Page 103 of The Delver
His wide eyes met Callie’s. Then he hurriedly covered the rest of her wounds with silk, sealing them. It was enough to stop the bleeding for now.
His spinnerets spun a thin rope, which he quickly passed to his hands and began winding around her calf.
More clicks sounded from the tunnel, followed by harsh voices.
Fuck.
Rekosh’s silken words wouldn’t have been any help now, but his deft fingers certainly would’ve been welcome.
After wrapping the silk snugly around Callie’s leg, Urkot tied it in place, hoping the hasty work would hold, and rose, lifting her onto her feet.
Callie hissed and stood with her injured leg bent, keeping weight off it, as he stooped and helped her climb onto his hindquarters. She clung to him with both arms and one leg. Urkot moved immediately to the entryway.
Legs scraped and tapped against stone somewhere not far off. The sound’s disjointed rhythm suggested several vrix striding together. He laid his lower arm atop both of Callie’s, which were banded around his middle, and stepped into the tunnel.
The air current flowed over his hide and through his fine hairs, carrying that hint of the Tangle’s smell.
He cursed when he realized what else it would carry—his and Callie’s scents, straight to the spiritstriders now approaching. And the scent of her blood was most potent of all.
Just as Urkot quickened his pace, one of the spiritstriders let out an unnerving shriek, and frenzied movement echoed along the tunnel.
Hearts thundering, Urkot ran. His legs came down heavily, jostling Callie, who held on tightly. The sounds of pursuing vrix grew louder and clearer.
He offered prayers to all the Eight, asking each for guidance and protection, asking them to see his mate through this alive and well. But in truth, he knew he could rely only upon himself to protect her. There’d be no help down here, not even from the Delver.
Urkot rounded a bend in the tunnel, slapping his hands against the wall to prevent himself from careening into it with his momentum. He pushed himself off it, running harder, faster, his chest constricted and lungs burning.
But the sounds behind him drew nearer and nearer.
The tunnel took another turn, which Urkot stumbled around, before opening into a large cavern.
“Shaper, unmake me,” he rasped, skidding to a halt just before he would’ve plummeted over an abrupt drop off that ended the path.
A few loose pebbles tumbled over the edge and clattered down, drawing his attention along with them. The bottom was barely more than a segment below him, but had he gone over unaware at that speed, it may well have resulted in an injury.
Bones and rocks littered the cave floor, lying amidst a layer of dirt. After the initial drop, the ground sloped upward at an increasingly steep angle, the stone worn in a way indicating frequent traversal.
“Urkot, look,” Callie whispered, pointing up over his shoulder.
He swung his gaze in the direction she’d gestured. At the very top of the slope stood another opening, a cave mouth, through which came a glow unlike any he’d seen since entering the mine with the thornskulls a lifetime ago. It seemed impossible in its brightness, its clarity, its warmth, and yet he knew it was very, very real.
Daylight.
Callie slipped her arm back around him. “We made it.”
As though in disagreement, a spiritstrider called out a single, harsh word from the tunnel behind them. “Taviik’ven!”
It sounded very much liketavit’ven—the vrix command to hunt.
Numerous hisses, clicks, and growls sounded in response.
After everything Urkot and Callie had endured together, after everything they had shared, their journey would not end here, would not end now. Not when sunlight was finally in sight.
“Hold tight,” he growled.
He leapt down from the ledge, landing hard on the cave floor. Bones and pebbles scattered. A few of his legs slipped on loose rubble, and he adjusted his weight, throwing his right arms to the side to regain his balance.
Callie squeezed him as he pushed on. Even with six legs, the scree was difficult to cross, constantly shifting beneath him.
