Fear, adrenaline, the afterimage of that violet glow burns in my vision, but something else flickers beneath all that. Instinct. The kind Calista and Jolie taught me to trust, the same instinct that saved us with the last creature.
“Look,” I rasp, pointing toward its hide. “The burns. The same pattern as the plants. As the carok. It’s infected. It’s sick.”
Rakkh growls. “A sick creature can still kill.”
“But if it’s poisoned, then we can track?—”
The creature lunges. Rakkh moves faster.
He slams into me, pushing me aside, using his body like a wall of muscle and scale as a massive limb tears through the air where my head was. The force of it sends wind whipping over us, flinging sand into our faces.
“Back!” Rakkh roars to Tomas and Travnyk.
I hear their scrambling footsteps. The monster’s shadow falls over us as its head lowers, spines crackling with dim violet light.
My pulse hammers in my throat. Rakkh shifts, positioning himself on one knee, shielding me with his entire body. I can feel the coolness of him, the tight coil of his muscles, the steady roll of his double heartbeat vibrating against my back.
“Lia,” he murmurs, so low only I can hear. “Focus.”
I blink through the sand and terror. “On what?”
“Where to strike,” he says. “You saw the weakness before I did. Do it again.”
He not only trusts me—he is asking. In the middle of this nightmare, he is looking at me like I am the only one who can do this.
My breath trembles and my hands shake, but I look. At first there is nothing. The thing rears back, preparing to strike again. My heart is hammering so hard I can barely breathe. Some part of me knows I am about to die, but instead of fueling fear, a calmness settles. Time slows down. I inhale long and slow, hold the breath, and look.
My eyes are drawn to its middle. The ribs. I spot a subtle glow. The infection is strongest there. And if I am right about how the infection works, the structure is weakest there.
“There,” I whisper urgently, grabbing his arm. “The ribs—left side. Below the second spine.”
Rakkh nods once. Sharp. Certain. Then he rises in a single fluid movement, pulling me with him before shoving me behind an outcropping of stone.
“Stay down,” he commands.
“I’m not?—”
“Lia.” His voice softens, just for a second. “Stay alive.”
Then he is gone. Charging for the monster with a roar that shakes the night.
The guardian thing swings its massive head. Sand explodes where Rakkh stood a heartbeat ago. Travnyk darts wide, moonlight gleaming off his tusks, blade flashing toward the thing’s flank. Tomas tries to stay behind cover, pale and shaking but not running.
None of them move like Rakkh.
He moves like he was made for this, like the sand bends for him. He dodges the guardian’s spined tail, rolls beneath its belly, claws finding purchase in sickened, brittle scales. He climbs, using its body like a shifting cliff face, and for one suspended moment he is perched right where I pointed?—
He pulls his arm back, cocking the blow, and the image burns into my mind. Him clinging to the creature, sand exploding, filling the air. His mouth open in a guttural roar. Travnyk with his sword over his head, swinging down.
Please work. Please work.
I pray—to who, or what, I do not know. Any gods listening. The Zmaj say the planet is sentient, at least a little. I like that idea. I cling to it. I exhale, and the frozen tableau resumes.
Rakkh strikes. The guardian screams—a horrible, warping sound that sends ripples through the sand. Violet-tinged blood bursts from the wound, spraying wildly before dissolving into darkness, but the monster does not fall.
It thrashes, enraged, tail whipping violently toward Rakkh. He leaps clear but not fast enough. A glancing blow slams into his shoulder and he flips in the air, landing hard and skidding across the dune.
“Rakkh!” The cry tears painfully from my throat.
