The loose scree though, below the boulders, is unstable. We’ll have to go back and forth across the slope, not walk straight down, otherwise it’ll be too steep and we’ll just avalanche ourselves. Rock-a-lanche.”
I smiled at his lame joke, patting his shoulder, and pulled off my pack.
“We’re also going to knock a lot of the san
d and gravel loose as we go down, so don’t drop the packs at the base; they might be buried by the time we get down.” Julian scanned the incline below. “Can you put them there, on top of that large rock?” He pointed at a colossal boulder at the base of the steep slope.
“Sure.”
We grabbed our water canteens and the last of the M&Ms to fortify ourselves. Then I braced my feet and pulled the air to surround the packs. The blue filaments encircled them and I pushed away and lifted. The backpacks rose into the air and then streaked down the slope. Toward the bottom, I reached about the limits of my control, so I slowed their speed considerably.
I strained, rising to my toes as sweat gathered on my neck, and gently floated the packs the last few yards to rest on top of the large boulder. To stretch the filaments that far, to thin them and still keep them strong, was a challenge. Before we left Terra Novum, I’d been working on extending my reach. But it wasn’t something I’d practiced in a while now. I resolved to get back at it.
Julian kissed the top of my head and we started down the steep incline. For the first part of the journey, the slope was a jumbled pile of large and smaller boulders. We slowly climbed up and down, up and down, sometimes stretching with a hand here and a foot over there to clamber to the next perch. It was strenuous, but also kind of fun.
The scree traverse, however, was much trickier. Every stride required an effort to keep myself upright and not sliding down the incline. We created a cascade of loose rock and gravel and it was easy to imagine myself tumbling down exactly like a rock. The dust coated my legs and the back of my throat.
Julian walked in front, trying to make a path to follow, but I still slipped and slid anyway.
When we finally reached the bottom, I was a sweaty, dirty mess. Julian didn’t look much better than me—his face streaked with gray grime and his clothes puffed clouds of dust every step he took.
We marked the tall boulder where our packs waited, showing our future selves where to climb to return to the eastern path. Then we walked down to the riverbank to wash off.
