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 dominating lesser beings.
After the first bite, another followed. Another and another came after that, piercing Randolph’s body at will. Slithering bodies wriggled beneath his fur, burrowing deeper so they could find yet another place to plant their curved teeth. Randolph reached down with one hand to swipe at the snakes. Some of them were instantly severed by his claws, but the rest swung back to wrap around him. They were more than just stray snakes following a command from Icanchu. They were connected to the Mist Born somewhere along his massive body. The serpents that had been shredded by the werewolf’s claws were sucked beneath Icanchu’s scales like rope being retracted by a reel, while the others were free to move without being impeded by the larger serpent’s movement.
Not wanting to pass a chance to claim another stone, Randolph gritted his teeth and absorbed the pain of all those bites. Some kind of venom was being pumped into him, which clouded his vision around the edges and made his ride on the Serpent Lord’s back even more dizzying. Another lump of metal was firmly in his grasp, but Randolph had to fight to dislodge it. When it came loose, he reclaimed the arm he’d sunk in all the way down to the elbow.
It wasn’t just a Jekhibar. That was something crafted by Gypsy hands and suited to their needs. Perhaps the humans couldn’t do anything with the raw ore, but that wasn’t Randolph’s concern. He was a Full Blood, and the Torva’ox flowed like blood through their veins. Now that the ore was in his possession, he could feel it being drawn to the earth. Perhaps this was why the Gypsies needed to craft it into their Jekhibar. It took all of his strength to maintain his hold on the pieces of metal as the Torva’ox flooded his system.
Rather than clench his fist around that which he’d sought and jump away from the Mist Born, Randolph moved even faster along Icanchu’s writhing body. He was no longer concerned with looking for anything, so he was free to scamper along the Mist Born’s thickly muscled trunk as it swung back and forth. Some of the smaller snakes chased him, while others appeared to block his path or clamp onto him to prevent him from jumping free. Branches of all sizes brushed against his back and tugged at his fur until Randolph was finally slammed into the river.
He kept his focus on the living plateau directly beneath him. Submerged in the chilling waters of the Amazon, he concentrated on shredding the snakes holding him in place so he could circle around Icanchu’s rough cylindrical body toward open air. Breaking the water’s surface and filling his lungs, he found more scales that rose above the smooth plane of the rest. Since he was only a short pull away, he dragged himself along the Mist Born and drove the talon beneath one of them to pry it off. Icanchu responded with a renewed series of twisting convulsions. A snarling hiss drifted from the skies, warning Randolph that the serpent’s massive head was coming his way. Before he could escape, Randolph spotted something that caught his interest. Without wasting another moment of contemplation, he leapt back into the water and dove straight to the bottom of the river.
Icanchu’s head splashed above him, creating a ripple through the Amazon that he could feel as he paddled farther down. The Mist Born’s segmented trunk emerged from the bottom of the river, surrounded by several glittering jewels similar to the ones he’d already plucked. There was more of the ore to be had, but even more interesting than that was the moss-covered portion of Icanchu’s torso that led into the ground itself.
Like a chunk of rock that had been dropped from the sky, Icanchu’s gaping jaws surged toward him. When he glanced over his shoulder, Randolph discovered the Serpent Lord a few inches away, his eyes churning wildly, as if reflecting the mud kicked up on all sides. The Full Blood curled his body so he could turn around sharply and swipe at Icanchu with both rear paws. He drew enough blood to form a hazy cloud around Icanchu’s face and followed that with a solid bite to his cheek. Icanchu recoiled and twisted his head away, more stunned than wounded by the attack. Randolph took the opportunity to swim down far enough to see that his suspicions had been correct. The river bottom was cracked open, and Icanchu’s body emerged from the hole like a worm from the meatiest portion of a rotten apple.