Oath of the Alpha - Eva Dresden Page 0,23

frenzy. Slapping and groaning, the blood-curdling screech of wood and stone grinding together filled the air. Splintering wood cracked through the darkness like a whip.

It was her. It was Aida, and she was near, had to be for him to feel her like this. Er’it prayed to the Hat’or that she was, that this magic had not found such crazed heights. She was too small, too weak to control such power. His medallion had failed, the layers of spells and protection neutered in the wake of one slip of an Omega and all that she was.

Lunging to his feet, Er’it grappled with a sapling bolting from the dirt and growing as thick as his thigh within a breath. Its leaves, a brilliant chartreuse, burst into life before settling into rich emerald then lusty gold. It continued to soar upwards, branches unfurling and blocking the path.

“Come on, Kal,” Er’it shouted through the screaming wind. Hacking at the maniacal growth, he began to rush through the thickening forest becoming as lush and beautiful as the mirage at the edge of the road.

Phylix thundering behind him, Er’it ran, no longer trying to make a way clear of spiraling limbs but dodging them as best he could. Bolting through the forest intent on passing through the seasons and years within the space of a few panting breaths, he dodged what he could, slapping his way through what he couldn’t. More than once, he fell, tripping over something new flinging itself from the darkness of the ground. Kal was forced to leap more often than not as his way became blocked, his bulky body more hindrance than advantage in such close quarters.

“Aida! You must stop this,” Er’it bellowed into the night, his dull blade grinding through a branch threatening to split Kal in two.

Shadows swept over them in a barren rush. Wind whipped at the new growth, killing the leaves on their boughs. It turned everything it touched into oily sludge, leaving a black scar upon the forest floor and stretching well into the trees. Heading north, the narrow path of rot and decay was devoid of any glimmer of life.

It all stopped without warning. The sudden stillness was deafening as Kal came up beside him and nudged Er’it. As the sounds of the night began to filter toward them, cautious in their reemergence, Kal tossed his head and set the multitude of beads and rings in his mane singing. Snorting, his eyes were wild as he fixated on the path of ruination the darkness had left in its wake.

Snapped from his stupor, Er’it took a fistful of Kal’s mane in hand, steadying them both as Er’it moved down the Phylix’s side in preparation to climb onto his back. “It’s going after her, Kal. We have to find her.”

With a sound akin to a whine, Kal tossed his head, a clear denial that Er’it ignored until Kal checked him with a hip. Boot sliding across the ground, he sank deep into the mire of the blackened streak, the sludge sucking at his feet until Er’it managed to yank himself free with the aid of Kal and a twisted tree branch. Panting from the exertion it took, topaz gaze near hidden behind the squint of his lids, Er’it began to curse. At first quiet, each ragged breath contained a single vile word until he was shouting them. Pacing at the edge of the dark muck, he let loose his rage.

He sank ankle deep without even stepping into the worst of it. Kal would be mired down within moments. Despite the path, free of barriers and straight as an arrow, they would be forced to find an alternate way. Hours would be lost, perhaps even days.

“No. I will not accept it.” Er’it stood with feet shoulder breadth apart, arms held out from his body before him. Hands clenching over the cool night air, he ground the ragged edge of his nails into his palms. Scraping over the myriad of small punctures and scratches he’d accumulated, he managed to draw forth a few precious smears of blood. He wasn’t rested enough by half, not after she had sapped his power not once but twice. Still, he’d gained something back while Kal stormed through the forest.

Magic crawling over his fingers itched and burned, sucking at his skin as it threaded its way over his wrists and arms. The paltry, sputtering glow gave his bronzed skin a ruddy cast, but little beyond was illuminated. Seeking out every hurt, the scratching