But Brice knew it wasn’t that. He knew it came from Cathal, and until they reached the hold-out, it would be around him constantly. He parted his lips, determined to breathe through his mouth.
<This isn’t right,> Ryann sussed.
<What?> That came from both Keelin and Tris, and Brice echoed it in his mind.
<More signals, but…confusing.> She paused. <Unidentified.>
Brice focused on his heart, massaging the muscles to slow the beating. He expanded his lungs, taking in a deep pull of oxygen. His adrenaline would be pumping—even if his lattice was no longer reporting that to him—and he needed to keep it under control.
He could see the warths now, dark shapes behind the trunks, green-edged but with the orange glow of heat. At least, he thought they were warths.
<They’re slowing.>
<The warths, or…> Tris didn’t need to finish.
<The warths. Maybe…>
<What?>
<Maybe they sense something.>
<Something?>
<Something not us.>
Brice heard a click from his side, and focused on his peripheral vision. Tris had one hand raised, a lash in his grip. The hand shook, and his finger hovered over the trigger.
<That going to do anything?> Brice sussed. But Tris didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t hear.
<They’re moving again, but slowly. We need to…. No, stay. Wait.>
<Wait?> Keelin said.
<Signals from behind.>
<Different? Or like…>
<Just different.>
Branches shifted, and Brice knew it wasn’t from the rain. In the trees level with their position, he caught more movement, higher up, like something was climbing.
A deep growl rolled through the forest, so low it seemed to come from all around. Then branches were thrown aside, and his lenses heat-signal flared brightly as a warth reared up, twice his own height. It opened its mouth with another roar, baring ugly teeth and sending spittle flying. The thing’s fur was flattened by the moisture, but its skin bristled and its muscles rolled.
Then it charged.
Tris stepped forward with a yell. There was a sharp crack and Brice almost believed he saw the path of the energy bolt as it flew through the foliage. The warth stumbled, and its roar took on an angry edge. But it didn’t stop.
Brice’s hand found his lash, but he didn’t have a chance to raise it before Tris fired again. Ryann was yelling something, but Brice couldn’t make out the words over Tris’ screaming.
Branches snapped. The roar grew louder. The whole forest came alive.
Then the warth flew to one side, crashing against branches and disappearing into the undergrowth.
One moment it was barrelling straight towards them, and the next it was gone.
But not because of the lash.
Brice saw it as an after-image. A shadow blurred from one side, ploughing into the beast, taking it down in a brutal tackle.
The roar rose and fell amid the sharp cracks and snaps of branches. The warth appeared again, spinning hard, limbs lashing out and teeth gnashing. Razor-sharp claws sliced through the dark, glistening with something that might not have been water. The shadow pounced again, landing on the beast’s back, and Brice saw teeth in the shadow, long and sharp, and they came down on the warth’s neck.
Brice’s lattice let him sense this, both in real-time and in replay. The warth’s roar morphed into an agonising, drawn-out cry of pain. The beast raised its great arms towards the treetop and tilted its head, snout pointing to the sky. Its fists and claws stretched back, trying to dislodge whatever clung to its back. And whatever had its neck.
A heat-intense spray of blood burst from the warth’s neck, and the beast’s scream became more primal. Others joined in, sharing the anguish. And the spray stopped as the shadowy creature dipped forward, its own mouth clamped over the wound. The beast’s yell became almost pitiful.
Then it toppled, and the ground shook.
And for a while, nothing moved. No more shapes shifted. No more leaves rustled, and no more branches split.
<Ryann?> Tris’ voice wavered. He crouched down again, cradling his lash. He repeated her name.
<Wait.>
Brice heard the sound of breathing, and only now realised how close Ryann was to him. Turning as much as he could, he saw her half-glazed eyes, and the droplet of moisture that built up then fell from the end of her nose. He saw her nostrils twitch.
<No more movement.>
<What happened?> It sounded like Keelin didn’t really want to know.
<Not sure.>
<The warth’s still there?>
<Staying back.> Leaves rustled as she turned. <Come on.>
<But…>
<No arguing, Tris. We move.>
And they did. As fast as they could while staying hunched over. As fast as they could to get away from whatever had just taken down the warth.
Brice refused to think of anything but moving. He focused on Keelin’s boots, a pace in front of his own. He ignored the wet leaves that slapped his face, and the smell coming from Cathal. He pushed aside the noises of the storm and the forest and whatever followed them in the trees. And he only looked up when Ryann sussed.
<Hold-out.>
Before them stood a concrete block, slightly larger than a Proteus. But where their craft had curves and angles, the hold-out was a monolith, like someone had dumped a huge block of stone in the middle of the forest, all right-angles and coldness. There were no windows, only a dark metal door in the closest wall. It sat in a clearing, almost like the trees didn’t want to come too close to something so imposing.
In that moment, Brice thought it the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen.
He turned, and saw a gap in the trees, where they arched over to form a tunnel. Beyond was another clearing, but here the ground rose in a ramp.
“Landing pad,” Keelin said, her lips close to his ear, telling him what he already knew. But he basked in the warmth of her breath, and the way it blew the rain over his skin. He realised it was the first voice he’d heard, actually heard with his ears, since the cave.
<Tris, you want to let us in?> Ryann sussed. Tris tapped a code on the recessed panel to one side of the door. The
