White Stag (Permafrost #1)(90)

It was impossible to help Soren. But I had to do something. If Seppo was dealing with the rest of the horde by himself, then there must’ve been something I could do.

You need to find the stag, a voice said in my mind. You need to find the stag.

When I extended my power, there was still no heartbeat, but a tugging in my gut told me the animal was close. Find him, the voice said. Find him. I raced through the trees again, down the boundary line. It took everything in me to tear myself away from Soren and Lydian and leave them to their fate. I was never meant for that fight. Now my feet followed an unfamiliar path, yet it called to me as if I’d run it a hundred times before. The voice in my head grew louder, calling my name, shouting for me to spring across the blazing landscape, jump higher over the burning branches, ignore the pain, ignore the tiredness, ignore everything but the voice and the calling and the path it set my feet upon.

I stumbled as I got nearer to the fire’s edge, the smoke that filled my lungs forcing me to the ground so I could crawl and suck in the sweet oxygen that remained. One of my hands rested on the freezing soil of the Permafrost, the other on the crisp grass and leaf mold of the living world. I dragged myself, blood smearing from a wound I hadn’t known I had, through the burning forest, seeking the voice. Seek air, seek shelter, seek warmth, seek blood. It chanted inside me to a rhythm similar to a hunting song. Seek water, seek fire, seek darkness, seek light. Seek past, seek present, seek future, seek fate. I will await you. Not much farther now.

I rolled over as a large branch blazing with the iron fire fell to the ground. My lungs were crying out for air, and my muscles burned with every move I made. The mud and ice from the ground stung in wounds I was finally starting to feel. Something inside me broke, but whether it was mind or body, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the path and the glowing silver light crowding my vision. It pulsed as it glowed, sending out thicker and thicker beams of stunning white light. At each pulse, the voice called for me.

My heart sank deep into my chest as I finally viewed the stag. His body was lying limp on the border of the Permafrost and his fur, once pure white, was matted with the blackish blood of goblins and the red blood of living things. His chest rose and fell, each breath faint and weak, and his massive head rose until he could look me in the eyes.

Despite his wounded body and his troubled breathing, his dark-brown eyes were clear as day. I crawled over to him, ignoring the sting of the smoke in my eyes. The fire was so close that the heat seared my skin, the multicolored flames dancing before my eyes like starlight. I coughed, blood splattering against the forest floor. Above me, the sky lightened and the dusky gray became a calm blue. The witching hour was almost over.

I stumbled to the stag and pressed my hand against the wound in his flank. The knife that caused it was still driven deep into the flesh. I yanked it out and cringed at the blood-covered blade. It was Lydian’s. Blood spurted from the wound, and I put pressure against it with my hands.

“Don’t die.” I wondered if the stag could understand me or hear the desperation in my voice. “Please don’t die, not here!” I took the giant animal by the antlers and prayed I could pull it over to one side of the border. If it died on only one side, Lydian would still be the Erlking, but the stag wouldn’t die forever and Lydian wouldn’t reign indefinitely.

The animal made a pained sound in the back of his throat, and I let go, apologizing. Suddenly, fingers with talons for nails dug at my ankles, pulling me back and away from the stag with a grip so strong that a steady stream of blood started to flow from newly made cuts. I thrashed as Lydian pulled me back. Gone was the hunched-over body, and the almost catlike prowl that accented his every move. Gone were the hands and feet like an animal’s paws. But even without those things, he was still as much a monster as before. And he was growling in delight as he pulled me close.

I grabbed the stiletto from where it sat pinned between the ground and my body and shoved it at his side, but he caught the blade before it could pierce his skin and with a newly bloodied hand tore it out of my grip and threw it into the fire.

“What?” He laughed. “Did you think you could save it? Did you think I would let you have any chance? That I’d be so sloppy?”

I bared my teeth, struggling underneath his body. My body crawled with disgust at the touch of his skin on mine. He caught my chin and cheek with the palm of his hand, his thumb slowly going over my skin. As it did, the nail grew longer, carving a line of blood across my face. When his thumb reached my lips, I didn’t hesitate before biting down hard enough to hear a crack. Dark, putrid blood pooled in my mouth, and I spat it out along with Lydian’s thumb. A shard of white bone poked through the crooked finger.

The goblin grimaced in pain before striking me so hard my vision went black.

“Don’t you realize this is over?” His voice was high and manic, and little laughs burst from his chest. “It’s over. It’s finally over. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Ever since I saw that brat in his mother’s womb, I knew. But it’s over. He’s not coming back!”

The refusal to believe was stronger than adrenaline, and I kicked Lydian back, breathing heavily.

“Soren is—” I barely got the sentence out before Lydian lunged at me again, the force of his body rolling us forward in the dirt. Like before, he came up on top of me.

“Don’t you get it?” he snarled, his canines as long as dog fangs and dripping blood. “He’s dead, you idiot! And soon the stag will be too, and I’ll have fixed everything. You could’ve lived too, you stupid little girl. Escaped fate. You could’ve lived and none of this would be your problem. You could’ve defied fate and lived. You stupid, stupid little girl.”