Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Lia
T ime moves slowly at first. My hours are marked by others’ schedules, and not much else after I’ve painstakingly sewed the hated slave dress back together with a small bone needle, I found in my mostly empty drawer. I used thread taken from the blanket on my bed, which was a feat considering how thin and half-rotten it is.
In the mornings, a tray is brought around the time that the sun shines on the far wall. I hear guards walking by my room when the rays are on the floor by the old red rug. No one else comes until they hit the chair, and then, like clockwork, Grith always enters.
I make sure I’m up, on my feet, and away from the bed after the second time he came. He caught me asleep, and I woke to his fingers creeping up my thigh, his piercing eyes waiting for me to realize his hands were already on me.
Remembering his laugh when I felt him, the way he dug his fingers into my skin hard enough to pierce it with his jagged nails, makes me shiver as I wait for him. As each day passes, I feel more and more like a trapped animal.
The door opens on schedule, but it isn’t Grith this time. It’s a lone guard that I don’t remember from before.
‘Varrik calls for you,’ he says.
He takes stock of my appearance, and his lip curls, clearly finding my mending skills wanting.
I walk forward, wondering if Varrik has forgotten how I escaped before and if he really thinks one guard will be enough to keep his sneaky Harbinger here. I get ready to take my chance in case I don’t get another, but when I finally leave my room, I see that things have changed outside my door.
As I follow the guard down the hall, I notice that there are many more soldiers in this part of the keep than there were before I escaped. They’re armed to the teeth, and their eyes follow me closely as I walk. They’ve been warned about me. I won’t be slinking through the keep and setting fires to get away this time.
I’ll need another plan.
The guard turns back with a frown, and I give him a bright smile that he ignores but I hope disconcerts him.
I take stock of my surroundings, noting the blackened stones as we get closer to Varrik’s favored rooms, the only reminder I’ve seen that the keep burned at all. I take heart in the reminders that I once bested him and tell myself that I will again.
The guard opens the door and jerks his head at the threshold.
I take a breath, wondering what awaits me because I know Varrik, and he hasn’t asked to see me until today. The comeuppance for my crimes against him hasn’t yet begun, but it will soon.
Conscious of multiple pairs of eyes following my progress, I enter the room slowly, my eyes taking in the new drapes over the long windows that face the west, the scorched stone of the hearth, and the chairs before it, high-backed and black to match.
Varrik sits at a small desk in his adjacent office, writing with a quill. His personal ring stands in the middle of the main room, the stone of it looking as if it wasn’t even charred during my escape.
‘That’s how I did it,’ he says, making me jump. ‘The Gate. It’s how I escaped the fire.’ He looks up at me, his eyes assessing.
Always assessing.
He gestures to the ring. ‘I assume you’re speculating. Did you wonder when you saw me the other day for the first time, or did you think I was a ghost, my little human?’
I regard him in stony silence and watch him as he gets up and walks over the threshold into the main room toward me. His steps are unhurried. He’s wearing black, tailored clothing made of some rich material. His tunic is form-fitting and collared with golden threads woven through. His long white hair is tied back immaculately, as always, not a piece out of place. Unlike Grith, he hasn’t changed.
‘Well?’ he asks.
He wants an answer.
‘I thought you were dead, yes. I did wonder how you’d survived. I started the fire in here, after all, and you were passed out drunk at your desk. You should have been dead in minutes.’
He gives me a genuine smile. ‘You don’t know the half of my skills, child. Perhaps you’d have done things differently, eh?’
He cups my face in a gentle hand. The touch fills me with revulsion, but it’s not the same as Grith’s. Varrik’s interest in me was only ever for the Harbinger, and that’s still true. I don’t need to worry about ... other things with him.
‘I waited for reports of deaths, you know,’ Varrik says, his fingers stroking my cheek. ‘I was sure you’d give yourself away, and I’d be able to locate you. Tell me, how did you keep control of the darkness inside you, my little human?’
‘I paid to be bound twice a year,’ I lie.
He’s kept his true gifts secret, so I will as well. It’s better if he doesn’t know that the control I have over my skill is more absolute than he’d ever expect from a lowly non-fae .
‘Not to worry. For your own protection, I’ll ensure you’re never unbound again.’
I strive for my expression to remain passive in the face of his smirk, but I’m confused. Never? Will he not want the Harbinger to kill for him again?
He looks down at my dress and quirks a brow. ‘Grith told me he was sure you’d been enslaved out there in the Wilds. Were you?’ He tips my head up to stare into my eyes. ‘Did they hurt you, Thalia?’ he asks softly.
Does he hope they did? I can’t tell.
‘No,’ I say quietly. ‘I lived a quiet life in disguise. No one even knew I was human.’
He chuckles and pats my head in mock fondness, looking almost proud of me for a moment before his countenance darkens.
‘As glad as I am to have you back, my darling, you did try to kill me,’ he says, stepping back. ‘You destroyed part of my keep and half the camp in your escape. My plans were delayed by years. Important plans, Thalia. An example needs to be set. Grith always told me I was too lenient on you, and I see now that he was right.’
He goes back to his desk and sits down. ‘It’s become clear to me that you’re much too intractable. I’ll be remedying that first and foremost. Afterward, we’ll see where we are, and I’ll decide who I’m going to pair you with.’
I blink at him. Pair me with? Grith told me he was waiting for Varrik to let him … My head swims.
Grith .
‘Don’t give me to him.’ The words are coming out of my mouth before I realize, pleading with Varrik not to let his cruel friend have me to plow . ‘He’ll?—’
‘Of course you aren’t for Grith,’ Varrik interrupts, looking surprised, but it’s telling that Varrik knows who I mean without me having to say his name.
‘His skill with a sword isn’t what I’m looking for in the next generation of my fold,’ Varrik continues with a condescending chuckle. ‘I’ll decide on the right one when I’m ready. But it wouldn’t be a punishment if you liked it, child. As I said, an example needs to be set. I only hope the young you bear will be less spirited than you are. Still, there’s time to get it right. You should be able to be bred for a while yet.’
I resist the urge to clutch at his lavish clothes, to fall to my knees, to vow to him that I’ll do whatever he wants if he’ll just promise not to do this.
‘Take her to the cell.’
The words register, and my heart stutters as my blood runs cold. I stumble back.
No! Not down there!
I begin to back away, my head shaking. Varrik looks unruffled, turning away to go back into the other room to his desk. He sits down to continue writing as if I’m not even there.
Strong hands grab me, and I panic, the darkness too close to the surface. I lash out, using it for the second time in as many weeks. I’m too scared. I can’t help it. All the promises I’ve made to myself go out the window as I feel it rise up to kill everyone in this room and the hallway beyond.
But nothing happens. No power. No death. Nothing. The Harbinger’s wings really have been clipped under the binding this time. My stomach twists at the realization.
As I’m dragged away, trying desperately to make it work, I realize I can’t feel the Harbinger anymore at all. The guard who has me actually chuckles as we leave Varrik’s rooms.
‘I thought this one was meant to be strong.’
I’m pushed hard, and I trip, hitting the stone floor hard.
They grab me again and haul me to my feet. My dress rips as I’m flung ahead of them toward the door that haunts my darkest nightmares. The black stairwell in front of me goes down in a spiral into the bowels of the keep.
I struggle, clawing at the walls ineffectually as they try to get me over the threshold.
He put me down here for five days once, and I barely survived. What if he leaves me in the cell for longer this time?
I scream as they pull me into the dark, writhing and clawing with everything in me until, finally, one of them hits me hard over the back of the head, and my body goes limp.
I’m barely conscious as I’m carried down the rest of the way. The light recedes until there’s none and I know with a grim certainty that my chances of ever seeing it again just decreased to zero.
Grey
The next morning, Dane, Kal, and I find ourselves in our first lesson back at the keep. The room is exactly how I remember it, from the sunlight shining through the gleaming windows to the rows of dark wooden desks facing the slate board; its surface lightly dusted with chalk, bearing the faint outlines of today's lesson. The scent mingles with the mustiness of old books and new parchment which isn't altogether unpleasant. The other students look at us curiously, which isn’t unexpected as they’re all quite a bit younger than us. Though there are none under twelve winters, I notice.
When I was first brought here, there were orphaned faelings of all ages with more appearing all the time. Varrik definitely has many more Skilled living in his fold than he did when we left, but judging from the ages, it looks as if there haven’t been many new additions saved from the Dark Realms in recent years.
I regard the teacher in front of me, a squirrelly male who’s about my age, with a frown. Dane had taken the order to be here in his stride, which I didn’t expect. I’m trying to as well, but I taught in the academy at Alcana for five years. Granted, the subject was Creatures of the Dark Realms, not Arithmetic, but making us present ourselves here seems odd. I look over at Kallum. His expression is thunderous. He isn’t even pretending that this isn’t a waste of his time as he sits in the corner, ignoring everything the teacher is saying, whispering scoffing remarks about how there's no point to this and we shouldn't even be here.
I sit back in my seat, agreeing wholeheartedly, but when I whisper as much to Dane, he just shrugs.
‘It’s not really about the learning,’ he says nonchalantly and yet also shrewdly.
I suppose he’s right. Varrik wants to pull us back into the fold so to speak, keep us close, see if we’ve turned into creatures of the Wilds. He wants to make sure we’re still his, and there’s no better way to do that than to have his older, devoted Skilled keep their eyes on their peers.
Am I still Varrik’s? When we first got here, I thought I was. I was upset about how Dane handled Lia, but I was looking forward to being back in the fold with the other Skilled. Now, I don’t know. After my conversation with Kallum, I can’t shake the unease I feel. What if he’s right? What if Lia isn’t safe here?
I give my full attention to the teacher and pretend I’m here to learn as ordered. No doubt the loyal cunt will report to Varrik later and tell him everything we’ve done and said in his presence. I don’t want anyone’s suspicious eyes on us. Times certainly have changed. When we were last here, we were too low in the pecking order to be noticed much at all, but now that we've brought back the Harbinger …
I look down at my desk, emotions making me tense, and I know the beast can be seen in my eyes. I’ve been trying not to think about her. But the truth is, if I could go back to that night in the cave, I would never have given in to her request for me to be the one to take her maidenhead. I shouldn’t have. But what's done is done. All I can hope for now is that she gives Varrik whatever it is he wants, and he allows her a bit more freedom, perhaps to walk around the village, so we can at least see her again.
The beast is angry. He paces through my mind. He wants to go into the keep to find her, just like Kal does. He's chomping at the bit to escape my tight control. But I can’t let him. I’ve decided not to let anyone here know that I can shift.
The teacher drones on about numbers and patterns that I don't care about. Seven years in the Wilds, and we never used any of this.
I think about this afternoon, looking forward to practice in the arena. Those are the skills we actually need. Fighting. Strategy. Honing our power. Plus, it’s exercise that I've been sorely lacking over the days we’ve already been here practically under house arrest as well as during the weeks we were traveling through the circles before that.
Kallum sniggers loudly at something the teacher says, earning himself a frown, and I give him a look. He hasn’t acted so rebelliously in years. He needs to get himself together before he casts suspicions on all three of us. The same thing crosses Dane’s mind. I can tell by the venomous looks he’s giving Kal.
Finally, it's the top of the hour, and we're turned loose. I file out of the room behind the others, all of them giving us questioning looks and glances. Some of the females titter amongst each other, and we ignore them as best we can.
I glance back at Dane. ‘Who was it who told you we needed to report to lessons?’
Dane shrugs. ‘Message from the keep.’
I frown. ‘I’m not going to any others,’ I mutter. ‘If Varrik doesn’t like it, he can tell me himself.’
Dane shrugs. ‘As you please.’
‘Anything else come from the keep?’ Kallum asks, his eyes sharp.
‘No. Why should it?’ he answers, sounding distracted.
‘You haven’t heard anything about Lia?’
He looks surprised. ‘The Harbinger? No. Why would I?’
Kallum’s eyes glitter. ‘Never mind.’
‘Seen Fiana yet?’ I ask him, mostly to change the subject since Kallum’s fists are beginning to clench, but also to goad Dane a little because his attitude is bothering me.
Why is he pretending Lia doesn’t even exist?
Dane’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. ‘No. They won't tell me where she is, only that she’ll return to the fold in a few days.’
‘I'm going back to the house,’ Kal announces with a roll of his eyes.
Feeling a little guilty for bringing it up, I put my hand on Dane’s shoulder and squeeze it. ‘You’ll see her soon, my friend.’
He gives me a small nod. ‘And I’ll see you at practice later.’
He wanders off in the opposite direction, and I let out a sigh, wondering where he's been spending his time because I’ve hardly seen him at all.
At a loose end, I meander around the village, noting that Varrik has also built a baker and a blacksmith. There’s even a tavern. This place is, for all intents and purposes, not much different than all the other small towns we visited on the way back through the circles. It’s just that this one is lived in and worked by those with lower skills, fae like we were before we came into our power. I wonder errantly where Varrik’s fae acquired the know-how for the businesses. Did the lord send them out into the Dark Realms to apprentice, perhaps?
I find myself at the edge where the forest begins, and without consciously making the decision, I walk out into the trees until I don’t smell any of my fae brethren. As soon as I know it’s clear, I shift before I can start thinking about the next inevitable subject.
Lia.
I burst forth onto my four legs and I begin to run, the beast at the forefront of my mind as I sink down. I give him free rein. We run and run until the sun begins to sink in the sky.
We reach the river that marks the edge of the fold and lap at the water. We move along the bank, leaping at small animals like squirrels and rabbits, not really trying to catch anything and by the time we get close to the village, it's mid-afternoon. It's time for practice.
I take control and sneak back to the house. There, I shift back and grab some clothes, making a mental note to put some bundles in the forest if I’m truly going to keep my shifting a secret; otherwise, it’s only a matter of time before someone sees me.
I throw on a cloak for good measure as the day has turned a little chilly, and I make my way to the fields. When I get there, the new arena gives me pause. It used to just be an open pasture, but Varrik has struck again. A proper ring for fighting with sloped tiered seating and black flags billowing in the wind now mark the spot.
Dane is nowhere to be seen, but I notice Kal swinging a sword into a wooden dolly almost angrily, and I approach him with caution.
‘What’s your plan?’
He regards me with narrow eyes. ‘I’m going to spar in the ring, and I’m going to win. Easily.’
I roll my shoulders, pushing the beast, which is barely sated even after our run, down before it gets any ideas. As I turn, I see Grith enter the space.
I can’t contain my growl when I see the cunt after what Lia told us he used to do to her. His eyes find mine, and I cover my anger by taking a sword and beginning to spar hard with a very surprised Kallum.
Grith beckons me as soon as he notices me and I throw down the sword, not even looking at Kal as I saunter over to him.
‘You’re Grey?’ he asks, somehow looking down his nose at me though I’m a little taller.
‘Aye.’
‘One of my team is ill. You’re the only shifter I can get at short notice. You’re better than nothing, boy,’ his lip curves upwards, ‘even if you can’t shift.’
In that moment, I decide that I’ve made the right choice by keeping everyone in the dark. I’d rather he underestimated me. After all, a fae like Grith, with no skill given to him, didn’t get to where he is in Varrik’s circle by being easy to kill.
‘When?’ I ask, pretending to look pleased that I’ve been included.
‘Now.’
He turns and trudges out, clearly expecting me to follow.
I do, smirking at Kallum, who’s looking annoyed that I’ve been singled out before he has.
I go with Grith who walks ahead of me and doesn’t speak to me again. He always was a condescending bastard, I remember, standing beside Varrik and barking orders all the time.
We enter the keep, and I feel the conjures repel me for just a moment. The magick slides over my skin, giving me pins and needles everywhere it touches.
But then it lets me through. I’m in the keep. I snort softly, sparing a thought for Kallum. He wants to get in here so badly, and I’ve done this first as well. Though in my next breath, the beast is rearing up unexpectedly, sifting through the scents wafting through the corridors as I follow Grith.
I can’t smell her at all until we go past an archway that leads to the other side of the keep. A red carpet runs the length of the hall as it curves around. Here, the faint scent of bergamot and citrus is in the air.
The north side.
That’s where her room is. Something inside me uncoils and relaxes. She’s housed in one of the rooms Varrik keeps for his elites, and it eases the worry I didn’t know I was feeling. Even the beast has calmed now that we know where she is.
Grith leads the way to a room. Outside the door, he turns back.
‘Don’t speak unless spoken to.’
I nod, not trusting my tone with the pompous prick.
He opens the door, and we go in. The room is large and richly decorated. There’s a small ring in the center. The fae lord’s personal Gate. I’ve heard of it, of course, but never seen it. The upended stone circle is smaller than I thought it would be.
Three elites, including Rikoth, who’s the only one I recognize, wait close by. I see Varrik at a desk in the next room through the wide open doors.
‘Ah. Grey. Good.’ He stands and beckons me. ‘We have need of a shifter’s nose. Vern took an iron cudgel to the knee, and won’t be healed in time. When I sent you to find the Harbinger, you’d never shifted …’ His eyes glint, watching me very closely. ‘Is that still true?’
‘Aye, sir, but my nose works as well as a true shifter’s,’ I lie with ease.
Varrik nods at Grith. ‘Take him with you. Remember, he’s been in the Wilds for a while, so he might be a little out of practice. Keep a close eye on him.’
His voice is almost jovial, but I know that telling Grith to watch me isn’t to keep me safe. I glance at the other three who are coming with us. They regard me with barely concealed hostility. Of the party, I only know what Rikoth’s skill is; something to do with tricking the senses and making those around him do his bidding. I’ll need to watch my back when I take my moment and it’s going to need to look like an accident with all these suspicious eyes.
Grith nods, and I hear the whine of the Gate just before it begins to open.
I’m not given a weapon, I notice, and I smirk. As if I need one.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask the back of Grith’s head.
Grith ignores me, and I suppress a sneer as I follow him and the three elites through the Breach.
We arrive almost instantly in a world of dark, rumbling clouds and torrents of horizontal rain. I’m glad I was still wearing my cloak when Grith came to get me.
I glance around, shocked that we don’t seem to have passed through a Gate on this side. I thought there always had to be a ring to tether the Breach.
Grith’s eyes cut to me. ‘We’re looking for a Gate box.’
‘Up there!’ one of them shouts over the sounds of the storm and I see a broken ring on top of a cliff as lightning makes the sky glow for a fleeting moment.
Grith turns to me. ‘Do you smell anything?’
‘Rain,’ I yell.
He looks perturbed. ‘Anything like bodies decomposing?’
I inhale slowly through my nose, taking in the hundreds of scents I can smell. The prevailing ones are of wet grass and the other fae who are with me, but there’s also an underlying scent of decay that I can’t place, but it seems to be stronger in one direction. It’s not a smell I recognize, but there are several Dark Realm creatures that it could be from. None of them are ones I’d care to meet, even with a weapon in my hands.
I point behind us, and the elites draw their swords warily.
‘Come on!’ Grith orders with a roll of his eyes. ‘Let’s get this done before we catch our deaths. Rikoth, make it so we can’t be seen by anyone other than each other. Just in case.’
In case of what?
But Rikoth nods as if this is commonplace, and we all start climbing the slippery slope up to the dead Gate on the hill.
‘Where are we?’ I ask.
The only female in the group looks at me, her eyes moving over me and clearly finding me lacking. ‘Not your concern, Dreg.’
I snort, ignoring the insult given to those with low-level skills though I’d love to snap her neck for it.
‘It is if whatever’s making that stench comes for us,’ I retort. ‘Can you smell danger coming?’
Her eyes narrow. ‘Not my skill.’
Then she looks behind us, towards where I’d pointed earlier, and I see a hint of uncertainty in her expression for a moment. ‘Just let us know if the scent gets stronger. We’ll do the rest, boy.’
Boy? I’m probably older than she is.
I give her a look that she ignores. As she pushes past me, I slip in the mud and lament the fact that I won’t be able to shift and that I don’t even have a fucking sword.
We get to the summit, and I gape. The rest of the landscape beyond is charred and dead as far as the eye can see all along the horizon.
‘What is this place?’
‘Just find the box!’
I frown at Grith but begin looking. I start at the nearest boulders and work my way out over the crest of the other side of the hill.
I keep an eye on where the others are in case they decide to try and get the drop on me. But all of them seem to actually be intent on the mission. What reason Varrik could have for sending three or four of his precious elites along with his second-in-command for a Gate box, I don't understand, but, lucky me, I’m the one who finds the fucking thing.
It’s buried at the base of an oddly shaped rock that looks a bit like an obelisk. On closer inspection, it's been carved that way, and I glance around, noting that the stench of rotting flesh is stronger now.
I ease the box out from its small, chiseled enclave quickly but carefully. Despite the almost reverent way it’s been hidden, the wood is still rotten and falls apart in my hands. It reveals a smaller box made of iron, and I drop it in distaste as a surge of immediate discomfort makes my skin almost burn. I curse the impulse as I glance around me, but no one else is close enough to have seen anything.
I use my cloak to pick it up and inspect it, finding it tightly fastened with no way of getting it open. Odder and odder. Why would a Gate box be made of iron and locked when the point of it is to be handled and opened?
Glancing around me again, I note that the scent of decay is wafting from somewhere close by. It's not just on the wind like it was before. Still lamenting the fact that I wasn’t given a weapon of any kind, I smell the air and carefully move around the boulders to search for the source. I find it quickly. The hole is wide and deep, a smoking crevice between the rocks. The stench is definitely coming from underground and there’s an underlying scent of musky earthiness that unnerves me. Whatever’s down there isn’t dead. It’s a predator, and I’d bet it eats flesh.
A thought enters my mind as I notice that Grith is closer to me than the others, hunting around the long grass a few paces away. I could get away with it now if I'm careful … but if I'm caught …
I give the others another fleeting look, wondering if I could take them all even not knowing what their skills are. The beast snarls silently. It doesn’t care. It just wants Grith’s head.
I catch the bastard’s eye and beckon him, hoping the others don’t notice anything.
As Grith comes closer, I shove the box under the boulder on the other side so that my enemy’s back will be to the hole that’s more than large enough for his broad frame.
I stand in front of it, blocking his view of it as I wait for him to come close. The others are now all on the other side of the Gate clearing.
‘What is it?’ he asks, and I gesture down with my chin.
‘I think I found it,’ I say over the wind, ‘but the fucking thing is made of iron.’
Part of me would love to make him explain why we’re here and what this is really about, but the rest of me wins out. He’s dead.
He nods and, with a final scan of the vicinity to ensure no one’s watching, I put my hastily concocted plan into action. As he swoops down to snag the box, I grab him and fling him backward, hitting him hard in the throat as he teeters at the edge of the crevice so he can’t call for help. He lets out a soft grunt at the punch, looking incredulous.
I only have a moment, but I shift my right hand and use my massive claw to slice his belly open.
‘That’s for Lia,’ I growl.
‘Whatever she told you,’ he gasps, ‘she lies … human whore … begged me … bedded half the keep.’
It’s a wonder I can hear his begging over the weather, but my ears are as good as my nose, so I can just about make out the heinous words he spews about my female. Gods, I’m so glad I’m going to kill him.
She is mine, I realize. My mate. I need to see her. As soon as I can.
I don’t say a word as I push him to his knees and hold his head by his hair. He whimpers under my hand.
Pathetic.
I give him one last look, sneering as I throw him headfirst down into the darkness. A moment later, I hear something scrambling, claws on stone. Rikoth’s little invisibility trick won’t keep him hidden. Most of the cave-dwelling creatures don’t even have eyes. But I don't want to wait around to find out what's down there.
‘Grith!’ I shout and pretend to search fervently for the elites with my gaze as if I don’t know exactly where they are. ‘Help!’ I scream, hoping that none of them are mind readers like Kal.
As far as I know, Rikoth’s skills are only good for compelling, but not for seeing others’ thoughts. I only hope that they all underestimate the Dreg completely and don’t examine anything too closely.
Rikoth gets to me first. ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I was over there.’ I gesture to the other rocks a few paces away.
Rikoth approaches the hole and looks down into the darkness. ‘He could be close. We might be able to pull him out.’
‘I heard him hit the bottom.’ I shake my head. ‘And there's something down there. That smell … There’s nothing we can do without putting everyone at risk.’ I turn towards the rock where I put the box, and I pretend to find it. ‘Look! Is that what we’re here for? He must have found it before he fell.’
Rikoth snatches the box in his gloved hands and peers at it. ‘Iron,’ he mutters. ‘If Grith hadn’t realized and touched it with his bare hands, he could have stepped back from it and fallen.’
I shake my head, trying not to grin as he runs with my recollection of events. ‘Perhaps,’ I say noncommittally.
‘Well, he’s gone at any rate,’ Rikoth says, stowing the box in his pack and then staring down at the hole one last time. ‘Varrik isn't going to like this.’
I stare down with him, pretending to commiserate. ‘I tried to get to him in time, but I was too far away.’
Rikoth nods. ‘I’ll make sure Varrik knows it was his own fault. He was a cunt anyway.’
I nod my thanks and turn away. As I do, I happen to look up at the hill just as the lightning fills the sky, and my eyes widen as I see a hulking figure by the dead Gate.
Rikoth looks to where I point, and his expression fills with fear just as the familiar stench of the massive creature is carried to me on the wind. I glance down at the hole, glad Grith was killed by such a monster, but I’m not willing to share his fate.
‘We need to get out of here. Now!’
Rikoth turns and runs, not even waiting for the others, though I see them both look up like frightened deer and begin to sprint in our direction with terror in their eyes.
‘Can we even outrun it?’ I ask as we flee, hoping he has experience with these creatures that can help us.
Rikoth doesn't answer, but his legs move faster, and that’s enough for me to stop talking and stay close to him.
I hear the thing shriek behind us, and it sounds much closer than it was before.
I glance at Rikoth. How can we possibly escape into the Breach when the Gate here is dead?
We get to the spot where we first appeared. Rikoth drags a glowing purple amulet out of his tunic and rubs his thumb over it, his terrified eyes locked on the enormous creature that’s loping toward us. I don’t know what he’s doing, but he hasn’t waited for the others, who are still a few paces away between us and the monster.
As it gets closer, I finally get a good look at it. Eyes milky and unseeing, a round maw of rows and rows of sharp black teeth, unnaturally long arms and hind legs like a dog’s with talons at the ends. I wrack my brain, trying to recall what it is so I can remember its weaknesses, but I come up with nothing. This wasn’t in my books, I’m sure of it. Though I’m not surprised. Much of the Dark Realms remains uncharted, and that includes its creatures.
‘Come on,’ Rikoth snarls under his breath, not taking his eyes off the monster. ‘Come on!’
It shrieks again and runs at us even faster. It’s almost down the hillside now.
I hear the hum of the Bridge opening, and Rikoth throws himself through immediately. I gratefully follow and feel the other two flanking me, jostling me to get to safety.
I find myself back in the keep a moment later, sprawled on the floor with the other two elites on either side of me. The Breach closes, and we get to our feet.
I look around the hall. Varrik isn’t here, and I watch Rikoth let out a slow breath, looking relieved.
‘What was that world?’ I ask him quietly.
He glances at the others who have begun to file out of the room, chatting quietly about the mission, I suppose.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he whispers. He tucks the now dull amulet back into his tunic and looks away, delving into his pack for the Gate box we found. ‘We got what we went there for.’
‘And what is that?’
‘A Gate box. Obviously.’
My eyes fly to his, and I snort, but he ignores my reaction to his blatant untruth. Instead, he raises a brow. ‘Did you think you’re an elite now, privy to all Varrik’s secrets?’
‘I thoug?—’
Rikoth is suddenly invading my space, a hand gripping my throat. ‘Varrik has told those of us who are sent out of the fold not to speak of where we go or what we do,’ he snarls low. ‘So, you don’t breathe a word to any of the other Dregs. Got it?’
I nod, my eyes narrowing as I smirk at him. ‘I understand.’
I pull his hand off my neck and leave the hall, stowing the afternoon’s excursion into the back of my mind for now. Whatever that box was doesn’t matter at the moment. I may have more immediate problems since I killed Varrik’s second. Now that I’m back here, I truly wonder if I'll get away with it because even I know that it's a bit too coincidental that my first mission was the one that Grith didn’t return from.
Still, Grith was not well-liked and, as far as anyone knows, I'd have no reason to hurt him. Even as I think it, I realize that I don't care if they catch me. The beast and I both feel the same about that. Grith will never hurt Lia again. Death would be a small price to pay for ensuring it.