Stealing Shiloh Read online

  I wonder what she looks like… The girl Klan Marix won earlier today had flowing dark hair, her body muscular and toned. She looked like she had kicked some human ass in her day, a perfect match for Marix, who would destroy a weaker female.

  But what will ours look like? Yellow hair? Black? Oh, maybe red like our skin? Now that would be hot. Flowing red hair that—

  Smack!

  “Oww! What the vekking shit was that for?” I rub my arm where Trov punched me.

  “Pay attention, mishan. Our mate’s fate is on the line, and you choose to lose yourself in a daydream?”

  “I’m planning on how best to pleasure our mate. Something you’d know nothing about.”

  Trov opens his mouth to respond, but I walk away before he can get a word out, smiling to myself. Strolling over to the carved rock wall, I run my fingers along a set of symbols, noting how they light up different colours when I touch them. Red, green, brown, blue…

  Blue?

  The colour of our sashes?

  That must be a clue…

  Extending my wings, I launch into the air to look at the symbols carved up top. Some remind me of Klan insignias. Hell, maybe that’s what they are? I run my fingers over one that looks like a shield with a bakket crossing it.

  A cracking noise quickly follows, and I swoop out of the way as a bakket shoots out from the symbol. A howl quickly follows as the blade imbeds itself in an unsuspecting Totiv. The coppery smell of his blood fills my nose, bringing forth a side of me that wants to kill.

  My wings curve, and I float to the ground next to my Klan. “K-Killed one already, did ya?” Nul notes, nodding to the now dead Totiv.

  I shrug. “One less Totiv in our path to the human.” I glance at the door. “You guys making any progress?”

  “Nothing yet,” Joss admits, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair.

  “Well, I found something.” I wave Trov over and tell them about the insignias. “I think we might have to find our own on the walls, but should we touch one that’s not ours, expect retaliation from the room.”

  “That makes sense,” Joss muses, his eyes scaling the walls. “Nul and I have been checking this door for any locks or handles… There’s nothing on them that would allow us to open them. However, some parts of the door move.”

  “Move?” I echo.

  “Mm-hmm.” Joss reaches out and spins a symbol on the door. I brace myself for a flying weapon to impale him, but nothing happens. Trov’s eyes search behind us, watching the others try and fail.

  “That’s interesting,” I comment, stepping closer to the door. “I’m gonna check out the other doors.”

  Joss waves me away, his eyes never leaving the symbolled door. Laughing to myself at his newest obsession, I stride over to the door directly on our left. A Klan with yellow sashes stands dumbfounded around it.

  “Find anything?” I ask nonchalantly, putting my hands on two of their shoulders.

  “What the…” The largest one sneers at me and pulls back his arm, his hand fisted. I duck before he can land his punch and elbow the guy on my left in the junk.

  He howls, dropping to his knees, his clawed fingers cupping his tiny cock. Another dives at me, and I spin out of his way, pulling a blade from his belt as I do.

  I hold up his stolen narkket. “Want this back?” A sinister grin crosses my face before I impale his chest. “Here, you can have it.”

  He crumples to the ground, blood pouring from his lips, his hand clutching the blade’s handle.

  I salute the rest of the Klan and head off to the next door, whistling a battle tune as I go. I draw a bakket from my back and twirl it around my body effortlessly. My weapons and I become one when I use them, the blade an extension of my body. It’s a dangerous dance, and I’ve suffered various injuries during my playtime.

  Each weapon caressing my body is custom made. I’m quite particular about them, using only the most skilled craftsmen on Oxious. I spend hours after a fight cleaning and sharpening my arsenal. I find the process soothing, getting lost for ages with my battle friends. My cock is rock vekking hard by the time I’m done, which works for me. I get to end each cleaning session with an orgasm. Who wouldn’t want that, am I right?

  Hell. Maybe someday I’ll get to clean my mate the same way. Dirty her up only to take my time removing the filth from her body. Taking care of each dip and curve the way I do my blades.

  Shit, my cock is hard again.

  We need to win this female and it needs to happen now, or I’m going to have to finish this test with a load of cum in my pants.

  Pulling my mind out of the gutter, I stalk the other Klans. I watch as they tentatively touch a symbol and smile when a weapon injures one after the other.

  Ahh, the glory.

  Stretching my wings, I take flight again, studying the symbols. I startle when I see it.

  Our insignia.

  It’s not an exact replica, but it’s close enough to know it’s ours. An eight-pointed star surrounded by a cornif tree, a bleeding narkett, a Totiv skull, and a general’s helm—the insignia for Klan Avuk. I take a risk and run my finger along it. The symbol glows bright red, the same shade as our skin. The moment my fingertip leaves the symbol, it blends back in with the wall.

  “Gotcha,” I whisper to myself, before floating back down to my Klan. “I’ve figured it out,” I tell them excitedly, keeping my voice low.

  “What did you find?” Joss questions, his eyes lighting up.

  “I found our insignia near the ceiling. My guess is there is one for each of us. When I touched it, the symbol glowed, but no weapons came out to harm me.”

  “Then there must be one for each of us,” Joss exclaims, his eyes darting around the cavern.

  “What are you waiting for?” Trov’s voice booms. “Search the room. Let’s find these damn things and get the vekk out of here. I wish to claim our mate.”

  Joss, Nul, and I share a knowing look, rolling our eyes at our brash and impatient Klan mate, then we head off to search. They take turns flying to the insignia I’ve already found, learning what they are looking for. We hunt while dodging various weapons spewing from the rock face, evidence of the other Klan’s failures.

  A familiar whistle prickles my skin, and I turn towards its origin. Joss is in a shadowed corner of the cavern, his red hand nonchalantly pointing to another Avuk insignia.

  Two down. Two to go.

  Miserable howls echo off the rock, bouncing around the underground room as a brown Totiv with lumpy skin runs screaming around the cavern, holding the long shafts of sprykkyns where they protrude from his eyes.

  Or is it an undermountain room?

  I find no sadness in my heart at his demise, only excitement. My searching takes me back to the ground while the other three scale the walls and explore the ceiling. Other Klans have figured out the moving sections of their door and are sliding and turning them in hopes of finding a way out. But their frantic movements are useless.

  The whistle comes again, and I look up to see Trov in the center of the ceiling with a huge, toothy grin on his face. He brushes a finger along a symbol and it ignites briefly.

  One more.

  Nul is back at the door, moving and sliding sections. Joss is flying around the far wall, and Trov still hovers close to the ceiling. One of the brown sashed Klan members notices our movements and whispers to his mates, who watch us with wary eyes. Trying to be casual, I ignore them and continue my hunting using my peripheral. Half the Totiv in here are meandering around lost, until suddenly, a deep rumble echoes around the room and the floor begins to shake. Rocks chip off the walls and crash to the ground as the ceiling, floor, and walls begin to move.

  Claustrophobia niggles inside my head, but I do my best to ignore it as the quickly shrinking room threatens to crush us.

  “Over here!” Joss’s excited tone reaches my ears as he finds the last one and points at it enthusiastically.

  “Everyone, get to an insignia!” I shout ove
r the roaring of the quickly dwindling room.

  Klan Avuk races to the four points.

  “Now!” Trov shouts, and we all place our hands on our symbols, causing one of the doors to light up bright red. Quickly, we let go and soar to the door. Joss gets to work sliding and moving sections. The pieces are coming together fast. First the helm, then the tree. The star takes shape next, followed by the bakket and skull.

  Avuk’s insignia.

  The door hisses and slides up into the wall, allowing us entrance. We rush inside, not caring what lies beyond, only wanting to prevent ourselves from being crushed. An orange Totiv tries to follow us through our door and is quickly incinerated by laser beams similar to those used in a lijik.

  The cavern behind us grows darker, and screams fill the space as Klans take their last breaths, crushed beneath dark stone. The room is no longer a testing space.

  It will forever be a tomb.

  Four

  Joss

  Eerie silence, coupled with complete darkness, blankets us after the door behind us firmly shuts. I extend my other senses, sniffing the air, listening to any noise that might indicate what’s to come. There are several familiar aromas I’m able to distinguish, but I’m confused as to why they would be located here inside Forsaken Mountain.

  There’s fizylebree—a potent flower used in healing elixirs only master scientists can create. I scent vranyx—the venom from a wokkren used as a thickening agent as well as an anti-venom.

  Puzzling.

  The burning aroma of acid mixed with sulphur stings my nose. I don’t know what’s to come as we congregate in the darkness, but something tells me our next test will be up to me to solve.

  “Y-You guys hear that?” Nul stutters.

  “It sounds like crumbling rock,” Trov replies, and I have to agree with him as the floor under us gives way. I scream in the most unwarriorlike way as our butts hit a slide carved out of rock, and we begin descending down it.

  Cryk’s in front of me, hands up, whooping and laughing with delight. “It’s like one of those roller coasters on Earth,” he exclaims. “This is vekking awesome!”

  Trov grunts in response behind me. I can’t see Nul, but I’d bet my mishan that he’s even more frightened than I am. I don’t like the unknown. I can fight with the best of them, wielding most weapons with ease. I thrive on bloodshed, get off on violence, but this? Sliding down a dark tunnel with no idea of the outcome?

  This I don’t vekking like.

  The darkness begins to lighten, and with the illumination, my anxiety starts to ease. Flames from torches protruding at uneven intervals dance along the walls as we barrel down to our next test. I can’t understand why, as important as a reaping is, they wouldn’t put more effort into seeing the torches spaced evenly. Would it have killed them to measure before haphazardly fixing them to the wall?

  Huffing in irritation, I try to ignore the poorly placed lights and focus on other things. For one, our speed is increasing, and the slide we’re on is narrowing but the sides have grown taller. The slide turns sharply, and our bodies skim up the sides of the slide, informing me why they aren’t as short as they were at the top.

  Because we would have flown right out of them.

  Sweat coats my skin as the temperature rises. Heat feels thick in the air, and a smoky smell wafts around us.

  Vekking shit, are we descending into the depths of hell for our next task?

  The slide bends again, then plummets. I’m weightless, falling and falling and falling as soundless screams billow from my throat. Just when I think I can’t handle another second of the freefalling, we land.

  In sludge.

  Putrid, brown, sticky, goopy sludge.

  We’re in a pool of liquid grime surrounded by high walls with only one way out—trudging through the muck to a landing on the other side.

  “Yuck!” Cryk exclaims, pulling himself free from the sewage, shirtless and filthy. Even standing up, the liquid is up to his waist. “It ate my vekking shirt!” Cryk gripes, wiping the slop from his skin. “I liked that shirt. It made my muscles lo—”

  “Shut up, Cryk! No one gives a damn about your shirt!” Trov spits out. “Now let’s get the vekk out of this muck and figure out what we need to do to win our mate.”

  “Yes, sir, right away, sir,” Cryk responds sarcastically. “May I wipe your mishan for you too, please?”

  “Has anyone seen Nul?” I inquire, ignoring Cryk’s sarcasm as I look around.

  “Here!”

  I squint my eyes and see that Nul has ignored Cryk and Trov’s banter, having already made his way to the landing. A smug grin creeps across his face.

  “Come on,” Trov grumbles, pushing his way through the thick liquid. As we near the ledge, a series of plopping sounds erupt behind us.

  “It’s another Klan!” I call out, glancing behind me, urging my legs to move faster.

  Nul reaches down and pulls Cryk free, and together they hoist up Trov and me. We all take our shirts off and wipe as much of the gunk off our bodies as we can, cleaning our faces from the stinking ooze. Tossing our shirts to the side, we make our way down a narrow stone path. The same dark rock lines the walls here as it did in the previous caverns.

  The heat levels increase, making my hair stick to my face. I use a band and tie it up on top of my head. Trov does the same thing, banding his long braids together. Cryk, in his arrogance, is actually trying to style his black hair. I can’t help but laugh at his pompous ass.

  “What?” he asks, seeing me.

  I shake my head. “We’ve just ridden down the slide of doom into a pool of stinky sludge after fighting off giant, one-eyed monsters and deciphering a code, and all you can think about is how your hair looks?”

  “I was having a good hair day,” he argues, crossing his arms. “Something you’d know nothing about.”

  “Hey! I have good hai—”

  “Shhh!” Nul’s finger covers his lips as he tries to quiet us. “Do you hear that?”

  “Crackling?” Trov offers.

  “Sounds like hissing to me,” Cryk remarks.

  I unsheathe my narkket. “Whatever it is, it’s foreboding.” Through the dark tunnel, I can see poisonous vines hanging down into our path. Using our narkkets, we dismember them quickly and pass through unharmed.

  The route narrows, and we find ourselves facing a giant boulder. Trov looks to me and shrugs, then tosses his body against it, pushing with all his might. Cryk, Nul, and I join him. We grunt and snarl, limbs shaking, using everything we have to move it. Minutes pass, and I think my arms and legs might give way when it finally budges.

  The boulder tumbles down before us and up a ramp. When it’s at the peak of the ramp, I notice an entrance below it, like a secret passageway—the way out.

  “There!” I point and begin to descend to our newfound exit when the boulder reverses, heading our way.

  “Watch out!” Cryk shouts, yanking me back. We stumble backwards as the boulder barrels towards us. Its speed slows as it rolls back up this side of the ramp, then it settles perfectly into the perch we initially pushed it from.

  “Vekk,” Trov shouts, smashing a rock into the wall.

  “We know the way out now,” I offer, trying to console him. “We just have to push the boulder again and chase after it into the path below. Simple.”

  Nul shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the plan. “You can do it,” I encourage him. I’ve seen Nul move. He’s quick and light on his feet, he just lacks confidence. He nods and takes a deep breath.

  “I can hear the other Klans behind us,” Trov warns, looking back the way we came. “Get your vekking hands on this boulder and push, dammit!”

  I wedge my shoulder against the hard rock and use more of my legs this time. With all my strength, I push, my eyes clenched shut, teeth grinding. My legs shake from exhaustion. Trov growls and Cryk snarls, muscles bulging, veins popping from their arms in exertion.

  Finally, the boulder gives way, and
we rush after it. I turn back and see Nul still standing on the platform, his face pale, his eyes wide and fixated on the boulder.

  “Nul, run!” I scream. His dazed gaze moves from the boulder to me and back to the boulder as the giant rock begins its reverse course.

  Fear creeps across Trov’s face. “Move, Nul! Get the vekk over here!”

  Worry prickles my brain at his indecision. If the boulder beats him back to its perch, then Nul could be lost to us forever. If he runs but isn’t fast enough, then he could get smooshed and I would watch my Klan mate die before my eyes.

  Neither outcome is acceptable.

  Running from safety, I grab Nul’s arm and pull, waking him from his stupor. Our feet pound the ground as we charge at the boulder rushing towards us. My breath saws in and out of my chest as I push my tired body harder than I ever have before. Nul keeps up with me, pumping his arms, sweat glistening on his skin.

  “Slide!” Cryk shouts. “Now!”

  Nul and I dive headfirst towards safety. The next moment happens in slow motion. Nul and I are airborne, our bodies parallel to the ground. The boulder is a foot away from our faces. We tuck our heads down as the rock passes over us, grazing my hair. The moment only lasts seconds, but it feels like hours as the boulder clips the back of my shoe before making its way up to the perch it came from.

  Nul and I land with a crunch, our torsos ripping to shreds as we skid on the rocky ground. But I don’t even feel the pain. All I feel is elation that my friend is safe and my Klan is together. I haven’t experienced the loss of a Klan mate, thank the Gods, but I’ve seen the aftermath of sufferers.

  Some lose their sanity when their Klan mates are taken from them too soon. Others find themselves in a pit of despair, turning to anger and crime instead of dealing with the truth. That’s how the Drykken were originally formed, the remnants of fallen Klans uniting. Except rather than using their knowledge for good, they became evil, as if the universe owed them for their losses.

  Strong hands grip me under my arms and hoist me to my feet. “You okay?” Cryk asks, assessing my injuries while Trov checks on Nul.