the forests. More obscure tales say it was found in the wake of a great beast that dwelled there. Skinner journals narrow the beast down to a serpent. Historians say many serpents. And finally, after centuries of pursuing my answers, I piece together enough to know of one among the Mist Born who can truly fit all of those tales. Ironic that I needed to approach the First Deceiver for my truths.”
“Even more ironic that a beast known for howling at the moon and eating raw meat is the one to spend so many years in such intricate study.”
Randolph chuckled as he flexed his fist around the shattered slivers of bone. There was no use in trying to hide his activity from Icanchu, so he appealed to the ancient creature’s curiosity by making the process of cleaning the talon even more of a show. “There were plenty of useless tidbits, dead ends, and insulting references mixed in with what Kawosa said, but there was truth buried there as well. If I’d had my conversations with him when I was a few hundred years younger,” he added, “I may have been taken in by the lies. As it was, I knew just enough of the picture to know which pieces truly fit.”
“And which were those?”
A smile crept onto Randolph’s face when he heard genuine interest in Icanchu’s tone. To intrigue something like him was no small feat. Randolph tensed and his muscles shifted into a thicker mass beneath the near- invulnerable coat of fur that covered his body. No matter how much he prepared, he knew there was no true way to be ready for what was coming. “He told me that the Gypsies only had a few Jekhibar remaining and that Jonah Lancroft had acquired one of them. I believed him. And when Kawosa told me that the source of the Jekhibar was to be found in the metal pearls that grow beneath the scales of the Mist Born Serpent Lord, I believed that too.
“I’ve taken a lesson from the Skinners as well. They know how to use their enemies’ strengths against them. Now that I see the fear in your eyes,” Randolph said as he crouched down and allowed his fangs to grow to their full length, “I see my time was well spent.”
Icanchu’s interest was no longer piqued. His head pulled away from the clearing and rose into the upper reaches of the trees. “If you trust the word of one known for his lies, then by all means put it to the test.”
Despite the urge that built inside of him, Randolph did not howl. His blood pumped vigorously through his body and his muscles tensed to launch his body into a jump that carried him from the leafy jungle floor into the gaping maw of what many believed to be a god. The talon he’d plucked from Kawosa’s severed limb was entangled within several layers of fur that had grown specifically to hold it in place.
Jaden shouted something at him, but Randolph was beyond the reach of her words. He’d already committed himself to the path that he knew would either lead him to the destination he’d been seeking for centuries or off the edge of a cliff. For the moment, neither of those outcomes mattered. There was only the fight.
Icanchu reared back and up, which still wasn’t enough to avoid the Full Blood’s first assault. Randolph landed on the side of his neck, digging in with the claws attached to each of his paws so he could remain in place when the serpent’s gigantic body started to thrash. Twisting around, he snapped at Randolph using powerful jaws that sent a shower of sparks through the air as jagged teeth made from a substance resembling petrified stone scraped against each other. He opened his mouth, allowing half a dozen forked tongues to spew out and slap against the werewolf’s side.
Now that he was attached to Icanchu, Randolph needed a moment to reorient himself. The world he’d traversed to get into that jungle had been replaced with a floor of thick scales and a skyline that churned crazily over his head as trees smashed into him. He kept his head down low while climbing along Icanchu’s segmented torso, and flattened his body against the shifting Mist Born as massive, snapping jaws tried to find him. Suddenly, the trees gave way to a blinding view of clear sky. Icanchu’s angry, hissing roar exploded in every direction until hot breath flattened the fur on Randolph’s back. Even though he was moving as fast as he could, the Full Blood knew he had to go faster.
The first bite that found its mark sheared several layers of skin from Randolph’s ribs. It was followed almost immediately by a nip that would have been enough to cut an aged tree in half if it hadn’t caught empty air. Icanchu began flailing madly, trying to knock Randolph off using either the trees or the side of his head. Much like a tick being swatted by a fleshy palm, the werewolf was tough enough to withstand the blunt attacks and move on.
The serpent’s scales were everywhere beneath Randolph’s feet, hands, and belly. Once Icanchu turned his head down toward the trees and dove beneath the uppermost layers of branches, Randolph used the talon he’d taken from Kawosa to chip at the edge of one scale. The Skinners knew that humans didn’t have what it took to wound a werewolf, which is why they used fangs and blood from fallen enemies to help them in their fight. A Full Blood facing a Mist Born had a similar problem. If there was one thing in the legends that was consistent, it was that the only true threat to a Mist Born was another one of their own kind. As he clung to Icanchu’s body, Randolph had to use all of his strength to drive his claws in less than a quarter of an inch. For a creature that was too large for three sets of Full Blood arms to encircle, and longer than Randolph could fathom, Icanchu truly had nothing to fear from any other species.
After climbing down farther along the serpent’s body, he found a single loose scale. The Mist Born thumped against the ground with an impact that sent a shockwave through both creatures’ bodies and crushed one of Randolph’s legs. Bones that should have been turned into powder were instead cracked into pieces before being healed again. Even with his ability to recover from that and much worse, Randolph still felt a pain that surged through him like a raw electrical current. Icanchu lay flat on the ground and started rolling against the earth in an attempt to scrape him off.
All he could do was press his face against the serpent and hang on. At times he felt stumps or rocks tear into him like teeth. Other times he was forced to endure impacts that made it seem as if the earth itself was a fist pounding against his back and head. When Icanchu rolled over long enough for Randolph to catch a breath, the Full Blood drove his stolen talon beneath the wayward scale and levered it away from the serpent lord’s flesh.
Suddenly, all thoughts of harming Randolph were pushed aside as Icanchu lifted his head to wail in a voice loud enough to ride the Amazon River all the way to the ocean. The Mist Born tensed as Randolph sank his other hand beneath the scale. When his finger found an irregularly shaped lump of metal, Randolph figured out why that particular scale had been loose. That brief touch was more than enough to send a chill of the Torva’ox throughout his entire body. Before he could pull the metal out, however, he was flattened between the ground and the enraged Mist Born.
Randolph could see only black.
Most of his bones might have been broken, and when he felt the gnawing itch of his body mending itself, he knew it was so.
More darkness came, but then Randolph was able to swallow a few large gulps of air. The paw he pulled out from beneath the scale was skewed in the wrong direction. Because the fingers were crushed, he wasn’t able to do anything as simple as make a fist around the lump of metal he’d collected. Since that end of Icanchu’s body was thrashing like the tail of a whip, Randolph worked his way farther down the Mist Born’s segmented length.
After a few cautious advances, he found a way to move with more speed. As Icanchu thrashed, Randolph shimmied in one direction as if climbing a tree. When one hand gripped tightly, the other stretched forward. He even clamped on with his teeth to keep from being dislodged as the mighty serpent bellowed and flailed. Now that Randolph was no longer digging into him, Icanchu seemed to lose track of where he was. Settling into the lower branches above the jungle’s floor, his thick body swayed.
“You’re making powerful enemies, Full Blood,” Icanchu said in a voice that rolled through the jungle like a foul wind.
Even though he wasn’t foolish enough to believe he could hide from the Mist Born, Randolph moved as carefully as he could to keep from drawing attention. Every step of the way, he tested more scales with fingers and toes. He found another that shifted beneath his palm and immediately set himself to the task of prying it loose. The moment he made enough of a gap, he sank the talon in and pulled.
Icanchu roared and lurched into motion. Being farther away from the giant’s head, Randolph had an easier time hanging on. Before he could get too used to his more tenable position, however, he felt smaller bodies slithering against his feet and legs. While reaching beneath the loose scale, Randolph shook his leg to try and rid himself of whatever smaller creatures had attached themselves to him during Icanchu’s journey through the trees. Little tongues flicked against his skin, and soon fangs sank into him. The pain of those bites was something new to the Full Blood. Teeth, claws, and even knives and bullets were rarely strong enough to pierce his hide. Feeling something as common as a snakebite brought him down to a level he’d all but forgotten throughout years of
