Page 85 of Leashed

He grasped the first of the rocks as he fought past the images of the multiheaded snakes slithering over them, their scorpion tails primed for attack. Focusing on the sensation of the hard stone under his fingers, he pulled himself over the hallucinations and collapsed on the crawling sand, exhausted.

*

The assault onhis senses continued for hours. Tiny pinworms slithered into his nose and ears, his arms and legs tickled by the sensation of thousands of millipedes crawling across him as he ground his hands into the sand. He could hear the scratching of tiny legs on his skin, the crunching under his weight when he shifted atop them. Opening his eyes meant witnessing it, but closing them brought about worse images of his brothers and Sage, their bodies being pulled apart by the catoblepas he knew were still watching him from the trees.

He gritted his teeth to keep the snakes out, his back arching in disgust every time he had to inhale the insects swarming his face until the attack receded, retreating back into the lake’s waters in a teeming mass.

Gasping for unimpeded air, he lay on the ground and stared up at the roof of the cavern, swatting the last of the remaining sensations from his body before raising his arms in victory.

“The millipedes were a nice touch, Lach,” he yelled into the abyss as he forced himself up on his elbows. His voice was rougher than usual, his mouth as dry as his parched throat.

Refusing to give the Fate the satisfaction of seeing him prone on the banks any longer, he got to his feet and brushed the sand from his damp clothes, scanning the ground around him for signs of his satchel.

Looking out into the water, he watched as it bobbed on the surface, a frown on his face.

“Dammit,” he grunted. “I liked that one.”

Cutting his loss, he turned and examined the paths stretching out from the bank.

The most unassuming of them was lined with flowering trees, a carefully tended walkway cutting through the bright foliage and looping gracefully as far as he could see.

“Screw that idea,” he muttered, sizing up the other two.

The path to the left was straight and barren, disappearing into the horizon amid its wide berth. He took a step toward it, jumping back when the earth beneath his foot trembled. A second attempt was met with the same reaction, so he knelt just outside the barrier and dipped his hand into the soft dirt.

The ground gave way to his fingers easily, a suction holding him in place. He jerked back. His hand stayed locked in place and he lurched forward, pushing deeper into the earth until he was buried to the elbow with one arm, closing in on shoulder-deep on the other.

Panic surged through him and his muscles tensed as he struggled against the dirt and sand. His hair fell forward and he shook his head to swing it out of his eyes, cursing under his breath when the barren ground began to tremble again, drawing him further in.

Struggling to get his feet under him, he used his legs to push up, the strain almost pulling his shoulders out their sockets before he relented to the pain and eased back down. The catoblepas remained in his peripheral vision, their purring growing louder as they grew bolder. Their movements tested the barriers of their environmental containment, clawed feet inching past the fallen tree branches.

Going against all instinct, he turned his head from the approaching predators and maneuvered onto his stomach, breathing deep to calm the frantic tightening of his muscles. With the first twitched relaxation, his right arm slid an inch from the ground. Another deep breath and his left released a sliver. Inch by inch, he warred with his impulse to buck against the restraint, to relax into it and allow it the control to free him.

With a final, centered breath, the ground gave way and he scrambled back, swinging his attention to the forest and exhaling loudly when the catoblepas growled low and backed into the cover of the trees.

Middle path it was, then.

With deliberate steps, he walked the stone path into the dark cave and prepared for whatever came at him in the darkness.

*

Sage absently pushedher food around her plate, earning a hushed admonishment from Nixon. Sitting up straighter, she refocused on the presentation he’d brought her to, hoping her expression showed more interest than she was currently feeling.

“What is wrong with you?” Nix whispered in her ear, further expressing his annoyance with the gentle swatting of her hand on the table. “This event has been sold out for months.”

Blinking, she loaded her fork and took a bite of the unidentifiable cuisine, chewing slowly to buy herself a few moments. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m just feeling a little off.”

Offwasn’t quite the word.

Constrained.

Trapped.

Bound.

She’d spent half her night tossing and turning through the most disturbing dreams she’d ever had, waking with a cold sheen of sweat on her skin while visions of sea serpents and scorpion-tailed beasts stalked her memory.

The tightening across her chest had waxed and waned all day, her lungs struggling for air at times. But with no fever, no cough, no pain, she couldn’t quite put her finger on the cause.

“Next time you feel off, I hope you’ll let me know in advance,” he murmured back. “I have several clients who would be grateful for this networking opportunity.”

“Of course,” she replied on cue, feeling as though something inside her was overriding her response, easing her into compliance. “I’m sure it’ll pass quickly.”

As she spoke, her shoulder contracted infinitesimally before she pushed back and flexed her muscles to relieve herself of the crushing sensation.

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