Then it stopped. Residual pain echoed through him, and his legs barely kept him upright. He gathered his strength to teleport and a fizzle popped the air around him. His eyes widened. He couldn’t leave.
Niall nodded. “Yeah. Our weapons are far superior to yours. Portals will open for you, but you won’t be able to direct your path for a while. If ever. Good luck with this.” Then he was gone.
“Fucker!” Ivar yelled.
The creature screeched again, this time sounding closer.
Oh, this was so bad. How long would his ability be gone? He had to get out of there. The bottoms of his boots started to burn away from the heated rocks. Lava swelled and poured over the nearest stones. Was there some sort of tide? Bunching his weakened legs, he jumped for the rock Niall had stood on, landing and then sliding wildly.
Rocks surrounded by lava lay in every direction, too far to see anything else except to his left. Past a jumble of rocks, there appeared to be a forest. Sure, the trees were monstrous and a burnt-gold color, but at least the ground appeared solid.
He had to get away from the lava, which was rising. The bubbling mass now covered the jagged rock on which he’d landed.
To the forest it was.
His ribs weren’t healing. Not a good sign. Gathering his strength, he tried to send healing cells to the wound and jumped again. His feet landed hard and jarred his ribs. He sucked in boiling air as pain lashed him. One or two might be broken.
Ignoring the agony, he started jumping, barely allowing his feet to touch down before he was in the air again. Even so, the bottom of his boots burned completely away.
A figure suddenly appeared at the edge of the trees.
He stopped short, only a couple of jumps away. What the hell?
It was a male. About his size, wearing some sort of yellow hide with more hide around his feet. Scars marred his chest and the side of his neck. He was filthy, and his leg was bleeding, but he looked at Ivar as if he was seeing a ghost. “Viking?” he snarled, his voice barely recognizable.
Ivar sucked in air. Pain burned into his feet. He jumped to the next rock and then the final one, landing on prickly grass. His mind spun, and his chest felt like a Buick had landed on it. “How do you know me?” he asked.
The male lowered his scruff-covered chin. “You’re not Igor.”
Igor. Igor Kjeidsen. Ivar’s older brother, who’d been lost in battle long ago. Ivar had taken his place with the Seven. He looked more closely. Beneath the dirt, blood, and scars, the bone structure was hard and familiar. Ivar’s back, the scorched tattoo on his ribs, began to hum. He’d just found one of his Seven brothers. “Kayrs. You’re Quade Kayrs.”
Quade looked around and then focused. “What the fuck?”
Now that was a hell of a question. A crack zipped across the sky, revealing silver on the other side. It quickly closed.
Quade didn’t move. “Explain?”
Something large crashed through the trees.
“Follow.” Quade turned and ran.
Chills rippling through him despite the unreal heat, Ivar followed. The pain in his feet competed with the agony of his busted ribs and burning lungs, but he kept pace as something chased them. They ran over another lava field to a forest made of burnt trees with orange branches covered in razor-sharp bark. Narrow trails went in several directions, and Quade took one. Ivar protected his head the best he could, but soon his arms and chest bled freely.
Finally, they reached a series of tall rocks.
Quade ran behind one and started climbing, hand over hand.
Ah, shit. Gasping for air, Ivar did the same, taking the shallowest breaths he could. His legs scraped against sharp edges that soon tore away the knees of his jeans and flayed his skin. Finally, he reached a cliff.
Quade pulled him up and yanked him inside a cave.
The instant coolness washed over Ivar’s skin. He gasped, trying to fill his chest. Then he coughed, and blood dribbled from his mouth. He licked it away. Must’ve punctured a lung.
Quade pointed for him to sit. “Cool air, less gravity. Can heal.”
Apparently the Kayrs’ ancestor had forgotten how to speak in complete sentences.
Ivar sat and put his head back against the smooth stone, closing his eyes. Concentrating on healing cells, he forced them through his body to repair the damage. They were sluggish and slower than usual, but within a few minutes, he could breathe without puking blood.
