Page 46 of The Delver (The Vrix #2)
Terror threatened to overcome Urkot entirely. Countless dark thoughts circled his mind like scavengers waiting out a dying animal, an instant away from swarming and devouring him.
His mate had been taken right before his eyes.
His mate had been taken.
Nothing will take her from me!
Raw, potent fury obliterated his fear. He raced after Callie.
The scent of human blood struck him as he reached the opening, and he rushed into the small chamber.
It was lit only by the crystal that had fallen from Callie’s hand—and the glow of a male spiritstrider.
The pale vrix was so low that he was nearly lying on his belly, with two clawed hands hooked onto Callie’s leg, drawing her closer as though he were pulling on a silk rope to drag in a speared beast.
Callie fought, screaming as her fingers raked over the cave floor, seeking purchase.
She kicked her free leg desperately. Her boot connected with the snarling male’s face.
Mandibles snapping at her, the spiritstrider’s hand reached higher, raking down her bloodied calf.
She cried out, and more glistening blood spilled over the stone.
With a roar, Urkot charged forward, stomping a foreleg down on one of the spiritstrider’s extended arms. Bone crunched beneath the blow.
The spiritstrider hissed and snatched its arm back, but kept its other hand on Callie’s leg.
“She is mine!” Urkot pushed off with his rear and middle legs, driving the bent joint of his foreleg into the spiritstrider’s head.
The force knocked the other vrix away, claws tearing free of Callie’s leg. She screamed. The sound twisted Urkot’s already taut heartsthread. Clutching her wounded leg, she hurriedly rolled aside.
Urkot dropped his own crystal and leapt onto the spiritstrider. His weight bore down on the vrix, who thrashed and clawed at Urkot, but he felt no pain through his rage as he grabbed the vrix’s mandibles at their bases. Those pincers snapped the air impotently.
Growling, Urkot slammed the spiritstrider’s head against the floor.
The pale vrix’s struggles faltered. Urkot tightened his grip, and using all his strength, brought his foe’s head down again and again, feeling the heavy thumps of impact jolt up his arms and only pouring more power into every subsequent blow.
Even when he heard the spiritstrider’s skull crack, he did not stop.
“Will not take my mate.”
Slam.
“Will not touch.”
Slam.
“She’s mine. Mine. Mine!”
Slam. Slam. Slam.
He halted only when a small sound broke through the red haze that had taken hold of him—a whimper from Callie.
“Fuck.” Urkot released the unmoving spiritstrider and shoved away from it, turning toward his mate.
She sat, trembling, with her wounded leg stretched before her, both hands clamped around her calf. Blood oozed between and around her fingers. Her breaths were harsh, taken and expelled through clenched teeth.
Urkot scrambled over to her, plucked a glowstone off the floor, and knelt with hands raised and fingers splayed, staring down at her injuries.
With all the blood, it was difficult to tell just how many cuts she’d suffered, and their severity was impossible to guess, but they looked grave.
His hearts ached seeing the damage that had been inflicted upon her.
He knew even the gentlest touch would hurt her more.
But he also knew that a great deal of noise had been made during the struggle—noise that was very much out of the ordinary for these tunnels. Noise that would have traveled far.
He needed to hurry.
Urkot curled his fingers as a heaviness dragged down his insides. “Callie… I must tend you.”
Her teary gaze met his. He hated seeing that gleam in her eyes. It was filled with fear, agony, and understanding. Understanding that this ordeal was not yet finished.
Callie gave a shallow nod. “Hurry.”
Her nostrils flared as she loosened her hands and pried them away from her calf. Fresh blood flowed from her cuts. Moving as quickly and carefully as he could, Urkot drew out sticky silk and applied it to her wounds.
“Fuck,” Callie cried, and her following sounds were cut short as she bit down on her hand.
Muscles tense and fingers raking the chamber floor, she squirmed, moaned, and heaved muffled cries that made her shoulders quake.
Her every pained reaction, no matter how small, was like a new thorn stabbed into Urkot’s hearts.
His fingers were quickly slick with her blood. They’d never felt so clumsy. His large, rough hands were not made for such tasks.
If only Diego had been there to tend her properly.
Damn my eyes, if only I had protected her from this.
A sound from the tunnel stilled his hands and his hearts—a series of clicks echoing along the passageway.
His wide eyes met Callie’s. Then he hurriedly covered the rest of her wounds with silk, sealing them. It was enough to stop the bleeding for now.
His spinnerets spun a thin rope, which he quickly passed to his hands and began winding around her calf.
More clicks sounded from the tunnel, followed by harsh voices.
Fuck .
Rekosh’s silken words wouldn’t have been any help now, but his deft fingers certainly would’ve been welcome.
After wrapping the silk snugly around Callie’s leg, Urkot tied it in place, hoping the hasty work would hold, and rose, lifting her onto her feet.
Callie hissed and stood with her injured leg bent, keeping weight off it, as he stooped and helped her climb onto his hindquarters. She clung to him with both arms and one leg. Urkot moved immediately to the entryway.
Legs scraped and tapped against stone somewhere not far off. The sound’s disjointed rhythm suggested several vrix striding together. He laid his lower arm atop both of Callie’s, which were banded around his middle, and stepped into the tunnel.
The air current flowed over his hide and through his fine hairs, carrying that hint of the Tangle’s smell.
He cursed when he realized what else it would carry—his and Callie’s scents, straight to the spiritstriders now approaching. And the scent of her blood was most potent of all.
Just as Urkot quickened his pace, one of the spiritstriders let out an unnerving shriek, and frenzied movement echoed along the tunnel.
Hearts thundering, Urkot ran. His legs came down heavily, jostling Callie, who held on tightly. The sounds of pursuing vrix grew louder and clearer.
He offered prayers to all the Eight, asking each for guidance and protection, asking them to see his mate through this alive and well. But in truth, he knew he could rely only upon himself to protect her. There’d be no help down here, not even from the Delver.
Urkot rounded a bend in the tunnel, slapping his hands against the wall to prevent himself from careening into it with his momentum. He pushed himself off it, running harder, faster, his chest constricted and lungs burning.
But the sounds behind him drew nearer and nearer.
The tunnel took another turn, which Urkot stumbled around, before opening into a large cavern.
“Shaper, unmake me,” he rasped, skidding to a halt just before he would’ve plummeted over an abrupt drop off that ended the path.
A few loose pebbles tumbled over the edge and clattered down, drawing his attention along with them. The bottom was barely more than a segment below him, but had he gone over unaware at that speed, it may well have resulted in an injury.
Bones and rocks littered the cave floor, lying amidst a layer of dirt. After the initial drop, the ground sloped upward at an increasingly steep angle, the stone worn in a way indicating frequent traversal.
“Urkot, look,” Callie whispered, pointing up over his shoulder.
He swung his gaze in the direction she’d gestured.
At the very top of the slope stood another opening, a cave mouth, through which came a glow unlike any he’d seen since entering the mine with the thornskulls a lifetime ago.
It seemed impossible in its brightness, its clarity, its warmth, and yet he knew it was very, very real.
Daylight.
Callie slipped her arm back around him. “We made it.”
As though in disagreement, a spiritstrider called out a single, harsh word from the tunnel behind them. “ Taviik’ven !”
It sounded very much like tavit’ven —the vrix command to hunt.
Numerous hisses, clicks, and growls sounded in response.
After everything Urkot and Callie had endured together, after everything they had shared, their journey would not end here, would not end now. Not when sunlight was finally in sight.
“Hold tight,” he growled.
He leapt down from the ledge, landing hard on the cave floor. Bones and pebbles scattered. A few of his legs slipped on loose rubble, and he adjusted his weight, throwing his right arms to the side to regain his balance.
Callie squeezed him as he pushed on. Even with six legs, the scree was difficult to cross, constantly shifting beneath him.
The sound of legs scrabbling over stone behind him marked the spiritstriders’ entry into the cavern. Their voices rose in a frenzy; they were a pack of predators certain that they had cornered their prey.
Clenching his jaw, Urkot threw himself forward.