Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(102)

‘Look,’ she said, pointing. ‘This next peak is the last summit we’ll have to climb. There’s low ground on the other side.’ She started to rush forward. ‘I’ll scout ahead—’

‘Wait,’ Dion said, grabbing her hand.

He suddenly pinned her arms at her sides, wrapping her in a rough embrace, and hauled her to the ground.

‘Wha—?’

‘Shh,’ Dion hissed.

Silence ensued. He continued to hold her tightly in his arms, shoulders hunched to keep their bodies hidden by the gap between the two rock walls. Dion began to wonder if he’d seen the dark plummeting shapes at all.

They both froze as they heard a strange sound.

It was the flapping of large wings, and it was close. Dion raised his head just above the boulder, then ducked as quickly as he could, his heart beating rapidly as he hoped he hadn’t been spotted. The image of what he’d seen on the slope that Chloe was about to climb stayed with him.

The two furies were standing on the rubble-strewn slope with their wings folded behind them, evidently just landed. In most ways their faces were like those of eldren – almost human – but they no longer had an eldran’s leanness. They stood seven feet tall, displaying a powerful size and musculature, and had reptilian legs and scaled torsos, but the scales became patchy on their arms and shoulders. Fingers were like claws and sweeping wings grew from shoulder blades. Their silver-haired heads were big, like those of ogres and giants, and tapered, with enlarged jaws and long incisors. Their eyes were wild, like those of beasts.

Chloe turned and looked at Dion; he shook his head. As they shrank further into their hiding place he could hear hoarse breathing, accompanied by the occasional sweep of wings. Smaller bits of gravel rolled down the slope; the furies were moving and their breathing was growing louder.

He heard a great snap of wings, like a sail gusting in the wind as it was raised, and then a thump as two clawed feet came down.

Dion tilted his head back; he was staring at the toes, ten inches from his head, hanging over the edge of the defile he and Chloe were cowering in. Each claw was curled and had no trouble gripping the hard rock. The fury was directly above them.

With his arms wrapped around Chloe he could feel her heart beating as her chest rose and fell. Blood throbbed in Dion’s ears and his palms sweated. He pictured the fury leaning forward and looking down. It would see the tops of two human heads. A shriek would summon its friend. They would scrabble and claw at the rock until they had wounded their prey, and then Dion and Chloe would be devoured.

He thought about his bow, but it was on the ground, while his quiver was on his shoulder. He had to rely on not being seen.

The hoarse breathing overhead slowed; the fury was settling in. Dion couldn’t imagine what its purpose was. He hadn’t heard it talk; when wildren became wild they evidently lost the capability for speech.

Time dragged on. Keeping his breathing as silent as possible was taking its toll. Dion felt cramp in his legs and lost circulation in his feet and hands.

Still the fury’s claws clutched hold of the rock, just above his head.

Dion glanced around to see if there was a rock or stick close by, anything more readily employed than his bow. Chloe’s piece of driftwood lay across her lap. But when he looked at it he felt a shiver run up and down his spine.

A hairy black spider the size of his palm was clambering slowly along the breadth of the wood. It had a white stripe across its back, spikes on its long legs, and angry red eyes. The spider took three steps, then paused.

Dion felt Chloe tense in his arms. Her head was frozen in place as she stared at the spider as it moved along the wood, just inches from the exposed skin of her arms. The spider took four more steps and now it was heading to the edge of the driftwood, in a direct line for Chloe’s leg.

Black legs scrabbled as it came forward; the spider gingerly stepped off the wood completely. Now it was on the thin yellow fabric of Chloe’s chiton. Dion knew she would be able to feel its movements as it crawled toward the exposed skin of her knee.

Chloe’s breathing now came labored. She was so tense that he wondered she could stay so rigid.

The spider now moved from the fabric onto her pale skin. She trembled and it froze on the spot, each stick-like leg arched and something fierce in its posture. Dion saw the stinger hovering over Chloe’s knee.

She gave an involuntary whimper.

Dion swept his hand forward and knocked the spider off her leg; at the same time he grabbed Chloe under the armpits and stood, bringing them both to their feet. He prepared to take hold of the fury by its legs, although he didn’t think that in an unarmed struggle he could defeat the larger creature.

But the fury was gone, as was its companion.

Dion whirled when he heard a sudden thump. He saw the lump of driftwood come down as Chloe swung it like an axe at something on the ground. He could guess what it was she’d just killed.

‘I hate spiders,’ she said.




Dion traveled with an arrow always nocked to the string. Even Chloe brandished her piece of timber like a club as she climbed. They passed the final peak, heading up the rock and around the summit, and then, as Chloe had predicted, they were on the other side of the escarpment.

The ground evened and dropped away in a gentle slope. Dion now had black earth under his feet rather than rock. Hardy shrubs grew in clumps on the hillside. The land here was a great bowl, and they were on the bowl’s rim. Despite his urgency he looked down into the wide valley that nestled in the embrace of the mountainous perimeter.