The Abyss

by Lily Archer

“‘Beast,’ he says. ‘Beast.’ I’m magnificent, and this creature dares to refer to me as a beast.”

  Beth leans forward and scratches the top of his head. “He doesn’t mean it. You’re beautiful.”

  “I am.” He prances a bit as Beth leans back.

  “Stop hurting his feelings,” she whispers.

  I can’t be bothered to respond about the unicorn’s feelings, especially when he’s been making lusty advances toward my mate ever since we saddled him up. But I do care about Beth’s. Wrapping my arms around her, I nuzzle her hair. “Don’t be afraid. I’m with you. We will get through the Abyss, all right?”

  “I kind of hate spiders.” She makes a yick noise. “I also hate the phrase ‘gaping maw,’ but that’s neither here nor there.”

  “You’re safe with me. And I won’t even use that phrase.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” Magic zings between us as the last light of the sun dies.

  “We should make camp,” Chastain calls.

  “Fine by me.” I point to one of the few tall dunes left, the vines overtaking the smaller ones. “There.”

  “These plants are weird.” She peers over Iridiel’s side as I guide him off the road. “They move, and it’s like—I don’t know—like they’re watching us.”

  I have the same feeling, but I don’t want to spook her any more. “I’m sure they’ll mind their business once we get the fire going. I’d hate to see all of them go up in flames.” I say it louder than I need to, but I could swear the nearest vines shrink back even more, their dark green leaves folding in on themselves.

  The creak of the wagon increases, and I steer Iridiel to the side as Parnon passes. Once he’s stopped, I dismount and lift Beth to the ground.

  She stretches again, her back popping. “I’m already sore. How many more days until the Abyss?”

  “Four.” Chastain leaves his unicorn next to ours.

  “My ass will never recover.” She looks up at the dark night sky.

  I wave my hand across her backside, and she jolts.

  “Hey, you shouldn’t be wasting magic like that.”

  “What?” I turn and head to the wagon.

  “You know what, my lord.” She follows me, her petulant footsteps bringing a smile to my face. “You can’t just go healing my ass every time I complain about it taking a pounding.”

  Iridiel snorts, Parnon sighs, and I do my best not to laugh.

  She must see my shoulders shaking as I reach up to take supplies from the wagon, because she says, “Oh, you know what I meant! I wasn’t saying that you made my ass sore. Or that you’ve been, you know, pounding my ass. That’s not what—”

  “For the record, I’ve been the one pounding that fine, fine ass,” Iridiel calls as the other unicorns snicker.

  “Ugh!” She stomps off as I help unload the camping supplies for the night.

  I count the sleeping pallets and help the others with the stew cauldron. “We’re going to need more—” Turning, I take off at a run. I don’t hear Beth’s distress as much as I feel it through the bond.

  “Gareth, what is it? What’s wrong?” Chastain follows at my heels as I climb the tall dune and stare southward. When I see movement in the vines several yards away, I dash down the sandy slope, Chastain still with me, and thunder over the reaching greenery. Drawing my sword, I chop the way clear ahead of me until I reach a writhing mass of leaves that seems to be roiling away, back toward the craggy hills ahead of us.

  “Beth!” I grab the thickest vines and yank them loose.

  Chastain goes to her other side and does the same. We rip and claw until I see her face, her eyes wide. Gripping the vines across her mouth, I yank them back.

  Her scream is a relief. She’s alive. Scared, but alive. The vines are all around us now, some of them slithering up my legs and trying to bind me. My sword makes quick work of them, but there’s always more, the woody stems lashing around me and growing thicker by the second. I keep ripping them from Beth until I can encircle her waist with one arm and pull her free.

  I spin my sword in my other hand and bring it down hard on the vines in front of us. They retract for a moment, then re-fortify and come for us.

  “Chastain.” I look around for him, but he’s encased in vines the same as Beth was. He still fights, but the vines are winning, and soon they’ll still his sword hand.

  “Parnon!” Beth yells into the night as she clings to me, but we’re too far from camp.

  I swing my sword again and again, but the vines never stop. They’re endless, flowing over the sand from the dark green hills to the south.

  “Parnon!” she screams again. “They’ve got my ankles.” She kicks and tries to free herself as I swing and pull her forward, trying to head back to camp. “Gareth, I can’t move.” The panic in her voice pulls the feral to the fore, my claws lengthening.

  “Take this.” I hand her my sword, but she can barely lift it, and the vines are quickly overtaking her. “Hold onto it for me while I trim the greenery.”

  I kiss her ashen lips and dart away from her as the feral rips through me. I land on my paws and whirl on the vines, my claws out as I swipe, cut, and destroy. The attack is working, but the vines are growing thicker, as if sending reinforcements. I can barely see Chastain, and Beth’s legs are too wrapped for her to move.

  The feral whispers what I need to do. What I have to do. But Chastain is too far away. If I unleash my magic, I’ll kill him. I’ve only ever been able to protect Beth, and that was just one time. What if I hurt her?

  I keep clawing and biting the vines as they whip at me, lashing against my fur and leaving bruises with each strike. There are too many, and I realize they’ve been pulling us farther and farther from the camp this entire time. My magic. It’s the only way. I fight to Beth and wrap myself around her. With a roar I reach inside myself and dip my hand into the well of magic. I grab the tendrils and pull, destruction eddying in swirls through me.

  “Chastain, I’m so sorry,” I want to tell him, but I can’t. I must save my mate.

  My magic builds, and I crouch low as I summon it. It’s almost free when the sun rises. No, not the sun, but a light just as bright. It blooms in stunning shades of gold and white, the beams rushing over us and sending the vines skittering back. They seem to dissolve, going up in smoke as they unwind and try to escape. But they aren’t fast enough. Their onslaught was too much, and they can’t retreat quickly enough to avoid the burning light.

  Beth is freed, and she climbs onto my back. I rise and turn toward Chastain. He slices the retreating vines, but there’s no need. Any greenery close to the light turns into gray soot.

  The light begins to fade, and a figure emerges from the glow.

  “So, you’re a tiger, eh?” Iridiel digs his hoof into a pile of gray ash, his blue eyes laughing. “Ever been mounted by a unicorn? Could be fun. I’m game if you are.”

  12

  Beth

  “Why does everything want to kill us?” I pet Iridiel and feed him a juicy bit of waterberry. “I mean, those vines could’ve offered to build us a shelter for the night or, I don’t know, asked if we needed help with our washing or cooking or given us directions on how to survive the Abyss. But no, they tried to kill us.”

  “It’s the way of Arin.” Iridiel chews the fruit, then lolls his tongue out for another.

  “He’s had half the supply,” Gareth grumbles and fusses with our sleeping pallet.

  “He saved our lives.” I stroke his snout and do the baby talk he likes. “Didn’t you, you sweet wittle unicorn?”

  “I did.” He chews another giant waterberry. “Not to mention I scared off the houndlike creature that was coming for you.”

  “What?” I can feel the blood drain from my face. “What did you say?”

  “There was a huge black wolf thing bounding across the vines toward you. My light had it tucking its tail and running.” A dribble of waterberry juice runs down his jowl.

  A familiar,
lingering dread sours my stomach, and I glance at the scars on my arms, noticing them for the first time in a while.

  “You know that creature, I take it?” Iridiel slurps unceremoniously. “Judging by the greenish look on your face, I assume it wasn’t a pleasant acquaintance?”

  “Kizriel is a vampire hound. I was his favorite snack for years.” I rub my eyes. “He’s still on my trail.”

  “I will kill that beast.” Gareth peers around, though we can’t see much in the dark.

  “Well, you won’t get the chance since I handled the vines and the vampire hound thing.”

  “I was about to take care of it.” Gareth fluffs my makeshift pillow, frowns when it goes flat, then fluffs it so hard I fear he might pound it into nothing. “My magic was there, ready to go. We didn’t need a glowing horned buffoon to barge in when I had it under control.”

  “I know you were going to come through.” I suppose I’ll have to pet both my beasts, given the way Gareth is pouting. “But it was kind of Iridiel to help us out.”

  Iridiel snags the last of the waterberries from my hand and says as he chews, “This horn is for more than handjobs, though I wouldn’t turn one down if you—”

  “Beth, time for rest.” Gareth sits heavily and pats the blanket beside him.

  We have a watch set up to keep an eye on the vines and any other intruders, so the rest of us can sleep safely.

  “Goodnight.” I pat Iridiel once more, then drop to my knees beside Gareth. “You could be a little more grateful.”

  “I’m grateful. I thanked him. But I don’t see the need for handfeeding him when he’s perfectly capable of feeding himself.” He pulls me to his chest as he lies down on his side.

  I scoot up so we’re nose-to-nose. “Do you want me to handfeed you? Is that it?” I pet his hair. “I can stroke you, too.” I kiss his nose. “Give you all the special treats your kitty heart desires.”

  His lips twitch, but he doesn’t break.

  I scratch behind his ears. “Good kitty. The best kitty. My hero kitty.”

  He rolls me onto my back. “Such a cheeky changeling.” He kisses me, then pulls back. “You know I will keep you safe, right?”

  “I know.” I return his kiss and nibble his lip. “Don’t be mad that the unicorn stole your glory.”

  “I’m not mad.” He wrinkles his nose.

  “Okay. You’re not mad.” I nod, knowing full well he’s totally mad.

  “I mean, he just gloats and gloats, is all. A true hero wouldn’t do that. He’s just a … a showboat. And I’m your mate. I think about you every second. My need to claim you is almost more than I can bear. And I need you to know that I will give my life for you. I can protect you.”

  “I know.” I stroke his back and drop gentle kisses on him. “I know you can. I’ve never doubted that, and I never will.”

  Back when Leander and Taylor were doing their mating dance, I used to think it was ridiculous that Leander would get so worked up. He would act a fool because Taylor was cockblocking their mating, and the need to claim her was frying his reasoning. He went from a fierce, logical king, to a jealous, possessive beast. But now, looking up into my wounded male’s eyes, I see the same haze. He’s struggling. Spires, I’m struggling. I’d like nothing more than to make the beast with two backs right here, and right now, but I can’t. Not yet. Instead, I soothe Gareth with kisses and affection, giving him the sort of love I’ve wished for my whole life. And what’s more, he returns it tenfold.

  I gently coax him off me and snuggle with him under the glittering stars. When I doze off, I know I’m safe. And more than that, I know I’m loved.

  “I hate these vines.” I eye them as we ride through the strange jungle. The dunes are far behind us, and we’ve been climbing up a steady incline for the past two days. One more day, and we’ll be at the end of the world, and hopefully, one with no deadly greenery. “I mean, what did these stupid vines want with me anyway? It’s not like they can eat me. What was their leafy plan?”

  “Maybe they wanted to make you their queen.” Iridiel leans down to sniff the mare in front of us. Again.

  I smack his side. “Keep your nose off her.”

  “Don’t be a boner-buffer.” He flips his perfect mane as the mare looks back at him.

  Chastain guffaws. “A boner-buffer. Why is it that unicorns are the cleverest, yet filthiest of all beasts?”

  “Jealous?” Iridiel sneers.

  Chastain shrugs. “You’re such beautiful creatures, but then you speak.”

  I turn and look back at Parnon. He lifts his chin at me in acknowledgement. Ever since the vines attacked, he’s been more watchful of me. I know why. He already lost the two changelings he was closest to. If he lost me—well, I don’t want to think about it. I give him a little wave and turn back around.

  “Generally, I’d be happy to rip the limbs off any male who watches you as closely as Parnon. But he’s different.” Gareth’s low rumble vibrates through me. “He’s afraid.”

  “I know. He’s like this hulking hardass. But underneath, there’s so much pain.”

  “Eldra and Nemar hit him hard.” Chastain gives a heavy sigh. “Hit us all hard, if I’m being honest. They were true friends, great warriors, and had hearts almost as big as Parnon’s. They were—” He stops speaking abruptly, emotion choking his words.

  I blink a few times, fighting back the wetness in my eyes. Gareth squeezes my hands, the reins in my grip. I rest against him. Sorrow is a heavy load, one that can only lighten with time.

  We ride for the rest of the day, the road winding its way through the low, twisted trees and the sea of greenery. The vines keep their distance, but I still give them dirty looks often. The sun has just set when a whistle from up ahead brings us all to a halt. It’s a warning sound from one of our scouts.

  Gareth tenses and wraps an arm around my waist, the other going to his sword.

  Chastain tucks his light hair behind his pointy ears, then cocks his head to listen. The jungle has been eerily quiet ever since we entered it, but now it carries an unsettled feeling. The silence a presence, one that watches and waits.

  Iridiel stamps a hoof, and I stroke his mane. “Calm,” I whisper.

  “Something’s coming.” Chastain draws his sword, as do all our companions. “Something big.”

  Parnon’s heavy steps come from behind as he walks to the front of our company, his fists already up.

  Iridiel lifts his nose, then exhales hard. “Trolls.”

  “Trolls don’t bother travelers.” Chastain slides from his unicorn and joins Parnon. “They keep to themselves, for the most part.”

  “They aren’t alone. Someone is controlling them.” Iridiel sniffs again. “High fae.”

  “I know of only one whose magic can control others in such a fashion.” Chastain brandishes his sword, aggression in his stance. “Zatran.”

  The ground begins to tremble, the vines retreating as thumping sounds push through the humid air.

  Gareth kisses my crown, then slides off Iridiel.

  “Hey.” I make to follow him, but he grips my thigh.

  “Stay here. I need to know you’re safe.” Turning to Iridiel, he says, “Keep her out of danger, and I’ll give you the entire stock of waterberries we have left.”

  “That’s a good deal, but do you think we could bargain for me mounting that sweet kitty you turn into when—”

  “Iridiel!” Gareth’s tone is almost as thunderous as the footsteps coming toward us.

  “Fine, waterberries. Deal.” He snorts as magic sizzles between them.

  “I will return.” Gareth stalks toward the front of our little caravan. “Blade and hand-to-hand fighters to the front! Magic wielders, form a circle around the unicorns and the wagon.”

  “What? Shouldn’t the magical ones go do some easy damage?” I absentmindedly stroke Iridiel to dull my worry. Gareth takes the lead, his sword high and his body taut. Thick muscles and his mane of dark hair—he is lickable. Spires, th
at male can light a fire in me even in times of ridiculous danger. Like now, with the ground rattling from heavy troll feet.

  “Trolls are immune to magic,” Iridiel answers.

  “Really?”

  “Don’t they teach you changelings anything?”

  “Well, no.” I lean forward, trying to see through the gloom. “Slaves aren’t allowed to read, and there’s no school unless you count sewing lessons or learning in the kitchen.”

  “And they say I’m a beast.” He snorts, but I can feel a tremor rush through him.

  “We’re safe.” I pat him. “Gareth is going to go on a murder spree. You’ll see.”

  “Good, maybe that’ll get rid of some of his sexual frustration.”

  “He’s not the only frustrated one.” I can almost make out figures through the trees, and the sound of tearing branches rips through the thudding sounds.

  “I know. You two should definitely fuck. I’ll watch. Maybe join in a little. We’ll have a good time.”

  “Ugh, unicorns.” I keep running my fingers through his off-limits mane, though. His filthy talk can’t hide his fear, and petting him helps assuage some of my own.

  “Forward!” Gareth cries and takes off at a run.

  “Running with a sword. Huh. Seems dangerous.” Iridiel can’t seem to stand still, his hooves stamping.

  “Calm down.” I feel it, too, though my fear is more of a worry for Gareth.

  He and the warriors disappear into the night, and shortly after the sounds of battle erupt. Roars that have me covering my ears shake the nearby trees, and the sound of cracking branches multiplies.

  The mare whinnies and starts backing up. “They’re going to kill us and eat us.”

  “Whoa.” I reach out and touch her flank. “Whoa, sweetheart. We’re safe. We’re fine. Steady on.”

  “Yarinna, love.” Iridiel nips her backside with his teeth. “Calm down.”

  “I can’t.” She backs up some more despite my petting and Iridiel’s soothing words. “I don’t want to die.”

  “Come here, love. Give me some horn.”

  “Now?” Despite her skeptical tone, she pauses. “Like, right now?”