Finally he felt solid ground underfoot and stopped, looking around him for the first time. He found himself standing on a lip of rock in an underground grotto, facing a vast hidden lake. Small, murmuring waves lapped at his feet. The air was damp but smelled fresh and clean, like the sky after a rainstorm.
Emerald green sunbeams poured down through a hundred small holes in the rocks overhead, while at the same time an eerie, radiantly blue light glowed from under the water itself. Rollan felt like he was standing inside a piece of sea glass.
He heard scrambling noises overhead and turned, climbing back up the rocks a ways until he could pass the Granite Ram to the others.
They each slid down next to him, Meilin and then Conor and Briggan, and then Abeke, and stared around with startled eyes.
“It’s beautiful,” Abeke whispered, but even that small sound echoed off the high ceilings and came murmuring back to them.
“Yes,” said a new voice, dark and rich and somehow full of bubbles. “I’ve always thought so too.”
Rollan felt Meilin seize his hand and grip it tightly.
A shape was rising out of the water: the shape of the largest octopus the world had ever seen.
They’d found Mulop, at last.
THE OCTOPUS REGARDED THEM FOR A LONG MOMENT, DURING which Conor found himself completely unable to speak. Mulop’s bulbous dark orange head nearly touched the rocks overhead, and yet there was obviously a lot more of him still hidden underwater. He looked like a giant brain on top of a pair of eyes on top of a web of tentacles, and that was it. His expression was completely unreadable. Angry? Bemused? Delighted? Half asleep? Conor had no idea.
“Hmm,” Mulop said at length. A long, purplish-orange tentacle snaked out of the water and poked at Briggan, who had scrambled down the rocks behind Conor. The wolf sniffed at the tentacle and sneezed, but stayed still as it drifted over his fur and tail and paws.
“Smaller than I remember,” mused Mulop. Conor couldn’t see a mouth — he couldn’t see anything but enormous deep green eyes in that huge dark orange head — but as with the other Great Beasts, he seemed to hear the octopus’s voice inside his head as well as echoing throughout the cavern.
“Is this what I remember?” Mulop asked thoughtfully. “No, I’m right, he was bigger before.”
Briggan yipped, as if defending himself.
“Yes, yes,” Mulop said. “Time to grow. Certainly, if there is time, and space for growing, and giant wolfishness to grow into, anyone could, perhaps.”
The tentacle moved suddenly to Conor, wrapping around his whole body and then patting his face. Rubbery suction cups squished against his cheeks and brushed his eyelashes. He held his breath, trying to appear infinitely braver than he actually felt.
“Hmm,” Mulop said again. “Also smaller than I expected.” The tentacle tapped his nose and then poked him in the stomach, nearly knocking the breath from him. “Thought they came bigger than this, didn’t I? I certainly did. Remember the tall ones from last time? True, still rather small, but not this small. Less time to grow here, but some. Also mute? Very unexpected. Did I expect that? No, I did not.”
“I’m not mute,” Conor blurted.
The tentacle patted his face again, and he got a strong impression that Mulop was pleased.
“Excellent,” said the octopus. His voice was quiet but had an echoing quality to it, and a bass note like it was being pulled up from the far depths of the ocean. “Won’t that make things easier? It will, I’m right. I prefer questions, don’t I? Yes, otherwise it’s hard to keep track of what I know and others don’t know, and there’s so much I know and everyone else doesn’t know, but then it’s not surprising when I know so much, after all. Oh, I have a question. Go ahead.” He paused, and Conor thought for a moment that Mulop was waiting for him to speak, but then the octopus sailed right on. “Where are my other friends? Ah, good question. I think they’re here, don’t I? Indeed.”
It’s like he’s talking to himself, Conor realized. He wondered if it was lonely, being the only underwater Great Beast. Perhaps Mulop talked to himself because there was usually no one else to talk to.
The tentacle let go of Conor and moved on to prod the others, one at a time. “Friends? Friends? Are you in there? Don’t be shy. Do I think they’re being shy? That certainly doesn’t sound like them. Uraza was never — aha!” The huge octopus’s eyes lit up with delight as Jhi appeared on the ledge beside Meilin. “Oh, panda panda panda. Unnaturally small furball. I’ve missed you, haven’t I? Yes, I have.”
Jhi gave the tentacle a friendly pat with one of her paws, then submitted graciously as the tentacle wound around her and gave an affectionate squeeze.
“It has been both quieter and more noisy in here without you,” said Mulop. Another long tentacle lifted out of the water and indicated his great head. “You know what I mean.”
Jhi inclined her own head sympathetically.
Essix descended into the cave with a flurry of wing flapping, landing on a boulder beside Rollan at the same time that Abeke held out her hand and released Uraza.
“All of you back,” Mulop said, his tentacle moving over toward Uraza. The leopard growled at it. Unfazed, Mulop lifted his tentacle and waved it in a mirror image of Uraza’s lashing tail. “Such a strange and lovely and terrible time. Aren’t I thrilled beyond measure to see my four fallen siblings again? I am. And yet there is one I’d rather not see, but she is free, free as a snake, and so we come around again and all the old danger is new once more.”
He drew his tentacles back into the water and subsided thoughtfully.
“Wait,” Rollan said. “What?”
“Free as a snake?” Conor echoed alertly. “Are you talking about Gerathon?”
“Don’t you know? Or is that a thing only I know? Ah, that is a thing I know. Maybe that is why I called you. My head is full of warnings, but which, but which is for you, that is the question.”
“Um, I say give us all of them,” Rollan volunteered. “All the warnings, please.”
“Has Gerathon escaped from her prison?” Conor pressed.
“Most absolutely,” Mulop said. Conor felt a horrible prickling all through his body, like dread was trying to flip his skin inside out.
“I thought that was impossible!” Abeke cried. “How did she get out?”
“My siblings specialize in the impossible,” Mulop observed. “And no, clearly not impossible. Haven’t you noticed her touch everywhere? She is the one who controls the drinkers of her Bile.”
Beside Conor, Rollan gave a little start. Conor guessed that Rollan hadn’t really thought about who was inside his mother, forcing her to try to kill Rollan.
“Do I think that is creepy?” Mulop went on. “I do, in fact. And I am an octopus. Creeping is a specialty of mine. But controlling the minds of others? I vastly disapprove. Ah, Feliandor,” he added with a sigh, in what appeared to be a non sequitur, and suddenly fell silent again.
Conor exchanged a glance with Abeke. “Feliandor?” he prompted curiously. “Wasn’t that —”
“The true name of the last Devourer,” Meilin said, sounding horrified. She moved forward, the blue light reflecting off her smooth black hair. “Mulop, are you saying — was Feliandor controlled by the Bile? We were always taught that he started the war . . . but was Gerathon manipulating him the whole time?”
“Gerathon and Kovo,” Mulop answered. “It was Kovo’s idea. Oh, Kovo, I know about him. Clever brother, too clever, like me, but much more sinister. Take the young, ambitious king of Stetriol, offer him the world. Did I see that coming? I must admit I did not. A failure of vision, perhaps, but neither did you, right?” Mulop wagged a tentacle at Briggan like a scolding finger. “After all, who would have thought — who would ever have thought of giving that power to humans?” The octopus shuddered, sending ripples across the water.
“Felian
dor was . . .” Rollan said. “That’s it! That’s what I saw in my dream on Nightshade Island! It was Kovo giving Feliandor the Bile — and then a real spirit animal came, and that’s what destroyed the place and left all those, uh —”
“Echoes,” Meilin finished for him. She reached out unconsciously and rested her hand on Jhi’s back.
“I thought the war was the Devourer’s idea, and Kovo and Gerathon were just helping him,” Conor said.
“Far from it,” Mulop said. “Kovo wanted to rule Erdas. Why? An excellent question. What do you do with an entire world once you have it? What is the point? Once you are done conquering, will you be happy? Because my guess is no, and so is mine. Ruling, controlling, dominating, power, all these mysterious needs. Perhaps it’s a mammal thing. We Great Beasts do more than guard our talismans, you know. Do you know? I know, but then, who knows what others know. We also guard the secret of the bond between humans and spirit animals. That is the source of power. That is what Kovo tried to use, and will try to use again, to become king of all Erdas.”
“But he can’t!” Abeke protested. “He’s locked up, and Halawir is guarding him. Isn’t his prison even stronger than Gerathon’s? If the Conquerors could release him, wouldn’t they have done it already?”
Mulop stirred the water with his tentacles, blinking slowly at her. “Oh, they will. Kovo will be free before long, as well. Am I delighted about that? No, I am not. It is a strong prison, yes. Don’t we all know how dangerous Kovo is? Weren’t we there when he killed you four? No one even knew a Great Beast could be killed, but there you were, my brave fallen friends, and he did that. He is more powerful and dangerous than any of us, so we made his prison strong, but nothing can withstand everything. What does it take to destroy Kovo’s prison?” He flipped a tentacle at the Granite Ram around Abeke’s neck. “Talismans. The combined power of many talismans.”
The octopus’s gaze shifted to Conor, who thought guiltily of the Iron Boar. Was that the new Devourer’s plan? Was that why the Conquerors were stealing talismans — to set Kovo free? What if the Iron Boar was the talisman that made the difference and brought down Kovo’s prison walls?
“How many talismans do they have?” Conor asked.
“You are collecting talismans too,” said Mulop. “That is a thing I know and you know. But how many more await you? Very few still remain with their Great Beasts. Tellun’s. Cabaro’s. And mine.”
Conor and Abeke both gasped. “That’s it?” Conor cried. “The Conquerors have all the others?”
“I did not say that,” said Mulop cryptically. “But they control many, many things. You should perhaps hurry up and save the world. Here.” He dipped his tentacles down into the blue water and lifted out a dripping wet black cord. At the end of it dangled an octopus carved from pale orange-pink coral.
“The Coral Octopus,” Meilin said softly. She stumbled back and Rollan reached out to steady her. She brushed his hand away and rubbed her forehead with a confused, almost blank expression, her gaze fixed on the talisman.
“Isn’t this what you came for?” asked Mulop. “I know it is. I give it to you freely. You need it, to fight Kovo and the others. He must be stopped; that is a thing we all know.” His eyes somehow became stern. “Only you must not be careless and lose this one. I will know, and I will be very displeased, and so will I and also me.”
“We’ll be extremely careful,” Conor promised.
Mulop extended the dangling talisman toward them.
Who should take it? Conor wondered. He glanced at his friends. Who could be trusted? He wanted to say all of them, but he was afraid that wasn’t true. He wanted to let Abeke take it, just to show her he did trust her, but what if Meilin protested in front of Mulop and Mulop changed his mind about giving it to them?
Will they trust me with it, after what happened with the Iron Boar?
Rollan met his eyes and nodded, almost as if he knew what Conor was thinking. Abeke was watching the talisman, and Meilin shrugged, so Conor leaned forward and accepted it from Mulop’s outstretched tentacle.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “We really do need this.”
“I know and know and know,” the octopus said. “It’s a very useful talisman. With this, you can breathe underwater and become gelatinous, like me, to fit through small spaces. Am I proud of it? Oh, rather. But I have one request before you leave with it. Is that so? It is. What do I want? A demonstration of your bravery. I will worry less if I can see what you are made of, friends of the Fallen.”
Mulop shifted aside and indicated a part of the wall where the underwater light was brightest. “Down here is a hole that leads out to the ocean. It is about so big.” He held up three tentacles to indicate a triangular space the size of a small watermelon. “I ask that one of you use my talisman to swim through there, out to the sea. Show me that you are willing, and my worry will be a small bit smaller.”
“I’ll do it,” Conor said. Back into the water — he couldn’t exactly claim to be excited about that. But it wasn’t much for Mulop to ask in exchange for his talisman.
“Are you sure?” Abeke asked. “You’ll be all right swimming that far?”
He nodded. “I’m not a great swimmer, but I can swim.” He’d taught himself, more or less, like everyone did, in the ponds and rivers around Trunswick, where sometimes a sheep had to be rescued after a heavy rain. But splashing in a shallow stream with his brothers was not exactly the same as plunging into an entire vast ocean.
Don’t think about sharks. Do NOT think about sharks.
Conor slipped the Coral Octopus around his neck, taking a deep breath.
“Friend of Briggan,” Mulop said with a nod. He extended a tentacle for Briggan to sniff again. “Farewell, Pathfinder. I hope your destiny is brighter this time around.”
Briggan let out a howl that echoed eerily around the walls of the cavern. As the echoes faded, he turned and nudged Conor’s hand, then disappeared into his passive state.
“We’ll go get the Kingray and bring him around to pick you up,” Meilin said to Conor. She extended her hand briskly to Jhi.
Mulop stopped the panda with a gentle tentacle on one of her paws. “Old friend,” he said. “There is another thing I know. And I am sorry.”
Jhi shook her head, her silver eyes sad.
“What is it?” Meilin asked. “What do you mean?”
“It is a terrible thing,” Mulop said. His deep green eyes bored into Meilin’s. “You will wish you had been kinder, little warrior.”
Meilin frowned, as though she wanted to argue but knew she shouldn’t.
Mulop sank down into the water up to his eyes. “You’d better go, and quickly,” he said. “Time is short, ships are long, and enemies are many, and it is a great burden you bear, tiny humans.”
“Thank you again,” Abeke said. Uraza flashed into passive state as well, and she turned to climb up the rocks.
“Good luck, Conor,” Rollan said with a wave.
Conor sat on the edge of the rock and swung his legs into the glowing blue water. It felt warm with swirling currents of cold, and he could see far down into the depths of the grotto, where Mulop’s tentacles coiled. There didn’t seem to be a bottom; he felt like he might fall in and down and keep drifting for centuries.
He touched the Coral Octopus around his neck, took a deep breath, and plunged in.
The water closed over his head, cool and bubbling. His body immediately wanted to panic, to thrash and flail toward the air.
Trust the talisman. It was Mulop’s voice and Tarik’s voice and his own voice, all in his head, guiding him.
He forced himself to breathe in, even though his lungs were screaming, No, it’s water, you’re going to die!
One breath. Two breaths. No different from breathing air, after all, although a part of him still rebelled at the sensation of water whooshing through his nos
e, his lungs, his mouth. Three breaths, four breaths, and it got a bit easier. His mind adjusted to the strangeness, and suddenly it was normal.
Well, perhaps not normal, exactly — he was underwater, but for once he didn’t have to fear it. He couldn’t drown, not with the Coral Octopus on. He could swim this way through the whole ocean, if he wanted to (as long as he avoided any don’t think about sharks), and he’d never have to worry about the water closing over his head and dragging him down.
I wonder if I could even sleep underwater, he thought, a little giddily. His grandfather used to tell tales of water spirits that lived in lakes or rivers. Now I could practically be one of them!
Mulop’s enormous bulk floated beside him, and Conor could see one tentacle pointing toward the exit, where a small beam of blue sunlight shone through. He paddled and kicked as hard as he could, wishing he were a better swimmer. He felt awkward and floppy next to Mulop’s natural underwater grace.
Finally he reached the hole and grabbed the edges with his hands. The wall was rough, scraping his fingers, and the space was even smaller than he’d expected. It was an appalling prospect, wedging himself into such a tiny hole. His shoulders would never normally fit through there — but hopefully with the Coral Octopus they would.
What if the talisman didn’t work as promised, though? What if he got halfway through and got stuck there, like a sheep trapped and waiting to be sheared?
He had to take a deep breath. The salty seawater burned the inside of his nose and his chest felt soggily heavy. If only the talisman gave one the grace of an octopus as well as its . . . squishiness.
As long as it does give me squishiness, I won’t complain, Conor thought.
He had to stop worrying and just go.
Another breath, and then he drove his arms through first as though he were diving into the sunlit ocean outside. His head and shoulders stuck for a heart-stopping moment in the gap, and then his bones seemed to melt and squash together, and all at once he was squeezing through the hole like a sack of beans . . . or like an octopus.