Chapter 8 Odessa #2
There was blood on her wrist, two dark streams trickling from twin puncture wounds.
Brother Skore took a step closer, but she waved him away and twisted to remove the lid on the wicker basket.
With her uninjured arm, she lifted out a rope.
No, not a rope.
A snake.
Evie tensed in front of me, her body leaning deeper into mine.
The reptile didn’t coil or slither or worm to get away, because, as I saw when she finished lifting it from the basket, it was missing its head.
“Where there is poison, there is a cure.” The woman set the snake’s body in her lap and faced the fire. “It’s not hot enough.”
My stomach dropped.
Not because of her wound or the dead snake, but because I knew this. I knew what happened next.
It was a tale I’d translated from Luella’s book the first night after my first lesson in the old language from Skore.
Once the woman deemed the fire hot enough, she’d throw the snake’s body at the edge of the blaze. And after it was charred and black, she’d take the blistered, charred skin and apply it to the bite.
Where there is poison, there is a cure.
“Gods,” I murmured, unable to tear my attention away from the woman as she waited until the pine needles were ash and the flames grew so hot Freya shied away.
My eyes watered from the shock and smoke.
Just as I’d read about in that journal, the woman forced herself to her feet, staggering as she walked to the fire. The heat from the flames blew back her hair, singeing the fragile ends. With both hands, she tossed the snake’s body into the base of the fire.
Her legs tangled in the skirt of her dress as she backed away, but somehow, she managed not to fall.
Without taking her eyes from the burning snake, she went to the blanket and retrieved the knife and pail of water.
She waited one breath before rushing toward the fire, so quickly I feared she’d fall into the flames.
Brother Skore must have thought the same. He reached for her, but she was already on her knees, slicing away the snake’s crispy skin.
“Close your eyes.” I reached to cover Evie’s eyes, but her hands were already there.
She twisted, burying her face in my chest as I cupped my hands over her ears.
I pressed hard, hoping to block out the old woman’s agonizing scream as she laid the snake’s skin on her arm, her flesh sizzling from its heat.
She sank down on the dirt, sobbing as she endured the pain. Then, when she’d had enough, she plunged her arm into the pail. The noise from the fire was too loud for me to hear the hiss of steam, but I saw the brief puff of white before it evaporated.
In the story from the journal, the woman lived on for years, surviving a bite that should have killed her. She taught her granddaughter about poisons and cures. She wore the wrinkled, mottled scar on her forearm with pride.
But the story told nothing of how Brother Skore hauled her away from the fire, laying her on the blanket. How he soothed the burn by summoning water from a nearby tree and encasing her injury in ice.
The only Voster I’d seen conjure ice was the High Priest.
Who exactly was this traveling companion of mine? Where did he rank in power with the brotherhood?
I’d thought he was weaker than Dime when I hadn’t been able to feel his magic, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe he had a stronger leash on his powers.
He left the woman, asleep on the blanket, as the flames began to subside, the fire already collapsing in on itself. As he walked to his horse, he didn’t spare her a backward glance.
If not for that journal, I would have refused to leave her side.
But she would live. I knew it down to my bones.
Without a word, I followed Skore as he turned his horse around, retreating from the fire and back into the forest.
By the time my head stopped spinning, I could no longer smell the smoke except for the scent that lingered in my hair and clothes.
“Brother Skore, I read—”
He silenced me with a raised hand and tapped the pointed shell of his ear. It was as colorless as his skin and shaped closely to his head.
I closed my mouth, straining to hear whatever had caught his attention.
Click. Click. Click.
Terror, cold and paralyzing, ran through my veins. My heart stopped. No.
Freya tensed. Faze squirmed in his carrier like he knew exactly what those clicks meant.
Bariwolves.
“No.” I tightened my grip on both Evie and Freya’s reins.
Brother Skore’s lip curled. “They’re hunting us.”
“Dess?” Evie whimpered.
“Oh, gods. What do we do?”
“Ride. Hard.” He pointed forward. “Go. Now.”
“Hold tight,” I told Evie, then with a tap of my heels to Freya’s flank, I gave my horse her head.
She took off running, picking up speed as we weaved through trees, my heart pounding as loudly as her hooves.
I risked a quick glance over my shoulder to see Skore following behind, his light-blue robes whipping around him.
It was all too familiar and all too unwelcome. We were exposed, and this time, it wasn’t a grizzur chasing us but a pack of wolves.
“Dess!” Evie cried as a streak of black came out of nowhere, the wolf emerging from the trees, teeth bared.
Shades, it was huge. The top of its back was as high as the bottom of my saddle. No matter how many times I saw the monsters, their size, their teeth, and their claws always took me by surprise.
The front half of the beast was covered in black fur molded over powerful muscle. Its rear half was covered in scales, each with a protruding, razor-sharp spine.
These were monsters designed by the Six for one purpose and one purpose only.
Death.
I clicked my tongue and urged Freya faster, using every bit of strength to keep Evie and myself in the saddle with Faze squeezed in between.
The bariwolf changed course, running alongside us. With every stride, its spines contracted and flexed, and I knew that if we got too close, they’d slice into Freya’s flesh.
I steered her away, hoping it was enough distance.
And only then did I realize the monster was playing with its food.
It was herding us.
It took me a moment too long to realize the bariwolf was pushing me toward another member of its pack. The other monster came racing for us on our other side, trapping us in the middle.
“No,” I cried, searching for any way to break us free. My hands were full. There was no way for me to reach for my sword, not without dropping the reins, Evie, or both. All I could do was hold tight and ride.
A blast of wind so powerful it nearly flung me forward whipped past my shoulder, slamming into the oncoming bariwolf.
The beast lost its footing and rolled three times, slamming into a tree trunk. Its fur and scales were covered in dirt and needles, but it scrambled to its feet, its black eyes still locked on us as we sprinted ahead and into the forest.
Brother Skore sent another blast of wind to the bariwolf still giving chase, but it only faltered a step before it kept coming.
I rode as hard as I could, my eyes watering from the wind and tears. A gap in the trees ahead gave me hope that we might have a chance to break away.
Except three more monsters appeared, coming from the exact place we were racing.
A pack of five.
We were dead.
Freya came to a skidding stop, rearing up so quickly we nearly toppled out of the saddle.
It was only Evie’s hold on the horn and my hold on her that managed to keep us seated until Freya was back on all fours.
The bariwolf on our heels growled and lunged, but the moment its feet were no longer on the ground, Skore sent another blast of wind that knocked the beast off its trajectory and sent it flying to the side.
I yanked on the reins, steering Freya away from the oncoming wolves and kicking her back to a run.
When bariwolves had attacked in Ellder, the High Priest had killed them with spears of ice. We needed spears. We needed anything, because this wind of Skore’s was not working.
We raced through the trees, and I didn’t dare look back for fear the monsters would be right behind us.
I kept riding, faster and harder, until the forest seemed to disappear ahead, opening to nothing but sky.
Dirt and earth turned to rock, and I managed to pull Freya to a stop before she took us careening over a sheer ledge.
The drop wasn’t all that far. It would be like jumping from a house’s roof. But I knew we’d never stay on Freya, and if we fell, the wolves would pounce.
Brother Skore stopped at my side, staring over the ledge. He must have come to the same conclusion because we turned our horses around at the same time.
Five snarling bariwolves prowled our way, their ears pinned and teeth bared.
If we’d been trapped before, we were fucked now.
“Save us, Oda,” I prayed, a tear sliding down my cheek.
Even if I drew my sword and dagger, there was no way I’d be able to fight five monsters.
Gods, I hated that this would be our end. That Evie would feel pain. That I wouldn’t see Ransom’s face one last time.
“I love you, little star.” I dropped the reins and wound my arms around her, holding her close. “I’m sorry.”
“I love you, Dess,” she cried, her shoulders shaking as she clung to me.
“Praise Ama. Beloved Mother,” I prayed, “bring us to your shores of starlight. Grant us quick deaths, Izzac, and let us know peace, dear Carine. Give our love to those we leave behind, Arabella, and take us quietly into your shade.”
I held tighter to Evie and Faze, closing my eyes as I waited for the strike.
But it never came. And a heartbeat later, the growling stopped.
I sat straighter, opening my eyes to see Brother Skore’s arms stretched wide.
He splayed his fingers, and something changed with the wolves.
They seemed to withdraw. Or try to withdraw. They were frozen in place, like statues pinned to the earth.
Brother Skore murmured something I couldn’t understand, and then a wounded howl came from the pack.
One of the wolves collapsed, its legs curling as it writhed on the ground. Two more dropped, then the fourth and fifth.
Their whimpers and screams were born of pure, undiluted pain as thin streams began to trickle from their eyes and nostrils and mouths.
Blood.
It didn’t pool on the ground or seep from their bodies. It formed a web in the air, veins that floated and twined as they flowed toward a single source. Brother Skore.
“By the mother.” I held Evie’s face to my chest, keeping her eyes hidden as I watched, unable to look away.
The Voster leeched the monsters’ blood, drawing it from every opening in their bodies.
Thin, viscous rivers flowed past his outstretched hands and over his head, the horror disappearing somewhere over the ledge.
The bariwolves kicked and twitched as their bodies were sucked wholly dry.
Skore didn’t stop until the monsters lay lifeless on the ground, eyes empty and sunken. Five husks.
Only then did the blood stop flowing.
The last drops floated overhead. The last green drops.
Those monsters were infected with Lyssa. It had spread to Ozarth.
After everything Ransom’s rangers had done to keep the infection from moving past Turah’s borders, it hadn’t worked. And if Lyssa had made it this far, it was only a matter of time before the infection stretched across Calandra.
His worst fears were about to come true.
When the crux came, it was inevitable that they’d be bitten. They were vicious without Lyssa. With it?
It could mark the end of our realm.
Even if we found a cure, it might be too late.
The notion was as terrifying as the Voster at my side.
I stared at Skore, unable to speak. A shiver rolled down my spine, and the shock of what I’d just witnessed dulled some of the sting of his magic.
“Do all Voster have that power?”
Brother Skore dropped his arms, not answering. His shoulders slumped as he heaved a breath. But whatever exhaustion he felt was short-lived. He held my gaze for only a moment before he sat tall and urged his horse forward, riding past the monsters left to decay.
My stomach lurched.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
A gust of wind hit my back.
It was answer enough.