Volcrian perched on the hard bench of the coach.
Women and children surged in behind him, scrambling onto the wooden seats. A few farmers and clerks followed. Soon they were all packed together like a tightly rolled bale of hay. He watched the peasants and serfs arrange themselves. Already the coach was beginning to smell like a pig barn.
He wrinkled his nose. When he and his brother ran the apothecary, they owned a personal carriage, a beautiful creation of oak wood and finished seats. He had sold it shortly after his brother's death, exchanging it for a fast horse and a bag full of coins.
He hadn't ridden on a public coach since his childhood days. This particular specimen was designed for rough travel across the country. A mud wagon, the locals called it. He did not relish the name.
Somewhere nearby, a child began coughing. Volcrian pressed a handkerchief over his mouth and sucked in a breath.
Traveling by stagecoach was the fastest way to bypass the swamp. He would have to change in the next town, and again, near the City of Crowns. Once they passed there, he would make his solitary way over the mountains. Luckily, they were the lower mountains, more like foothills compared to the snow-covered monstrosities of the far North. The journey could take an entire year, depending on his timing and the weather, but he anticipated his wraiths would make short work of the four travelers. Perhaps by the time he reached the coast, they would all be dead.
That thought was the only thing that brought a smile to his lips.
“Last call!” he heard the stage conductor cry out. There was another shout from outside, and a few more people squeezed on-board. Volcrian grimaced. How many peasants could a mud wagon hold?
The final passengers settled in place. There was a thump from the rear of the coach. The boot was closed, their luggage secured. The door was shut.
The driver cracked his whip and yelled to his team, the sound muffled by wooden walls. The horses surged forward, the coach rocking precariously forward. Volcrian let out a slow breath. This was going to be a long trip.
Sora blinked woozily.
Her head pounded, like the morning after too much wine the night before. Her mouth was dry, her thoughts fuzzy. She stared at the smooth wooden ceiling above her. For a long moment, that's all she did, feeling the blood rush through her veins. Her body felt weak—like she was stuffed with cotton.
Where am I? Vaguely, she remembered the attacking vines. Her head pounded and her right arm was in agony. She wanted to roll over and go back to sleep; she was all too ready to slip back into unconsciousness. At least the bed was soft.
Bed?
The sound of voices disturbed her thoughts. She looked toward the noise and found herself staring at a wooden archway, set flawlessly in the side of a room that could have been carved from a tree. She blinked at the smooth walls—no boards or panels, no brick or mortar. Just seamless wood.
She looked back at the archway. At first it seemed completely open, but if she squinted, she noticed strange glints of light stretching across it, a near-invisible curtain. It took her a moment to realize what they must be. Spider webs?
It was enough effort for her to sit up. The room spun and she put her hand to her head, her stomach twisting. She waited for her eyes to focus. Then she glanced around, looking for any signs of spiders or bugs or other threats. But the room was clean and empty, except for her soft cot and a porthole window, too small to climb through.
The sound of voices drifted to her again, this time closer. It was like no language she had ever heard before. At times, it sounded more like two beasts growling and chirping at one another. She stared through the archway, trying to see into the corridor beyond, but her gaze was met by a plain wooden wall.
Sora swung her legs off the cot and grimaced, then leaned over the side of the bed, gagging. She heaved several times, trying to vomit, but nothing came out. Saved by an empty stomach. Goddess! She had never felt sicker!
Trying to lift her arm, she discovered it was wrapped in thick bandages from elbow to wrist, which tightly constricted her movement. She could remember the nasty, burning acid. Her blistered skin. How long have I been here? She put her hand on her pounding head and wondered how she could still be alive.
The sound of footsteps and muttering voices drew closer. Sora tried to stay calm. She looked around again for a place to hide, but there was nowhere except behind the cot, and she had more dignity than that. She licked her dry lips, her fingers tapping nervously on the bed.
A shadow lumbered outside the doorway. A hand reached up, gently touching the thin spider webs. Sora stared at the massive palm. It was unlike any hand she had seen before—long, thick fingers covered by thin orange fur. Nails hooked into long, powerful talons.
There was a brief shimmer of light. The spider webs fell away, curling back on their own accord. Sora heard the slight chime of bells. Her Cat's Eye. Magic.
Then a creature stepped in. It only slightly resembled a human.
She never could have prepared herself for the beast who entered the room. It wore sandals and a white robe, cinched at the waist with a wide tan belt. She stared at its feet—his feet?—which were more like giant paws.
His face terrified her. She had to stifle a gasp, her eyes wide in disbelief and horror. The creature's head was that of a tiger, long teeth protruding past his lip. Thick, clawed hands hung at his sides. By what she could see under the robe, his entire body was covered in orange and black fur, down to the tip of his tail. He was huge, towering almost a foot taller than Burn, completely filling the small bedroom. This beast made the Wolfy mercenary look average.
So this is a Catlin, Sora thought, trying to stay calm and reasonable. It was the only explanation.
The beast either grimaced at her or smiled—she couldn't tell, with those huge fangs. She hoped it was a smile.
"Human," he said in a low, grunting voice, more of a growl. "Can you walk?"
"Uh...." Sora didn't really know how to respond. She felt terrible. She didn't want to stand up and collapse on this fellow—he'd probably eat me. Then again, she didn't want to sit around staring at him, either.
Rather than answering, Sora decided to stall for time. If she was about to be eaten, she might as well get some answers.
"Where is this place?" she demanded boldly. Her voice came out dry and small. Her mouth was still slightly numb from the poison and her throat muscles resisted the effort it took to talk. "What have you done to my friends?"
The Catlin stared at her through slitted eyes. His teeth were pulled back into a snarl. Sora sat back despite herself—maybe that was a mistake.
"You can walk," he confirmed. She couldn't read his expression; he had a cat's head, after all.
"Well?" she heard her voice squeak, then cleared her throat. "What about my friends?"
He continued to look at her, as though considering her for a snack. "You are in our shriekal, our colony," he finally answered. "The others are here too. The...the trespassers are in con-con-" the Catlin paused, licking his lips awkwardly.
Sora felt unimpressed. He certainly doesn't sound smart. Then she realized that his mouth wouldn't allow him to sound the words properly.
"Con-tain-ment," he finally managed.
"Containment?"
"Yes, and your pro-tec-tor is in the cells."
"My what?"
The Catlin looked rather flustered and made several yowling sounds under his breath before continuing. "The dark one, the one who threatens without words." Oh, Crash. "You are lucky to have such a pro-tec-tor."
Lucky he's locked up, maybe. "Protector, that's what you mean." Sora nodded to herself. "So they're alive?"
"Yes."
She almost cried in relief. She wanted to be with Burn, or Dorian, or maybe back home where she could run into the woods and scream until the world made sense again. Instead, she looked calmly toward the doorway, retaining her composure. Another Catlin stood there, this one equally terrifying, though the pattern of his fur was different. Tan with brown spots.
The Catlins yowled at each other, a guttural language that sounded more like two lions fighting in the woods.
"Our Panthera is ready to see you,” the first guard finally said, turning back to her. “Don't keep him waiting."
"Panthera?"
"Our warlord."
Sora nodded. She didn't have much of a choice, but she was still terrified. Nothing else for it. She slid off the cot and swayed on her feet, woozy from the poison. The room kept moving, fluctuating in and out, as though the walls were breathing. She had to put out an arm to steady herself. Come on, walk like a warrior! her inner voice spoke up. Chin up, foot down!
The two Catlins escorted her from the room. They both carried long spears with feathers and beads tied around the top, just beneath the spearheads. Their belts contained several knives. The blades were longer than daggers, thin and curved. Some appeared to be carved from bone.
They took her into the short hall, past another room barred by spiderwebs. It looked like a storage room, full of wooden crates and knapsacks. She caught a glimpse of her saddlebags and weapons laying in a pile on the floor. The Catlins didn't seem too concerned with security.
They left the building through a broad archway. The exit was enclosed by a thick wall of vines, densely woven together, blocking any light from outside. She watched as one of the guards lifted a clawed finger and touched the net of plants. He traced strange patterns in the air, perhaps symbols.
The Cat's Eye murmured again, stirring in her mind. Magic.
Then, with the sound of scattering leaves, the vines all pulled to one side, revealing the world beyond. The guards prodded her forward. Sora was led into daylight. A fresh breeze hit her face and she looked up, her eyes wide.
The Catlin colony was at the heart of the swamp, deep in the forest—yet not on the ground. Her foot landed on a wooden balcony. As she looked up, she could see massive trees on every side of her, as wide as mansions, stretching high into the sky. The trunks disappeared into thick gray fog. She couldn't imagine their peaks, or the dense canopy that must exist overhead, far out of sight. Their branches were as large as streets, their leaves as wide as wagons. Holes speckled their trunks, hollowed windows blazed with golden light, doorways sheltered with vines, dwellings and stores and who-knew-what- else. Plant life was everywhere, thriving in every nook and cranny of the giant trees, purple-hued moss and hanging flowers, stamens like lamp posts, petals big enough for her to climb on.
No trees like this could possibly be natural; they would have to be millions of years old. Sora instinctively touched the necklace under her shirt. The Cat's Eye was humming quietly at her neck, as though charged by the very air. Magic, though she couldn't fathom how.
Wooden platforms encircled each tree, providing wide balconies and market squares. Rope bridges, some as wide as boulevards, crisscrossed the colony on several different levels. The city spread upward as much as downward. They paused next to the railing of a balcony, and Sora looked down upon countless Catlin heads: vendors and shoppers, hunters, merchants, all bustling about their lives. It's far more crowded than Mayville! Perhaps larger, even, than the City of Crowns.
Rope elevators moved among the different levels of the colony. As she watched, a crate of vegetables swung into the air on a flat wooden platform, directed by an intricate system of ropes and pulleys. A few of the elevators hung off in the mist, abandoned or in disuse. Her eyes grew wide, watching the platform's ascent into the fog.
Her guards clunked their spears on the ground and showed their teeth threateningly. Sora didn't need more prompting. She continued to walk. The bridge in front of her was narrow, built of sturdy wood, tied together with thick vines. Their level was mostly deserted. A few Catlins passed in the distance, wearing identical white robes. She wondered if they were some sort of elite guard. She really couldn't imagine who they were.
She peeked over the side of the bridge again, watching the bustling city life. Then she stared beyond at the endless pit of mist. She was unnerved by the drop; there was no sign of any ground below.
"I wouldn't jump," came a higher-pitched voice from the second guard. She wondered if it was a female, since it stood slightly shorter than the first guard. "'Tis a long, long drop."
Sora shivered and moved to the center of the bridge. Only an idiot would try that—it was sure suicide.
They walked for some time. The colony was vast, stretching on and on. They boarded one of the elevators and descended a level, vines and wood creaking under their weight. The next floor down was a center of shopping and trading. It was much more crowded than the area she had started in. The guards stayed at her side, snarling at anyone who got too close.
The regular Catlin population did not wear white robes, but were almost completely nude. Or as nude as one could be when covered in fur. They walked around in different states of undress, exposing breasts, bellies and other parts. Some females had piercings through their ears and noses, decorated with hoops and beads, or long feathers hanging down the sides of their faces. The males were scarred and gruesome. The only article worn in abundance were knives. The Catlins all looked very different, no two coats the same, every color from albino white to blue-black.
Most avoided looking at her. Sora was reminded of several house cats sitting side by side, swishing their tails. If she accidentally made eye contact, a Catlin would curl its lip in a silent snarl, or press its ears back in a distinctly feline way. She wondered if it was rude to stare, or if she was issuing an unknown challenge.
Before long, she had a group of Catlin younglings behind her, jumping across bridges and ropes. They were as agile as squirrels, with giant fuzzy paws and huge eyes. Several times the guards tried to chase the children away, but they always came back. They gurgled and cooed to each other, which she thought might be laughter, but she couldn't understand a word of it. She had to work hard not to touch them, or snatch them up like stuffed dolls. These were not kittens, and she would probably get her hand bitten off.
Toward the end of the marketplace, they boarded another elevator. This one shot into the air at a startling pace, up and up, to the very top of the colony. When it finally came to a stop, they got off at a deserted walkway, not a Catlin in sight. Silent mist swirled around the giant branches.
In the distance stood an exceptionally large tree. Sora could see a door of vines standing out from the trunk, accented with exotic orange flowers. She could smell their pollen at this distance, pungent and thick, like overripe fruit. She licked her lips, suddenly nervous. A thousand fears rampaged through her mind. Her hands started to shake, so she clenched them into fists.
The archway was several dozen feet tall, formed out of the tree as though it had originally grown that way. They headed toward it. Nervous prickles rolled over her skin, and she began to feel a peculiar energy, a vibration in the air. A steady throb started behind her eyes. The Cat's Eye? She touched the necklace under her shirt, surprised. It vibrated and buzzed at her chest like an enraged bee. She glanced at the Catlins surrounding her, but they gave no sign of noticing. What's wrong with it? she wondered, unsure what the stone was responding to.
They paused outside the massive vines. Sora waited, fidgeting slightly from foot to foot. The Catlins' tails swished through the air, ears slightly back, and she realized—were they scared? Really?
A curious tingle slowly crawled up her body, from her toes to her hair. She felt as though invisible hands were running over her, searching her, trying to find her secrets. Her Cat's Eye jingled softly—some kind of magic. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She wasn't sure if the necklace could shield her or not.
Then the thick vines slowly pulled back. Tendril by tendril they unfurled, revealing the corridor beyond.
The guards gave her a hard shove through the doorway; otherwise, she never would have gone through. She stumbled forward with a yelp as they pushed her with their spears, stuffing her into the room like a stubborn horse.
The vines coiled shut behind her, s
ealing out all light. Alone in the dark room, she felt full-blown panic consume her. Her heart raced until she thought she would faint. Images of wild beasts and deformed monsters rose in her mind. I need to calm down! she thought desperately, forcing herself to breathe, to think clearly. She had trained with Crash and Dorian; she could defend herself. She wasn't helpless. Of course, she had no weapons at hand.
She listened intently, trying to hear beyond the pounding of her heart. There was a raspy, heavy sound somewhere nearby. Breathing.
Suddenly light poured into the room. Sora gasped. At first she thought a lantern had been struck, but now she could see that several holes had opened along the wall. Portholes. Windows grown out of the very tree.
The Cat's Eye stirred again.
Sora could only stare. One after the other, windows appeared along the walls, allowing soft gray light to cascade across the floor. What manner of magic was this? The Catlins were somehow controlling the trees. She couldn't fathom such power. Had they created their colony purely out of magic? Were the trees natural at all, or planted by some otherworldly energy? With merely a touch of their fingers, the Catlins were able to manipulate the wood, command the vines. Who knew what else they were capable of....?
Now that the room was illumined, Sora could see that it wasn't as big as she had expected. A small conference chamber, perhaps as large as her bedroom back at the manor. A grassy, matted carpet split the floor, running toward the far end of the room. Her eyes followed the rug to its end, where a tall throne sat, a massive chair grown out of the tree, supported by woven branches. Feathers, leaves, and beautiful stones decorated the chair. And sitting on a cushion of moss and fur...was a ferocious Catlin.
Sora's mouth dropped. Sitting down, the beast was as tall as she was standing. He had a dark pelt, the color of rich soil, crossed with thin black stripes. White markings accented his jowls and chest. Her eyes traveled lower, to his long, faded green pants, his only article of clothing. A weapon of some kind rested against the throne. It was long enough to be a sword, but looked like it had been carved from a giant rib bone.
He watched her with two feline-yellow eyes. A gnarled gold tooth protruded from his lip.
Sora approached the Panthera and stopped a respectful distance away, turning to her long-hated court manners. I guess they're good for something. Who knew that she would actually need them in the swamp? She made an elegant bow—a curtsy would be a bit hard without skirts. She finished it with a flourish and clasped her hands before her, waiting expectantly. She didn't know whether to make eye contact or not. On one hand, it was a sign of her own heritage as a noblewoman. On the other hand, the Catlins didn't seem to respond well to direct stares.
The warlord gave a dry chuckle and motioned for her to step closer. His yellow claws, as long as an eagle's talons, looked threatening in the dim gray light.
"Welcome to my domain." The voice was deep and croaky. The accent was clearer than the guard's. "This is the last Catlin colony, and you are the only human to have seen it in a hundred years."
He paused, as though waiting for Sora to say something. She couldn't think of anything appropriate. Her heart was hammering—she was, quite honestly, terrified. How did one speak to a Panthera? Her words could make the difference between freedom or execution. She thought she might faint, but the outcome of that would be far worse.
After a few moments of awkward silence, the Panthera said, "Our colony was founded centuries ago. We sought refuge from the human world. Humans have since defiled the land of our ancestors. What is the phrase? You breed like rats.” The warlord looked her over again. “We want no dealings with humans, yet now you are here. I'd like to know why. And how."
Sora still didn't know what to say. Breed like rats? She supposed it might be true, but she still felt insulted. Humans weren't so bad. The Catlins appeared far more barbaric—and the Wolfies, the only other race she had met, were deranged by blood-magic.
The warlord spoke again before she could. "Answer me, human! The dark one and the Wolfies were far more entertaining than this! Say something, or your presence is of no use here!"
No use? So they were going to kill her if she didn't answer. Sora swallowed, organized her thoughts, and found the courage to look the beast in the eye. "We're not here to trespass," she said, and winced. "Or attack you, or anything like that. We're just trying to get through the swamp, that's all." She hoped that was good enough.
The Panthera narrowed those great, slitted eyes. "Is that so? But how have you found our colony? We are countless miles from the fringes of the swamp, no matter which way you travel.” His gold tooth gleamed. “You are an explorer looking to build a town.”
“No!” Sora said, alarmed. “No, not at all! We're just passing through. Once we leave, we'll never return, I swear.”
“I don't take the word of humans,” the Panthera sneered, displaying more teeth. “How did you make it this deep into Fennbog? We have warding spells that alert us to trespassers. There has been no such warning."
Warding spells. It suddenly made perfect sense why no one returned from the swamp. Even if someone was an expert navigator, the Catlins would find him and kill him. How many explorers had perished in this colony? She suddenly thought of the old scarecrow they had stumbled across, the bones littered at its base.
“How did you bypass our spells?” the Panthera repeated.
Sora stared. Her Cat's Eye had shielded them, of course. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. The alien presence of the necklace asserted itself, more awake than ever. She was suddenly, irrevocably convinced that she could not tell the Panthera about the necklace. What if he tried to take it?
"What are you planning to do with us?" she demanded instead.
The giant Catlin was silent. The atmosphere grew fragile. One wrong word, and the peace would shatter like glass.
Then the warlord bared his teeth. “Boldness is greatly respected by my race,” he growled. “You are a warrior, small human, though I did not think so at first. I shall answer your question. The Wolfies will be taken to the Grandmother Tree, where we shall sacrifice them to the Earth Goddess. The Tree has been dry for decades, and Wolfy blood is rare indeed.”
Sora wondered if she looked as horrified as she felt.
The Panthera chuckled at her expression, and made a strange gurgling sound. “But I am not unreasonable. Tell me how you bypassed our wards, and you and your mate shall be set free...as long as you do not return."
Sora's eyes opened in alarm and fear. They can't kill Burn and Dorian! Then she paused, struck by the second half of the Panthera's sentence. “What?"
The Panthera frowned at her, a terrifying sight, and shifted in his chair. "Is the dark one not your protector?"
Sora was silenced by confusion. Her mind turned full circle, mulling over his statement, taking it apart one piece at a time. The guards had mentioned her “protector” before in reference to Crash. As I recall, the guard also called me "lucky," she thought with some humor. Ironic, to be sure. Protector must mean something different to the Catlins. Something more...intimate.
“Sure,” Sora stuttered. “I mean, yes.”
The Panthera stared at her. She wished she could read his expression—he looked hungry, maybe. "Perhaps you don't know the meaning of the word?" he finally murmured. "The dark one implied that he was your protector, but perhaps I was mistaken. When males and females become bonded, we call them protectors and providers. It is a sacred bond, respected by our species. It is unholy and cruel to separate a protector from his provider."
Sora didn't know what Crash was playing at, but if he had implied as much to the Panthera, then he probably had a good reason. "Right," she muttered. "I understand now. Yes, he is my protector."
The Catlin warlord seemed satisfied by this, and nodded. "Now answer my questions—how did you get past the spell?"
Sora swallowed and searched for a good excuse. She couldn't say anything about her Cat's Eye; the necklace had somehow plante
d the thought firmly in her mind. It felt like a very bad idea.
Suddenly, the warlord leaned forward in his chair. It seemed his patience was running thin. He withdrew a hand, hooked his finger, and suddenly the wood rippled beneath her feet like water. With a shriek, Sora fell to the ground. The wood thrust forward in an unnatural wave, carrying her down the grassy carpet to the base of the throne. She sat there, shaking, staring up at the massive warlord. His clawed feet were as long as her forearms.
He spoke quietly, a low growl in his throat. “If you will not tell me, then I will force it out,” he hissed. Then, with another wave of his massive paws, the floor thrust upward.
Sora screamed. Vines fell from the ceiling, grabbing her arms. One went tight around her throat, cutting off her air. She was held up by the vines, suspended in mid-air, hovering helplessly above the ground.
The Panthera stood up, a terrifying height of perhaps ten feet. Silence filled the room. The only sound was of rustling foliage. More and more plants spread along the ground. Vines uncurled from the ceiling, dripping with venomous thorns. Toxic fungi thrust up from the wood and spores billowed into the air, creating noxious fumes. The vines loosened at her neck and she gasped, desperate to breathe, unwittingly inhaling the spores.
She immediately felt dizzy, as though she had drank three cups of wine. Her head spun, her tongue loosened.
“What are you hiding?” the Panthera asked. “How did you bypass our wards?”
A strange euphoria gushed through Sora's body, starting at her feet and overtaking her head within seconds. She suddenly felt light as a cloud.
“Tell me, young girl,” the Panthera growled. “Who led you through the swamp?”
“Nothing,” Sora mumbled, her lips thick. “No one.”
“Don't lie to me. Do you work magic? Are you a sorcerer?”
Humans can't use magic, she wanted to say, but she didn't have the chance. The Panthera lost his temper. The giant cat reached for her and grabbed her arm. He slowly dragged his nails down her forearm, across the acid burns. Sora's eyes widened as pleasure quickly turned to pain—her body felt a hundred times more sensitized. She threw back her head and screamed in agony so intense she could have vomited.
“Tell me,” the Panthera roared. “Tell me your secrets!”
Sora stuttered, still reeling from the pain. Secrets? Oh yes, she had those, perhaps too many. Selfish motives. Lies. She found herself seeing all that had happened since leaving her manor. She could see Lord Fallcrest stumbling to his knees, the skylight shattering into a million twinkling lights.
And suddenly she herself was falling, stars passing her, whizzing at unknown speeds. She had never fallen so fast before. The lights were bright, dazzling—but there was also sound. Music? No, a dull chatter. The stars seemed to be talking to her, snatches of speech. You have to listen. Listen to the stars, and they will tell you all of the secrets....Their voices were getting louder and louder, ringing in her ears, trying to get her attention. She thought she recognized some of them: kitchen maids, yard workers, servants she had passed in the hall...her handmaid, Lily. Her father's booming voice as he sat at his desk, his eyes dark and hard, screaming at the maids to take his daughter Sora away, out from underfoot, lock her in her room, such a useless child....The roaring grew and grew until it consumed her.
Bells.
Sora blinked her eyes.
The Cat's Eye sprang to life, jingling madly like a fistful of sleighbells. It eagerly consumed the magical energy around her. Zzzzap! Zzzzzap! Bursts of light flickered through the air like exploding fireflies. Zap! The vines fell to the ground, the fungi curled in on itself and melted back into the wood, leaving dark stains. Green light crackled around Sora's necklace. The vines dropped her, and she landed clumsily on the ground, reeling from the toxins she had inhaled.
The warlord took a step back, jaw agape, eyes wide. Then his expression melted into fury. “A Cat's Eye!” he roared. “The bane of our race! A tool of evil!” His tail lashed back and forth. He stepped forward and Sora scrambled back, trying to keep a distance between them.
He snarled at her, baring his vicious teeth. When he spoke, it sounded like a lion's roar. "You have brought this cursed stone into our colony! It must be destroyed! Give me the necklace!”
“No!” Sora screamed, recoiling.
He lunged, moving too fast for her to react. He smashed into her, slamming her into the ground, his full weight upon her. The beast hissed and frothed at the mouth. "Where is it? Give it to me now! Give it to me or I shall kill you!" Those giant hands tore at her, ripping her shirt, scraping her skin. "Where do you hide it? Where does it hide?" Finally, the Panthera's claws ripped open the front of her shirt and the necklace came into view. The warlord's eyes caught on it, his mouth open, heaving. Spittle dripped onto her body. Eyes wide, he reached for the stone....
But the Cat's Eye didn't want to be touched. As the Panthera's claws neared the necklace, she felt the stone buzz angrily. It crackled with energy.
With a hiss, the Panthera drew back, but the Cat's Eye wasn't done. Strands of yellow light shot through the air, followed by a brilliant green flash. There was a silent clap of power.
Wham! The warlord was thrown back. He skidded across the floor, tearing up clumps of grassy carpet as he went. When he had stopped tumbling, the Panthera crouched on all fours, looking more like a jungle beast than ever before. Pure rage lit his eyes. Then he smiled—a feral look, dangerous and wild.
"Hah!” he growled. “You think you have bested me?”
Sora crawled along the floor, dragging herself toward the exit, one hand pressed against the shallow wound on her hip.
"Oh no, you aren't leaving,” the Panthera roared. “You will make a fine sacrifice to our Goddess. GUARDS!"
A sacrifice to their Goddess. The Grandmother Tree. Sentenced to the same fate as the Wolfies.
Sora opened her mouth, but there was no time to formulate words. The door opened behind her, the vines twisting to one side. The white-robed guards scrambled in, grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her off the floor.
She reached for the Cat's-Eye stone, trying to activate it again, to lash out and protect herself—but the stone only hummed quietly, content for the moment. She couldn't understand it.
"I want all four killed tomorrow evening!” the Panthera roared after them, enraged. “Skinned and tied to the Grandmother Tree!" Then he continued to scream orders in his native tongue, yowling and grunting, obviously enraged.
The guards flipped their tails in a strange salute. They didn't make eye contact with the Panthera, but kept their faces respectfully turned away. Then they escorted Sora out roughly.
She was dragged over a series of narrow bridges, shrouded in mist. They boarded a different elevator from the first one, a large basket woven of thick, dry reeds that moved slowly, creakily. The ride lasted much longer this time.
Sora didn't like the sensation of being suspended over space, the ground hidden by dense fog. It was impossible to tell how high up they were. She sank into a corner of the basket and crouched there, wrapping her arms around herself. Her acid wounds were raw and sore. The Panthera's claws had left long rents in her shirt, and in some places, had pierced her skin. She kept a hand clamped tight to her side, trying to stanch the bleeding. She felt dizzy, shocked, pain stabbing through her with each breath.
The guards took her back to the original tree, which she assumed was their prison. They escorted her through the vine-locked entrance, down the narrow hallway, past her room and down a flight of steps, deeper into the tree.
They passed by a series of cells, all empty except for one. Sora could see inside, since the cells were barred by spider thread. Burn and Dorian sat resolutely, neither looking at the other. She started to call out to the Wolfies but stopped herself, wary of the guards.
Dorian glanced up at their approach and smiled slightly, despite a black eye and a cut lip. Both Wolfies looked like they had been roughed up. Burn's arm bled heav
ily, stanched with a piece of cloth torn from his shirt. His eyes were closed, his face tight with pain. He didn't look up as they passed, and that worried her.
At first she thought that the guards would deposit her into the next cell, but they continued down the hallway. At the end of the corridor, the wall was blocked off by dense vines, similar to the entrance of the tree. One guard raised his hand, brushing a long claw across the vines, drawing out some sort of symbol, either a picture or a letter.
The leaves glowed briefly, then withdrew, coiling into themselves like snakes. Sora watched, still fascinated by the magic.
As soon as the vines parted, she was thrown inside. She hit the wall with a loud thud and fell to the hard ground. The vines closed up behind her, blocking out all light. Unlike her original cell, this room had no windows, no cot, no plausible exits. Her eyes would have to adjust to the gloom. The Panthera wanted to make sure she couldn't escape.
With a groan, she pulled herself to her feet, her head spinning. She hobbled over to the corner, nauseous, barely able to stand upright. Her stomach lurched. A moment later she threw up, both from fear and leftover poison.
Sora heaved a few last times, but there wasn't a lot in her stomach, mostly bile. Classy. She wiped her mouth and wished for a glass of water.
Then, without warning, her body started to tremble. She backed away from the corner, suddenly cold. Fear flooded her, filling her veins with ice. We're going to be executed. Killed and sacrificed to the Grandmother Tree, whatever that was. And it was all her fault. She was too clumsy, too naive. If she had just kept her mouth shut...or come up with a convincing story, a believable lie, perhaps they would be free by now. I'm so stupid! She really, truly hated herself. I have to do something. I have to fix this!
Sora felt along the wall for the tightly woven vines. Her fingers found the leaves. She picked at them, trying to tear open a hole in the door, but the vines were unnaturally strong. Her nails couldn't even break their outer layer.
There was no escape, no way out. How was she supposed to tell her companions? How could she warn them? She smashed her fist against the vines, tears threatening to leak out of her eyes. “This is all my fault,” she muttered to the darkness. “You're so stupid, Sora! Useless. Idiot. Fool!” She kept slamming her fist against the vines, ripping at the leaves, scratching at the thick plants.
Suddenly a hand landed on her shoulder. She yelped in surprise, jumping into the air.
A quiet voice said, "Be calm."
She whirled around. Crash stood behind her, a dim outline in the room; she only recognized his voice. How long had he been standing there, listening to her sobs and inane muttering? She was too distraught to be embarrassed. Before she could think about it, she blurted out, “We're all going to die because of me.”
She could sense his frown in the darkness, the thoughtful pause before he spoke. “What do you mean?”
Sora felt like she was going to cry. She took a deep breath, trying to contain herself. “My Cat's Eye!" she managed, speaking past the lump in her throat. "The Panthera thought you were my protector, so he had decided to let us go. Then he saw the necklace...and now...now we're all going to die!" She put a hand to her face, struggling to maintain her composure. She really, really didn't want to cry in front of the assassin. "We're all going to be sacrificed to the Grandmother Tree! And it's all my fault!"
Crash's hand remained on her shoulder. She wasn't sure if he was trying to be comforting, or had just forgotten it was there. He seemed deep in thought. “When?” he finally asked. “When are they coming for us?”
Sora's heart sank. “Soon. The Panthera wants the ceremony tomorrow night.”
“The full moon,” Crash murmured.
She frowned. “Huh?”
“Tomorrow is the full moon. Catlins live by the lunar calendar. That's why they're waiting.” His voice was quiet and confident.
Sora nodded, somehow calmed by his tone. She had expected him to be mad, to yell or to lash out at her. She wondered where he had learned so much about Catlins.
"I...I didn't mean to cause more trouble." she whispered, still wallowing in guilt.
"Never mind that," he caught her off-guard. "We have the advantage."
Sora blinked. “What?”
“Your necklace.”
She frowned, looking up at his dark face, wishing to see his expression. How was her necklace supposed to help? It had been no use against either the guards or their spears.
“You can break us out,” he assured her, as though reading her mind.
She took a step away, shrugging off his hand. “It didn't open the door of the Panthera's chambers,” she hedged. Then again, she hadn't directly asked it to.
“The Cat's Eye is a magical tool,” he gritted out. “Try.”
She could clearly hear his irritation. Unexpectedly, she grew annoyed in return. It was all well and good for him to contrive theories about the necklace—he wasn't the one wearing it!
She turned back to the doorway with an angry sigh. Her hands searched blindly until she felt the tightly woven vines. “Why did they put us in this cell?” she asked, feeling her way along the plants. “Why not use spider webs, like Dorian and Burn's cell?”
Crash replied, “Some prisoners require more restraint.”
She snorted. “What can you do that the Wolfies can't?”
“More than you'd think,” he quipped. “Focus on the vines, will you? We don't have a lot of time.”
Sora rolled her eyes at the darkness. Then she put her hands back to the wall, trying to remember the symbol that the Catlins had traced, if it was even relevant. Oh come now, her inner voice chided. Just use the necklace and get it over with.
She frowned, concentrating, reaching into the depths of her mind where the Cat's Eye resided. It was easier this time. The necklace felt more alive, somehow. As though draining the Panthera's magic had made it stronger, heavier in her thoughts, more tangible.
Open the door, she thought.
The jingling of bells met her ears, loud and clear. The Cat's Eye responded immediately. It sensed the magical wall beneath her fingers. It seemed to be prodding the vines, testing them, sampling this new magic.
Then—flash!
Green light sparked, dancing around the enclosed cell, dazzling her eyes. It absorbed the magic eagerly. Sora gasped. The energy flooded her solar plexus like a sudden breath of air.
The vines fell to the ground, limp and dead. Light flowed into the enclosed cell. Sora was momentarily blinded, caught off-guard. She blinked and looked up, trying to clear her vision.
The hallway stretched before them. Then she heard the sound of voices, a language of short yowls, purrs and growls. A second later, two Catlin guards turned into the hallway, spears in hand, tails lashing. They paused abruptly, looking up at her. They both stared, mouths agape. Apparently the expression of surprise was consistent across races.
Immediately Crash lurched past her and sprinted down the corridor, directly at the Catlins. One let out a loud, high-pitched shriek, and the assassin rammed into him full force. He smashed his fist into the first Catlin's neck, breaking its windpipe. The guard collapsed to the floor, writhing and wheezing in pain, his spear falling to one side. Crash picked up the weapon and thrust it forcefully into the next guard's stomach, ripping a large hole through his gut. Blood and intestines spilled across the ground. The guard staggered back, screaming and hissing, toppling into an adjacent hallway.
Sora stared in disbelief. She felt sick.
Then she heard noises in the distance. Catlin voices and the sound of scrambling feet.
"Come on!" Crash motioned for her to follow, as though he hadn't just killed two seven-foot guards. Sora was still in shock. Her body moved automatically, stiff and awkward at the sight of so much blood.
“Hurry!” he insisted.
The sounds of pursuit were coming on fast. Still, Sora couldn't seem to organize her limbs. The assassin didn't hesitate. He dashed back to her side, g
rabbed her and dragged her down the hallway, past the massacred bodies and the Wolfies' cell. Sora gasped, catching Dorian's eye as they ran past. She dug in her feet, skidding across the blood.
“Crash!" she exclaimed. “We can't leave them!”
“Go!” Dorian yelled, signaling for them to keep running. “The guards are coming. We'll slow you down. Go!”
Crash pulled at her arm. "We can't help them if we're dead," he said harshly, and hauled her forward. "We'll come back."
Sora wasn't completely convinced, but she didn't have a choice. Dorian's eyes pleaded with her, his hands pointing desperately down the hallway. She could hear the guards approaching. Soon, they would block off any chance of escape.
Somehow, she found the strength to run. She leapt next to Crash and they sprinted down the hall, not looking back. They reeled around a corner, turning haphazardly down a network of corridors and stairs. She hoped that Crash knew where he was going—and apparently he did, because a minute later they reached the exit. It was blocked by thick, heavy vines.
“Quickly!” he yelled, and pushed her at the doorway.
This time, Sora only had to touch the wall. Flash! The green light blazed and the Cat's Eye eagerly drank in the magic. Her head spun briefly. The vines dropped to the ground, limp.
Crash grabbed her. They barreled through the exit, jumping over piles of loose vines and foliage. Outside, the colony was strangely quiet. Sora could hear distant sounds below them, chattering voices and the general bustle of the market. But on the prison level, there was hardly any foot traffic at all.
They took off running. Crash led her to a bridge on their left.
“Do you know where we're going?” Sora gasped. Her wounds ached with each step. She could feel blood dripping down her ribs.
“Maybe,” Crash replied.
Sora wanted to roll her eyes, but she was too focused on running. Well, "maybe" is better than "no."
Then she heard the shouts of Catlin guards. A dozen or so converged from the mist, leaping from different bridges and ropes, trying to cut them off. She forced her legs to run faster, pain piercing her side. Adrenaline fueled her steps.
Crash took a sudden turn, cutting to a bridge that dangled off through the mist, separate from the thick tree branches that supported the colony. Sora followed him, worried that the bridge seemed old and decrepit, not well-maintained. It swung and bowed under their weight. But when she looked ahead past Crash, through the spinning veil of mist—she saw dense leaves and vines. Open, untamed foliage. The end of the colony and the beginnings of the swamp.
Hope bloomed. If they could just make it across, they might escape....
A series of yowls erupted in the air. More Catlins joined the chase, thundering onto the bridge, bounding from rope to log like fierce, giant squirrels. Then a Catlin dropped onto the bridge in front of them, swinging down on a large vine. Sora screamed. Crash ran headlong into the beast and tackled it, toppling across the wooden planks.
"Crash!" she yelled, skidding to a halt. They were blocked by the Catlin's massive body. The two struggled, wrestling with each other, a match of pure strength. The bridge rocked and creaked violently. Sora grabbed the ropes, holding on for dear life, fear choking her. When she looked back, she could see dozens of Catlins crowding the entrance to the bridge. A few were coming up behind her, spears held threateningly.
She turned back to Crash. Surprisingly, he was holding his own. As she watched, he threw the Catlin back and kicked the guard firmly in the chest. The guard stumbled away, half-off the bridge, struggling to reclaim his balance.
When Crash turned back to her, he held the Catlin's long, curved knife in his hand. His eyes met hers. “Can you swim?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, frowning. She didn't like his expression. “Wait....” she murmured. He raised the knife. “Don't!”
Too late. The assassin swung the blade down with both hands. It passed cleanly through the ropes of the bridge. Sora's mouth dropped. She was too shocked to react, even as the planks started to pull apart beneath her. The ropes snapped, fraying under so much weight. The Catlin guards on either side started yowling in terror, fleeing from the bridge as quickly as possible.
"Wait!" she yelled, fear constricting her chest. Her voice was cut off by a sickening crack! The bridge started to cave in. She wanted to throw herself forward and grab onto the assassin—but she couldn't; there was no time. She thought she might have screamed. Her mouth opened. Her hands reached. Grasped. Useless.
Crash disappeared, plummeting into the mist.
Just as suddenly, the bridge tilted to one side and Sora's feet slipped. With a shriek of surprise, she jolted downward toward the endless drop. She grabbed onto a piece of rope just before the mist claimed her.
She clung there, suspended at an unknowable height, and tried not to look down. If she did, she would fall. Her heart pounded, her hands shook wildly. If she could just pull herself up, she could still escape. Climb across the damaged bridge, reach the other side. It wasn't too far now. If I can just pull...a bit harder....
Her hand slipped. The slick rope burned her skin.
Then the world gave way.
CHAPTER TWELVE