Page 122 of Slaying the Vampire Conqueror

My grip on my surroundings snapped into place. I jumped to my feet.

A slyvik.

A slyvik that had Atrius.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Everyone had heard stories about the slyviks—they were, after all, the sort of creatures that lent themselves particularly well to childhood ghost stories and nightmares. But not even the wildest of those tales could match the reality of witnessing one in front of you. It wasn’t their appearance that made them terrifying—it was their entire presence. Legend said that they were no natural beasts, that they had been created by Sagtra, the god of animals, to be the ultimate hunting opponent. Gods, I could believe that.

The slyvik moved in fits and starts, its slender, scaled body contorting eerily around the craggy stone. Its arms—webbed—allowed it to glide, hurling itself from wall to wall, so quickly that neither vampire eyes nor my magic could fully track it. It had a long, serpentine neck and a face that seemed shaped specifically to accommodate its massive jaws.

Jaws that were currently closed around Atrius’s arm, as he slashed and fought fiercely.

I took this in just in time for the slyvik to drag him up like a rag doll, spread its wings, and leap into the mists.

I bit down on his name, a scream that bubbled up in a burst of panic.

Behind me, the other warriors had jumped to their feet, a rippleeffect of awareness spreading down the line as they realized what happened. Erekkus pushed past me, starting to shout, when I said, “Sh!”

If there were more of them, the last thing we wanted was to bring the others down on us—or down on Atrius. I leaned against the stone, my heart beating wildly.

“We have to go after him,” Erekkus hissed, doing a poor job of keeping his voice down.

“I am going after him,” I shot back. “Let me concentrate.”

Weaver, I couldn’t orient myself. I had never seen a creature with such a slippery presence. The slyvik seemed to leap from thread to thread, the movement in between impossible to track, almost like—like it was Threadwalking?—

Another screech reverberated through the fog, this one an even higher-pitched wail. A spark of pain in the threads.

I prayed it was the slyvik’s.

I felt it jerking wildly. Felt it venturing closer and then —

“Sylina,” Erekkus said, “no more waiting.”

I pushed him back, my jaw clenched, arm trembling against the wall.

There.

It wasn’t the slyvik’s presence I latched onto. It was Atrius’s. I grabbed my sword, held onto that thread, and flung myself into the darkness, while Erekkus’s shout of my name echoed behind me.

I timed myself well.My blade struck flesh. The slyvik screamed. Something whiplike and cold snapped against my face, making my ears ring with the impact, but I fought through the shock to grab onto the beast—not that I knew what I was grabbing onto, just whatever my arms could reach. I dug my blade deep into its flesh, giving me something to hold as I tried to make sense of what I’d grabbed?—

A tail? Wasthis its tail?

I was whipped ferociously before I could brace myself.SNAP, as the reptilian flesh smacked against the stone. Sheer luck that I wasn’t sandwiched there.

I got my bearings just in time to reorient myself—just in time to sense Atrius, still dangling from the creature’s jaws —

“Vivi,” he gasped, like he didn’t mean to speak aloud.

“Move!” I ground out.

A shift in his resolve, as he realized what I’d just done: bought him a critical moment of distraction.

He seized it.

I couldn’t tell where his blade struck, only that it struck deep, judging by the vicious spasm through the threads. The slyvik screeched, a sound that turned my skin inside out. A burst of air threw my hair back from my face as it dropped Atrius from its jaws, spread its wings?—

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