Season of the Wild Hunt(Book 1 of The Seventh Gate series)

Usonái

Music: The Gael

Her chest burned as if drowning. Desperate, Nyani struggled up from the void, straining towards the surface that was life, and dragged in a lungful of air. The damp musk of earth filled her nostrils, the cool sap-scent of green things - and a foetid aroma of decay. She tried to lift her head, tried to open her eyes, but her body was ice, her limbs numb. She couldn't think where she was, or why. Something about being hunted. Must run, get away to somewhere, anywhere.

Confused, she concentrated on sensations instead, on the prickling against her cheek. She was face down on the ground, one arm beneath her, the other stretched out, grasping. A sword hilt? Her legs were heavy and one thigh throbbed a burning drumbeat yet strangely, they were much warmer than the rest of her. The cloying, rancid odour was coming from that direction.

Her eyes snapped open. It was still dark, but the natural dark of night-time.  She tried to move, but her legs were pinned by a heavy weight. Revulsion cramped her stomach. She knew that stench.  Usonái.

Fear brought her body back to life. She wriggled and kicked out wildly at the beast pinning her, yanking herself from beneath its weight and twisting to scrabble backwards away from it, her numbed fingers almost losing their grip on the sword. The hound didn't move but it was alive, its rib-cage heaving with each rattling breath.

Gripping her blade, Nyani staggered upright and edged towards it, watching for the slightest sign of consciousness as she hefted the leaden weight of her weapon up, and then brought it down on the beast's neck. Once, and then once again to be sure, severing its spine. Its legs jerked and twitched, fell still. Dead.

She backed away, and stumbled over her pack. One strap was torn through by the Usonái's claws. Slinging it on by the remaining one, she swung around to check behind her. There was nothing there, just the slope rising up towards a ring of ebony teeth scraping at the sky. Scattered fragments of herself coalesced, and memory flooded back. Where was Ashira? Nyani spun on the spot, searching the dark hillside. It felt late, but still perhaps several hours until dawn. There was no moon up - it would only be a sliver anyway - and the starlight muted by thin cloud cover.

"Ash?"

No answer. Fighting a rising tide of panic, she tried to connect to the Alaíyah, to reach out for Ashira, but she could feel nothing except the crawling sensation on her skin of being watched. Ashira must be here. There. Some way below her she made out a dark hump on the grass.

"Ash!"

 She was curled in a tight fetal ball, knees to forehead. Nyani turned her onto her back, searching with numbed fingers at her throat for a pulse. She couldn't feel anything, and Ashira's flesh was cold.  She pressed her ear to her chest, but could hear nothing over the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears.

 "No, no, no! Wake up!" Nyani rubbed frantically at the other woman's arms and face, willing warmth and life to return.  "C'mon...please, Ash."

Ashira finally drew a rasping breath, then groaned pitifully. "How long... how long have I been dead? Ayá wola, my head!"

"You're alive." Nyani let out a strangled sound that was part relief, part sob. "But you've got to get up now. The Usonái are still here. Come on, try moving."

Ashira scrunched up her face, perplexed. "Usonái? Damn! Where are we? Didn't we get through?" Energised by the imminent threat, she floundered to her feet, swinging around in a circle as she scrabbled for her sword.

"Shh! I don't know - but if one hound was here, we have to assume the others are. Are you hurt?"

 "My skull feels like it's cracked open and my guts are inside out."  Ashira shrugged. "You?"