Page 59 of Unleashed

We will not die. Not here, not today. Sonhadra will not claim us.

She squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head, pressing her cheek to Vortok’s fur. His booming pulse — in perfect time with hers — and his ragged, snorting breath filled her ear. She used them to block out everything else — the cracking and groaning ice, the chill wind, the fear — and turned her focus to the worm.

Clenching her jaw, she isolated its primitive mental projections from those of her valos and reached out toward it. Her mind strained; she’d never done this on purpose before, had never intentionally delved into anyone or anything’s mind. It had always been reactionary, instinctual, the result of heightened emotion.

Weren’t her emotions heightened enough now?

It was like taking up a new tool for the first time; even knowing its purpose, she wasn’t sure how to use it, didn’t know what to do. The only clear thing was that she had to dosomething.

She pushed. Her mind slammed into the worm’s, and she projected a scream, white and disembodied and full of fury and fear. For an instant, the worm’s mind slithered in her awareness. It was primal, driven only by functions so deeply instinctual that they momentarily froze her own thoughts. This was not a creature that would flee a battle because of fear; it could not feel fear. It only had a dim sense of self-preservation to power its own survival. It could not comprehend loyalty, greed, affection, or contentment. It knew only the need to eat.

And anything that made sound was prey.

Nina cried out and severed the connection, sagging atop Vortok. Her body trembled, and her mind reeled, but she couldn’t afford weakness now. Drawing in a shaky breath, she sought the worm again.

For a moment it was still, as though stunned by her psychic scream. That was enough to open some distance between it and the valos, but would it be enough?

She lifted her head. Ahead, a slight incline in the snow marked the end of the lake. Two hundred feet, perhaps three hundred.

Her mind pulsed; the worm resumed its pursuit, lured by the noise on the ice’s surface.

“We’re almost there!” she yelled. “You can do it, Vortok! We’re going to make it.”

Vortok’s muscles strained. Nina sensed him reaching within himself, dredging up reserves of strength, calling on everything he had with the single-minded focus of getting off the ice. The spark of rage that always seemed to burn within him flared, and she felt his fear melting away in the face of his fury.

They neared the shoreline rapidly, but the worm’s approach was faster.

It burst through the ice in front of Vortok, towering impossibly tall at the apex of its upward thrust. Nina tilted her head back to look up at its bluish, segmented body, terror once again stealing her breath. Its tentacles lashed over the ice as though seeking prey.

Vortok veered to the side, following Aduun, who’d dashed past the worm to reach the higher snow. The worm twisted toward them, ready to strike.

A piercing shriek from Balir demanded the creature’s attention. It slowed and shifted its momentum, finally falling onto the ice. Vortok’s hooves thumped as he made the final push to reach the shoreline.

Nina glanced backward, ragged breath burning her throat, and her eyes went wide. The worm was turning toward them again, the tentacles along its underside grabbing onto the ice to draw its massive body out of the water. Its other tentacles straightened, pointing toward Vortok and Nina.

She remembered seeing the worm launch something at Aduun an instant before the tentacles whipped down.

Piercing agony burst across Nina’s shoulder. She swayed forward, her grunt of pain swallowed by the volume of Vortok’s roar. Nina turned her head to check her shoulder. A thin, black, thorn-like spike protruded from the back of it. Her head spun, and her vision blurred.

With her opposite hand, she reached over and grasped the spike, hissing as she tugged it free. The pain of its removal was distant, diminished. She didn’t understand why until her hold on Vortok’s mane slipped. She dropped the bloody spike and clawed at his fur, struggling for a grip, but her suddenly numb fingers refused to cooperate.

Vortok ducked his head and plowed into the built-up snow along the edge of the lake. Nina’s world tilted as she fell backward, giving her a dizzying view of the gray sky. She heard the impact of her body hitting the snow but didn’t feel it. A moment later, all sound faded, and her vision went black.

Aduun watched,helpless, as Nina fell. She and Vortok had been directly behind him a moment before, but now…

Vortok’s forward momentum died. He stumbled to a halt, crashed into the snow, and spread his legs to heave himself up. Several short, black spines jutted from his backside.

Despite their frantic flight across the ice, Aduun’s heartbeat had slowed to an unnatural degree. The spikes had to be coated with some sort of venom.

Nina lay some distance behind Vortok, unmoving, a dark spot in the snow. Beyond her, the worm had hauled itself fully onto the ice, water streaming from its thick hide as it dragged itself forward. Whether it knew Nina was there or not, it was moving toward her.

Aduun’s beast was conflicted; it resisted when he pushed toward Nina, making his muscles strain. He shook his head, trying to shrug off its influence. Nina was its mate, its possession, and it needed to protect her, but the worm was a massive, dangerous predator, a thing worthy of fear.

Aduun the man knew fear too, but it wasn’t simply fear of the unknown creature. It was fear of failing her, fear of never seeing her again, fear of losing her forever. He refused to be discouraged by his fear, refused to succumb to it. Instead, he chose to be motivated by it.

And his beast would comply, no matter what form his body happened to be in, no matter what instincts had risen to the forefront.

He charged forward, tearing through the snow with his large paws, and built a roar in his chest. When he opened his jaws wide and released the sound, it echoed across the ice lake, resonated through the valley, and grew into something much larger than the worm. Aduun’s beast responded, shifting from fear to ferocity; its mate was endangered. The size or number of the foe did not matter, only that it was made to bleed.

---