Page 61 of Sheltered in the Storm

My warrior Calla was truly magnificent, and my awe knew no bounds.

Even so, I could not forget that much of her skill had come at an unfathomable cost: eleven years in the arenas. I had not asked her age, but she seemed more than twenty-five standard years, if not closer to thirty. What had she done during the intervening years between leaving Ganai and enlisting in the Alliance Defense? She had only spoken of that time obliquely, alluding to its violence and peril, but given no specifics.

Someday I would ask, but not now. The fact she had not told me indicated she did not yet wish to say.

All too soon, I felt I must call a halt to the match. We had a long walk to the ocean. My Calla must have enough energy and strength not only to make the journey there and back and swim if she wanted, but to fight if necessary.

And so a few steps at a time I backed her up to the wall of the house, blocked her escape with my tentacles, and crushed my mouth to hers, hoping she could feel all my adoration and admiration in my kiss. If not, I was not above falling to my knees in the mud so she would know how in awe of her I was.

A sharp sting in my thigh and a trickle of heat from the wound made me gasp.

“First blood, but we can call it a draw if you want,” she murmured against my lips, her eyes twinkling. “Now, my Vos, take me to the sea.”

CHAPTER 21

CALLA

The glimpsesI’d caught of the swamp outside Vos’s garden wall and his warnings about its dangers had not prepared me for how breathtaking it was.

I wore a small pack on my back that contained drinking water, fruits, and other items Vos deemed necessary for our walk. My borrowed daggers rested in sheaths on my thighs. I’d slipped a third, smaller blade into a sheath in my right boot. Vos carried the Ganaian sword on his back. He’d told me he rarely went into the swamp armed with anything more than his tentacles. I suspected despite his clear confidence in my fighting ability, having me along increased his concern about possible dangers.

Every tree and branch drooped under the weight of thick, sweet-smelling pink and crimson moss. Tall grasses and reeds swayed in the wind and light rain. The competing odors of wet earth, plants, brackish water, and decay filled my nose. I had to stifle several sneezes.

Despite outweighing me significantly, Vos tread silently aswe followed a trail worn through the grasses and over spongy marshes. This wasn’t just Vos’s path to the sea; I spotted a dozen footprints of varying sizes. Most had claws that dug deeply into the muck.

We relied primarily on hand signals on the rare occasions we needed to communicate. Vos had warned me most predators in the area were drawn to the sound of voices. In particular I didn’t want to meet a kaory today, given Vos’s description of their venomous spines and razor-sharp teeth. No doubt Vos and I could kill one, but I preferred a nice, quiet, uneventful walk.

Vos had said a kaory's venom was cytotoxic, just like the deno’lia on Fortusia that had very nearly killed me. Even now, almost two years later, the memories of excruciating pain and my rapidly rotting flesh haunted me. Only swift medical intervention had saved me from an utterly hellish death.

Still, kaory and all the other creatures lurking in the trees and water be damned. I didn’t fear crossing this swamp because I had weapons and training and Vos.

When we paused to rest and drink water about two-thirds of the way to Vos’s favorite inlet, I pointed wordlessly at some of the scarlet moss and raised my eyebrows, asking if it was safe to touch. Vos smiled, freed some of the moss from a branch, and handed it to me.

As he watched for potential threats, I drank water and sat on a rock to rest, listening to water lapping at the marshes around us and the calls of birds. The swamp really was lovely. Even the smell of decay wasn’t bad once I got used to it.

The curly, tangled moss was as soft and silky as it appeared. When I rubbed it between my fingers, it gave off a sweet scent and turned my fingertips pink.

With a quiet chuckle, Vos tugged me to my feet, kissed my forehead, and led me on toward the ocean.

Two kilometers on most terrains wasn’t very far, but two kilometers through a swamp where I had to be mindful of everystep seemed to take an eternity and a half. My impatience to reach the ocean and the ache in my legs from slogging through muck added to my perception that the journey took half the day when it was probably closer to a little more than an hour.

And with every step, twinge of pain, and ragged breath, in the back of my mind I pictured Vos running the other direction up this path in the dark of night with my broken body cradled in his tentacles, racing to get me home for even a chance to keep me alive. And that was after he’d fought and killed a boat full of raiders to get to me, only for me to threaten to kill him if he didn’t let me go.

I’d known all of that, but it wasn’t until I’d made this trek myself—albeit in much better circumstances—that the enormity of what he’d done that night really sank in. He hadn’t been my Vos then, but he’d believed I was his Calla. That belief had given him the strength not only to make the journey but to save my life. I’d never been worth that much to anyone. Even my keepers on Ganai, who’d made a fortune on my success in the arena, wouldn’t have lifted a finger to get me away from a dozen raiders, much less swim and then run to get me home. As for giving me their own blood to save me…ha. Not in a million years.

For that matter, Squad Captain Proos wouldn’t spit on me if I were on fire. The feeling was mutual, though, so I supposed I couldn’t fault him too much for it. Why I’d wasted so much time thinking I wanted to go back to that, I didn’t know.

Just as the ache in my right calf reached the point that I considered asking Vos for a short break, I heard something that swept away all my pain and fatigue: the telltale sound of waves and wind. About fifty meters ahead, through the trees and swaying moss, I glimpsed a treeless lavender-gray sky and purple ocean.

With my attention on that sight instead of the path in front of me, my foot caught in something, and down I went. With oneof those uncanny, lightning-fast moves, Vos caught me before I ended up in the muck.

My face heated and I scowled. Oh, well done. I’d shown him some of my skills with blades and then promptly fell on my face simply trying to walk.

A flash of movement to my right.

Instinctively, I pulled my dagger and drove it hilt-deep through the skull of an enormous crimson serpent, pinning it to the trunk of a tree covered with lichen almost exactly the same color as the snake.

The snake’s body thrashed wildly and fell from the branches where it had been concealed. The gods-damned thing had to be nearly six meters long.

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