Enthralled by Tiffany Roberts
Chapter 21
The spear struckthe rotted stump with a dull thunk, knocking dark splinters off the wood. The shaft quivered with the impact. Telok strode to it, grasped it with one hand, and tugged it free. More pieces of wood fell, these with a reddish hue from deeper inside the decaying stump.
Backing away from the stump, Telok gestured to it, and then pointed at Lacey.
She pressed her lips together and glanced uncertainly at the spear in her hand. As she changed her grip on it and raised it to throw, Telok walked over to her. Her uncertainty seemed to intensify as she stared up at Telok, but Ketahn saw a flicker of something else in her eyes, too. She didn’t flinch when Telok extended two arms and, with a light touch, adjusted her hold on the spear.
He stood beside her and, with hands on her arm, slowly guided her through the throwing motion, pausing her arm during the peak of its arc. “Release here,” he said in vrix, holding up a fist and opening his fingers. Then he continued the forward arc of his arm, aiming his fingertips at the stump. He released her and retreated a few steps.
Lacey nodded, and her features hardened in determination before she returned her attention to her target. She muttered something to herself that sounded like encouragement, released a breath, and threw.
The spear soared in a short arc, coming down on the stump at a skewed angle—but the head plunged deep into the wood.
Lacey spun around and raised her fists over her head. “Yes!”
Will and Diego, who were standing nearby, cheered and clapped. Lacey smiled, and her cheeks pinkened.
Bowing his head, Telok tapped his headcrest with his knuckle—a sign of respect between vrix who were not intimate enough to touch headcrests directly.
Lacey cocked her head at him, brow creasing, and mimicked his gesture. Though Telok’s delighted trill was soft and low, Ketahn did not miss it.
As Lacey went to retrieve her spear, Telok waved Diego over for his turn. Ketahn folded his upper arms across his chest, tucked his spear in the crook of his lower right arm, and leaned a shoulder against the tree beside him. He let his eyes roam for a few heartbeats, scanning the jungle, before bringing it to rest on the other group.
Urkot and Rekosh were with Callie and Ahmya, teaching the females to wield their spears in close combat. They were running through exercises to familiarize the humans with the feel of their weapons—weapons that would serve as their most important tools here in the Tangle. They would need to become so comfortable with those spears that the weapons felt like extensions of their bodies, no different than claws or fangs were for the vrix.
Ketahn wished there was enough time for the humans to achieve that before they would have to delve into the unknown.
Movement from behind caught his attention, but he did not turn to look; Ahnset’s familiar scent drifted to him on the still, humid air, mingling with the smells of wet dirt, rot, and growing things.
“All is quiet,” Ahnset said softly, stopping beside him. She dipped her chin in the direction of the humans. “Apart from them, anyway.”
“They are encouraging one another,” Ketahn said.
Rekosh thrust his spear at Ahmya with deliberate slowness. Wide-eyed—and looking tiny as ever before the tall vrix—she shifted her weapon to deflect the thrust with her spear shaft, flinching as wood struck wood. With a gentle chitter, Rekosh demonstrated a potential counter, showing her how her size might aid her in striking his vulnerable underside.
“You really mean to leave the day after tomorrow?” Ahnset was regarding the humans too, mandibles twitching as though undecided on whether they wanted to rise or fall.
“Yes,” Ketahn replied.
“They are not ready.”
“Neither was I when first I ventured out with the Claw.” Ketahn’s mind flashed through memories of Ivy—of how frightened she’d been, of how incapable she’d seemed, of his certainty that she would have died without him. But she’d learned so much since then. “The Tangle is a swift teacher.”
“Because those who do not learn die,” Ahnset rumbled. On the edge of his vision, Ketahn saw her hands curl into fists.
“Telok, Rekosh, Urkot, and me will serve as their shields, Ahnset.”
“No shield is impenetrable. They can be broken or bypassed.” There was a subtle growl in her voice, a hint of frustration that she rarely let in.
Ketahn turned his head to look at her. The stiffness in his broodsister’s posture was not the sort she assumed as Ahnset the Fang; this was not born of discipline.
“Ella is safe,” he said, lowering his mandibles and shifting a leg outward to brush against hers. “I would not have left Ivy behind with her otherwise.”
The hairs on Ahnset’s leg rose, and she produced an unhappy buzz in the back of her throat. “I know, broodbrother. But…I should have remained behind to watch over them both.”
“Every thread of me longs to be with my mate.” Ketahn glanced in the direction of the pit, which was obscured by undergrowth and jutting roots. “I could toss a stone and hit the place in which she shelters, but even that distance is unbearable.”
“Then at least allow one of us to go to her. To them. It would ease my thoughts, Ketahn.”
Ketahn turned to face his sister fully. “This is necessary, Ahnset. I must lose these moments with Ivy to ensure I have as much time with her as possible in the years to come.”
Ahnset lifted a hand, pressing her fist against Ketahn’s chest. “Our friends are skilled. They are teaching the hyu-nins without us even now. The hyu-nins will learn what they must whether you and I are here or not.”
“And we must watch, broodsister. These lessons and the jungle alike.” Ketahn placed a hand over hers, curving his fingers around the top of her large fist. “You and I will make more of a difference here than down there.”
Diego had volunteered to remain behind with Ella this morning after it had become clear the sickly female was not fit to travel—not even a short distance, not even with Ahnset’s aid. He’d said he had a responsibility to Ella because she was his patient; Ketahn had the sense that Diego had not meant that word as his willingness to wait.
Ketahn had been hesitant to let Diego miss a day of learning and preparation. All the able humans needed to learn as much as they could before facing the ultimate test—before they were out in the Tangle with no promise of a safe place to sleep, no promise of fresh water and food, no promise of anything but danger.
Ivy had broken the standoff by saying she would stay with Ella instead. Ketahn had only barely suppressed his rage at the notion. It had been hard for him to leave her at the best of times, but after everything with the queen and the encounters with the yatins and the xiskals, he had no intentions of leaving her alone.
Ivy must have sensed his turmoil, for she’d reached up, taken his face between her hands, and drawn him closer, looking into his eyes. “Ella needs someone with her, and Diego needs to learn. I have a two-month head start on everyone else. It makes the most sense, Ketahn.”
An immense pressure had built up within Ketahn. He might have snarled and thrown her over his shoulder in that moment, dragging her up into the jungle to stay with him regardless. He might have insisted upon staying with her, much like Ahnset had tried to do.
But he had not.
Ivy had told him she would stay in the ship with the chamber door sealed. That they’d be safer there than anywhere else. And he’d known she was right, but it had been so hard voice his agreement. It had been so hard to walk away.
There’d been a storm building inside Ketahn as he’d led the others outside and they’d made their ascent; he barely remembered what had been said, what had been done, until the sunlight had taken on the golden tint of midmorning.
“Ella is ill, Ketahn,” Ahnset rasped, dragging his attention back into the present. She flicked her gaze toward the others. “Everyone can see it.”
“I have never said otherwise.”
“You have not, but you know more about it than the rest of us.” Rather than the accusation those words should have contained, Ketahn heard only weariness and sorrow in his sister’s voice.
Ketahn’s hold on his spear tightened; he angled the shaft farther away from himself and Ahnset, unsure of what to say. Another spear struck the stump nearby, and the humans cheered again.
Releasing a heavy breath, Ketahn grasped his bound hair in one hand and tugged on it—as though the tiny flare of pain it produced could somehow clear his thoughts and coax all the right words out of his mouth.
“I do.” He gestured toward the humans with a wave of his hand. “Diego told me and Ivy.”
“Diego,” Ahnset repeated, drawing out the syllables in typical vrix fashion. In time, she would grow more accustomed to the human words, and—
No. She would not. The day after tomorrow, Ketahn would lead these humans and his three friends deep into the Tangle to seek a place of sanctuary beyond everything he knew…and Ahnset would return to Takarahl.
The sadness that struck him in that moment seized his hearts and chilled his blood.
“He is a healer,” Ahnset continued, “knowledgeable in the hyu-nin ways.”
Ketahn let out another breath, this one slow and quiet, and tore his thoughts free of that sadness. It would linger for a time—likely for the rest of his life, never quite fading. But he still had no doubts or regret for what he intended to do. Ahnset understood.
He fixed his gaze on Diego, who was grinning as Will walked over to him. Diego raised a fist to chest level, and Will, also grinning, tapped his own fist against it. Ketahn had seen them perform the gesture several times; he would have to ask about it eventually.
“Yes,” Ketahn said. “Their word is nurse.”
“What does he say of Ella’s illness?” Ahnset asked, leaning closer to Ketahn.
“That he might fix it if he had the right tools, but he does not.”
“If we have to tear that shit apart to find those tools, Ketahn, I will—”
Ketahn gave her hand a squeeze, and she fell quiet.
“Ship,” Ketahn corrected gently. “And they do not have the tools, broodsister. There is nothing he or the other humans can do. Ella is more than ill. She is dying.”
Ahnset stared at him, her mandibles slowly twitching upward and spreading. A growl rumbled within her. “No. There must be something to be done. Must be a way.”
Though he knew his sister well, he could not have anticipated how quickly she’d grow attached to these humans—more specifically, to Ella. Ahnset couldn’t have understood more than a few human words at most, and she’d only known this group for a few days, yet she was determined to protect Ella.
“There is not, Ahnset.”
“Not for the hyu-nins.” Ahnset stepped back and swept her gaze around, fine hairs standing on end again. She spread her upper arms. “But we vrix have our ways. We…we can cleanse her, or make offerings to the Eight for aid. We can… We can…” Her eyes widened, and she snapped her hands into fists again before whirling back toward Ketahn. “Mender root, broodbrother! The hyu-nins must not know mender root, but we do. It cures many ailments.”
“The last of the mender root I had, Ahnset, was used to occupy the Fangs in the queen’s sanctum.”
He’d smashed the roots and left them as a distraction when he infiltrated Takarahl to speak with Zurvashi—and the queen herself had crushed the batch before that. He could not help a pang of regret at that now, but how could he have known?
How could he have anticipated any of this on that fateful Offering Day when he’d taunted Zurvashi in front of the entire city?
“With you and Telok, we can find more,” Ahnset said.
Ketahn clicked his fangs together and shook his head. “The closest I know of will take more than two full days to reach, collect, and bring back, if the patch has not already been torn up by beasts. And Diego told us there is nothing to be done, regardless.”
“He does not know our kind, Ketahn. He does not know our ways.”
“And you do not know these humans, Ahnset.”
“I know them enough to understand that Ella”—she jabbed a finger in the direction of the pit—“does not deserve this slow death. She requires aid.”
Ketahn held his ground. “And we are giving all we can to her.”
“If there is more that can be done, we must do it.”
Keeping his voice as steady as possible, he replied, “This matter is not so simple, broodsister.”
“It is very simple, broodbrother.” She stomped a thick leg on the ground as though to emphasize her words. “She requires aid. We may have a way to provide it. How would the Eight look upon us if we did nothing?”
“And by their eightfold eyes, what have they done?” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “While our kind suffers under Zurvashi, what aid have the Eight offered? If they care so little for the vrix, do you truly believe they care at all for the life of a single human?”
Ahnset’s mandibles spread in anger, and she stood taller, squaring her shoulders. “The Eight are not to blame for the woes of our kind, Ketahn.”
“Yet they may pass judgment upon us?”
Her mandibles clacked together dangerously close to Ketahn’s head; he didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, didn’t react. He just continued to hold her stare.
Something rumbled in Ahnset’s chest. “That…that is not what this is about. And it is unlike you to speak so.”
“I have spoken so about the queen for years, broodsister. I have stood in the heart of Takarahl and conveyed as much to her directly.”
She growled, but her mandibles fell suddenly, and her eyes rounded again. She turned her head—looking in the direction of the city. “There is mender root in Takarahl, Ketahn. And vrix healers who are experienced in its use.”
Ketahn’s heartsthread pulled taut, and his hearts thumped faster, harder, louder. “Ahnset, the mender root in Takarahl is controlled by the queen.”
“And I am of the Queen’s Fang, Ketahn.”
“She will not relinquish any root to you, broodsister, and even if she did…” Ketahn threw three of his hands up, keeping one on his spear, and gestured to their surroundings. Spear shafts clacked together in a slow, steady rhythm as the humans continued practicing. Animals made their calls from much farther away, and birds gifted their songs to the sky. “You have been gone for days, with no one knowing where you went. If you were to return and request mender roots only to disappear again, she will suspect something. You will be followed, and it will not be by one or two Claws who can be easily eluded.”
Ahnset growled again and turned away from him, stalking forward several segments. “So…so then we tell her, Ketahn. Tell her about the hyu-nins, tell her that one needs aid.”
Heat skittered beneath Ketahn’s hide, crackling like lightning to the ends of his limbs and reverberating back to roil at his core. His reply came out in a low snarl. “No.”
“I have seen but a sliver of what these hyu-nins have wrought, Ketahn.” She paced from side to side, eyes downcast. “Our kind would do well to work alongside theirs. To learn from each other and grow. Imagine what could be achieved if we had the same knowledge, the same capability.”
Ketahn slammed a fist against the tree behind him. The bark crunched with the impact, crumbling to the jungle floor.
Ahnset stilled, snapping her gaze toward him.
“I said no,” he growled. “Not a single word about the humans is to be uttered within a thousand segments of Takarahl.”
“Queen Zurvashi has made our city strong, Ketahn,” Ahnset said, facing him again. “Our ancestors warred with Kaldarak for generations, gaining and losing ground. She crushed them.”
“We”—Ketahn pounded his chest with two fists—“crushed them, broodsister. We fought that war. We were the victors.”
“And she was there to lead us, to spill her blood and the blood of our enemies at our side!”
“Over fucking roots!”
Ahnset’s mandibles clacked together and twitched apart. “And now the thornskulls dare not attack. She will recognize that these hyu-nins can solidify Takarahl’s power further, Ketahn. She will…she will see that a sacrifice of a few mender roots to heal Ella could be to the benefit of all the vrix under her rule.”
Ketahn swept his arms to the side, cutting the air. “No, Ahnset. She will see either a way to solidify her own power…or a threat to it. And she does not tolerate threats.”
Ahnset bent her forelegs, kneeling on the ground before Ketahn, and bowed forward. “She is as you have said, Ketahn, but she can be more. She is capable of more. But it will never come to be if you do not give her a chance. The queen knows that Takarahl’s strength and prosperity is her own. She will see the benefit of helping these hyu-nins.”
“She will have them slaughtered.”
“I know your grudges, broodbrother, but all the queen has done she has done for Takarahl. Being a leader means making hard choices. It…means making sacrifices of the few to protect the many.”
Ketahn huffed and stared into his sister’s eyes, searching them for the truth of her words. For her belief in them. “If you think Zurvashi has ever made a decision with the good of Takarahl in mind, Ahnset, you are more blind than I ever could have guessed.”
“You judge her too harshly.”
“And you do not judge her harshly enough!”
“The words of a male who does not know his place,” she snapped.
Her voice struck Ketahn with the force of a charging yatin, blasting the heat out of his chest and stealing his breath for the space of a stilted heartbeat.
Ahnset recoiled, her mandibles falling uncertainly, and averted her gaze.
The fires flooded back into Ketahn, blazing along his heartsthread and filling his veins. Fury thrummed within him. Yet who was he angry with? Ahnset? Zurvashi?
Himself?
Whether it had been laid out before him by the Eight or he’d spun it as he went, Ketahn had walked the tangled web that had brought him to this moment, and yet he could not unravel those threads to determine how he’d reached this. He and his broodsister—along with the third of their brood, their brother Ishkal—had been inseparable as broodlings.
But he’d lost his broodbrother seven years ago, and he hadn’t felt that sense of harmony with Ahnset in nearly as long. And curse the Eight if they were responsible, that hurt.
“Broodbrother, I—”
“I know what it means to lead,” he said, his raw voice emerging like a frightened beast clawing out of his throat. “I know what it means to see those following me suffer. To see them die. I know how it feels to have their blood on my hide, on my hands, overpowering every other accursed scent.
“I was out here”—he jabbed his spear into the ground and released it, leaving it to stand on its own—“with our friends, with our broodbrother, leading them against an enemy she provoked.”
Ahnset lifted her gaze to him, her eyes bright with concern and pain of her own. “Ketahn…”
“Understand me, Ahnset.” His mandibles shuddered; the tremor continued along his spine and into his hindquarters, and he squeezed his eyes shut against it. “I held Ishkal as his blood pooled on the ground, I felt his grip on me weakening with each beat of his hearts. And I pleaded.”
Ketahn opened his eyes, his voice faltering into a rasp. “I begged for the Eight to preserve him. The Protector, the Hunter, the Broodmother, the Rootsinger. The Delver, the Flamebearer, the Weaver, even the Shaper. I begged them all. And we both know what good that did. I will not go through that again, broodsister. Especially not with my mate.”
Ahnset’s posture sagged, and she looked down as though seeking something on the ground before her. Ketahn felt…tired. His anger was already fading, even if it wasn’t gone, and he was just tired.
He brushed a leg against Ahnset’s. “Ella is dying, Ahnset. I trust Diego’s knowledge in that. We cannot change it.”
With a low, rumbling trill, Ahnset turned her head toward the pit.
Ketahn moved closer to her. He braced his other foreleg against Ahnset’s and reached up to catch her face between his hands, directing it toward him. “All we can do is ensure her death comes with as much comfort and joy as we can provide.” He drew her head down, tipping their headcrests together. “That is more than most of us will ever get.”
They remained like that for a time. Ahnset’s scent was familiar as always, even with that hint of Korahla lingering within it, and Ketahn drew comfort from it.
Would that he had eightdays more—years more—to speak with his sister, to address the pain of loss he knew they both carried. To find true understanding with one another and repair their bond fully.
When the siblings withdrew from each other, Ketahn wasn’t sure what he felt. A heaviness in his spirit, yes; lingering sorrow in his hearts; fear for what was to come. But he would not relinquish his hope. And his feelings for Ivy, as powerful as they were complex, only strengthened his resolve to continue onward.
He scanned the surrounding jungle, silently admonishing himself for having grown lax in his duties as watcher, before finally looking at the others, who were still training.
“They are eight now,” Ahnset said softly, “but…they will be seven soon. That is a bad omen.”
“I will not let omens stop us, Ahnset. Nor will I let Zurvashi…”
There’d been more to that thought, but it dissipated into the still, stifling air before Ketahn could grasp it. The humans were eight strong—of course he’d noted the significance of that when he’d first realized their number. Two had remained at the ship this morning.
But there were only five here now. Will, Diego, Callie, Lacey, and Ahmya.
“Curse my eyes,” he growled, striding forward.
The others faltered in their exercises as they noticed Ketahn’s approach, their attention falling upon him.
“Cole.” Ketahn spoke his question in English and repeated it in his native tongue. “Where is he?”
The humans exchanged questioning glances with each other. The other male vrix tilted their heads. Rekosh’s mandibles twitched, and Urkot scratched absently at the scar on his side.
“He was not with Ahnset?” Rekosh asked.
Ahnset stopped beside Ketahn. “No. I was keeping watch of the jungle.”
“How could I have lost track of one?” Telok asked, snapping his mandible fangs. “How could I not have noticed one missing?”
“Because there were already two staying behind,” Urkot replied.
“I thought he was with us,” Diego said. “I remember seeing him while we were waiting to ride up.”
Callie nodded. “Me too.”
“But we all went to the top in one trip,” said Ahmya. “Five humans, five vrix.” As she said it, she moved her hands; fingers splayed, she placed one hand on the back of the other and lifted them higher.
Will pursed his lips and arched a brow. “So, he just stayed back? Was he feeling all right?”
“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like his style to miss out on this kind of stuff,” said Lacey, looking at the spear in her hand. “He’s been all-in with all this fizikull training shit so far and trying to show us up.”
“He didn’t say anything about staying behind though, did he?” asked Callie.
Diego rubbed the short, dark hairs on his cheek and jaw and shook his head. “Not that I heard.”
Rage bubbled in Ketahn’s gut, gaining heat and density with each passing moment. He’d been too distracted to note the simple discrepancy that morning—with six humans meant to accompany them out of the pit, one of the vrix should have gone back down after the initial climb.
And Ketahn had meant to do so himself. But he’d been so focused on not wanting to leave Ivy behind, on fighting his need to return to her, that when he’d looked down to see no one at the bottom of the pit he’d not put another thought into it.
He’d immediately thrown all his focus into monitoring the training and the jungle. So much focus that he’d not realized they were short a human—a particular human.
“What is wrong, broodbrother? If he remained in the pit, he is safe,” Ahnset said.
Cole had remained in the pit.
Snarling a curse that might have been in vrix—or might have been in English—Ketahn raced toward the pit, crashing through the undergrowth. Increasingly frantic energy suffused his limbs, pushing them harder, faster. His hearts thumped as rapidly as his legs struck the ground.
Cole had remained in the pit with Ivy.