by Alana Serra
Her pulse pounded in her ears, her blood hot with the thrill of the hunt. All around her, Raknari stood with their own elk. Four in total, and with the buck it would be enough meat to last the entire Peak for a good, long while. It almost seemed too easy, and she looked at Loken in surprise.
“I didn’t expect to bring them down so quickly.”
“The first strike is always like this,” he said with a grin that seemed half-drunk. “Everyone has all of their energy and their wits about them. The next will be harder.”
He was right. The herd had scattered, bounding through the forest at a speed the hunting party couldn’t match. Especially when their Machai couldn’t weave between the trees as easily. Imara had no doubt the herd was regrouping somewhere, likely near a water source, but she never liked thinning their numbers too much. They needed to have enough to reproduce in the spring, and she and the Raknari did not need to take more than what would serve their people.
Their people. When had she started to think of them that way? They were so different from her. Even the women towered over her, their long ears giving their faces an almost regal appearance. But there were enough similarities that she’d begun to overlook the differences. And right now, on this hunt, they might as well have been the same.
She directed them away from the thicket, toward an open meadow that was downwind. Any creatures lurking nearby would see them, but it also gave a clear view of the valley below. She could see signs of bear activity, but also foxes and a few other animals.
“It would be a great honor to take down a bear in Tiva’s name,” Loken said, riding up beside her on his new mount. “Perhaps the pelt could be made into a whelping blanket for her cubs.”
The thought of that warmed Imara’s heart. She’d always believed that hunting should serve a purpose, and if she was going to kill an animal, she intended to use as much of it as she could. The idea that they could help provide for Tiva’s cubs seemed a fitting tribute, but she wasn’t sold on taking down a brown bear.
“Have you ever hunted one before? I thought the Raknari avoided them.”
“We do,” came a woman’s voice. She’d ridden close to Loken for the journey and came up beside him now. “But we have a strong party here. If a bear crosses our path, we will be ready for it.”
They did move with an efficiency she hadn’t seen in her fellow humans, and she was still feeling the surge of adrenaline from successfully bringing down that buck. Perhaps it wasn’t a wise decision, but if the others believed in it, who was she to disagree.
“What do the rest of you think?” she asked, turning in the saddle. “Should we take down a bear?”
The roar of encouragement made her laugh. If there were any bears nearby, they’d just been alerted to their presence. But it was hard not to let their enthusiasm affect her, and she coordinated with Loken to find the best route into the valley. She spotted a den on the way down, but shied away from it. It was spring now—though one would never be able to tell from the constant cold—and close enough to the time when some mothers might have cubs. Mother bears were infinitely more dangerous than the larger males, and she wasn’t interested in dooming cubs because they’d senselessly decided to kill the mother.
She searched for signs of other bears and found tracks leading to the river. She could hear water flowing, this particular source not frozen over. More signs of bear activity were evident the closer they got, and she dismounted to organize everyone into a cohesive group. As she led them toward the river, though, the weather took a turn for the violent.
Storm clouds gathered out of nowhere, rushing overhead with a swiftness Imara had never seen before. She knew instinctively that it had been caused by someone’s powers—possibly her own. She didn’t feel like she’d lost control of them, but maybe the tight, coiling nerves she felt were causing the sky to darken, lightning striking from cloud to cloud.
“Sorry, I think I might be causing that,” she said sheepishly.
Loken shook his head, his whole body held rigid, a spear appearing in his hand. “I don’t think so.”
Her heart pounded and she took her bow from her back. Were there rival clans of Raknari? Pariahs who might attack a hunting party? There had to be, because the Svag didn’t have any powers. That was their whole motivation for attacking.
Imara could feel the runes on her skin pulse, anticipation threading through her. She gripped her bow tight, keeping close to Loken and the others who formed up around her. The clouds had grown thicker, blocking out all traces of the sun, and dense fog clung to the ground, making it impossible to see more than a couple feet ahead.
A sound pierced through the atmosphere. A low whistle, almost a crude imitation of the signals she’d used earlier. Then a laugh that was full of such cruelty it made her blood run cold.
“I never thought I’d see the day when the Drotun took a human as his Korun.”
The voice seemed to come from all around her. Imara whirled, her bow creaking as she pulled the arrow back, ready to fire whenever they revealed themselves. The Raknari around her were similarly prepared, spears and axes and swords held in tight grips.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice taking on a hard growl.
She could feel power pulsing through her, following the frantic beating of her heart. It was almost overwhelming, the surge of it overflowing through her fingertips, freezing the wood of her bow. The perfect tension she’d held it at gave, and she had to focus to unfreeze it and get it back in working order.
“That’s not your concern,” the voice said, floating from the left, the right, all around. “You don’t belong with these people. You can barely control this power you’ve been given.”
Cackling laughter echoed all around them, closing in. She couldn’t see a thing. Not even the other Raknari. Everything was blanketed in such thick fog, and the freezing rain that fell through it only served to worsen the visibility.
“I’d be happy to help you with that,” the voice said with a sneer, “take it off your hands.”
Steam curled in front of Imara’s mouth as she let out a heavy breath. They were Svag, but like none she’d seen before. Maybe the others had, but she had no way of reaching them beyond flailing through the fog. That wasn’t a plan. She needed something, some way to be able to see around her. Looking up toward where she knew the storm clouds to be, Imara remembered the times she’d seen Rheor draw storms into himself. It seemed dangerous. Risky. But there was no choice. If she couldn’t see, she doubted the others could, either. So she relaxed her bow and focused, trying to imagine that energy coming into her body.
She could feel it being pulled in, drawn toward her as if she were the shore and the storm was the relentless tide. She couldn’t hold onto it, though, and it flowed back out, spreading further than before.
“Having trouble, little human?” the voice taunted.
She couldn’t even tell if it was male or female. It was something so disembodied that there was no use putting it to any kind of face. She chose to ignore it, focusing again on her task. This time when she drew the storm toward her, she was able to mentally reach out and grasp the edges of it, pulling it deeper and deeper until she began to lock it inside. All around her the air shifted, the curiously warm fog turning cold as it was pulled toward her. She kept tugging as if she was attempting to pull in the longest strand of wayward yarn she’d ever seen, and the storm clouds began to draw out of the sky, too, all of it brought into the center of Imara’s being.
It was a strange feeling. There was a surge of power inside of her, lightning flashing through her soul, but it felt like caging a very hungry tiger. Sooner or later, the beast would escape its cage and wreak havoc upon anyone who was near. She tamped those worries down for now, though, icy energy crackling between her fingers as she took in her surroundings.
The Raknari had closed around her, their weapons still drawn. But just beyond them she could see people clinging to the sides of the cliffs as skillfully as spiders might.
They jumped down, landing with a shambling sort of grace. Something accidental, she thought, though when she saw how coordinated they were when they each stood, she began to understand there was more happening here than it appeared.
Looking at the Svag, their skin wasn’t the sallow color she’d seen before. These had the same light blue sheen the Raknari did, but there was something different about it. They seemed sickly, the coloration blotchy, mostly concentrated in their arms and chest. Their eyes glowed a violent blue that pierced through the field, all of them fixed on Imara. She could feel the runes on her body flare to life and glanced down to see the ones on her arm glowing just as brightly as the eyes of the Svag.
They were here for her. Instinctively she knew that. Power coursed through her veins and they wanted it. The ones who closed in, not seeming to care about the weapons the Raknari had drawn or their shouts, gave off the same energy, even if it was faint. Svag weren’t supposed to have any at all. That was why they attacked—to get it back.
“You’re beginning to understand.”
That voice. Where was it coming from? She whirled around, thinking it was behind her, but the circle of Svag looked nearly identical to one another. The speaker wasn’t among them. She knew that, and that knowledge made her feel deeply exposed.
“Don’t worry, Korun,” Loken told her. “We will take care of this.”
Before she could say anything, he barked orders to the others. They closed in around her, keeping her at the center. When the Svag crept closer, spears were thrown, and even Imara found an opening to shoot her bow between two of the Raknari. But for every Svag they took down, another seemed to fill its place. They brought more of that fog with them, obscuring their numbers, and Imara felt fear for the first time since she saw Rheor fall.
He should be here. I don’t know what I’m doing. People are going to die because of me.
Those thoughts repeated in her mind, and this time she couldn’t force them out with anything more pleasant. Rheor should be here. He’d know how to handle this situation. Imara felt like more of a liability than anything else. But as the circle continued to tighten around them, she knew she couldn’t just stand there and let the Raknari protect her.
Drawing upon that raging storm inside of her, Imara concentrated on the ground beneath three of the Svag. Large spikes of ice erupted, impaling three of the Svag with a sudden violence that would have turned her stomach if she was not so focused. Loken let out a low whistle and then she heard the striking of heavy paws on hard-packed dirt, the Machai racing from where they’d been told to wait. Raknari lunged forward, swords and spears embedding in the Svag, all of whom were moving at such a slow, deliberate pace compared to what she’d seen before.
She joined them as the formation broke, coating her arrows in a thick sheet of ice, freezing several Svag on the spot with well-placed shots, giving the other Raknari the opportunity to kill them. Again, for every one they killed, another seemed to move into the space it had occupied, stepping over the corpse. When they reached the Raknari, they slashed and clawed, the tips of their long nails glowing with frost magic. All around her, the hunting party fought, and Imara fought, too. Drawing moisture from the air, forming it into perfect, deadly little spears of ice that homed in on their target. Sending more spikes up from the ground to impale two more, three, four.
And still they didn’t stop, the sound of laughter echoing all around.
They were fodder, she realized. Exhausting the group, pulling them apart, making sure they were well and truly separated so that some other force could act.
But that realization came too late. She could feel her limbs shaking, her body not taking well to how much she was using her powers. That was when she felt an icy breath at her neck. She whirled to face the figure, her bow pulled taut. A clawed hand swiped it away with ease, shooting out to wrap around her throat.
“It’s very thoughtless of you to use so much up before sharing with the rest of us.”
She could see the figure now. Soulless eyes that were black as a starless night. White skin with cracks running through it, like a splintering sheet of ice over a barely frozen lake. His features were sharp, severe, as if his entire visage was made up of the deadliest shards of ice. His lips—dry and cracked—curled up in a vicious smile.
And then he squeezed. Not enough to end her life, but enough that she could feel the power being pulled out of her from every recess of her soul. She fought against it, tried to push him away, but it was no use. Each second he spent siphoning from her made her weaker and weaker, until she just slumped in his grasp, darkness clouding her vision.
Then she was falling, and everything was dark and cold.
Chapter 22
Rheor was not well suited to being without his Korun.
He’d never considered himself to be dependent on anyone, and he’d certainly never felt that way with Atja. But every second he was parted from Imara was agony. It wasn’t just because his blood still ran hot for her, every instinct telling him to claim her again and again—as many times as it took before they discovered whether or not she could conceive his child. It was something deep inside of him that needed her nearby. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t do the things he needed to do. The task of repairing the homes and other buildings damaged in the Svag attack took far longer than it should because he was so distracted. What he’d planned to have done by midday stretched well into the afternoon as he counted down the hours to when Imara should return.
He was somewhat worried. As much as he trusted her ability to take care of herself, her powers were still very new and there were dangerous things in the forests. The hunting party could be attacked by bears, wolves, possibly even Svag, if the Roinim hadn’t warded them off. He wanted to be there with her, but it felt important to let her have this space and this authority.
So he kept busy, tried to serve his people as best he could. A Drotun was not truly a leader, after all. He was a servant to Kiova and to his people, meant to use his powers to help them in every way possible. He’d done a poor job of that lately, but now that he felt some equilibrium, he trusted the incidents that had caused this damage would be a thing of the past.
Though now he needed to worry about the other Drotuns and the effect their swelling powers would have on the mountains.
That was part of why he’d sent for Brunyr. The man had a natural curiosity about the humans, yes, and he’d visited his own domain more than Rheor ever had. But he was also deteriorating, day after day. Every new council meeting, the affliction progressed. More fissures in his skin, following the lines of his runes, showing the red-hot energy beneath. He needed to find his own Korun and begin Roinim, but thus far he’d been unable to find one among his own people.
Perhaps the human village would accommodate him as it had Rheor. Perhaps Igvis would show him his Korun there, and with any luck, he would be far less resistant to it.
Once the repairs were done and a few other matters were handled, Rheor waited for his friend to arrive. This time, his trip across the mountain pass was much easier, with no ice blocking his path. But when he came into view, a few of his men behind him, all four of them riding their great lizard beasts that Rheor had always hated, he could see that Brunyr was even worse off.
He looked surprisingly pale, his dark skin losing its luster. The runes etched along his body glowed a vibrant, violent orange. Rheor approached him, greeted him with a clasp of his shoulder. The gesture was returned, but that spark was not in Brunyr’s eyes when he smiled.
“Are you sure you can make this trip?” he asked once his friend was no longer in earshot of his men.
“I don’t think I can afford not to make it,” Brunyr admitted. “Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe Igvis is such a capricious thing that she put my Korun in the middle of a small village in your territory.”
His familiar grin was a small comfort, and Rheor’s answering smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I will send some of my men with you.”
He waved thi
s off. “I have more than enough to handle a few snowy mountain passes. It’s not as if an avalanche can touch me.”
Brunyr winked, and Rheor let out a soft snort. He did have a point. Most ice and snow melted on contact with Brunyr’s skin, and his powers could certainly carve a path through all of Rheor’s territory. It was a good thing they’d always been friends, as he would have made a very formidable enemy.
“I will happily take some of your supplies, though. The hunting’s been sparse on my side of the mountain.”
“Of course,” Rheor said, gesturing for him to follow. He led the other Drotun to the cellar where meats were cured. They certainly weren’t lacking for anything, and he was all too happy to share. Especially when his Korun would likely bring back a good haul.
He supplied Brunyr and his men with all the dried, salted meats they would need for the trip, as well as some foods he’d found Imara enjoyed. Her sister would likely be the same, and Rheor wanted her to be comfortable.
“She will get cold. Humans cannot endure the temperature as my people do,” Rheor advised him as they stepped back up to the surface.
“I’ll gladly keep her warm.”
The words were said in his usual playful tone, but there was something missing. There was little conviction behind it, those too-hot emotions of his not reaching the surface. Either he was suppressing them, or Igvis was truly taking out her wrath on him.
Still, Rheor felt the need to be protective. “She will remain untouched until she gets here. If she is your Korun, then you can take her to the Molten Peak. After the ceremony.”
The laugh Brunyr gave at that was genuine. “Those would be some odds, for the two of us to find Koruns who are sisters.”
Rheor’s lips slanted into a wistful smile. He would like to see more of his friend, and he was sure Imara would like to see more of her sister. That might make it easier, though it was still half a day’s journey. Perhaps they could find some way to make regular visits. Perhaps—
