Page 110 of Blood Fist
Looking down at his feet, Corric reached down to the braided bracelet of horsehair on his wrist. Jonen had made it for him yesterday. It was uneven, a mess of wiry strands fraying in places, but the hair was pulled from both Strawberry and the new horse. The Crushed Crystals horse’s hair caught the sunlight, brighter than any flame.
My alpha.
He couldn’t help but smile. Would the Corric who stoodin the stable staring at his mare's flowered mane have believed that eventually that alpha would be his? That someday they would wear each other’s bites? No, assuredly not. Corric thought that was a good thing.
“You coming?” Derry called down from a bend in the trail.
Corric lifted a hand and continued on, walking away from his memories as he tried to get his mind wrapped around the task at hand. He was glad Ridan asked him to do this. It was a good way to get away from Schok.
His brother didn’t just resent him. No, hehatedhim for the way his life had turned out. And as much as Corric wanted to be horrified, why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t Schok hate him? Where his brother had found pain and horror, Corric had found family and happiness. Even before he’d left Kaldonea, he had apparently been shielded from most of his father’s cruelty by his mother.
His mother.
That was another thing he had yet to come to terms with. All his memories of his mother were foggy. Vague, loose around the edges. Like a dream that grows more distant the farther from your bed you drift. He supposed he’d never given her much thought. Just another pawn in his father’s game, one who had served her purpose and then was put away.
But apparently, she’d tried to save him. Shielded him from something. He did not know what he’d seen in that memory. What was his mother doing to him? And why was it so important that she’d risk her own safety?
They were questions he knew he’d never get the answers to. Schok might answer them if he could. But what was left of his memories was tattered. Some days,he could barely remember bits of his childhood. Corric got the impression his brother wasn’t sure if he wanted to remember.
Asking him would be out of the question.
Ahead of him, Halm and Derry were walking quickly. The alpha was excited to see these illustrations. They had nothing like it in the Steel Jaw’s territories. And Derry was eager to spend time outside of his forge.
It didn’t take a genius to see they were interested in each other. Derry had been hoping for a courting request, but Halm had been reluctant. Jonen thought it had to do with Halm’s new position in the clan rather than her affections for Derry. Anyone with a nose could smell her interest whenever the bubbly omega was in the vicinity.
He sighed.Foolish alphas and their pride.
Thinking about his family was an insult to such a day, and he let his thoughts flood with Jonen. As they arrived at the rock tunnel that led to the Shrieking Cliffs, he thought about how his alpha was already preparing a den for them. He traded with the Smithe’s for some fine leather, working it himself to make a tent. It would be small, but it would be theirs. A place Corric could start his own nest, make it just right for him and his alpha.
And maybe a couple of pups. Someday.
In the tunnel's shade, he let himself relax against the walls. The crags dug into his back, so cool they almost felt wet. Halm was busy going over the drawings with Derry at her side. They were entranced in the faded paintings.
Corric’s attention was drawn to the opposite wall. Not to the lines of paint, no he’d seen them all before, but to the thick cracks running down the wall. He couldn’t recall them being there the last time he’d beenhere. Of course, it had been many years since he had visited. But something nagged at him.
Pushing off the wall, he crossed the space between and ran his fingers along the cracks. They were at least the breadth of his palm. Should he choose, he could slide his fingers into the depths. They crossed the wall in a tangle, extending farther than his eye could see.
With a start, he realized the wall wasn’t just cold.It was icy.Like a wind blowing through the thickened cracks. Pressing his hand against the crack, he peered in and was immediately hit with a frigid blast.
It was so cold he stumbled back, scrabbling at his throat. Aching, it was like he’d broken a thick layer of ice over a lake and drank the water from the depths. So cold it burned, stealing his breath as he nearly fell to his knees. Heaving, he pressed his hands against his chest to get some kind of warmth into his frigid airways.
After a moment, he was able to catch his breath. The cold didn’t quite fade, but he was growing used to it. Rubbing his chest, he stood, only to realize he was no longer in the tunnel.
Breath fogging up in front of him, he realized that all the light was gone. It was nearly black, the only light coming from behind him. Drawing one sword with a trembling hand, he spun.
The sight in front of him was foreign. Dim grey light filled the space, punctured by long spaces where it was blinding. Almost as if…
Cracks. The light was pouring in from the cracks. The same cracks he had just been investigating.
Corric was no longer in the tunnel. He wasin the mountain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ICE
His palms slapped against the stone as Corric desperately scrabbled for an opening. An explanation. Anything at all to stop the madness he refused to believe didn’t come straight from his nightmares. Had he fallen asleep? No, that was impossible. Just a moment ago he’d been leaning against the wall watching Derry and Halm.
Derry and Halm.