And as burning venom lanced down his shoulder. Fuck me.
Already hit, he sifted through his options like shuffling a deck of marked cards. He couldn’t win at this point. All he could do was his best to take out the snake so everyone else could make it home.
The snake struck again, and he rolled out of the way, pulling a dagger from his boot and throwing as he came around. It buried itself to the hilt in the soft scales over the mouth—right as the twinned fangs came down on either side of him. No hit, but he was down to two daggers and the sword. The latter wasn’t much use if he couldn’t stay within—ha!—striking distance of the snake.
Inspired, he leapt to his feet, briefly dizzy from the venom, and ran toward the snake again and to its side, slicing at the scaled body. The scales parted as the Silversteel carved deeply—Danu bless that sword—and the snake reacted, jerking away, pink flesh showing. But it seemed otherwise undaunted.
Repositioning, it coiled back to striking position, drawing a bead on Jak. “Double or nothing!” he shouted, sheathing the sword and drawing his last two daggers, one in each hand. The snake struck. Keeping steady focus, Jak hurled the twin blades at the serpent’s eyes—lovely, squishy targets—and nailed them both. “Gotcha!”
He took off running as the snake reared back, shaking its head in confusion. Jak had no idea if he ran toward or away from the rift and the others—he’d totally lost track of direction during the fight, and the cursed place had nothing in the way of defining landmarks. But all that mattered was running. As long as the snake was stretched out pursuing him, it couldn’t strike again.
Not that anything would save him now. Jak’s eyes burned, and his breath came in short rasps, his steps growing clumsy. Paralysis setting in. Though his eyes watered, he kept them sharp, watching for the edge of the defile. Even so, he nearly ran off, barely throwing himself back in time. Changing course to run parallel, he risked a glance back to see the snake patiently tracking him, following its flicking tongue and his slowing progress. Soon he’d fall in heap, and the snake could dine on him at leisure, while he was still alive.
Hmm. Falling forever or being eaten alive?
Decisions, decisions.
Then, just as he’d about made up his mind to jump, with the hope that the snake might at least die with him, his legs fell out from beneath him, sending him smacking painfully into a faceplant on the hard stone. Ow.
The snake slithered closer, scales on marble, the quiet flicking of its tongue the only other sound. Pushing himself up to his knees through sheer force of will, he thumped the black stone with the meat of his fist so the snake would feel the vibrations. It did, pointing its snout straight at him and coiling back for the strike. Praying to Danu to give him the speed he needed, Jak held in place, the defile a palpable pit behind him. With nothing else to do with his hands—no way could he handle the sword in his condition—he fumbled for the coil of Stella’s hair from his pocket and wove it through his fingers. For luck.
Whether he managed to dodge or not, the snake was going over. The only question was if they’d go together.
At least he wouldn’t fall for eternity, because the venom would kill him soon. Small mercies.
The snake struck.
~ 15 ~
At first, nothing happened. Though Stella felt like a rabbit freezing under the sharp awareness of the predator’s gaze, the intelligence did nothing overt. It simply stared at her, curiosity and consuming interest foremost, anger following behind as it recalled how she’d driven it away from Gieneke. There was also hurt at the way she’d repelled it, which had her feeling guilty even as she knew Jak would scoff at her tenderness. If something is trying to kill you, then it’s your enemy and deserves to be hurt.
But was it trying to kill her? The tentacle monsters hadn’t injured her—only dragged her away—and the injuries the others sustained battling them and the monkey-lizards hadn’t been mortal wounds. She couldn’t ignore that Jak had nearly died, of course, but that had been a combination of brutal weather and fighting to retrieve her. Did any of the creatures really want them dead, or was it something else?
The intelligence seemed to be listening to her thoughts, and the sense of its attention reminded her sharply of the lake monster’s placid gaze—which had been unsettling, yes, but never felt threatening. But then, the stone giant at Gieneke had never emanated aggressive or hostile emotions either, even as it was pulling living beings apart and sticking them back together, so that was no good measure.
With a glint of mischief, almost a mental snicker, the intelligence withdrew its attention. It belatedly occurred to her to warn it—perhaps plead with it?—to leave Jak alone. But would that have been good strategy anyway? If the intelligence knew of her concern for Jak in particular, would it treat him better or worse?
It was too late anyway. The intelligence was gone, and something else hurtled toward the fold. “Incoming,” she called tersely.
“Can you close the rift?” Astar asked, taking a defensive stance, both hands grasping the hilt of the heavy broadsword.
“Yes, but what if it’s our people?”
“Can’t you tell?”
Stella couldn’t. She looked to Lena bracketing the other side of the gateway, her wide brow furrowed in concentration. Without speaking, Lena shook her head slowly. “We’re keeping it open,” Stella told Astar firmly.
“Goddesses preserve us,” Astar muttered, staring hard at the nothing between Stella and Lena. Gen lowered her chin so it nearly grazed the frozen ground, rear end high and twitching in anticipation, tail waving in deceptive laziness.
They both reared back in shock when a dragon’s snout poked through the gateway, Gen actually tumbling backward in her scramble. Astar recovered, charging with sword swinging.
“No, Willy!” Stella shouted, and he skidded to a halt.
“Dragon!” he yelled back, pointing with his sword as if she’d somehow failed to notice it.
“Only part of one,” she explained soothingly. “It can’t fit through.”
Indeed, it was only part of a dragon’s muzzle, mostly one large black-scaled naris—the nostril as big in diameter as Astar was tall—angling to fit as much through as possible, its heated breath whuffling in curiosity. A few scales fell off, stripped away by the dragon’s shoving at the restrictive portal. Stella felt the gateway shiver with the dragon’s magical might, but she was able to hold the edges in place. It took concentration, and the focusing power of the Star helped immensely, but it also occurred to her that being in her own realm made a difference.
Clearly the dragon possessed some magic-nullifying power in the alter-realm, as the shapeshifter versions of dragons did in her own realm. But her own magic held strong against the alter-realm dragon in way she wouldn’t care to test against Kiraka in dragon form, or even Zynda.
If Astar could find his way to dragon form again, it would be interesting to test herself against him. As it was, she relaxed slightly, not too worried about the dragon coming through. What was happening on the other side of the portal was another question, however. “We’re holding the gateway size stable,” she said, checking for Lena’s confirming nod that she felt the same.