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I frown, glancing up at the creature above the trees. To my relief, it seems more interested in the approaching spacecraft than it does in us…but that could change at any moment. “Are you sure this is the right time?”
“It will make what happens next easier to understand,” he says, as if we have all the time in the world. “When I competed in the Wild Hunt, I found that the easiest way to eliminate my enemies was to turn the wildlife against them before collecting my trophies. So I would alert the beasts to the presence of outsiders; antagonize them until they were enraged, then point them in the direction of another competitor.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask. The stealth ship is growing closer, a glint of light vanishing behind the tree line. “We need to hurry and tell the others.”
“I’m getting to that,” he says. “Say we lead the creature to our prey—Xanthos’ ship—and then escape ourselves while he’s occupied, and hopefully eliminate him while we flee. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“Nice isn’t the word I would use to describe it,” I say. “Sometimes I wonder if we actually cured you on Alamancia or if you’re still a little psychotic.”
He parts his lips in a humanoid expression that looks far from natural, sharp teeth glinting in the overcast afternoon light. “Whoever said I wasn’t psychotic?”
I can’t help the laugh that bursts from my chest, and Orion huffs out a breath through his snout. “So,” I say. “What do you need me to do?”
His eyes narrow. “Get back to the ship,” he says. “Tell everyone to prepare for liftoff. And while you’re at it…let Ryker know I apologize.”
I frown. “For what?”
He stares into the woods, where I’m certain he hears something I don’t. “He thought he would get a rematch with Xanthos,” he says. “But I’m going to kill him myself.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ORION
For the first time since coming under Lamia’s control, I am in my element.
I was trained to be a lone hunter, to roam the universe in search of prey. As Taln heads back to the Wrath, I find that’sexactlywhat I get to do.
I have Xanthos’ scent, and he won’t leave this planet alive.
I stalk toward the spindly-legged beast in the woods, unafraid of what it might do. I’m fast enough to evade it—and even if it took interest in me, that’s all part of my plan. Creatures of this size are far more interested in ships than they are in tiny little people.
There’s a specific ship I want to lead it straight towards.
I cut into the forest, where slush is still falling from the rapidly blooming trees. Spring is short on Scylla; the planet arcs in a bizarre orbit that takes it extraordinarily close to its sun in the summer, and far away in the winter. We’ve come right at the cusp of summer, so everything around me is waking up. Small creatures rustle in the underbrush, anxious to start their mating cycle so their species don’t go extinct, while massive creatures linger above.
I find that the creature we saw in the forest is somewhat of an optical illusion. It’s narrow from the angle we first saw it from, but winds through the woods on many legs, its segmented limbs like tree trunks. The creature’s camouflage is enhanced by the leaves and moss growing on every leg, its pointed feet singular talons digging into the earth like roots.
A creature screeches from the canopy above, and I see the towering monster bend to pluck it from the branches, then hear the snap of bones as the prey animal’s cries abruptly cease. It encourages me to pick up my pace, moving along the creature’s legs as I figure out how to differentiate the monster’s limbs from the trees around me.
I draw my blade from my belt, reaching out toward one of the legs.
I strike.
I only want to cut deep enough to make the thing bleed—and bleed, it does. Amber, sap-like fluid oozes from the wound, and I leap back in time to see that it burns the forest floor like acid when it hits the turf. The creature’s leg buckles, but doesn’t collapse, and I look up to see sets of glittering black eyes open all along its underbelly. My stomach roils at the sight of it, though my heart pounds like a drum.
The hunt is on.
I activate my clone, and feel the dual version of me tearing itself away from my body, flesh and all. There was a time when it hurt, but all I feel now is the exhilaration of the hunt, the pain part of the joy. I watch as my double takes off into the brush, copper scales blending with the mix of shadows and light along the forest floor, and I run too.
I keep my blade drawn, glancing up at the eyes every so often to make sure it’s still watching me. To my relief, when I make it out from under the beast, it takes a step backward, moving along with me.
Backward. I don’t even know if it has any concept of front and back, left and right; it moves like an invertebrate.
But there’s Xanthos’ ship up ahead, cloaked and only visible with my keen eyes. I can see the vaguest shape of a well-camouflaged spacecraft, hear the air pouring from exhaust vents all along the vessel. I tuck myself against a tree, keeping my ears open for the hulking beast towering over the canopy.
I wonder if Xanthos’ crew has even seen the creature. How many men he has with him.
I send in my clone for recon.
