Chapter 38
C old water splashes my face, sloshing me to consciousness. An unrelenting thump in my temple makes me wonder if I’ve cracked my skull.
Rushing water drags at my legs while I cling to something round, my arms draped over the curve of it, cheek pressed against its gnarled surface. Probably a tree.
I must’ve had enough wherewithal at some stage to grip hold of something buoyant and save myself from certain drowning. That’s nice.
I pry my eyes open to a smear of orange water and blue sky above that’s threaded with a middae aurora. Sheer, rusty cliffs press in on either side of the river I’m currently bobbing along at a rapid pace. A gorge, but it doesn’t look like the one we flew through to get to the dwelling. Meaning I’ve drifted farther, though based on the rich color of the cliffs, not quite far enough to be clear of The Burn.
Damn.
Guess I’ll pass out for a bit longer. Sleep off this rampant thump in my head. Hopefully wake up closer to the wall.
I let my heavy lids fall shut—
“ Gafto’in nahh teil aygh’ atinvah !” The coarse words echo through the gorge, nudging me. “ Agní de, agní .”
That’s no language I’ve ever heard.
Should probably inspect.
I lift my head, turn it, then settle my left cheek on the trunk and pry my eyes open. A large shape is running along the thin shore, trying to keep pace with me. A male, I think. Pretty sure he can’t reach me from there—which is good. I’m too tired for stops.
“Hi.”
Bye.
I close my eyes again.
My log comes to an abrupt halt, jostling me so hard I almost roll off. I groan, opening my eyes to see I’ve snagged on a collection of debris, my trunk still banging and bumping into place amongst a pile of uptorn trees.
The blurred figure draws closer, yelling more words I don’t understand. But I don’t think he’s yelling at me, his head facing another direction, though he continues to point my way.
Cold dread slips through my veins, something innate telling me I need to get up.
Now.
I lift one weighty arm off the log, then the other, and immediately plunge beneath the water, wrestled by its churning might—realizing my mistake when I lack the energy to kick or flounder to the surface.
My lungs rebel, battling for breath, sucking a wad of water that feels so heavy and wrong—
There’s a splash, bubbles exploding.
Hands gripping me.
I’m lugged skyward, hauled toward the bank and torn from the water, up over the shore’s sharp lip before I’m dumped on the ground so hard any moisture I sucked down is quickly expelled in a retching heave.
Muddy water splatters, not discriminating between my sodden hair and the dirt I’m aiming for, air rasping into my heaving lungs between chest-cracking coughs.
My gut and chest continue to convulse in staggered synchrony as I nip squinted glances at my company between the violent upheavals.
The male is huge and muscular with yellow sunburst eyes, garbed in leather pants that hang off his trim hips. He’s littered with pale scars, bearing long red hair adorned with coils of copper thread. The leather strap braced across his chest is laden with an array of finely crafted weapons—dragonscale blades and bronze ones in the shape of lanky petals, akin to the one Kaan had. There’s also a hook-type tool similar to the one I saw being used to pull that eahl up from beneath the ice south of the wall.
What have I gotten myself into now?
The male lowers, his massive scarred hand coming down to point at my iron cuff. “ Guil dee nahh ?” he asks, and I shake my head, figuring he must be asking about the evidence of my past imprisonment.
“Just ornamental,” I burp out, chased by another splatter of spew. “Isn’t it”— reeetchhh —“pretty?”
Definitely wouldn’t want him to think that I’m an escaped prisoner who barely avoided getting ripped apart by a thunder of Moltenmaws. I might end up back there again.
The male turns, yelling more unfamiliar words to another in the distance, the latter standing on the shore’s severe lip, hacking storm debris from a damaged fishing net.
I’m so busy heaving half my guts on the ground that it takes me too long to notice the markings on the back of the male closest to me. A dotted tattoo of some kind of bird, wings stretched around his ribs as though hugging him from behind.
I frown— retch —continue frowning.
It reminds me of the dots that make up … Kaan’s . . . tattoo . . .
Realization flays me through the chest, another surge of water gushing up my throat, splashing on the ground.
Warriors of the Boltanic Plains.
This might be where Kaan spent his adolescence.
My nausea instantly abates, and I curse, using the back of my arm to wipe my trembling lips.
More yelling in that language I don’t recognize, the other male now running toward us. The one closest grabs my arm and helps me to my knees.
There are many clans scattered across this chapped and grainy wasteland no others have the tenacity to carve out a living on, and I seem to have drifted right into the clutches of two such folk, their way of life even more mysterious than those who reside near The Burn’s capital.
But I do know one thing.
These clans produce warriors with unmatched abilities …
Think I’ll give this place a miss.
The male before me drops to one knee, his ruddy beard concealing half his tan, freckle-dusted face, his sharp stare cutting across my features. He reaches forward and lifts a coil of my sodden hair. “ Achten de. Kholu perhaas ?” he says, pointing at the long, vomit-drenched tendril coiled in his palm, looking back at the other male who’s now drawing close—the latter shrugging. “ Sheith comá Rivuur Ahgt … en ?”
I gather my hair and push his hand away.
His brow bunches, and he grabs me by the shoulders, helping me to my feet. The moment I plant them on the ground, I lurch from his grip, backstepping, lifting a hand to cradle my throbbing temple.
“ Acht etin aio ?” the male asks, gesturing to me.
“I don’t understand.”
He touches his hand to his temple—to the same spot where mine’s throbbing—his next words presented so slowly it’s obvious he’s trying to help me comprehend. “ Surva etin agaviein ?”
Is he asking how I hit my head?
“I fell off a cliff.”
His frown deepens, and he murmurs something to the male beside him—more of those words I don’t understand.
I can tell by the glances nipping my way and by their general body language that they’re discussing how to get me from here to somewhere else . I don’t want to find out where that is, nor do I want to find out what they want to do with me there. I’ve got a headache. The last thing I feel like doing is breaking necks.
Unless it’s Rekk’s, of course.
“Well, it’s been grand, but I’ve got a tree to catch,” I say, jerking my thumb toward the rushing river that looks nothing like it did the previous cycle, now so orange and full of debris, no doubt torn up from the abated storm. Unfortunately, it’s nowhere near as tranquil and inviting, not that it’ll stop me from leaping into it the moment another log bobs by.
The males pass each other stares of uncertainty, speaking in those foreign words again before they advance as one—almost stepping through my puddle of half-digested soup.
The determined hardness in their eyes stiffens my spine.
Shit.
Looks like I’m not waiting for another log after all.
I spin, about to leap into the gushing river when a blur of motion catches my eye, drawing my attention to the cliff on the opposite side.
A piece of rock displaces, plummeting before thumping against the riverbank below. I wouldn’t think it strange were it not for the claw marks also scoring down the cliff, like something invisible is climbing it.
I frown.
How hard did I hit my head?
“ Jakah tu …”
I glance back to see both males staring wide-eyed across the river, their complexions turning so pale their freckles stand out in stark difference.
Maybe I’m not seeing things …
There’s a shrill yowling sound, and I whip my head around, seeing a huge metallic smudge now perched on the opposite bank, contrasting the stone’s warm tones.
“What’s going on?” I murmur, ready to leap into the river and never learn the answer to this particular riddle.
The shape sharpens, becoming a fluffy silver beast that looks like it could swallow me in two mouthfuls, twin metallic sabers protruding from either side of its upper jaw—so long they reach well past its chin.
Big pale eyes stare at me, unblinking, slit through with a line of slate that contracts and tightens.
Contracts and tightens.
Like it’s imagining what I’d taste like lanced through by its munching maw.
“ Fait Hatdah !” one of the males behind me yells, pointing past. As if I can’t already see the enormous creature perched over the other side of the river, certainly large enough to stomach all three of us.
“I really hope that thing can’t—”
It leaps.
My heart drops.
For a moment, all I see is this massive creature flying through the air, claws outstretched, like it’s reaching for me—lips peeled back from its bared teeth. Until one of the males grabs my arm and yanks me backward.
I fall into a pile of limbs, a heavy thud telling me the creature has landed on our side of the shore.
Fuck.
I scramble to get up again.
Get away .
Finally making it to my feet, I whip around, finding the animal between us and the river. It oscillates between an argent haze of barely-there shape and a strong, sturdy feline with a tufted tail and flowing mane that tangles with the wind. Like the tendrils are dancing with Clode.
My heart leaps into my throat as it lowers onto its thick, powerful haunches, the piercing tips of its sabers almost scoring across the ground.
It looks me right in the eye, lifts its upper lip, and snarls .
I sigh.
I survived a thunder of Moltenmaws and nearly choked to death on Sabersythe saliva only to be eaten by this thing?
“ Fait Hatdah gah te nahh ,” one of the males beside me says, the tone of his voice laced with a twinge of wonder. “ Fait Hatdah. Fait Hatdah … comá feir Kholu.”
Fait Hatdah? What the fu—
My eyes widen, heart skipping a beat.
Fate Herder …
It’s the fucking Fate Herder .
The creature is more legend than reality, so rarely spotted in the flesh. Those who have seen it are often considered crazy or delusional, boasting stories about the beast nudging them to make a different decision from the one they’d intended.
Physically nudging them. Like a bossy handler.
The creature’s slit pupils swell, its large flat tongue coming out to lick across its muzzle, as though in confirmation of the revelation.
My shoulders loosen, some of the tension leaving my body.
Surely this thing doesn’t go around eating folk …
Surely.
Flicking a glance behind me, I wonder which of the two males the creature’s here to herd, my heart stilling when I find them both on their knees—looking at me with reverence. Certainly not like I just heaved my guts all over myself in front of them.
Weird .
“I’ll just … move out of your way,” I say, holding the Herder’s jarring glare as I step to the right.
It prowls sideways, keeping itself firmly positioned between myself and the river, a low growl boiling in its fluffy chest.
I frown, passing a glance over my shoulder at the others, certain they must have also moved—my heart plopping into my stomach when I see them still in the same place, looking at me with raised brows.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
No.
Not happening.
Narrowing my eyes on the creature, I shift my weight like I’m about to leap to the left, then throw myself right and sprint along the bank as fast as my legs can take me, curving toward the river—
A snarl cuts through the air a split moment before something big and dense charges into my side, knocking me off my feet. I careen along the ground, certain flesh is grating off my shoulder as I grind to a halt in the dirt.
Groaning, I lift onto my grazed elbows so I can look right into the slit eyes of the creature now doing slow, prowling arcs between me and the fucking river. “No!”
It growls, the sound like a sawtooth slice.
Maybe it does go around eating folk.
“I want to go that way!” I say, pointing in the direction the water is flowing.
The Fate Herder begins tightening its arcs in loping strides, crushing the space between us, its message blatant.
Get the fuck up.
“This is a heap of spangle shit,” I mutter, pushing to a stand.
It continues to move in sweeping arcs, pushing closer with each prowled step.
I walk backward, keeping my eyes mostly on the animal, though passing the odd glance over my shoulder. It doesn’t take me long to realize where it’s herding me.
Toward the warriors .
I stop, widen my stance, and narrow my eyes on the beast. “I am not going with them,” I say, pointing at the males.
It roars —baring a maw full of honed teeth, its breath buffeting me with such force I have to squint. The sound bounces off the canyon’s sheer walls like an echoing volley.
Maybe I am going with them after all.
Groaning, I tip my face to the sky and close my eyes, dragging my fingers through my wet, tangled hair.
All I want to do is slit Rekk Zharos’s throat. Is that too much to ask?
“Fuck!”
My curse bounces off the walls, hitting me over and over.
Pretty sure going to war with this thing wouldn’t end well. And I can’t hunt Rekk if I’m dead.
Dropping into icy resignation, I spin and charge toward the warriors, cutting a few sharp glances at the creature now prowling close enough to my heels that it could snap at them if it wanted to.
Reaching the two males, I stop, throwing my hands up in a show of displeasure. “Let’s get this over with, whatever this is. Try anything questionable and I’ll gut you both with my nails.”
Frowning, they stare at me for a long while, pass some words between themselves, then dip their heads at me, almost like a sign of … respect . They do the same to the creature at my back, then gesture toward a path that clefts through the sheer, rust-colored cliff on this side of the river.
“ Comá, Kholu .” They gesture me forward. “ Comá .”
No idea about the other word, but comá must mean come .
Truly, honestly, the last thing I want to do.
I cut my majestic, mythical beast another scathing look. “Unless Rekk Zharos is up that path, nice and cornered for me to slaughter, I’m going to be pissed. Just so you know.”
The Fate Herder licks its chops, steps closer, and nudges me forward with its big fluffy head.
Muttering beneath my breath, I trail the warriors, pausing at the base of a stone staircase cut into the cliff, casting a forlorn look at the river.
One step closer, sideswipe to the head.
The Fate Herder growls, and I growl back, baring my teeth at the beast. “Stop being so bossy,” I gripe, charging up the stairs, chased by the sound of its great paws padding on the stone behind me. “You won.”