Page 31 of The Inheritance (Breach Wars #1)

“I know you’re awake.”

The fox kept its eyes closed.

“I heard the change in your breathing.”

No reaction.

“Suit yourself.”

We sat in a shallow depression in the rock, not that different from the little cave that had been the fox’s prison.

After picking the fox up, I’d carried it to the stone bridge crossing.

Getting him and Bear back onto the top bridge with only one rope took some maneuvering, but in the end we made it, and I picked the fox back up.

We walked for a few hours - I wasn’t sure how long - until eventually Bear and I had gotten hungry.

It took us another hour or so to find prey and water, and then we’d bedded down in this hiding spot.

Past the cave opening a large cavern stretched into the distance.

Far below a narrow stream ran through a chain of shallow ponds ringed in mauve flowers.

A young lake dragon lived in the central pond.

It was submerged now but we watched it nab one of the goat-like herbivores earlier, when a small herd wandered out of a side passage to the water to take a drink.

A narrow ledge led to the right, hugging the wall, before diving down and connecting to another tunnel leading into the rock, the only way to access this cave.

I had blocked the tunnel with the dial barrier.

The irregular shape of the opening didn’t matter.

The force barrier conveniently expanded until it met solid rock.

I’d tested it in different tunnels. As long as the opening was less than twenty-six feet wide, the barrier asserted itself.

For the moment we were safe from everything that didn’t have wings or couldn’t climb sheer walls.

If the DDC ever got their hands on this tech, the scientists would faint.

I sliced a sliver from a stalker ham and held it out to our guest on the tip of my sword. “Hungry?”

The fox opened one eye to a narrow slit, looked at the meat, then at me. Its hand shot out, and then my sword was empty. The creature held the meat up, sniffed it, and put it on a rock next to it. Bear stopped eating and watched it.

The fox rolled onto all fours. Its back arched. It strained and hacked. Its body shuddered, gripped by spasms. It hacked again, louder. A small metal object fell from its mouth.

“Lovely.” I took a bite from my own stalker tartare.

The fox tipped an imaginary cup to its lips and held its paw out to me.

I passed one of the canteens to it. The creature gently unscrewed the lid and poured a little bit of water onto the thing it had regurgitated.

It rubbed the object on its fur, inspected it, nodded, sipped from the canteen, and offered it back to me.

“Oh no, that’s yours now.” I shook my head.

The creature drank from the canteen, hugged it to itself, and put the metal object by its feet. It looked like a large marble with bumps on its surface. The fox must have swallowed it to keep it from being taken.

The former prisoner snatched the meat from the rock and stuffed it into its mouth.

“More?”

The fox nodded. It was so amazingly human-like. I cut another slice from the ham.

About a pound of meat later, the little beast sat back and rubbed its belly.

“Better?”

The fox eyed me, then looked at Bear gnawing on her bone.

“She won’t hurt you unless you try to hurt us first. She’s my dog and she’s a good girl.”

The fox’s eyes narrowed to slits. It leaned back and giggled. The sound was startling.

It laughed at me. The little asshole understood me.

“Which part of that was funny?”

The creature reached for the marble and squeezed it. A beam of light protruded from the sphere, expanding into an image. A fluffy Pomeranian, followed by a Golden Retriever, and then an English Bulldog.

How the hell did it have these recordings?

“Yes, all of those are dogs. Dogs like Bear.”

The fox pointed at the device and let out a tiny woof. Then it pointed at Bear and shook its head. Its paws came up, claws out, and he let out a quiet, menacing rawr .

Bear was not a dog. Bear was something scary.

“Don’t listen to it, Bear. You are the best dog ever.”

The fox laughed, then leaned forward. It put one paw on its chest. A quiet voice came from its mouth. If it were human, I would have said it was male and a tenor.

“Kiar Jovo.”

That had to be a name. I put my hand on my chest. “Ada Moore.”

Kiar Jovo squeezed the marble again. An image of a man and a woman appeared. The man blurred and turned into Kiar Jovo. Male. He was male.

I nodded.

The marble flashed again. An old fox couple, their fur grey, stood side by side, wearing jeweled sashes over one shoulder. Golden hoop earrings flashed in their ears. Behind them a multitude of fox creatures appeared, similarly dressed, most grey or black, their fur like dense smoke.

Kiar Jovo waved his arm over the image. “Kiar.” He touched his chest again. “Jovo.”

Kiar was the family or tribe. He was Jovo of the Kiar.

I touched my hand to my chest. “Ada.”

I didn’t have a marble. I looked around, grabbed a rock, and scratched a stick figure drawing into the floor: Me, Tia, Noah, Bear, and our cat. I circled the drawing with a rock. “Moore.”

Jovo nodded.

There were so many questions I wanted to ask. How did he know about us, where did he come from, how did he end up in this breach, who made the breaches and why? But right now, I had to stick to the most important one.

I pointed at his ears and the wound on his chest. “Who?”

Jovo bared his teeth in an ugly snarl. The marble flashed, and a familiar figure appeared, wrapped in a grey tattered robe with four arms, each holding a blade.

A second figure stood next to it, much smaller, slimmer, its face hidden by a veil of chains.

If Jovo put them in the same order as the human pair, the larger creature was male and the smaller was female.

That would mean there were only male attackers at the mining site.

The head and shoulders of the male matched the outline of the creature that stalked us.

Our hunter was one of these. Made sense.

Jovo’s voice was a ragged snarl. “Kael'gress.”

“I know those. I have seen them.” I pointed at myself. “Moore.” I pointed at Jovo. “Kiar.” I pointed at the four-armed assassin.

Jovo shook his head. He put his hand on his chest again. “Lees.” He pointed at me. “Hoo-man.” He pointed at the image of the creature. “Gress.” He raised his hand as if stabbing and pierced the air with an imaginary knife, mincing an invisible enemy with a flurry of stabs. “Kael.”

Gress was the species name. Kael’gress was a gress who killed. Killer gress.

Jovo raked his claws across the image, his fangs bared. He tried to rip the projection, pulling it apart, and looked at me.

“You want to kill this Kael’gress?”

I drew my finger across Kael’gress’s throat.

Jovo nodded several times, his eyes bright.

The four-armed fighters were incredibly dangerous. A memory of them spinning through the cavern flashed before me. I still remembered how one of those grey shrouds stretched, trying to kill me after its owner was dead.

“Dangerous,” I said.

Jovo frowned at me. Must not have been a word he was familiar with.

I raised my hands, fingers apart, imitating him when he talked about Bear, and made a snarly noise.

Jovo nodded, then raked the image again. Right, we were still stuck on the killing.

“He almost killed you. You were chained.” I pointed to Jovo’s neck and trailed my finger indicating an imaginary cord. I pointed at the gress and drew a line across Jovo’s neck and then mine. He would kill us both.

Jovo put his hands together and bowed to me.

I shook my head. No.

Jovo bowed again, then again.

I shook my head. “No. Dangerous.”

Despair shone in Jovo’s eyes. He took a deep breath and offered the metal marble to me.

I shook my head. “No.”

Jovo shrank from me, clutching his marble with both hands. The marble was his most prized possession, his only possession. He offered me everything he had, and I said no. If he was human, I would have guessed he was close to tears. This seemed more important than just revenge.

I pointed at the gress. “Why?”

Jovo pointed at the gress and made a grabbing motion, snatching something forcefully from the air.

“He took something from you?”

Jovo squeezed his marble. A night sky flared above us, strange constellations glowing. One of the stars shone brighter. Jovo reached for it, his face full of longing.

“Home?” I guessed.

He looked at me. I pointed at my stick drawing. “Home?”

“Home,” Jovo said.

He pointed to the gress and crossed his hands forming an X.

Whatever the gress took from him, Jovo needed it to get back home. He was stuck here, alone.

I too wanted to go home, more than anything in the world.

Jovo sagged on the floor, dejected.

“Where is the gress? Where can we find him?” I made a show of looking around.

Jovo raised his hand and pointed over my shoulder. I didn’t even need to look. I knew exactly in which direction he was aiming.

Jovo was pointing at the anchor.

Everything we both wanted was at the anchor.

The gress was stalking me. I was sure of it.

Four of its kind chased the woman in blue, trying to murder her.

Either they wanted to kill her or to take something from her.

Before she died, she passed something precious to her onto me, which made me their new target.

That wasn’t a logical leap. It wasn’t even a hop.

This gress would hunt me down. He had followed me but hadn’t closed the distance so far.

Perhaps he knew that my predecessor killed four of his kind.

Perhaps he didn’t want to strike until he was sure that I had no escape route.

If I lost him in this warren of passageways and caverns, tracking me down would be difficult.

He must’ve realized by now I was going to the anchor. He would ambush me there. Bear and I could face him alone or with Jovo.