Storm of Arranon Fire and Ice (20 page)

They’re afraid
?
Why
?
I’m
glad they can’t feel how scared I am right now
.

The Socar Batahs stepped around the anxious
Shifters. Their sense of her wasn’t apprehension—just the opposite.
Curious, they reached out as if to touch her, but didn’t.

Tine glanced at her fingers gripping the
staser. He leaned in and whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
There was humor in his tone. “That wouldn’t be wise. Not yet. Learn
how to see first.” He let go of her arm with a forceful push.

Off balance, she fell against another Socar
Batah, who shoved her to the rocky ground with minimal effort on
his part. His large brown eyes shone down at her with a fierce
burning. Deep-black hair swung around his face. He grinned, showing
his teeth. A guttural stream of unknown words issued from him. He
laughed, the sound a high, frantic yip.

“He told you to behave. As if you had a
choice.” Tine chuckled and glanced around.

Erynn’s jaw tightened, biting back her anger.
She dropped her gaze. A tingling buzz of static snapped around
her.

Control. This is not the time.
Control
.

A knock sounded on Nev’s office door. “Nev,
we’re ready.” Maire’s voice was muffled through the barrier.

Dhoran smiled so the emotion would carry in
his tone. “I’ll be right there, Maire.” He slammed his fist against
the desk and stood up in one motion.

General Gaden jerked and lowered his
gaze.

Dhoran hurried around the clutter in the
office, confronting the general. He bent forward, his face
centimeters from Gaden’s. “Find out what is going on. I don’t care
how you do it. I want to know where Erynn is. Why has Jaer gone to
Deanaim? What happened to the Interceptors Cale sent?”

Gaden flinched with each question fired at
him. His COM phone beeped, and he reached for it. He slid the clip
around his ear, visibly relieved by the distraction. “Yes?”
Silence. “What do you mean, gone? How is that possible?”

Dhoran tipped forward, his forehead touching
Gaden’s temple. A low hissing pushed between his clenched
teeth.

Gaden shut his eyes. “They’re headed back?
Yes. I want to debrief them personally.” He removed the clip.

“Well?” Dhoran growled. “What is it?”

Gaden cleared his throat. “They lost Erynn in
Deanaim. Jaer believes the guardians told her where to find the
access to the portal.” He glanced up, momentarily meeting Dhoran’s
eyes. “Erynn has entered your underworld, My Lord.”

Dhoran threw his head back and laughed. “I
think Nev is about to have a family emergency requiring him to
leave the base for an extended time.” He grabbed either side of
Gaden’s neck. “Have someone see to a replacement, would you?” He
slapped Gaden’s cheek and hurried out the door.

ERYNN GRITTED HER TEETH AND pulled one knee
under her. She pushed off the rough stone and stood to her full
height. All the while, she stared at the Socar Batah who’d shoved
her to the ground, daring him with narrowed eyes and a set jaw to
try it again. Whether the outcome was good or bad, no matter what,
she would use her abilities. She refused to allow anyone, including
the Socar Batahs, to treat her in a violent manner. If he or one of
the others touched her again…

However, no one attempted to force her back
to the rough stone. They stepped away, watching her. Quiet yipping
punctuated the Socar Batahs’ low growls. Approval drifted from
their minds and stood out in their eyes.

The Shifters scrambled back to the far sides
of the fires, taking their uneasiness with them.

She tugged at her jacket, smoothing the
bunched material and winced. She raised her arm and glanced at her
hand. A jagged shard of rock poked from her palm. Bloody fluid
oozed around the chip’s uneven edges. She plucked the sliver from
her flesh, wiped her hand down her thigh, and tossed the bloody
shard into the fire. The flames quickly flared a brilliant blue
before returning to a blazing orange.

Shifters hissed and bowed their heads,
retreating from the blue inferno. The Socar Batahs kept their gaze
on Erynn. A rush of alarmed yips and soft howls flowed among the
onlookers.

“I’ve never seen that happen before,” Tine
whispered and frowned.

Their startled interest in the fierce blue
flames quickly changed to wonder. Curiosity swelled from the Socar
Batahs like a wave, rolling over Erynn with a faint undercurrent
of…respect.

Tine stared at her, a light smile lifting his
lips. “Well played, Erynn Yager. You’ve made it clear your position
is not weak or submissive.”

Erynn spun on Tine, her anger smoldering.
“You allowed this. You said I wouldn’t be harmed. Aren’t you in
charge?”

Tine’s forehead rose, making his eyes even
larger. “Were you? Harmed? The challenge had to happen eventually.
Better to get these formalities out of the way at the onset.” He
tipped his head, his brow creased. Tine grinned. “You believe I’m
in charge?” His gaze darted behind her. “Interesting.”

“Formalities? What formalities?” Erynn
continued to stare at him, her tone low. “Never mind. I don’t plan
to stay long enough to learn your ways.”

Tine chuckled. “Oh, Erynn. You still don’t
grasp your situation, do you?”

She bit back the retorts that jumped to her
mind, keeping them from springing to her lips.

Don’t argue. Don’t confront. Get
information
.

She took in a long, slow breath. “Why can’t
you survive on the surface? The cold?”

“No. We could adjust to the cold. It’s the
sun. Ultimately, the light would kill us. Perhaps you haven’t heard
the stories, not being an inhabitant of Arranon. More generations
ago than I can count, life on Arranon was given a choice. To live
on the surface in the light and cold, or below in the warm
dark.”

Erynn nodded. “I’ve heard that much. But why
does that prevent you from returning to the surface?”

“The choice was a binding contract, Erynn.
Entered into and agreed upon by our ancestors above and below.”

“A bond? With who?” Erynn asked.

“With Arranon.” Tine shifted on bare feet,
gazing behind her. “Drom, the one who challenged you, is ready to
leave for our
trialath
, our village.” Tine leaned in to
Erynn and whispered, “He believes he can feel the sun this close to
the surface. Makes him nervous.” He ducked his head and hid a smile
with his hand.

“Wait. Where are we going?” Erynn held the
tremor that hit her body from invading her voice. “You said you
would take me back—to the portal.”

“And I will.” Tine dropped his head, his tone
insistent. “But now we have to go.”

Drom tapped Erynn’s shoulder. He swept his
arm out and pointed past the last fire.

Tine nodded. “Drom wants you to walk with
him.”

Erynn’s attention drifted from Tine to Drom,
and to Tine again. “Doesn’t he speak?”

Tine pushed at the small of Erynn’s back,
urging her forward. “Get moving. It’s an honor to walk with the
cabrawth
. And yes, he can speak, but not in a language you
would understand. Now go.”

“Bo nahl ven.” Drom’s deep voice echoed in
the cavern. His brown eyes crinkled around the edges. He smiled and
stepped in next to Erynn on her right. He grabbed a torch from a
Socar Batah who held two of the flaming batons and strode away from
the oily pools of fire. His long dark hair swung with his smooth,
rapid gait.

Tine hurried behind, pushing at Erynn, urging
her to keep pace.

“Tine?” Erynn glanced back. Socar Batahs
followed Tine single file, Shifters bringing up the rear.

“Go. We can talk more later.”

Away from the fires, a path angled down, the
dark before her a solid barrier. Three Socar Batahs went ahead,
torches held high, lighting the way. A meerat scurried in front of
them. The Socar Batah on the left bent forward, reached out with a
lightning grab, and snared the small creature. He stuffed the
squealing, shrieking, wiggling body into his open mouth and chewed.
Blood dribbled down his chin and from the corners of his mouth. He
wiped his face with the back of his hand and licked his
fingers.

Erynn tore her gaze away, but not fast
enough. The sight burned into her mind.

She glanced back at Tine, and he
shrugged.

Think of something else. Concentrate on
the predicament you’re in
.

The vernacular Drom spoke wasn’t Comhra, the
ancient language of Arranon. The female Socar Batah’s words were,
though. Tine appeared to understand Comhra, Drom’s dialect, and the
predominate language of the surface. Yet, Tine obviously wasn’t the
leader here—Drom was. She stared up at him. Drom was a little
taller than Tine, with a heavier, more muscular body.

Tine poked her shoulder.

She jerked and glanced back at Tine. “What?”
she mouthed.

Tine gave his head a subtle shake and
frowned. “Don’t stare at him,” he whispered.

Erynn turned her attention straight ahead.
She watched the graceful movements of the three in front of her.
Muscles rippled under their gray clothing. Flat, bare feet padded
softly against the rough stone of the path. Long hair swayed with a
gentle motion. Their actions were hypnotic.

She remembered the story Zander had told her.
The Socar Batahs and Shifters had lived in peace with the surface
inhabitants for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. Dhoran changed
the dynamics of this tranquil co-existence with his hunger for
power and his burning desire to rule both realms.

Tine tapped her shoulder again. He pointed
forward when he got her attention. “The transition station.”

She realized she’d been staring at the
ground, lost in her musings. The tunnel ahead narrowed. The air
glowed a pale blue and shimmered like gently sheeting water.

Transition station
?

She hesitated.

Drom grasped the back of her coat and
shoved.

A dry, hot wind blew over Erynn. Static
popped like an electrical storm around her. She rocked back. Her
head tipped. She watched the ceiling of rock passing above her.
Falling, she reached out.

Tine steadied her. “The first time one
transitions is rough.” He called into her ear around the rushing
wind, pushing her upright. With his arms around her waist, Tine
supported her weight. “Take a deep breath,” he ordered. The soft
fur of his cheek brushed her face.

Air sucked from Erynn’s lungs. Her chest
squeezed, rebelling against her attempt to pull in needed oxygen.
Her heart pounded a frantic staccato beat. Sparkling pinpoints of
white light danced before her eyes. The flashing radiance didn’t
come from the Anim Blath this time.

Tine shook her, his voice firm, loud.
“Breathe, Erynn. Breathe or you’ll die.”

Drom turned and studied Erynn. He slapped her
hard across the face. The burn of his claws seared her cheek. He
bared his teeth, growled, and spoke something to Tine. His unknown
words were a distant confusion of mumbled utterances. Drom grabbed
Erynn’s jacket. He jerked her from Tine and lifted. Her feet barely
touched the rough stone.

He was close. Close enough that she could
smell the rotted meat on his breath.

No, I can taste it
.

Her stomach wanted to revolt. His lips were
about to touch hers. Her arms seemed to weigh more than an
Interceptor, but she raised them anyway and pushed at Drom’s chest
with weak, tingling hands.

I need air
.

The realization stabbed into her fractioning
thoughts. Dark fingers moved at the edge of her awareness, folding
over her mind.

Air. Now
!

An icy wind swirled around her, cooling the
heat of panic. A fresh breeze teased her nose, slipped between her
lips, found passage into her constricted lungs, and filled
them.

Erynn gasped, coughed, and gasped again. Her
throat and chest loosened. Chilled air passed into every cell of
her body. Drom’s face blurred. The murmuring of the Socar Batahs
faded. An inky blackness like a dense cloud enveloped her.

Whispers landed feather soft against her
ears. She waved at them as she would a buzzing centinent that
annoyed her.

Quiet snickering and giggles ensued.

Erynn bolted upright.

Small figures scurried out of sight, into
shadows and past an open door.

Her body ached. She rubbed at tender points
on her ribs and arms. Erynn glanced around. She sat on a raised
wooden bed covered with soft furs in a small room with walls
constructed of seamlessly piled stones. The craftsmanship amazed
her. The ceiling consisted of small logs secured with dark pitch
and leather straps. Beautifully crafted wooden chests sat along the
wall opposite the bed. Empty sconces made of a heavy metal in an
intricate design bracketed an opening into another larger room. A
fire burned in a stone hearth, giving off a faint light.

Erynn pushed off the bed and stood up,
balancing with her hand on a bedpost. Her legs held her weight with
only a little protest. She gazed down. Clothing similar to the
Socar Batahs’ replaced her thick coat and flight suit.
“How…When…No.
Who
dressed me in these?”

They weren’t gray like Drom and Tine’s, or
brown like the female in the cavern beneath the fortress wore. Hers
were dark, a deep-blue or green. The color was hard to discern in
the gloom. The material was thin and light, soft to the touch. No
need for warm clothing here. Her clothes, the ones she’d been
wearing when she arrived, were nowhere to be seen.

Soft boots of a supple tan leather sat at the
foot of the bed. She slipped her feet into them, folded the cloth
of the pant legs inside the tall boots, and tied the crisscrossed
straps around her calves.

She stepped into the room beyond. Identical
seamless stone walls and ceiling adorned this space. Substantial
furniture made from heavy wood and covered with thick furs sat in a
semicircle around the hearth. The fire crackled and snapped. There
were no windows. A bulky door of small logs lashed with leather
strapping and anchored to the stone with ornate metal hinges and
handle was opposite the fire.