White Stag (Permafrost #1)(19)
Panic pawed at the ground again, shaking his mane out. I scratched his ears, letting my thoughts pour into his. Fear, anticipation, wariness, determination. Pictures formed in my head of where he’d been before, a pasture somewhere far away, where the grass was as green as emeralds.
“You’re right,” I said to him. We’re escaping. His head bobbed. I took a deep breath, felt for the nail in my bracer, and followed Soren out of the courtyard.
The Hunt had begun.
5
HUNTING
WE RODE AT a breakneck speed through the Permafrost with a silver, glowing line across the ground as our trail. Beyond it, more lines connected and splayed like fine thread through the tundra, but the silver line was the one that mattered. The stag’s path brilliantly lit up the ground like a trail of sunlight.
Each being had their own power and the stag was no different. Now that I’d absorbed the power of the young lordling I killed, the traces of power all around me were clearer than ever. It floated in the air like mist and gathered around every creature great and small like clouds in every color imaginable. It made the chilly silence of the Permafrost explode into life in ways that never were possible before. It also proved true Soren’s statements about me changing. Humans weren’t built to absorb the power of the prey they killed; that was strictly a goblin ability.
Racing through the cold, crisp air under the pale yellow sun was invigorating after being inside the palace so long. Though the trees surrounding me were skeletal, and frost covered the dead grass and crumpled leaves, there was life everywhere, and the horses’ pounding hooves could’ve been the beating of an ancient heart.
Joy filled me through my connection with Panic; he was relishing the feel of the forest underneath his hooves. To run, to be wild, to be free, was all he wanted.
But we weren’t free yet. Not really.
The horse felt my doubt but shook off the thought. Thundering across the tundra, for him, was enough. Of course, having an animal as an escape accomplice wasn’t the most ideal situation. I pushed down the doubt. I didn’t need any more to fill my heart; I’d already gorged on it. If I thought about it too hard, I would think of the courtroom and the young lordling and the power buzzing at my fingertips. I couldn’t have that. Escaping these creatures meant I couldn’t let my guard down, couldn’t doubt anything for a moment.
When we stopped for the day, we were still deep in the Permafrost, the icy air turning the water in our breath to frost before our eyes. The coldness filled me up as I breathed in, and it burned deep in my chest like a flickering fire.
I climbed down from Panic. He looked around, pawing at the icy ground for something to graze and settled for the patches of dry, rough weeds that dotted the earth. I dropped the rope, somehow knowing he wouldn’t leave me if I did. I noticed from the corner of my eye that Soren had done the same with Terror, as did Rekke and Helka with their horses. I cast a suspicious glance at Elvira’s menacing snow cat, thankful to see that at least it was tied to a tree. It was a predator after all. It might not eat Elvira or us due to their bond, but there was nothing that would keep it from eating the horses.
A gloved hand landed uninvited on my shoulder and I turned to knock it off, all of the ease I gained during the ride draining out of me. “Did you have a nice ride?” Soren asked.
“I don’t think you care to hear my genuine answer.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t like it?”
I chewed my lip. “I was liking it a lot more when you weren’t talking to me.”
A growl rumbled in Soren’s throat as he frowned, but before he could say something, Elvira spoke up. “Does this seem like a good place to camp for the night?”
Soren waved his hand indifferently. “It’ll do.” He realigned his body to address her, but his eyes were still burning into my forehead. I made it a point to turn my back to him. “We should also take turns keeping watch.”
“You don’t trust us?” Helka purred.
“No,” Soren said flatly.
Rather than be offended, Elvira laughed. The hair rose on the back of my neck; her laugh sounded like shrill, tinkling bells, and there was an air of falseness to it even a child could pick up. She flicked her finger at me. “You, thrall, go hunt. You go with her, Rekke.”
I bristled, hand touching the butt of my axe, my mouth opened with a stinging retort—how dare she order me around. She didn’t own me. But Soren got to her first. “Don’t call her that,” he snapped. “You’ve no claim to.” His unspoken words lingered in the air. We’re not doing things the way you want to. As far as I knew, Elvira was older than Soren by a few thousand years, and with goblins, that meant a world of difference when it came to how they treated humans and thralls in general.
Younger goblins like Soren had a sense of social fluidity and understood they needed thralls in good, hale conditions to do the things they couldn’t and uphold a lifestyle. Whereas older goblins simply viewed humans in their service as inferior beings. I leveled my gaze at Elvira. “I don’t take orders from you.” Elvira could rip me to shreds easily enough if she wanted to, but I was determined not to let her frighten me. “What do you want me to do, Soren?” Anger burned as the words left my mouth. But I caught Soren’s calm lilac eyes and they told me that it wasn’t worth the battle.