A shriek issued from below. It took Anji a moment to register the noise. Not like a bird’s cry or the scream of another person, but the high-pitched hiss of an insect, loud enough that Anji flinched as it rang out a second time. Anji scanned the chasm, her trickle of uncertainty thickening to a stream of fear as a large patch of the slope near the chasm’s floor bulged out, then bowed back in.

“What is it?” said Anji, glancing at the Hawk. “Hawk?”

The Hawk only took a step back, then another.

Then she drew her swords.

Chapter 12

12

“What the—”

Anji tottered forward, her eyes glued to the mound rising under the snow. Whatever it was, it was massive. The Hawk cursed and snatched at Anji’s arm. “Get back.”

But Anji couldn’t take her gaze away. What could possibly move that much snow?

A titanic shape exploded from the slope—blue of so light a hue it was almost white. Chitinous claws raked against the ground, sending sprays of fresh powder careening into the gully. Another high-pitched keening sound rent the air, this time loud enough to echo off the peaks. Anji winced and crouched low, eyes on the shape still emerging from the hole. A body layered in milky, segmented armor scuttled out, carried on a dozen spindly legs, the two at its front raised high: a pair of gigantic, crablike claws. Anji felt the urge to retch, revulsion tightening her throat.

“Scorphice,” the Hawk hissed. “Behind me, girl.”

Anji sputtered, but no words would come. The thing before her couldn’t exist. It was too grotesque, like it had been plucked from a story and thrown at her feet by a mad god. But it grappled up the slope, chunks of ice and snow crackling under its churning legs. Anji scrambled back into the snow, her sweating, shaking hands rattling the manacles. Perhaps the thing hadn’t seen them? Could it smell? She glanced once at the Hawk, then at the monstrosity screaming up the slope. It faced them fully now, its face a churning nest of serrated fangs under a cluster of black dots shining in the dying light.

Nine, are those its eyes?

It unleashed another howling cry, louder this time—so loud it set Anji’s ears ringing. The Scorphice was halfway up the slope now, body undulating like a snake, its legs chewing through the frozen earth.

“Give me one of those,” Anji said, pointing at the swords in the Hawk’s hands.

“Like hell.” The Hawk shoved her away from the chasm’s edge.

“Do it!” Anji said, stumbling along, rattling her chains. “I can help! I can distract it!”

“I can fight it on my own,” the Hawk said, her eyes darting back to the ridge. “Head for the storehouse.” She shoved Anji away with a grunt, sending her tumbling into the snow. Anji spun and climbed to her knees.