Page 137 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
I clutched the hilt of my sword in both hands, feeling the weight of it in my arm. My eyes zeroed in on the shining black scales sliding toward me. I widened my stance, heels digging into the cold hard ground, ready to fight. With a cry, I lunged forward and struck, but the sword barely cut through the scales. They were like armor, nearly impenetrable.
I stumbled back from the impact, my hand reverberating from the hit. My arms shaking out of control.
The snakes following Rhyan seemed to lose interest in him and started charging for me.
“Lyr, run!” Rhyan screamed.
I took off as he vanished and reappeared at my side, grabbing my hand, his feet moving impossibly fast; he was practically dragging me behind him.
I cried out, tripping over my feet, and yet the hissing was right behind me. “I can’t keep up!”
Rhyan’s hand tightened around mine, his grip like a chain around my wrist, and I knew what was coming next.
We traveled again but not just several feet away this time—we had jumped to a completely different location.
My boots sank into the ground, damp from melting snow. A close cluster of trees loomed ahead, and Rhyan headed straight for it. The weather was so much warmer than it had been in Cretanya. I wondered if Rhyan had reversed course and taken us back south.
I hadn’t felt anything on my back as we’d traveled—no heat, no burning. But the hissing was still behind us, growing closer and closer. The sound intensified, as I pushed my feet to move faster. My thighs were on fire, as I tried to keep up with Rhyan’s pace, to match his soturion speed. He’d stumbled when we’d arrived, and his face had been pale, but he hadn’t paused to recover before taking off, his hand still clutching mine.
“Did you feel them?” Rhyan roared.
“No!”
“Fuck!” He ducked under a low tree branch.
A growling hiss sounded behind us. Hot air blew on my back. Rhyan ran faster, narrowly sliding us between two sun trees. He pulled me toward him, one hand on my back, and scooped my legs into his arms, and we were gone.
My stomach tugged, and my feet touched the ground. It was sand. Above us was more sun than I’d seen in weeks.
We seemed to be on an island—tides were crashing against the distant shore, the water so blue, and the climate was as temperate as it had been in late fall. We were in Damara? Lethea?
Rhyan stumbled, sinking to his knees.
A loud hiss came from behind me.
“FUCK!” Rhyan roared, pushing up to his feet, mud on his boots tracking in the sand. “They can travel!”
Sweat filled my palm as I tightened my grip on my sword. I’d never heard of nahashim doing this, but I should have suspected it. The snakes could find anything one asked them to. Their magic drew them to their target. If their target was a traveling Lumerian, then the nahashim would be able to travel, too. They’d be able to do whatever it took to capture their prize.
And they wouldn’t stop until they succeeded.
“We can’t keep traveling and running. You’re nearly out of power. We need to separate them,” I said.
Rhyan looked pained, his good eyebrow lowered, but he knew I was right and nodded. “Don’t let their mouths get near you.”
“I won’t.” Avoiding was one thing I was good at. Being the only powerless soturion at the academy had made me a target for months, particularly during group fights. I hadn’t always been strong enough to land a hit or punch, but I knew Godsdamned well how to duck and escape them.
“Stay alert. They’ll come at all angles.” Rhyan’s eyes searched mine, so beautifully green. The bright sun had turned his hair from dark brown to golden bronze, and my own hair was red once more.
I held his gaze, knowing he needed a moment to prepare, to recover and regain his energy. His face was drawn, his jaw tensed. The scar through his eyebrow and cheek was more pronounced, something that happened whenever he was exhausted or injured.
“We’ll charge together and split in the middle,” he said, “at the dune up ahead. I’ll go right, you take the left flank.”
“Ready,” I said, taking his hand.
His thumb smoothed over my knuckle, and his knees bent, ready to sprint.
We ran, the nahashim raising their heads and snapping their nine jaws as they started, as one, toward us.
