Page 80 of Venomous Lust
“Use the root!” Hazel threw it toward Khal and it landed at his feet with a wet thump. His deep blue eyes went to her, then to her hands, and widened. “It can cut the metal!”
Khal’s gaze went to the ground, where the ionic gun lay, dissolving in a puddle. He parried another attack from Gerkin before turning to the root. Khal braced his hands low against the rocks, pushing the Allurium chain into the root’s flesh, then, in the next heartbeat, he rolled onto his uninjured shoulder to evade Gerkin’s next attack.
Foam was covering the Allurium chain, bubbling like boiling water where the mucus had come into contact with the metal.
“Won’t you just fucking give up and die!” Gerkin shouted, charging Khal again, raging like a bull.
Khal’s shackles finally snapped, freeing his hands. As Gerkin got closer, his pale eyes widened when he realized his mistake. But it was too late, his momentum was propelling him forward and into Khal’s range.
Khal moved with the deadly grace of a predator, evading Gerkin’s ionic blades. His talons moved through the air in a wide arc, descending just above Gerkin’s neck.
Then Gerkin’s body dropped to the ground and his head rolled away, his pale eyes wide and still full of shock, looking straight ahead without seeing.
Elation filled Hazel as her eyes locked with Khal’s. He was still standing, proud and terrible, perfect in his bestial strength, blood splattering his chest, dripping down his sharp features.
Then her elation turned to horror as he was surrounded by a hundred white roots, their digestive mucus dripping to the ground, hungry and ready to strike.
Gerkin was dead and Khal had won, but he wasn’t safe—far from it. The Medina was striking back at those who had been killing her and Khal stood right in her way, drenched in blood.
A white root was hovering just there, level with Khal’s face, dripping mucus, drunk on violence and revenge. The chirping surrounding the battle ground was permeating the air, the danger like a living, breathing thing poised to strike.
Hazel wanted to scream, wanted to cry and lurch forward, to put her body between Khal and death, but even though she was close, she wasn’t close enough.
But the root didn’t strike. Khal didn’t go down in a frenzy of acid and melting flesh.
“It’s not attacking you.” Hazel’s voice sounded before she realized she was speaking. “Why?”
Another scream came from the right, where one of the four Eok warriors had been struck down. The white root turned toward the noise, diving for the falling warrior without losing time. Hazel stared in shocked awe as white roots covered the fallen Eok. His screams turned to gurgles as a tendril wriggled around his throat, embedding in the soft tissue, melting the flesh instantly. Blood and mucus spread out beneath the Eok’s body as he struggled.
When the gurgles faded to nothing and those powerful arms stopped struggling, Hazel looked away, nausea threatening to overcome her. It had all happened within a few seconds.
The Ilarian army was losing. Everywhere, dead Ilarian guards lay under white roots, their bodies melting into puddles as their brothers kept fighting, not even sparing them a glance.
In comparison to the ten thousand Ilarians fighting like an unemotional machine and losing ground, the Eoks fought for each other, three out of the four still standing. Their protectiveness made them take risks to protect one another that the Ilarian didn’t, saving their lives where the cold-minded efficiency resulted only in death.
But even they wouldn’t stand long.
The Medina was back for revenge. It was like the plant-based lifeform was mounting a strategic attack, sparing her allies while striking down her enemies.
But this was impossible. The Medina was a forest, not a sentient being.
Then a dreadful, ghastly premonition scratched at the back of her mind.
But the Medina is dying, how can she help? With great sacrifice.
The Muharee and the Medina were one and the same. The Great Mother was also the Great Devourer. Harnessing her power was sure to have a great cost.
Like it could hear her thoughts, a white root came to hover just in front of Hazel. It stayed there without attacking until she noticed a green form, standing still in the chaos of battle, just a few dozen yards away.
“Yalko.” Hazel breathed the word as the green form came closer and closer.
From the corner of her eye, she saw that Khal was mesmerized in the same way, unmoving and silent.
Yalko moved forward with a fluid, reptilian grace. Around each arm was wrapped a white root, its mucus-laced flesh embedded deeply in the green fabric.
No, Hazel realized as Yalko got even closer. Not in the green fabric. In Yalko’s flesh. The white root had fused with his body, the Muharee becoming one and the same with the Medina. One and the same, but at a terrible cost.
Great sacrifice. That was what Yalko had said.
