I dream still. I see her face among a swirl of chaos. I see the faces of our children behind her. Then I see the red of their bodies. I see her light go dark. I see the collapse of everything we knew.
They took everything from us, not only our lives but our very dignity and pride. Is this punishment for our haughtiness? It hardly seems fair. No, no deity did this. It was them; they are the real monsters. Those that would bring such calamity on people whose only crime was keeping to themselves, arrogant though we were, we did not deserve this.
That name will go down in history. The name of the one whose threats we ignored, confident in ourselves. Scliras, Destroyer of Worlds.
-“Doc” Vorran date unsure
TALEA:
The firelight flickers along our skin and forms a melted circle on the ground. I scrunch my brow in thought, all this travelling leaves us hours and hours of talking every night. Then as we make camp in the early hours of morning, with the sky dark gray, there is still more talking. It leaves me with a lot to process. Especially with Lesedi asking a thousand questions and scribbling notes upon notes in her books.
Lesedi looks up from her book and points with her pencil. “The big one over there is Vrix. Did I pronounce that right?”
Othin chuckles. “Vrx.”
I frown. “Where do you get these names? They’re just sounds clumped together.”
“Are not all names sounds clumped together?” Othin raises an eyebrow.
I sigh, night after night with Lesedi is improving his debating abilities. I love that he’s got a sharp mind, but I’m not sure how I feel about his developing a sharp tongue to go with it. It’s probably useful, and it shows that the nightstalkers are capable of learning communication skills. But I’m losing my advantage.
He pulls his claws at my messy braid of purple frizz. I yielded to braiding it after Lesedi’s nagging that I find a way to take care of it. I don’t know why it bothers her so much, most of the nightstalkers have unruly hair and it doesn’t bother them. I flinch from my thoughts as Echo belts out a loud snore and rolls onto her side. She sleeps day and night; I don’t know how she does it. It’s like she’s able to simply turn off when she’s bored and wake up when things get interesting.
Smiling at my silence Othin looks up at the sky pulling together the words in his mind. He turns his eyes back to me. “Sounds have meaning. Names do not mean words, they mean ideas. The sounds come together and make the feeling of a person.”
I chew on my lip trying to understand. I can feel Othin’s frustration gnawing at him in trying to find the right words. He’s made dramatic improvement, but words are still challenging, they’re not his first language.
I try to think like a nightstalker. Nightstalkers are all about stories. “So, each sound means something, and the name is like a story of who the person is?”
Othin nods. “But the sounds do not have a word meaning. They mean what we see.”
I scratch my eyebrow and take a slow breath. “How?”
Othin takes a breath with me to stifle the frustration. He reaches out to take my hands in his, his long fingers swallow mine. Those glowing red eyes cast a red tint onto his white eyelashes. The gaze is so intense.
“You listen too much. Moonrunners do not say, we feel.” He touches my brows with gentle fingers and presses on my lids.
I close my eyes leaving my mind in an isolated bubble of darkness. “Ok, now what?”
Othin brings one hand away from mine and pushes the tip of a claw against my lips. It feels like a soft pin prick. “No words. Feel.”
I grumble with frustration and shrug. He pulls his claw away and speaks one word with an undertone of growling. “Othin.”
A fist of air clutches my heart and almost stops it with dread. A feeling of death and loss wells up in my chest squeezing the air from my lungs. When the loss threatens to drown me in grief the feeling changes into sharp knives of power. The power to hold a life in your hands and extinguish it with nothing but your claws. I can see a vague picture in my mind, it’s hard to make out. It looks like a figure torn in two down the middle, but still standing, over a pile of bodies.
My eyes flash open and I take in a sharp icy breath. “What was that?”
He looks away. “My name.”
I gulp for breath. “Why? How?”
The feelings inside him change to stark black hatred. More rage and blood lust than I thought was possible inside him. I know Othin isn’t exactly innocent, but he’s different. Isn’t he?
His voice drops to a deep growl and he still can’t look at me. “I know what it is to lose someone you love. More so than most.”
I reach out to touch him, but I withdraw my hand when he growls. My voice is soft and careful. “Who did you lose?”
He gulps and can only say one word. “Shi’ru.”
That’s a female name. A spark of rage ignites in my chest but I push it down. “You loved her?” I grit my teeth, don’t be jealous over a dead girl.
He nods. “As much as I love you.”
I frown and breath slow through my nostrils. My voice is shaky but I try my best to stay calm. “Who was she?” I glance over to see Lesedi scribbling in her journal with the lantern poised in her lap and trying too hard to look like she isn’t eavesdropping.
Othin looks up and focuses his eyes on the starry sky. “My sister.”
“Sister?” I breathe out large puffs of steamy breath in such erratic fashion I start coughing. “Like Rala?”
His head jerks in one snapping motion to set glaring eyes of rancor on me. His muscles twitch. “She shared a womb with us, but nothing more.” Steam puffs from his nostrils and dissipates in the icy air. “She is the monster that killed my sister. My Shi’ru.”
Lesedi gasps. Tried as she might, she could no longer stay a silent bystander. “She killed her own sister?” Her face flashes with horror.
Othin nods. “Shi’ru was born weak. So weak her name was given at birth. Moonrunners choose their names when it is clear what the Moon Mother has chosen for them. But Shi’ru-”
I get a feeling of powerlessness. Weakness mixed with a feeling of softness, like tufts of tog wool. “She wasn’t expected to live long.” Othin nods again.
“Was she born calm? Timid and quiet? Instead of fighting.” Lesedi interrupts as she turns a page in her book.
He tucks a strand of loose hair behind his ear trying to regain his calm. “Yes. But her body was also weak. It was-”
Again, Lesedi interrupts as her voice gets manic with overthinking. “Smaller. Her limbs were softer and her skin was a couple shades off. In general, soft yes?” He nods.
I frown. “Les, what are you getting at?”
She licks her fingers and turns back several pages in her notes. “When Wikon’s babies were born I noticed the strangest phenomenon. Two of the babies exhibited typical nightstalker traits. There was a muscular structure in place more fitting for adults than infants. It’s like nightstalkers are ready to fight and survive even as babies. But, the one I ran across the village with was different. She was soft and small. The most similar to how a baby is supposed to be.”
Othin’s eyes widen. “Do you think Wikon’s daughter will die?”
I shake my head. “No! No, that’s not what she’s saying Othin.” I glance at Lesedi. “You’re not right?”
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t know what I’m saying, but something is going on.”
I shoot a glare at her to be quiet. I love her dearly, but now is not the time for a tangent about theories and books. My hand reaches out again to lay against Othin’s back. He gives me a smile dripping with sadness. “She was special. She saw what we did not see.”
The only response I can think of is silence. I give his hand a comforting squeeze and say nothing. He squeezes back and his smile brightens. “She felt what we did not. Could not. It is like she was the only one in the world who could see color.” His smile drops away. “I became her protector. Even as we learned to walk Rala beat Shi’ru, cut on her, bit her. No matter what happened, Rala always got the better of her. Until I stepped in and protected her. I kept her safe, we would survive together.”
“She was your Lesedi.” I whisper with a voice trembling with fear.
Othin nods. “We planned to run away together when we were old enough. Live on the edges of the forest, explore the coasts, find a safe place.” He wipes at his eyes. “The day we reached minimum age Rala challenged her in the arena. We were ten.”
Ten? When I was ten, I was chasing hoppers through the ponds. In this moment I see my naivety right in front of me. I knew nightstalkers were harsh and cruel and crazy. But I never realized the extent to which every one of them is damaged and broken. I fight back tears as this man I love shows me all the cracks in his soul. That compassion and pity burns into a fury, Rala did this to him.
“My father held me back from stopping it. ‘It is the law’ he said.” Othin’s face screws into an expression of disgust. “I tried to claim her as mine and become her champion. But she refused. She knew I would die. She knew she would.” He gulps. “The fight was short, Rala granted us that. But I can still hear her screams.”
Othin stands up and pinches at his eyes again wiping tears he hopes we don’t see. His hair swishes as he turns to pick up more wood and put it on the fire. The flames spark and smoke billows like a twisting cloud. He drops into a crouch and pokes at the fire with a crooked stick. “She will die. That is what matters.”
Rala walks past the fire sauntering off into the darkness. “Are you gossiping about me brother?” She smiles a wicked grin.
“Only about your death.” Othin grins with hateful eyes.
She raises an eyebrow. “Then you will need to kill me in my sleep.” Her eyes glance at me and her smile drops. “But even then, you will not win.”
✽✽✽
I kick Echo in the leg, she flinches and inhales with a guttural snort as she comes to. I shake my head. “Get in the tent.”
Her eyes squint at me while she looks around bleary eyed. “Rising or setting?”
“Rising. You fell asleep by the fire,” Echo glares at me in silence. My hands clench into fists. “I don’t want you out here during the day. Get in the tent.”
Picking herself up Echo staggers across the snow and throws herself into the tent. I know it doesn’t provide a lick of safety against any nightsatlker that decides to cross us, but it makes me feel better. When they’re both in one place I can keep an eye on them easier. I don’t trust these people yet; I want to though. Most of them hate me or have no respect for me, but there’s something that feels almost comfortable in being around these psychopaths.
I pull my cloak tighter around me, it’s getting colder each night. We’re about to hit the rage of lune and that chills me to my bones. After the halfway point the already disagreeable weather spirals into icy madness. The storms come and destroy what’s in their path, what stays standing turns to ice, nothing can live outside in the rage. I had hopes we would reach the shelter of Srexi forest before it hit us, but that’s the thing about lune. It comes as it pleases, there’s no predicting when it will end and how long it will last. All we have are the signs.
I let out an emotional breath and rub my temples. I’m already feeling a dense weight on my shoulders. I started this for selfish reasons, but if I’m going to finish it, I need to aim higher. This is bigger than getting to be with Othin, bigger than our little pack of grayskins. Someone out there is maneuvering things, planning things, plotting. Whoever they are, they don’t care what the weather is like. We need to move faster.
Othin picks himself up from the ring of cloaked nightstalkers encircling the fire. I smile. They’re not as immune to cold as they want us to believe. They do fine for a while, but the longer they spend in it the slower they get. With the fearsome cold facing us they’ve been dragging themselves more to get to the fire at the end of the night. We’re not all going to make it at this rate, there needs to be a smarter way to do this.
I rub the back of my neck and smile as I feel hot breath over my hand. I reach my free hand out to the side and feel a muscled forearm hidden beneath shirt sleeves. His arms wrap around me and I can feel his heat against my back. He pulls me close and rests his cheek on the top of my head.
His deep voice is quiet, almost a whisper. “You worry.”
I nod and tap his arm. “About a lot of things.”
“Such as?” His deep voice vibrates from his chest into my back.
I turn around in his arms to face him. “For one, you’re wearing a shirt.”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
He frowns and looks down at the white tunic, then he smirks looking up at me. “Ah, you miss seeing me naked is it?”
I laugh and shake my head. He started wearing more clothing a couple days ago, they all did. It’s getting colder faster than we hoped. The rage is barreling towards us and I feel powerless to fight it. My eyes look away weighed down with worry.
With humor falling away he steps back and squeezes my arms. “What can I do?”
I glance over to the tent. “Can you keep watch over them for me?”
He frowns and strokes a lock of hair from my eyes. “Them? Will you not sleep also?”
I shrug. “I can’t right now.” He opens his mouth about to object. I push it closed with my fingertips. “I just need to think a little. Alone. I’m going to scout our perimeter a bit, make sure everything is fine. Then I’ll be back and go to sleep.”
He considers stopping me, forcing me to go to the tent to sleep. I can feel his protective reflex trying to drown him. But he stifles it and responds with a simple, silent, nod. I breathe with relief as he walks away and ducks into the tent. The door flap peeks open and I can see red eyes peering from it.
I step away towards the mountain range of sleeping zigon. Their bodies run so hot they melt the snow around them. No wonder the nightstalkers prefer them as mounts, there’s a kinship there. They’re wild, untamable, and almost unkillable. Not to mention their fair share of crazy. On the edge of the pile of golden fur I see Guzu. She’s not sleeping, she’s grazing. I don’t know how I know it’s Guzu, she looks like all the others, but it is.
I walk over to her and as I do, she lifts her head to stare at me. I walk towards her with careful steps and I do my best to project a feeling of friendship, kindness. She shakes her head and steps forward as she makes a low grunting sound. I see the eyes flash open of another zigon, but after looking at me it decides I’m not worth the trouble and resumes its slumber. It’s still a surreal experience to be around these dangerous animals.
As I approach Guzu I reach out my hand and pause with it hanging in the air. Guzu snorts steamy breath from her large nostrils and bows her head to touch my fingertips with her nose. I run my hand along the short soft fur of her face. I can feel her skin underneath, it’s also soft. I don’t know why I never noticed this before, but they’re softer than anything else I’ve ever felt.
Guzu looks at me with her huge golden eyes. The skin of her eyes is black and thick, almost like she’s wearing goggles. There’s no white in those eyes, the tissue changes in sharp transition from black to gold.
I smile, staring into these like I’m being pulled in. “We need a plan Guzu. A better one.”
She doesn’t understand me, but she doesn’t need to. All she needs to do is listen and let me stroke her fur. After a few minutes she bores of the conversation and goes back to grazing. I content myself with stroking her sides. The top layer of the fur is crinkly with mud, but as I dig my hands deeper, I find the soft texture underneath.
The sky is gray from cloud cover, but paler than it was. As light as it gets during the day, which is almost the same as dawn and dusk. It’s quiet, calm, and peaceful. I feel like my mind can settle and think. No sarcastic comments from Echo, nor her obnoxious snoring. No theories or lessons from Lesedi. No glaring eyes from the pack or brooding silence from Othin. In this moment, right now, there is only me and I feel like I can breathe.
My peace shatters as the hairs rise on the back of my neck. I feel someone approaching. It feels, for lack of a better word, evil. Malevolent. Wrong. I close my eyes to zero in on it, find the threat lurking around me. I breathe and focus as Othin taught me and as I do, I can feel a pull from behind me on the right. I wait as it comes closer until just the right moment. Then in a flash I spin and reach out with my right arm ready to grab the throat of whoever is shadowing me.
My arm stops in midair as long slender fingers grip my wrist. My eyes follow the arm to the face and find the smirking grin of Rala. Her voice is throaty and self-assured. “Too slow, halfmoon.”
The air in my lungs catches and I almost cough. A sputter of breath leaves my lips in a single puff of steam. “What do you want?”
She shrugs like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “To talk.”
I glare hard and try to twist my wrist away, she grips harder. “While you kill me?"
She laughs under her breath. “It is a possibility.”
I try pulling away with one strong burst, her grip doesn’t budge. I grunt with frustration. “Then Othin dies too. But you don’t care about him.”
Rala’s face dips with pain, then flashes into a smile. She lets go of my wrist and pushes me away. “I do not need to kill you, now.”
“Why are you here?” I clench my fists and glare up at her. “Othin says you volunteered. But you clearly don’t care about any of this, or protecting anyone here. So why come? What’s in it for you?”
A deep chuckle emanates from her body, it seems to skip her throat and come straight from her chest. She crosses her arms and bends down to look me straight in the eye. Her voice drops into a deep low whisper. “When you find out, little half-moon, you will be dead.”
✽✽✽
LESEDI:
Another gloomy night, the darkness is starting to get to me. It’s been two weeks of perpetual night, two weeks of only slight glimpses of the sunrise and sunset. That is, if they aren’t obscured by clouds. I rise early in hopes of seeing the sun set for that glimmer of light. I miss it. Father Sky, it’s only been two weeks. We still have far to go on this journey.
My journals help, they help me organize my thoughts and compose myself. They distract from the darkness, from the anxiety, the looming sense of dread. My lantern has become a beacon of light and hope, I look upon it as if it’s a friend in of itself. Talea has said nothing, but I know she’s afraid too. The probability of success is miniscule, but it’s still worth doing.
I can see what’s ahead of us, the implications of where the world is going. It’s like walking down a road, and then the road forks in two. We choose a path, to do nothing or act. We chose to act. But then along that road many paths branch from it, then more paths break from those paths, until there are hundreds of possibilities of where this journey will take us. I try to see ahead, to calculate the possible, but among all of those branching possibilities only a handful lead to success. Even less lead to survival.
The reality is, we will not all survive this journey. If the perils of travel don’t kill us, the war we’re marching towards will. But, if we do nothing, whatever monster pulling the strings will descend upon us and kill us all anyway. So, which is better? To sit and wait for death, or to fight for life even if you will likely die in the process? I am no bold warrior like Talea, but even I choose fighting.
I look around at the zigon marching through the snow, their energy seems boundless at times. It would be so much faster if we could travel night and day. But though their bodies are robust and strong the zigon need sleep too. Better to take a slower path than find ourselves marooned halfway through the plains with no mounts. It makes sense to sleep during the day as well, it’s warmer. When we ride the body heat of the zigons keep us warmer, while we sleep, we’re at a higher risk of succumbing to the cold and never waking up.
For now, we’re stuck with the least terrible in a pool of bad options. I flip through my pages to find the portrait I drew of Jar’kog. He’s a quiet one, not only does he not speak but he doesn’t hiss or growl either. He feels like he’s filled with so much hurt, but I’m sure all of them are at this point. Most of them internalize their pain and transform it into anger and hostility. He doesn’t think anyone notices, but I do. Jar’kog’s eyes move back and forth between Othin and Meekala. He came along for them, to protect them. I haven’t figured out why yet, but for some reason he has a special connection to them. It’s almost like he feels responsible for them. I wonder what he can contribute though, his age must certainly be considered. He’s the oldest nightstalker I’ve seen, older than Wikon who’s been their leader for decades.
The rest of the company I’ve managed to discern their skills and strengths. Vrx is a brute like any other, valuable for bare strength. He would also make an excellent shield in a pinch; I make a note of that. Thrik is the bane, he brings order and with his considerable training he’s effective in combat I’m sure. Kr’thitch gives us speed, the poor thing has gotten antsy with the long nights of sitting and riding. To her credit Talea noticed this too, she sends him on perimeter checks while making and breaking camp. So far, he hasn’t spotted any danger, but it helps him be less twitchy.
The twins have gotten more manageable, they haven’t tried another stunt like before. Thus far it appears there won’t be any more surprise attacks from them, but they still fume with madness and root for us to die. They cackle with glee every time we make a mistake or shiver from cold. Unlike Gi’mntat, the one whose arms I fell into. He seems a nice fellow, with his white cloak it’s clear his strength is stealth. That interests me, in order to specialize in stealth, one has to have a certain presence of mind. A clarity of emotion and abundant patience. These are not typically found in nightstalkers. It’s even hard to remember Gi’mntat is with us most of the time, he’s as silent as the snow.
Then there’s Rala. She disturbs me to my core. Talea told me about their conversation, although it’s nothing new that one of the party wants to kill us, something feels off with Rala. I remember Shado’s drug induced words “She joins pack, not help. To betray. Kill her before she kills you. Us. Must kill her first.” Could she have been talking about Rala? But, why would they send Rala on this mission if they knew she would try to sabotage it? How would they know she would sabotage it? Why not just kill her?
Realization dawns on me. To kill her they would have to challenge her in the arena. That’s too risky, Rala is one of the best, she could win and they could die. I lay out what I know about nightstalkers in my mind. A bane can’t execute her in quiet when she’s committed no crimes, that they know of. It would undermine their entire justice system. What they can do is send her on this journey with us hoping she’ll die. Though, if it was me, I would send a bane with orders to kill her and make it look accidental. I gasp and turn to look at Thrik atop his zigon with those eyes so alert. That’s why the bane is here.
Though, all I’ve managed to do is craft theories and open more questions instead of finding answers. The fact remains, Rala is a ruthless killer at the top of her game and she has her sights set on us. She prowls around camp like a predator circling its wounded prey, waiting to pounce. Why doesn’t she just kill us then? Why wait?
She has a plan; I can see the intelligence in her eyes. There is a trap ready to spring, but it has to be at the right moment. The only thing more dangerous than a nightstalker’s rage is intellect. I shudder, for reasons I can’t imagine, it appears Rala has both.
✽✽✽
TALEA:
Another night, peaceful this time. Lesedi and Echo are getting along much better. No more arguing, at least, not loudly. I hear snippets from the philosophical debate to my left. Lesedi has improved and learned how to guide her own zigon, it helps not having to tow them anymore. She’s a natural to it, more so than I am. Of course, she’s a natural to almost everything. She’s even able to command the zigon and talk with Echo.
“You’re such an idealist.” Echo crosses her arms rolling her eyes.
Lesedi takes a deep breath to control her stoic expression. “It’s not idealistic. It’s logical. At some point nightstalkers and skysingers will need to meld together and form a cohesive civilization.”
Echo scoffs and I can feel her roll her eyes. “Sure, if they don’t all kill each other.”
I see my sister clench her fists into the thick fluffs of hair in front of her. “What do you think we’re out here for? If we’re successful-”
“Then what?” Echo interrupts. “Even if you can get the council to ally with the gray skins and all that, what do you think it will really do?” She looks up and locks eyes with me. Her voice drops into one of complete seriousness, unusual for her. “This world is doomed. It always has been.”
As Lesedi huffs up I decide to get involved before it turns into a fight. Othin, becoming wiser every day, stays out of it. “Why don’t we try planning a few months into the future instead of a few hundred years. Alright?” They both quiet and I change the subject. “Lesedi, you’re our navigator. How are we doing?”
She pulls a map from her bag and unrolls it along with her lantern which she hands to Echo. I can see the mischief in her eyes but she knows better than to mess with Lesedi’s prized possession. For once, she cooperates and lights the lantern for her. Lesedi pauses to give her a smile and also pulls her journal with odd scribbling she calls star charts. It’s not something she could study because no one documents the stars. Why would they? They’re useless to skysingers.
Lesedi figured out how to record them and navigate by them. I’m not surprised. Her mind moves so fast the rest of us must look like complete idiots to her. Maybe that’s why she works to control her emotions so much, if I were her, I’d clock someone in the head a dozen times a day.
After a couple minutes of thinking Lesedi looks up from her papers. “I’ve calculated an estimation of the distance we’ve covered. We should be almost half way to the Valley of Sand. If we maintain our current pace and don’t encounter meteorological obstacles, we should hit that landmark in another couple weeks.”
I frown uncomprehending. Lesedi sighs. “Snow. We don’t want more snow.”
I throw my arms into the air. “Why can’t you just say that?”
Echo grunts. “Because then she wouldn’t sound smarter than you. Though, that’s not hard to do.”
Lesedi reaches over and flicks her in the ear. “Snow, is not descriptive enough. We can come across ice storms, massive blizzards, flash freezes, hail. It’s a miracle we haven’t run into these yet, but the rage is yet to hit us.”
“Father Sky must be watching us.” Echo rolls her eyes.
Othin smiles choosing his time to chime in. “Your Father Sky has been sleeping while we travel. Moon Mother gives us good fortune.”
A curious smile comes to Lesedi’s face. “I didn’t realize nightstalkers have religion.”
He looks up with pride and happiness towards the moon. “Moon Mother fight for us.”
Lesedi raises her eyebrows. “A prayer?”
He shrugs. “Hope. The Moon Mother brings light to darkness. She gives us enough light to kill, but enough darkness to keep our eyes sharp. Enough food to feed, enough hunger to keep us fighting.”
Echo smiles dripping with sarcasm. “I had no idea grayskins were so sentimental.” Lesedi elbows her in the side.
Othin ignores her, like the rest of us do. “It is hard to say in words. Most moonrunners do not use your words. It is a feeling. We feel the Moon Mother has kept us strong, guided us.”
I place my hand on his back and rub it in a circle. “You really believe that?”
He takes in a slow breath and leans over to place a kiss on my cheek. “I believe she gave me you.”
We stare into each other’s faces feeling the love we have for each other. Until this sweet moment is interrupted by the gagging noises coming from Echo pretending to throw up. I look for something to throw at her but Lesedi smacks her in the back of the head for me.
I turn back to Othin and stroke his arm. “I-”
Screams. Without warning two zigons ahead disappear in a puff of snow. The rest of the herd starts panicking and howling for help, their riders struggle to keep control of them. Muffled calls clamor ahead of us. Against the white world illuminated by moon light is a dark silhouette raging. It shakes back and forth whipping across the snow, and it is enormous.
I shoot a glance to Othin. “Find out who’s in there and what that is!”
He nods and vaults from Guzu into the snow. I look at Lesedi. “Alright genius, any ideas?”
She stares ahead in horror. Her mouth falls agape and her throat is speechless. She’s frozen still. Standing up I leap from Guzu’s back to land in front of Lesedi. I grab her face and pull her chin to face me. “Les. Listen to me. I need to know what that thing is. Do you know?”
She nods at me with wide eyes but says nothing. My hands grab hold of her shoulders and shake her. “Snap out of it! I need to know!” I glance over to see the large object thrashing back and forth in violent slams. I listen and can hear faint screams of the fighting nightstalkers sealed inside.
Othin comes running back. “The twins, Kr’thitch, and Gi’mntat.”
Suns! I take a deep breath and look into Lesedi’s eyes. My voice quiets and calms. I take a firm but loving grip on her shoulders. “Lesedi. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to fight. You never will. I only need information. What is this?”
She nods and takes a deep breath. “It’s a julnik. A large plant that spreads under the soil. It has trigger nodes that signal the pouch to react when stepped on. After sealing shut it retracts underground where the main plant is buried. To digest the nutrients.”
Echo laughs. “That whole thing is a plant? It’s huge!”
Lesedi turns to her. “No, that’s the bulb. It’s like a mouth. It swallows the prey for assimilation of nutrients.”
Echo curses under her breath. “Thrack! The thing must be gigantic!”
“Powerful too.” Lesedi frowns. “The nightstalkers must be fighting back. That’s why it’s flailing the way it is. If the prey fights it concusses or kills them inside before retreating to the nexus. I know nightstalkers are tough, but we don’t have much time.”
“Then what do we do?” My muscles get anxious and filled with nervous energy. I look at the bulb swaying back and forth. It brings itself up and then crashes down into the ground flinging powder into the air. But it’s still fighting. As long as it is, we have a chance, they’re alive and they won’t go down easy.
Lesedi rubs her chin with furious thinking. “The fibers of the bulb are too thick and layered. The mouth forms a seal after closing so we can’t pry it open. The only thing you can do is sever it from the stem. But I don’t see how you-”
Before she even finishes her sentence, I’m gone. I need to save them and I need to do it fast. The snow will only slow me down. I surge from the zigon and soar through the air landing with a thump on Guzu, and then springing away again onto another hairy beast. Meekala nods with subtle approval as I bound past her. The snow is so deep even Othin looks graceless running in it.
Empowered by determination I dig my boots into the thick muscled shoulders of the zigons. My legs pulse with energy as I propel forwards through the biting air. Soft flakes flit from the dark sky without a care in the world as if four lives aren’t currently at stake.
I picture their faces as I bound across the herd like a hopper across a pond. They are malicious, murderous, and disturbing. But they’re my pack and I will keep them safe. I wish there could be some kind of nobility or bravery behind it, but all I can think is that they’re mine. No threat will steal them from me if I can help it.
Leaping from the last zigon I land in a plume of snowy powder. The behemoth of a plant thrashes from side to side with slow sweeping slams. Up close it’s even more enormous than I realized. I gulp attempting to swallow my fear. It’s large enough to fit two wagons inside and then some. I had no idea anything this massive exists besides trees.
Filled with raging fury I pull my dagger from its sheath on my belt. I clutch it in my left hand brimming with fierce resolve. Blocking out any further thoughts I dive towards the stem of the colossal bulb. The snow around it has been thrashed away with the pommeling, but the ground is still icy and cold.
I grab hold of the thick stem under the massive bulb, my heart sinks as it’s so big around I can’t even grasp it all the way with both hands. It’s easily as thick as my leg. How am I supposed to cut this? Not to mention the thing keeps twitching and moving around, I can barely grip it. Doing my best to steady it I drive my dagger into the stem and pull to the right cutting out a small chunk. The plant jerks in reaction.
I roll away on instinct as the massive mountain of a plant comes crashing down beside me. I stare death in the eyes, worse than being trapped inside the plant would be being smashed by it.
I persist. Diving back towards the stem I dig my knife in again cutting as fast as I can, digging what precious chunks I can from the stem. The plant reacts again with wild throwing, thrashing itself around even harder trying to fight me off. I roll backwards and land in a squatting position. This isn’t going to work. It’s too slow, I’ll either be crushed or take too long and my moonrunners will die. There has to be a faster way to do this.
I let loose my meteor hammer. The silky rope slides along my fingers and I feel the weight of the studded sphere pull it down. Steam billows from my lungs as I let out a slow breath to still my thoughts, plan and then let instinct do the rest.
I yank on the rope and wrap it around my elbow before launching it forwards. The metal orb slices through the cold air and cracks straight into the stem of the bulb. I spin towards the left pulling the rope back and wrapping it around my body as I run in a circle to keep distance.
The bulb shudders and flails towards me. The enormous bulb crashes into the ground sending shockwaves towards me. I jump into the air spinning and unwrap my body. The beautiful red rope flings into the air like a girl’s ribbon in the wind. I bring the rope back with my ankle and launch it from my knee once more towards the stem. The thick plant fibers crack and break as the heavy studded weight plows into it.
It’s a dance to the death. I run, jump, spin, fluttering with my ribbon like a weapon. It moves with artistry and elegance, beauty and lethality rolled into one. My body connects with my mind and in these moments, I am united inside and out. I am graceful, I am strong, I am deadly.
The stem of the bulb bends and breaks apart more and more with every smash. Now it’s a pulpy mash of connected strings that can barely support itself. It’s time to go in for the kill, once more I launch my rope and send it flying. The metal ball slings towards the stem and instead of impacting with it grapples around it. With one hard yank I pull myself skidding on the icy ground towards the dancing giant. I pull my knife and with one swift swing I slice the blade through the stem severing it once and for all.
I heave deep breaths, I did it. But no victory is assured. The ground shakes with violent shudders. Snow and soil crack apart and send slivers shuddering every way. The amputated stump of the stem jerks into the air, swoops down, then wraps around my calves yanking me away.
The bulb is not the plant, the bulb is a piece of the plant, the real nexus is underground. My feet are tugged away and I’m lifted into the air. The dreaded bulb lies dead on the ground, others of my pack rack towards it and begin trying to pry it open. They’ll get them out, I know they will. Before I can sigh with relief the assaulting flora hammers me down into the cold surface.
Breath is pushed from my lungs. My spine screams with pain as shocks of agony bolt through my body. It feels like a hand grips my chest and I can’t take in a breath. My muscles burn with the impact like a cold fire. Wrapping tighter around my feet the plant drags my body along the ground tearing me apart along every rock and piece of debris. I hear my clothes tearing and I can feel my skin warm with blood. I feel the air on my face again as I’m lifted back into the air. For a second, I’m flying, then with a drop I’m falling again and crash into the hard ground. I’m done. I can’t move. The pain is overwhelming and renders me limp.
I’m going to die here. Before my mission has hardly begun, before I accomplish anything, I will die. I jerk open my eyes. That can’t happen. If I die, we all do. Lesedi will have no protection. With a failed mission the rage of the nightstalkers will be released on my home without mercy. Without a bondmate Othin will fall into shock, and shortly after die along with the rest of them. With pain pulling at my bones, my head dizzy and spinning, I pull my knife from my belt. I will not allow this, I cannot. I slam the blade into the thick plant coil keeping me hostage.
As I have my blade delved into the plant fiber, I’m pulled into the air again. This will be the last fall I can stand. This is it. My knuckles pale as I hold on to my legs keeping myself bent so as to rip at the bindings. The force of the spinning wants to pull my torso away and fling me like a doll, but I grit my teeth and keep cutting. The core of my abdomen screams at me while the muscles ache from holding me in position. But I slice, and slice through the thick vine like mass. I can’t cut through it, it’s too thick, this is why I used my meteor hammer in the first place. Which I now realize is on the ground somewhere.
Adapt and survive. I cut the buckles on my boots and wriggle my feet from the toes up. It’s a tight fit but my feet manage to come free with just enough room to slip from the vine. I free fall into the air and brace myself for impact. The cold hard ground comes at me fast, I close my eyes and take in a flinching breath.
My body falls into a pair of thin, wiry, arms. I feel the thump at my back and behind my knees. I flinch from pain, but not as much as I was expecting. “Talea!” Othin hollers as he lowers himself to his knees.
My pain is distant from me, as is the rest of the world. His hands pull at my shoulders and trail along my face. I take short shallow breaths, even those are painful. I open my eyes to see that familiar face. He’s frightened beyond reason.
I smile at him and summon just enough breath to craft words. “Are they ok?”
His eyes look wet as he nods. “They live.” I can feel his breathing shudder with shallow breaths too.
I look up into the night sky. The stars are falling, or is that snow? I hear voices around me, but they feel so far away. Things look dizzier. Darker. Everything falls away and all that’s left is Othin’s arms.