Mated to the Warg (Wargs of the Outland, #1)

The Eggery

Rowan landed inside the eggery with a splat. She tried not to gasp with revulsion. She sucked air through her teeth, riding the wave of nausea and fear. She was hunkered down in yards of white mucus. Briefly, she glanced out the window at the waiting mirok below. It blinked and sank back down.

Rowan turned to take measure of the dark interior. She was in a small chamber full of cocoon sacks. A vicious rot permeated the air, stinging her nose. Sacks upon sacks of shiny eggs lined the walls and floor. Sheets of gooey web carpeted every inch of rock. Rowan shuddered, testing her footing to make sure she wasn't trapped in it. But it was more like the birthing muck she'd seen earlier than actual sticky web.

The only exit was a narrow, arched doorway leading out into an even darker corridor. She shot to her feet, sliding in the muck. She breathed through her nose, trying not to taste the rot in the air. Trying not to listen to the squelch as she crept to the doorway. Carefully, she leaned out and scanned the corridor. With a soft gasp, she ducked back inside. From her brief glance, she surmised she was in a maze of corridors, egg chambers, and stairs. And there were vishwa everywhere.

Thankfully, they were only nursemaid drones, but it was still disconcerting. A legion against one. She gripped the mirok sword in both hands, her pulse lashing furiously in her ears. She was untrained in warfare and likely to stab herself trying to wield the blade, but she hoped the nursemaids were just as ignorant.

She peered back into the corridor and waited for an opening. A pair of vishwa entered two nearby chambers and another three were heading away, their narrow backs disappearing up a flight of stairs.

She thanked Maeda for the loud waters below and slipped out, loping quietly up that same flight of stairs before ducking into the nearest empty chamber on the next level. Well, empty but for the clutches of pearly eggs. Again, she hid in the doorway taking glimpses and timing her movements. All the while, she listened for the telltale clicking. Then she stole up the next stairway, her heart jarring every time she slipped.

On the third level, though, her luck wore thin and she had to dash behind a bloated egg sack just as a drone moved into the chamber she was hiding in. Her ears rang with fear. It was carrying another of the queen's large moonstone eggs. With care, it placed the egg in an open sack and quietly began packing it shut with white slime it unspooled from the nipple-like spinnerets on its chest.

Once the egg was secure, the nursemaid drone moved to a different sack and reverently turned the clutch inside, as though inspecting the eggs. At length, it pulled the sack off the wall and scuttled out.

Rowan expelled the breath she'd been holding in. Her hands were trembling as she snuck out. This went on a while—ducking in and out of egg chambers and slipping up stairways. She was steadily making her way towards the top where the sky bridge waited. She timed the clicking approaches and retreats, sneaking by the drones who were inside chambers, turning eggs over and readjusting sacks.

At length, she reached the uppermost level. The top of the rambling snake egg. The first thing that hit her was that the smell of rotting flesh was as thick as a fog. The roof of her mouth felt rank with it. Her eyes watered as she stifled the urge to wretch.

Unlike the ones below, this level appeared to be one large main chamber. Here, the eggs inside the sacks were much larger. In fact, she'd noticed that the eggs seemed to get larger the higher the level. Newer eggs at the bottom and ripe ones at the top. Were these mature eggs the cause of the stench?

The room was like a vast bedchamber with silky drapes that floated at the windows. There was even a large makeshift bed—or nest—of sheer silken sheets and thick spreading fungus. There was a bench nearby, and a sort of sea chest with the lid upon. Various other pieces were scattered about, too. On the walls were more egg sacks of woven, sticky membranes.

Her eyes darted to an archway through which she could see the vacant stair bridge beyond. All around, the sound of roaring water. Or was that adrenalin blaring in her skull? It was only a matter of time before a drone spotted her. Her plan was only half formed, though, but it was all she had. She couldn't let panic ride her, or she'd fail. With a wobbly breath, she sought to calm herself, scouring the room for clues that might aid her success. Boots squelching over the muck, she moved through the room.

This had to be the queen's bedroom. Like the mirok, Hessa seemed to horde treasures, too. Odd trinkets. No, more like bizarre keepsakes. There was a helmet and a faded wool tunic discarded on the bench. A pair of large boots propped neatly beneath it. Inside that open sea chest, a stack of old books. A Quaint Treatise On Fishing topped the pile, of all things. Odd bedtime reading for a vishwa queen. She moved on. There was a leather satchel was on the floor with its flap open and letters spilling out. A satchel a West Gate runner might use. Rowan's brows knit, a shiver zipping up her spine. It seemed this bedchamber was an eerie cache of lost things. Mostly male things.

Her eyes froze over some rumpled clothes in a woven basket. The very same kind worn by outmen of West Gate. The livery was unmistakable. Her heart thumped louder. Did it belong to their missing dispatch rider?

Eyes flaring wide, she studied the belongings with dawning realization—these were all trophies! All remnants of the males who'd been mated and eaten! Was Hessa going to bring Thresh down here soon?

Even as the thought occurred to her, she heard the queen's laughter again. It spurred her to action. She promised herself that nothing of Thrax and Thresh would ever make it to this morbid collection.

Her heart was threatening to batter her chest wide open. The putrid stench was suffocating. Maeda had protected her thus far, but for how much longer? She needed to take what she'd come for and get out!

She darted for the nearest egg sack and began ripping it open. The goo clung to her hands as she yanked the egg out. Cradling it in one arm, she gripped her mirok sword tight in the other hand, and froze as the sound of clicking reached her ears. Something prodded her arm. Movement from inside the egg. Disgusting! The thing was close to hatching.

She hurried away, ducking behind the queen's nest as the sound of an approaching nursemaid grew louder. She laid the egg down beside her so that she could hold the long fang in both hands. She waited, hoping her streak of luck would underpin the rest of her scheme. Hoping the nursemaid wouldn't sense her presence.

But she wasn't that lucky.

A nursemaid drone appeared from below and began trudging across the chamber towards the exit. But it stalled suddenly, eyes fixing on the open sack and the missing egg.

Ice water flooded her gut.

The clicking intensified.

Heart in her throat, Rowan stepped out swinging. The drone whirled around and splayed its pincers, ready to scream. But the fang sliced through its carapace like it was hot fat, severing the head in one blow. Both the head and body sagged to the floor.

She stared down at the dead vishwa, incredulous. It was pure luck that she'd had surprise on her side. The soldier drones would not be so easy. The queen even less so.

Rowan didn't wait around to marvel at herself or test her luck any further. Her gaze swung around the room because she didn't trust her ears, not with how loud her heart was drumming. She set her weapon down and dragged both parts of the dead vishwa to one of the little windows. Making quick work of it, she dumped the parts into the waiting water below.

She didn't bother to look for the mirok, she knew it was waiting somewhere below. "You're welcome," she panted softly.

But as she turned to head back for her sword, and retrieve the egg, she felt the hairs on her neck prick up. Cold dread slid down her back. From the domed ceiling, came the sound of clicking. With dreadful slowness, she dragged her eyes up.

A bloated vishwa was hanging from a length of silk rope directly above her. And this was no soldier drone. Not a nursemaid, either. By the look of its peeking stinger, it was another queen! A smaller queen, yet more horrifying.

Unlike Hessa in the crescent room above, this thing was hideous, its face nothing like a human's.