A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 (12 page)

Clearing my throat, I trudged on. “We have a long walk to talk strategy.”

“No.” His voice was husky. “It’s best you don’t know my plans. All you have to do is listen to me. The only thing I’ll ask of you is that you run to safety. I’d rather you didn’t see what I—”

“I know what you’re capable of,” I admitted. “I watched you instruct Rhys as a youth.”

While I feared for my cousin during those mock duels, I had been mesmerized by the grace and beauty that characterized the Mimetidae. Of course, such a swordsman would enjoy dancing.

How well his body moved. All lean muscle, tight and fit, his serious eyes and tousled hair.

“I remember.” His cheeks went ruddy. “It was awkward asking for your name only to learn of the tragedy I brought upon your family. I did my best to impress you during those exhibitions. I wanted to be more than a cause of misery and death. I wanted you to remember me, as a male.”

As if I could have ever overlooked his maleness. As if I could have ever forgotten him.

Night fell in a rush that left me dizzy. Perhaps it was the lack of food making my legs quiver and my sight dim, or perhaps I was the little mouse Vaughn named me. I tasted fear, rich and full on my tongue. Swallowing my doubts, I sat on the grass and let the Theridiidae pitch their tents.

Miles from here, in their base camp, smoke curled from a roaring fire.

We had no such luxury. All was quiet. All was dark. There was no turning back now.

Chatter rose behind me. Swears peppered the silence. Brittle grass crunched under boots.

“Hold still.” Vaughn touched my shoulder then grasped my wrists and began sawing.

Metal bit into my wrists, rope burst. Arms sagging, I flexed my fingers. “Gods that hurts.”

I sensed him tense. “I didn’t cut you.” He sat beside me and brought my hands to my lap. I winced as blood rushed and tingles burned new feeling into my arms. He flipped my palms and bent his head. “I was careful.” He was assuring himself, I realized. “I see no blood but mine—”

I grasped his wrists. “You cut yourself?”

“These males rely on their arrows too much.” His voice was thick with disgust. “The knife I stole had the smooth edge of a river rock. I’m fine. I worried I’d used too much pressure on you.”

His wrists were a bloody mess, the result of hacking the thick thread to free his hands.

I grimaced. “I assume you pilfered the knife during one of your tussles with the guards?”

“I did.” He sounded pleased. “You have a sharp eye.”

“I didn’t see you do it, this time,” I was embarrassed to admit. “I remember you executing a similar move with Rhys when he tied you to the fencepost behind my house that first summer. You slipped the knot over the post. When you knocked Rhys to the ground, I saw you steal his knife. You threatened to tell Mother if one of us didn’t cut you free.” I had been the one to cave. Rhys had run straight to Mother as fast as he could. “You were reckless, you risked your life.”

“Ah. I see we’ve come full circle.” He clicked his tongue. “So you do find me reckless.”

“Attacking the guards—repeatedly—was the action of a hotheaded male, which you can be, especially around Rhys. On your own, in your element, it was so unlike you as to make me take notice.” I said again, “You’re usually calm and cool, more calculating than rash, a thoughtful—”

“Hush now.” He placed my arms behind my back. “The guard’s making his rounds.”

“You two are awful chummy.” Urien squinted at Vaughn. “No touching her, hear me?”

“I’ll try to restrain myself.” He wiggled his shoulders as if his wrists were still bound.

With a nod, Urien said, “See that you do.” He strode away, glancing back once to peg us with a warning glare.

“Archers,” he muttered, eyeing Urien’s hip. “Not a decent sword among them.” Vaughn rocked forward to stand.

I caught his elbow. “Are you sure—?”

“There’s no other way.” His hands speared through my hair. He cradled my head, opened me for him. “This is our best chance at freedom. Our last chance to save Pascale or rescue Lleu.”

He failed to mention Bram, but the press of his lips on mine erased all my concerns.

“Wait here.” His lips moved over mine. “You know my whistle. Listen for it. Twice means all is clear, once means run. Don’t look back. Beltania isn’t far. You can make it on your own.”

I nodded, but I had no intention of leaving him.

“Be safe.” His kiss was too hard and too brief. He put the knife in my hand. “If I—”

“Free the others.” I covered his mouth with my hand. “Then come for me.”

He nipped my palm. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“That’s not— I didn’t mean—” I choked on my tongue. “Vaughn.”

But he was gone. My eyes had adjusted enough to find my bindings and pocket them in case they were needed. The rest of the camp was too dark for me to discern shapes as Araneaean or as ursus. Even what I knew to be trees were lumpy and bulbous. I almost laughed. Vaughn expected me to run on his cue? Laughable when I would trip over my own feet. No. It was time we fought.

I found myself envious of Vaughn’s keen night vision. Yet another advantage his clan held.

Tension ratcheted my spine. I settled on the ground and closed my eyes. Brynmor was here and he was strong. Despite the fact I lacked the tools of my trade, the dayflower oil I used when I meditated, I felt sure I could call him.
Inhale. Exhale. Focus on Brynmor, on the itch in my palm.

I gasped into coherence when a cold nose nudged my face. “Brynmor?” Sleek and black, the canis chuffed. Several canis jostled close enough for me to see the color of their fur. Panic made me squeak. I sent his name spinning down a mental wire. “Brynmor?”

There was no answer, though the black canis snapped at his companion.

“You understand me.” I ventured a guess. “You can’t communicate with us both at once?”

He sneezed. Was that a yes or a no? Or had he gotten trail dust up his nose?

“Vaughn left me here,” I whispered. “He’s gone to handle our guards.”

The canis that was Brynmor bared his teeth, jerked his head toward his companions and then lit off in the direction where I had last seen Vaughn. I stood and raced after them. Teeth snapped at my heels, and I spun to face a petite silver-furred canis. She snapped again, her message clear.

Brynmor had left me a guardian. One who was intent on doing her duty to her alpha.

Low whines caught in her throat when a single bright light rocketed overhead and burst. A familiar, shrill whistle rent the night. I waited for a second whistle. None came.

Once meant run. I gritted my teeth. Leave Vaughn? No. I wouldn’t flee a second time.

The Theridiidae camp had been breached. Of all their prizes, Pascale was their greatest, and she was here. The flare stole all hope of seizing this camp without alerting the others. I could still buy Vaughn time. I needed a distraction. “I doubt you can understand me, but our packs need us.”

Above our heads, the flare crackled and illuminated the night brighter than the pale sliver of moon. I memorized the camp’s layout, turned my back on the canis and ran for the ursus. I found them tied to nearby trees for the night. Fumbling their ties, I slapped their bottoms to wake them up, get them moving. They roared annoyance at being awakened, but they refused to move. I popped their flanks with the flat of the blade. The one nearest me gnashed her teeth and snarled.

The canis leapt between us, her ears pinned flat against her skull and her head angled down.

Beyond us, I saw bodies in motion. Friend or foe, I had no way to tell.

“If these ursus were varanus, this would be much easier.” I blew hair from my eyes.
Think, Mana.
I slipped past my guard to reach the trees and used my weight to snap a branch as thick as my thumb. Fishing the length of rope from my pocket, I aligned the two and spun a length of fine silk from my fingertip to join them. At the rope’s end, I spun another, even finer length of silk. Attaching the lead to the tip, I prayed this worked. I lifted my arm, brought it down hard.
Crack
.

As one, the ursus lifted their heads.

“Don’t like the sound of a whip, do you?”
Crack. Crack.
They shifted from foot to foot and edged around the canis who still vibrated with fury. I reclaimed my spot behind her, so the ursus were between the camp and us. Time was running out.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The ursus bolted.

I followed on their heels, cracking the whip until the stampede took on a life of its own.

Voices rose in muffled curses. Groans penetrated the haze. When the last light from the flare snuffed into nothing, I had my next target in sight. Looping the whip around my shoulders as I’d done countless times while working my father’s varanus farm, I ran for a copse of trees and what must be Pascale. Moonlight glinted on limp, blonde hair. A female form writhed in her bindings.

Two males flanked her. Two more males than I could take out with a knife and a whip.

Before I could think, the canis at my side leapt. Gurgling sounds made my gut clench.

A body hit the ground.

The female spun, dodged the remaining guard’s arrow and launched herself at him. Paws hit him mid-chest, her weight slammed into him, teeth clamped around his throat, and the male fell.

Pascale had stopped moving. She sat statue-still, but her eyes danced wildly above a gag the guards had used to keep her quiet. I slid to my knees at her side and used the knife to hack ropes from her wrists and ankles, then tugged at the tie covering her mouth. I lacked Vaughn’s finesse, but if I were in her shoes, I would have chosen mobility over any pain from my rough handling.

“That—that’s a c-canis,” Pascale stammered. “I heard what that one did to the c-cook.”

“That was one of her pack mates.” I hefted Pascale onto her feet. “This one won’t hurt us.”

Pascale’s legs wobbled as I herded her from the camp toward the woods.

Vaughn was right. Our captors leaned too heavily on their archery skills. Low-lying limbs in the forest could tangle their arrows and shield us from their sight. Swords we could outrun. I had escaped unscathed, Pascale too, thank the gods, but the more I crisscrossed the camp, the greater the chance was I would find myself skewered either by Theridiidae arrows or Vaughn’s sword.

“I know it’s hard.” I panted under Pascale’s weight. “I know you’re numb, but you must get your legs working. I can’t support you alone much longer. Come on. The forest is straight ahead. We’ll wait for Vaughn there. He will come for us. Then we’ll steal an ursus and head for home.”

She nodded along as if she understood, but her eyes were too wide. Her mouth hung open on an unuttered scream. She was in shock, but her body followed my instructions, and she moved.

Once I went three steps past my limit, I crumpled onto the ground and took Pascale with me.

She curled against me, and I smoothed hairs from her eyes while muttering nonsense words I wished Vaughn were here to say to me. We both shivered. Our breaths sawed from our lungs.

The canis prowled a slow circle around us before stopping to stare into the vast blackness of the trees. After a moment, her tail swished. One paw lifted, then the other. Her barking made my ears ring. She shifted from foot to foot, whining as she stared hard at me. She bolted into the dark.

I strained to hear something, anything, of the chaos we had left behind us.

Twigs snapped. Leaves rustled. Air rushed. The clearing where we sat filled with a flurry of multi-hued canis. Yipping, they bit one another, bumped noses and nipped flanks. They rejoiced, and I could feel it. These beasts were wild, jubilant, beautiful, and I was in awe of their splendor.

Laughter swirled up from my chest, stirred by their mad dashes around the clearing.

Proud to have helped, grateful to have lived, the canis swept me up in their celebration.

Quick as it began, the frenzy ended and the pack made way for their alpha…and Vaughn.

“Mana.”

My name was an agonized sound ripped from his lips.

I opened my arms and all of a sudden, he was there. His knees cracked mine when he knelt, but I felt nothing. Once his arms circled me and drew me flush to his hard body, I felt everything.

His head descended. My lips parted. His hands were everywhere, smoothing over my fingers and hands and arms. He traced my shoulders and waist, my hips and thighs. Everything within reach, he stroked. Everywhere his hands molded went soft. All of him pressed against me, hard.

My nails stabbed his shoulders and he groaned, deepening our kiss until our teeth scraped.

“When I said run—” he spoke against my lips, “—I meant from danger, not toward it.”

“You should have been more—ouch.” Brynmor sailed into Vaughn’s shoulder and knocked him aside, taking a fistful of my hair with him. “Hmm, I see yet another proponent of my virtue.”

Vaughn’s husky laughter was muffled by the canis. “Your friend has a point. Lingering here is too dangerous. Once the bodies are discovered, combing the woods will be their first priority.”

Shoving Brynmor aside, I gave Vaughn room enough to roll onto his feet. He eyed the canis, his expression pensive as it shifted onto me, and I wondered what thoughts whirred behind those dark eyes of his. Perhaps it was best if I didn’t ask. He was far too perceptive a male for taunting.