Page 3 of The Delver (The Vrix #2)

The sun was already beginning to fall when Urkot and Jezahal rejoined Zotahl and the others outside the cave. Deepening shadows dominated the surrounding jungle, and the gaps in the leaves overhead offered glimpses of red-gold clouds against a pink sky that would soon darken to violet.

Though the air was hot, thick, and redolent of plants and decay, Urkot welcomed it into his lungs. Far better than breathing in dust.

Together, Urkot and the thornskulls set out for home, following the base of the rocky hills and cliffs that formed one side of the valley cradling Kaldarak.

Even the falling sun gave better light than the cave’s glowing crystals, restoring some color to the thornskulls’ dusty hides.

While the elder thornskulls showed no signs of having been affected by the rockfall, the younger trio only gradually shed their uncharacteristic quietness.

Their voices became part of the jungle sounds for Urkot—no different than the rustling of leaves, the creaking of wood, or the distant calls of beasts.

And none of those sounds could silence those that existed in his mind. The thunderous roar of rocks falling, raining upon a cave floor; strained, anguished, muffled cries…

Not here, not now.

He would not allow those memories to bury him. Could not. He needed to be like stone, steady, reliable, unwavering. His strength would bolster that of the other delvers. No more cracks.

So he strode onward, making himself chitter at his companions’ jests, telling himself there wasn’t a tortured roar building in his chest that he needed to let out.

Urkot knew the trek to Kaldarak was short, but it felt as though a full eightday had passed by the time they reached the base of the waterfall that flowed from the temple atop the hill high above.

Mist cooled the air, and the sound of water crashing into the pool overcame all others—save for those from his past.

Tahlken strode to the edge of the pool, where he unslung his bag and set it, along with his belt and tools, on a rock. “Come. Let us wash away the dust and our worries.”

The other thornskulls joined him, shedding their belongings at the water’s edge.

Urkot hung back. His hearts were thumping, and his chest felt constricted. He looked upon these thornskulls, his friends, and all he could see were five vrix who’d nearly been lost on his watch.

“Do you fear you will sink, Three-Arm?” Zotahl asked, glancing over his shoulder as he stepped into the water.

The others chittered good-naturedly. Urkot forced out a chitter of his own, hoping it did not sound as strained as it felt. “Stone has a better chance of floating than I do. But…the cool water does not help my old hurts.”

A dull ache pulsed on his left side as though in response to the lie, and for one brief, cruel moment, he felt the arm that had been taken from him seven years ago.

He barely resisted the urge to cover the scar with a hand.

Though they voiced their disappointment, the thornskulls did not argue. Urkot was grateful for that much. He needed quiet, needed solitude, needed time. Time to slow his hearts, to steady his breaths, and to again bury his memories deeper than Takarahl’s darkest, longest forgotten tunnel.

Alone, he strode to the grand stairway that was Kaldarak’s entrance, offered a greeting to the pair of thornskulls standing vigil at its base, and ascended the winding steps up into the trees.

Reaching the platform at the top did nothing to calm him; he had many such platforms and several bridges to cross before he could claim solitude.

As he hurried toward his den, he greeted the thornskulls he passed as kindly as he could. Each such exchange, however short, heightened the pressure inside him, making every breath harder, every heartbeat louder.

His stride faltered when he saw a few of his tribemates ahead—Ketahn, carrying his broodling, Akalahn, accompanied by Rekosh, Will, and Diego.

Rekosh’s red markings stood out starkly against his black hide, more so than the purple of Ketahn’s.

The two vrix were like brothers to Urkot, sharing a bond so strong that not even the gods could have broken it.

Will and Diego were a mated pair, humans from another world beyond the stars, just like Callie, but they had also become family.

Perhaps Urkot could turn around before they saw him and go another way…

Guilt sliced through his hearts, making his muscles tense, yet he could not suppress the urge to flee. Were anyone to have called him a coward right then and there, he couldn’t have disagreed.

Ketahn spied Urkot and lifted a hand in greeting. Akalahn raised all four of his chubby little arms in an exaggerated imitation of his sire, bouncing in Ketahn’s hold.

Urkot’s mandibles rose in a smile. A bit of that pressure lifted with them.

But as Urkot neared his friends, Ketahn and Rekosh’s mandibles sagged, and the two humans frowned, the dark strips of fur above their eyes—their eyebrows—drawing closer together.

“Are you all right?” Ketahn asked in English. “Did something happen?”

For all the jokes about Urkot’s head being full of rocks or his hide being more stone than flesh, Urkot felt as though Ketahn saw through him as easily as he would’ve the waters of a shallow stream.

“I am fine,” Urkot replied. He did not care for the taste of such lies upon his tongue, but this burden…it was his alone to bear.

“You’re covered in dust,” Diego said, brown eyes raking over Urkot from the tips of his legs to the peak of his headcrest.

“ Covered ,” Will echoed. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You’re almost as white as Garahk.”

“You okay?”

Spreading his arms, Urkot glanced down at himself. Most of his black hide was hidden beneath a veil of pale dust that must’ve made him look more like a spirit than a vrix of hide and bone. He chittered. “Delving is dirty work.”

Rekosh folded his arms across his chest, drumming the fingers of one hand on his upper arm. “This is much more than usual.”

Akalahn wriggled in his sire’s arms, and Ketahn sank down, placing the broodling on the platform boards.

“Urkot…” Ketahn intoned as he rose.

“Stone fell, but none were harmed. Only dust.” Urkot patted his abdomen, sending up a tiny white cloud.

Will leaned back, waving a hand to disrupt the dust as it neared him. “Breathing that stuff in can’t be good for you. Not for humans, anyway.”

“Doubt it’s good for vrix either,” said Diego with a frown. “You ever have problems with your breathing, Urkot?”

“No,” Urkot replied. The strain in his chest now was different, wasn’t it?

Both Ketahn and Rekosh were studying him closely. He knew that just as water could wear down stone over time, his friends’ weighty gazes would wear down his resolve.

Urkot dropped his eyes to Akalahn, and again his troubles briefly receded. With a blend of vrix and human features, the broodling was unlike anyone or anything else in the world—or any other world, since the humans claimed there were uncountable worlds hidden amongst the stars in the night sky.

Little Akalahn moved on six wobbly legs, walking around and beneath his sire with all four purple eyes wide and bright.

Ketahn also glanced down, and his gaze softened. When the broodling wandered toward the platform’s edge, Ketahn extended a foreleg, hooked it around the broodling’s middle, and gently guided him back.

Akalahn chittered in delight, smiling not only with a lift of his little mandibles, but by curving his mouth, which was more flexible than that of a full-blooded vrix.

“Ivy says it is too soon for him to walk and climb,” Ketahn said.

Diego chuckled. “Normally, it would be. He’s only two months old. A human baby wouldn’t even start crawling for another five months, much less walking and climbing.”

“Perhaps it is because your kind only has two legs?” Urkot asked. “More easy to walk with more legs.”

“Might be on to something there,” said Will.

Urkot couldn’t be sure what the human meant. The only thing he was on was the platform, and there was no question about that. Why might ?

Akalahn latched on to one of Ketahn’s legs and climbed a handspan off the platform. Chittering, Ketahn lifted that leg, plucked the broodling off, and set the little one down atop his hindquarters. Akalahn settled against Ketahn’s back, tiny legs spread to the sides.

Adorable as the broodling was, Urkot couldn’t shake the sense that something was…off. He tilted his head and looked from Rekosh to Ketahn and back again. “Where are your mates? I have not seen either of you without them since Rekosh claimed Ahmya.”

“She is visiting with Lacey. Girl time , they said,” Rekosh replied.

“I sent my Ivy with Ahmya, so she may relax.” Ketahn reached back with a lower arm to rub his broodling’s black and gold hair. “She tells me her heart leaps into her throat every time she sees Akalahn climb. She does not know why I am not worried when we awake to find him hanging from the ceiling.”

In all the years Urkot had known him, Ketahn had never shown interest in taking a mate, had never spoken of siring broodlings. And Urkot had never imagined it. Ketahn always strode along his own path, straight into the unknown and right on through it.

He had come to this—a mate, a broodling—in his own way, and it suited him so well that Urkot couldn’t help but hope for himself.

Rekosh extended a foreleg, bumping a leg joint against the bag on Urkot’s belt. “More stones? I wonder what—or is it who—they are for?”

Urkot withdrew with a grunt. “Glowstones for Singer’s Promise.”

“None for Callie?”

There is one for Callie.

The most unique in the bag.

Using his lower hand, Urkot adjusted the bag’s lay. Hopefully that little cubed crystal hadn’t been damaged when the rock fell.

What if it had been Urkot’s tribe down there with him instead of the thornskulls? What if one of his friends, one of his family, had been harmed? Visions of that horror attempted to take shape in his mind. Only his grip on the bag kept his hand from trembling.