Page 70 of Venomous Lust
Yalko wasn’t going to just wait and see his people plunged into darkness. Already, he was giving orders to his warriors, who were corralling the population into a faraway tunnel. Then his bright yellow eyes turned to Hazel and Khal.
“It seems I will have to put my people in harm’s way after all.” There was a broken note in his voice, a cold resolve in his tone.
“We have to know what is happening,” Khal said. “But no matter how or why, you know the truth. This is Knut’s doing, and he has to be stopped.”
A savage gleam passed briefly over those yellow eyes. “Yes, Eok warrior. Knut has to be stopped.”
Chapter 22
Hazel
“The Medina will not harm you.” Yalko spoke to Hazel as he wrapped his body within the heavy green cloak. “She cannot see you under the cloak, but you must not run, no matter how many of her tentacles she raises at our approach.”
Hazel swallowed, unable to speak as she pulled the folds of her own cloak tighter around her shoulders. At her side, Khal stood, his face unreadable, his own body wrapped in the Muharee’s green cloak and suit.
The light hadn’t returned to the Muharee’s home, plunging them all into a dreadful darkness. Yalko turned to the five Muharee warriors who had been selected to come with him to find out why the Medina had suddenly stopped providing its people with light. The warriors were silent and serious, their yellow gazes on the forest beyond the cave with distressed, almost desperate expressions.
The Medina was not just everywhere on Muhar, it was everything to the Muharee.
Yalko didn’t wait, he turned to the forest and walked away in silence, followed by his five warriors.
“Stay close to me.” Khal spoke low to Hazel, his eyes alert as he scanned the green land beyond the cave opening. “We cannot trust them.”
“They have no reason to hurt us.”
“They are a broken people.” Khal shook his head. “And the dying of the Medina might just be the thing that pushes them to their breaking point. Desperate people are dangerous.”
Hazel considered what Khal had told her as they stepped together into the Medina Forest, walking in unison. As they went on, white roots lifted into the air and the sound of chirping accompanied each and every one of their steps. The Medina seemed alert and well, but that soon changed.
An hour later, the white roots no longer swayed softly to the rhythm of their chirping. They stood with their tips drooping down, clear mucus dripping slowly from them and seeping into the death-infused dirt.
This is bad. What is happening to those stalks?
Khal’s hand closed hard around her wrist as a white root came to hover just in front of her face. It rocked drunkenly in the light breeze, clear mucus seeping down its tip, its long body shriveled-looking and smelling strongly of sulfur.
“Get behind me,” Khal ordered in a low, steady voice.
“Something is wrong with it.” Hazel obeyed Khal’s order and let him face the root as they both stared, fascinated. From the corner of her eye, she saw Yalko approach, his yellow eyes peering out as wide as saucers from under his hood.
“The Mother Forest is sick.” Yalko’s voice was filled with horror as he inspected the white root.
“It’s like she’s been poisoned,” Khal offered, his tone matching Yalko’s.
Yalko shot Khal a fast glance before returning his attention to the root. He lifted his gloved hand to it, his finger softly resting on the long body. His slight touch made the root sway dangerously, then it fell to the side. Its body seemed to deflate as it touched the ground, fluid seeping through the pores and disappearing into the dirt.
“This cannot happen.” One of Yalko’s Muharee warriors spoke, his tone one of outrage and panic mixed together. Khal’s warning came back to Hazel’s mind as she looked up to meet the yellow gaze. “The outlanders are killing our Mother. We should cleanse them all. We should start with—”
“We need to know what’s happening, not act like the primitive fools Knut thinks we are,” Yalko cut his warrior off, a hiss on his tongue. “Hazel and Khal have been on Muhar for three days. They’re not responsible for this.”
“This is a curse.” The same warrior continued to speak despite Yalko’s hissing warning. He took a step forward, opening his mouth to reveal his fangs, poison already dripping. “The Mother Forest wants us to cleanse our lands of all outlanders.”
“Hazel and her mate are under my protection.” Yalko’s voice was lost in a reptilian hiss, full of fury and warning. “We will not lose our precious time fighting this nonsense.”
“Maybe you should join them in the Mother, then.”
The Muharee warrior moved, fast as a snake. His cloak fell to the floor and he leaped, fangs at the ready, aiming straight for Hazel. Khal moved in a fluid, efficient motion, talons shooting out, slashing through the air.
But Yalko moved even faster. The Muharee’s slender body bent at an impossible angle, his jaw opening wide—too wide—the bones dislocating as his fangs embedded in his opponent’s throat. The other Muharee fought, fists hitting Yalko’s sides, but he was losing his strength fast.
