by Ayer, T. G.
Lily frowned. “What information?”
“Your way out of here in case we don’t make it back,” said Cassandra, as if it were no big deal.
Lily went white. “What? she asked, her voice a little too high-pitched for comfort.
Both Anjelo and I shushed her. “Lily, keep it down,” I whispered. “Not even Illyria knows about this. We need you to have a way to get out of here if something does happen to us. Now relax and talk to Cassandra.” I nodded to the Sentinel agent, and she and Lily took a step away.
When I looked at Anjelo, I found him glaring at me. “What?” I asked.
“Why are you letting them talk without us?” he asked, his eyes still on Lily.
“Because it’s safer for Lily to be the only one to have the information. Besides, I don’t think Cassandra would have given the information to anyone who didn’t need it. And we don’t need it.”
Anjelo opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Good call.
***
Chapter 17
As the teams readied themselves to leave, Anjelo disappeared within the throng of bodies, only to return minutes later with three gigantic cloaks.
“These are for you. Essential wear for the journey.”
“Is it really necessary?” I asked. We’d already been given our own Wraith cloaks so we wouldn’t stand out among the rest of the army. I’d thrown the cloak on a little skeptically. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to be mistaken for a Wraith, but that certainly was a better option than being recognized as a human. That would likely mean instant incarceration or instant death, and I wasn’t sure which one I preferred.
“If you want to make it ten feet out the door, then yes,” said Anjelo. I made a face, swung the heavy fur-lined cloak over my shoulders, and fiddled with the ties. Once we were cloaked, Anjelo produced a set of fur-lined gloves for each of us. “The terrain is vicious. We’ll be walking through blizzards, so we need to be warm enough. We don’t want to freeze to death before we get your mother home.”
I nodded, wishing we could just get on with it. “I’m assuming we have a coat and gloves for Mom, in case?” I asked.
Anjelo grinned. “Already taken care of.”
An increase in the noise around us announced the beginning of our departure, and we moved into the line of soldiers heading out the door and down the tunnel. Neither Cassandra nor I said much as we followed single file. My only prayer was that this whole arctic expedition wouldn’t be a waste of time. I just wanted to get Mom and get the hell out of here.
A blast of frozen air hit me in the face as the tunnel made a sharp left. A set of twelve-foot wooden doors, not unlike the pair that led in to the meeting hall, stood thrown wide open, letting in a mix of frigid air and swirling snow.
I shivered against the cold that had already managed to sneak beneath the thick furs. “This is going to be fun,” I muttered.
I heard Cassandra laugh beside me as I drew on the gloves and tightened the cloak around my shoulders. Then I followed Anjelo out the doors, stepping into the sludgy snow that already bore the tracks of the soldiers that had gone ahead of us. All I saw before me was Anjelo’s back as he hobbled forward, bent over against the driving snow. My vision blurred and I was sure my eyeballs would freeze over very soon. We walked for what seemed like hours, unable to talk, which didn’t matter much since our teeth chattered so hard that conversation would have been a little difficult. At last, the group stopped to rest with the strange lukewarm sun straight above us.
As we gathered together, I noticed one of Illyria’s generals had accompanied the team on the mission. The same one who’d glared at me so viciously in the meeting. Great. My jaw tightened as he sent me a look that felt colder than the frigid snow that fell around us.
He certainly wasn’t hiding the fact that he didn’t like us. Although, I assumed he had little choice but to obey his commander. He spoke to a few of the men near him before breaking away and coming over to our little group. Anjelo, Cassandra, and I were huddled close together to keep the wind at our backs. The strategy seemed to be working until the general arrived.
I nodded, keeping my features neutral. “General.”
“Odel.” He greeted me, then turned to Anjelo. When I’d first met him, I’d pegged him for a sexist, but it didn’t fit with him taking orders from a female. But I didn’t want to spend time trying to figure out what made General Wren’do tick. I turned my body a little to provide them some sort of privacy to have their male conversation. Cassandra rolled her eyes, clearly well aware of the Wraith’s attitude and opinion.
After a few moments, he left and Anjelo turned to us. He was about to talk when I said, “Since you’re talking to us, I assume we don’t need penises to respond.”
“Kai,” Anjelo admonished, his eyebrows reaching for his hairline. I wasn’t usually that crude in his presence.
I just grunted.
“Okay, I get that he’s a sexist asshole, but don’t shoot the messenger.” Anjelo raised both hands in defense.
Impatient to get on with it, I asked, “So what did he have to say?”
“He warned us to stay with the group, not to lag behind, and to tell him immediately if any of us feel we cannot go forward.”
“What? So he can have the last laugh and send the girls packing?” asked Cassandra before I could ask the same question.
“Not you too,” said Anjelo, rolling his eyes.
“Remember, I’ve been here almost as long as you have. I know very well the general’s opinion of weakling females.”
“Surely he doesn’t think Kai is a weak female.” Anjelo scoffed. “Anyone who saw the way she almost killed Illyria would know better, and Wren’do had a front row seat to that show.”
“Be that as it may,” Cassandra responded patiently, “the general still retains what is likely years of treating women as second-class citizens. I don’t doubt he finds it hard to follow Illyria’s commands, but I do believe he has some sort of connection to her father. There may be other political things afoot.”
I snorted. “Don’t tell me he wants her as his wife?”
“From what I’ve heard, that is a distinct possibility, but I don’t particularly care who he wants to marry. As long as he doesn’t make things more difficult for us. I wouldn’t put it past him to test us or to push us to our limits to see if we turn back.”
I stared at her, then at Anjelo. “So we’d better get used to suffering.”
“Something like that,” said Cassandra.
Anjelo was oddly quiet. Someone came round with mugs of what tasted like hot beer, which was pretty disgusting. I closed my nose and swallowed, aware the added warmth from the beer would be an advantage. This trek could soon turn into a game of survival for us.
“Well, team, let’s just keep our eyes open. This snow certainly isn’t making it any easier,” I said, trying to swallow the shiver running through me before it obliterated my words.
“Don’t worry. The snow will eventually let up once we reach the Dead Plains.” Anjelo seemed rather more upbeat than I would have expected, but I suspected he was pretending so we wouldn’t lose faith in the mission.
“What’s after the Dead Plains?” I asked, now a little more than curious.
“The Black Lake and then Wrygos,” Anjelo said before tipping the dregs of his drink onto the snow beside him. Cassandra and I did the same and handed the wooden mugs to the soldier who came around to take them away.
And then we were off again, walking half bent over against a wind that punched and pounded our bodies relentlessly.
***
A few hours passed before I noticed the snow and wind were both letting up their intensity. My body relaxed a little too, glad to not have to constantly fight the storm. We reached a low rise that led down into a shallow valley. The Dead Plains. And now I knew firsthand why it bore such a name.
The snow stopped just at the ridge and only the soldiers’ tracks in the black soil would let an observ
er know we’d trekked through a snowstorm.
The valley below was black. Hard-packed black soil covered the ground, glistening here and there where tiny pieces of stone gleamed. The valley was littered with dozens of leafless trees that seemed frozen forever in a gust of wind that no longer blew. The branches reached out like bony, burnt fingers, forever frozen, as if reaching out to the setting sun.
“The sun sets in the north, I see?” I asked Anjelo for confirmation, but I knew already it was true. The sun was high on our left and from its path looked likely to set in about six to eight hours. “How long have we walked?”
“In human time, six hours. In Wraith time, three.”
“Crap. Has it really been that long?” I asked. Then I stared out over the horizon. “You have to wonder why though.”
I must have stopped mid-thought because I heard Anjelo ask, “Why what?”
“Huh? Oh, I wonder why Widd’en’s army would choose a compound so far away from the Rebel army. Are they hiding? Is it a trap? Or is there some other reason?”
“We’d better walk and think about it. We’re getting left behind,” said Anjelo as he picked up the pace.
I glanced back to see only half a dozen soldiers coming up behind us. Then I broke into a jog down the hillside until I reached the bottom safely.
Anjelo checked for me over his shoulder, then said, “From the map, I remember once we cross the valley, we will reach the Black Lakes.” From Anjelo’s confidence, I knew he’d studied those maps well and I was glad.
I wanted to nod in answer but realized he wouldn’t see my reaction as I walked behind him. But all the same, I was thankful for his updates. It made the trip easier knowing we were continually making headway, getting close to freeing Mom.
We fell silent again as we picked our way across the parched black ground. Gigantic cracks ran through the soil, evidence the area was in the grip of a drought. No surprise then that the trees were well past dead. As we drew closer to a stand of trees, I reached out to run a finger over the dark bark. The trunk was rough and felt tree-like, although I found the experience slightly surreal as it looked like nothing I’d ever seen in my life. When I removed my hand, my skin came away black. “This is charcoal,” I said, talking mostly to myself as I hurried to catch up with Cassandra and Anjelo.
At the thud of my jogging footsteps, Anjelo turned and opened his mouth to speak. I never heard what he said. The low feral growl that rumbled through the air chilled the blood in my veins. The sound made the hair on my neck rise; worse, it made my feline hackles rise. When Anjelo turned his face, his chin raised to test the air with nostrils already half-transformed, I realized I’d done the very same thing without even thinking about it.
Instinct had taken over.
My ears had lengthened and furred, curved to pick up the smallest sound, and my nose had thickened, nostrils larger and deeper, eyes all panther, one hundred percent sensitivity. I smelled warm fur and hot breath and the spike of urine. My ears picked up the sound of rapid panting, of the wind through tightly packed fur, and of the odd whine that sounded so feral and so dangerous.
Wolves.
My eyes had widened, now larger and with a depth of vision I could only dream of in human form. I didn’t need to turn my head to know a pack of black wolves watched us from a nearby hilltop. But I turned anyway. More so I could memorize what they looked like.
It was their eyes that stopped me in my tracks.
Blood-red eyes.
***
The eyes, the smell, everything about the proximity of the wolves pulled at my senses. The need to change was all-encompassing and extraordinarily difficult to ignore. My inner cat clawed at me, snarling to be set free, but I did my best to ignore her. I glanced at Anjelo and he met my gaze, his brows furrowed with worry.
“You feel that?” I asked, keeping pace with him. He nodded, his expression somber and a little afraid as his gaze darted back and forth from the caravan of Wraiths in front of us and the shadows that lurked at the ridge alongside us.
The wolves kept pace, moving slowly with us, keeping near as we moved.
Cassandra drew closer as we hurried along the track. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Her eyes raked my face as if she would see something in my expression to answer her question.
“It’s the wolves,” I said softly, even though it was unlikely any Wraith either in front of us or behind would be able to hear. “There’s something about them that’s affecting both Anjelo and myself. I feel the pull to change and it’s so strong I can barely keep it controlled.” Even as I spoke the words, the force of the desire to change shocked me. I had very little control left, as if something had taken over me, making my need to transform the most important thing. I shuddered with the effort to tamp it down.
For a moment, Cassandra looked confused. She looked from me to Anjelo and back again. Her grey eyes darkened. “Change?” she asked, leaning a little closer, as if she suspected she might have misheard and needed confirmation. When I remained silent and just stared at her, her expression cleared, as if she’d realized she faced a Walker, and she nodded. “Oh, yes. I see. Are you going to be okay?”
I looked at her for a moment and decided honesty would be the best move right now. “Actually, I don’t know. Just be prepared if either one of us changes. We will need your help afterward.” I spoke, keeping an eye on our surroundings, every muscle and nerve ready to spring into action the moment the wolves attacked. Because if there was anything I knew, it was those wolves weren’t lurking just for fun. They meant business and right now they were just playing with us, biding their time until the right moment presented itself.
“Help?” Cassandra’s voice breached my thoughts.
“Yeah.” I laughed, but the sound was humorless and flat as a sudden gust of wind hit us. “We’ll both be buck naked so you may need to keep our clothing close by and help us change.”
“Oh,” she said as her cheeks bloomed with a touch of red. It wasn’t surprising, though; most people reacted in a similar fashion when they realized a Walker change meant nudity once that Walker transformed back into human form. Cassandra cleared her throat. “Sure. Clothing. Okay. I can do that.” She spoke as if she were trying to convince herself she could do it.
I put my hand on her forearm and gave her a quick encouraging smile. “Don’t worry. The first time is always the hardest. And I’m pretty sure I have everything you have.”
She snorted. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”
I laughed, the sound mirthless on the dead air. “Don’t worry too much about it. He looks pretty good under all those clothes.”
She snorted again. “That’s exactly what I am worried about.”
We both burst out laughing, and I enjoyed the tiny little island of distraction even though most of my mind remained on the wolves as they followed us along the ridge to our left.
“Anjelo,” I called to him, as he’d walked ahead of us, clearly struggling with the call of the changed. His fists were bunched, the knuckles of his fingers white. He slowed and met my gaze. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “I think so.” But the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t.
“Just be strong. There’s absolutely no need to change. They don’t seem too much of a threat. The team is too big for them to even consider attacking, so we should be fine. It’ll pass.” I reassured him, but I myself wasn’t so confident.
Even as we followed the line of soldiers across the black plain, the threat of the wolves was too strong to ignore. The scent they gave off was threatening, not a drop of fear or trepidation at all. And that worried me.
Feline or canine without fear meant the confidence to attack.
***
Chapter 18
The attack came so fast I almost didn’t notice the blur of bodies as they flew at the line of Wraiths trudging along the black soil.
I changed instinctively, muscles moving, stretching, growing in a blur of pain and electric pulses. My
clothing fell to the ground and I shook them off my back with a flick of my spine. With one part of my brain, I registered Cassandra’s shock, the taste of fear pulsing through her, her sweat, pungent and sweet. Another part of me saw a wolf up ahead run straight at a Wraith Rebel, taking him down with one blow, grabbing his neck and sinking sharp yellow teeth deep into his throat.
Black blood spilled, spurting onto black fur, dripping onto black soil.
Macabre.
Everything around me was a picture in black and white.
Except for the red eyes of those terrible wolves.
I also registered the wolves that headed straight for me. They seemed to have a plan, to attack me, but not one-on-one. Perhaps they sensed they had the advantage of numbers, as if they knew I was stronger than I looked. My lips rose, baring my teeth in a feline snarl. I shifted on my paws, adjusting my direction so I stared straight at the three wolves who faced me. They watch me, nostrils flared, teeth bared, muscles tight, and ready to pounce.
An arrow struck the wolf on the left, plunging deep into its side. The blow flung him sideways into his companion, the injured wolf giving one last pain-filled whine before its body spasmed and he fell to the ground.
The other two wolves ignored their brother, keeping their eyes on me. Another arrow came flying at them, landing in the hard black dirt just in front of the wolf straight ahead of me. It should have acted as a deterrent, but it seemed the wolves were driven by something stronger than just instinct, as if they had a deep need to take me down.
The strike of the arrow spurred the wolves to attack. They settled low on their haunches before launching themselves into the air, straight at me.
I, on the other hand, didn’t wait. Neither did I run. As soon as the wolves moved, I sprang, meeting the first one head on, paw to claw. We crashed into each other, landing on the ground and rolling along together, snarling and lashing out at each other.
My nostrils twitched as the wolf’s hot breath hit my nose. He huffed as he tried to right himself. I swiped at his face, leaving lines of black as my claws ripped through fur and skin, bringing fresh blood welling to the surface. The wolf yelped when I struck, then growled and pushed away, scrambling to get back upright.
