But the village didn’t have any chicken stew. They had seal stew, and seal brains, and some kind of crustless pie with meat that was probably pieces of whatever animal it was that Essix had brought them. So when Tarik suggested they just take the boat and be done, Rollan didn’t object.
This boat was larger than their last ferry, flat and wider, low to the water and not full of quite so many dead fish. As the boat approached the coast of Northern Eura, Rollan began to discern the outlines of small buildings and familiar shapes. He sighed, relieved. These looked like the proper buildings of his upbringing, the kind that people who eat chicken stew might build.
They clambered onto the docks and Tarik pressed something into the hand of the boat’s captain, which seemed to make him happy. The man bent his head and whispered something to Tarik, who nodded, and walked over to the group.
“The captain has told me that something is wrong,” Tarik said.
“Like it’s warmer than frozen here, and it doesn’t smell of dead seal?” Rollan asked.
“Like the dockworkers are missing,” Tarik said. “The captain said there are always people from the village here when boats arrive, to help unload cargo and offer goods and services.” He looked to the captain, who remained on his boat. He appeared to be waiting for something.
“What does that mean?” Meilin asked.
“It might mean nothing,” Tarik said. “It might be a holiday for them.”
The group visibly relaxed.
“Or it might mean the enemy is here,” he said, and Rollan heard Maya moan.
“Why is the captain just waiting there?” Conor asked.
“We need to decide if we’re staying,” Tarik said. “Or if we’re worried enough to go back to Arctica with the ferry.”
“Turn back?” Rollan asked. “To the ice and cold and walruses? No, thank you.”
“That’s one vote for stay,” Tarik said. “Meilin?”
“I say stay,” she said. “Turning back is not an option.”
“Conor?”
“I actually think it might be smarter to go back,” he said. “Not for good, mind you, just . . . I don’t know, this.” He gestured at the empty dock. “This all feels unsettling.”
“Maya?”
“Go,” she said. “Leave. I vote we go back.”
“That’s two stay, two go. Abeke?”
“I don’t know,” she said, turning to look at the sea, and Arctica beyond. “It’s so cold back there.” She stopped, scanning the faces of Maya and Conor. She sighed. “I am fine with either. Whatever you decide, Tarik.”
“We stay, then,” Tarik said, and nodded to the captain, who began unlashing his boat for departure.
“We will stay together,” Tarik said, looking at all of them in turn. “If we cannot find transport in an hour, we begin to walk. Together.”
The boat began paddling away, and Maya kept pace with it on the dock. When she ran out of walking room, she stood there and watched it go.
“I smell sheepskin,” Conor said.
“What?” said Rollan. “You smell sheepskin? That’s just weird.”
“It is,” said Tarik, looking to the village before them. “I haven’t noticed any clothing made of Euran sheepskin this close to Arctica.”
Rollan saw Essix circling ahead, and his eyes drifted down to the top of a dock-facing building. There were people there, on the roof. The sun was just starting to fall behind them, making it difficult to focus.
“Shane,” Rollan said, squinting. “And those impostor kids. That blond frog girl, Tahlia, and Ana, the one with the lizard. I think maybe one other I don’t recognize.”
And his mother.
His entire life, an awareness of his lost mother had lain against his heart, like an arrowhead too deep to pull out. But he’d tried to forget her those long days on the ice. He’d tried.
Rollan took a few steps closer.
“There are a lot of people,” Rollan said. “On all the rooftops.”
“Archers,” said Meilin.
“We’re outnumbered at least five to one,” said Rollan. He amazed himself by keeping his voice calm.
“I, um, I don’t suppose they would just go away if we asked them nicely?” Maya asked. She glanced back, and Rollan looked too. The ferryboat was gone.
“Probably not,” Conor said, his hands balling into fists.
“Maybe,” Abeke said, and everyone turned to her like she had told a rude joke.
“Really,” she continued. “Let me speak to Shane. He can be reasonable.”
“I have my doubts,” Tarik said, “but you’re welcome to try.”
“Don’t go without Uraza free,” Conor said.
Abeke shook her head. “Shane hasn’t released his wolverine. I would seem antagonistic if I didn’t keep Uraza in passive.”
Abeke walked several steps forward and waved. Rollan imagined he could see Shane smile, but he wasn’t sure what kind of a smile it was.
“This is a bad idea,” Conor growled. “That guy is a weasel.”
The figures in Shane’s group disappeared off the roof, but the others remained.
“I think we should stay with Abeke,” Conor said, moving. “In case Shane tries to pull something.”
“We’re close,” Tarik said. “I don’t want to appear threatening. I . . . I rather think a peaceful solution is our best option with the current odds. Let’s give her a chance. If something happens, she’s quick enough to get out of danger and give us a chance to engage.”
Conor growled again.
“I think you might be turning into a wolf,” Rollan said.
Conor stared as Shane hopped down from the building’s roof, waving at Conor like they were old friends.
“I want to punch that guy in the face,” he said.
Rollan nodded. “Some people do have faces like that. Though I’ve been told mine is one, and I disagree. I have never wanted to punch myself in the face.”
Rollan felt himself rambling. He shut his mouth and looked down, aware of Aidana nearby, watching him.
He’d left in the night. He’d abandoned her in Samis and run like a coward from an uncomfortable decision.
“I’m moving in,” Conor said. Tarik raised an eyebrow.
“Just there,” Conor said, pointing to where the dock planking hit dirt. “I want to be on dry land.”
“Okay,” Tarik said. “We all go, slowly. Just there, like Conor said. A respectful distance.”
“Oh,” Maya said, her eyes searching the water as if hoping for the ferry to return. No other boats were in sight. “Tarik? I’m just going to sit over here . . . at the end of the dock . . . and . . . and watch the sea, okay?”
Tarik nodded, watching Abeke speak with Shane. They were walking slowly, almost idly.
“He’s leading Abeke to those crates,” Conor said. “Like a herder, nudging his flock.”
Rollan wasn’t so sure. Conor was often jumping to conclusions, but they were getting farther away.
“They’re coming back now,” Tarik said. Shane and Abeke had turned. Abeke waved to get their attention.
“Good news!” Abeke yelled over to them. “They’ve agreed to a trade!”
A trade? What did Shane have that the Greencloaks wanted?
Tahlia was suddenly beside Tarik, her hideous flat frog lying on the palm of her hand. “You will give us the bear’s talisman.” She smiled coldly. “And we will return Uraza to you.”
Rollan frowned. Shane was next to Abeke, smiling as they spoke. Did he know what these two were saying? His hand was holding Abeke’s arm like a gentleman might hold a lady, but his hand was directly over the tattoo of Uraza.
Ana, her lizard scrambling around her ankles, spoke in a soft tone, so her voice would not carry to Abeke. “Shane is too much of a diplomat, so Zerif made su
re we came along and enforced the plan. He was especially hurt by Abeke’s betrayal. We will return Uraza, after we have cut her from the Niloan’s flesh. Perhaps the Greencloaks can bind the wound and make the union fresh, if you are quick about it.”
Tarik had paled. Rollan thought all of this talk about cutting Uraza away was rubbish, but Tarik seemed to be taking something about it seriously.
“Now,” the girl said, holding out a sack. “The talisman, please.”
No one moved. Shane looked over toward their group, still holding on to Abeke, his brow furrowed. Somewhere farther inland, a dog barked.
“Wait!” Shane yelled suddenly.
Without warning, Conor released Briggan. The wolf leaped directly from Conor’s arm to on top of Tahlia. Her frog dropped to the ground with a splat. Ana’s lizard hissed at the wolf, baring needlelike teeth. Like everyone else apparently, Rollan was so distracted by Briggan he didn’t notice Conor run until he’d crossed the space and rammed his shoulder into Shane’s middle, knocking him away from Abeke.
“Leave her alone!” Conor shouted.
Other Conquerors, several with spirit animals of their own, moved forward to attack, but suddenly Briggan was there. And Briggan was huge.
Conor was wearing the Slate Elephant.
The wolf was the size of an elephant, his cobalt-blue eyes cold with rage, his canines exposed with each mad bark. The Conquerors lifted weapons, but Briggan swiped at the first wave with his paw, knocking them flat.
Tarik whirled, sweeping the feet out from underneath Ana and Tahlia with a low kick, spinning into a leap that landed him directly behind them and ready to strike. As he did so, Rollan saw a bear of a man stalk from the shadows. He took two deliberate steps toward Tarik, clamped his arm underneath Tarik’s chin, and began to squeeze.
Rollan ran toward Tarik, unsure what he could possibly do against this beast of a man, now holding Tarik off the ground by his neck. As Rollan sprinted, an arrow flew past his head close enough for him to feel the fletching. He stumbled, stepping on something soft and wet, which sent him sprawling. Tahlia screamed. As he skidded to a rest on his rear, he saw it had been her frog, now sitting splat in the dirt. He couldn’t tell if he had killed it or not. Tahlia looked at him with rage in her eyes and drew a throwing knife.
Rollan threw up his arms in an attempt to protect his face from flying steel, but nothing came. He scrambled to his feet and saw Meilin engaging both Tahlia and Ana with effortless grace. They struck, she spun. They kicked, she twisted. It looked like she was dancing. Rollan watched, almost forgetting it was a fight until Meilin planted a fist into the face of Ana, knocking her flat to the ground.
Everything was happening so fast. Fights breaking out. The roofs in motion. Scores of Conquerors teeming toward them. Rollan ran toward Meilin to help, though she didn’t seem to need it. Her moves were so quick, Jhi must be in active state.
Then he saw the panda, sitting in the shadow of a stack of crates. Rollan heard the release of arrows. He didn’t falter, running toward Meilin. She adjusted something under her coat, faced the oncoming arrows, and punched them out of the air.
The Crystal Polar Bear, Rollan realized.
Punch after punch, the arrows came at her and Jhi, but Meilin’s invisibly extended arms swiped them out of the air, knocking them off course before they could strike her spirit animal.
“This way,” a voice said.
Rollan whirled. Aidana gestured frantically.
“This will only get worse,” she said. “Come with me.”
“I can’t,” said Rollan. “My friends —”
“I need you to trust me now, Rollan,” said Aidana. Panic lit her eyes, and she seemed as fierce and as beautiful as a bird of prey. “Now, Rollan!”
She disappeared around a large, square building. Rollan raced to the corner where his mother had gone, the noise of the battle prickling at his mind like a swarm of bees, no individual words distinguishable until he heard a new voice, a shriek, something that reminded him of the sound he had heard a cat make once when struck by a passing cart. But this sound had words in it.
“STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!” the voice said.
Rollan whirled to look.
And then there was fire.
ABEKE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND. EVERYTHING HAD BEEN FINE. Shane had promised he could get the Conquerors to leave in peace if they traded him the Crystal Polar Bear for the Iron Boar.
“It isn’t safe for any one group to hold them all,” Shane had said, “no matter how well intentioned. We just need to understand each talisman. But we won’t steal the polar bear and leave you with none. I promise I won’t let them.”
Power sharing made a kind of sense, especially if it would allow her friends to go free. But then Briggan had pounced, and arrows began to fly.
When Conor plowed into Shane, Shane was still holding Abeke’s arm, and the three of them spiraled into a heap onto the cobblestones below. Abeke felt like the end of a whip, riding a wave of movement that ended with her head smacking the ground.
She rolled to one side, stunned. Trying to stand, her vision wavered, and she dropped to one knee, blinking several times. She could feel the irritation of blood dripping down her ear, but the sight before her drove any other thoughts out of her mind. Men and women and animals everywhere, thrashing, swarming, fighting. Fighting her friends.
Her eyes were drawn to four or five animals surrounding Jhi. Two wild dogs, a common house cat, a goat, and a stag were just staring at the panda. They had to be some of the Conquerors’ spirit animals, but they weren’t attacking.
A soldier barreled into Jhi, pushing her sideways. He raised a sword.
“Stop!” Abeke yelled, but the sounds of fury around her were too loud to be overcome. She saw one of the dogs bite the soldier’s arm before Abeke was knocked to the ground.
A body had rolled into her, and she felt sweat or water or blood spatter her with the impact. She reached out, uncertain whether she was in danger, but wanting to help, no matter who it was.
It was Conor. He grabbed her hand.
“Are you okay? You’re bleeding,” he said, pointing to her right temple with a finger that looked like it had been bitten by a crocodile.
“You’re bleeding too,” she managed to say.
Between her and the buildings of the village — were those archers on top? — a figure stood, hand raised. The sun was behind him, washing out everything but a silhouette, yet Abeke knew it was Shane. His hand was splayed out, high, as if trying to hold back a sky filled with a dark swarm of birds. No, not birds. Arrows. Arrows arcing up, up, up to the sky, and now down. It seemed to Abeke like hundreds of shots had been taken at the sun, and having failed to reach their destination, changed targets. To her.
Instinct took over, and she seemed to no more think about calling Uraza out than she thought about making her own heart beat. Even as the leopard leaped forward, Abeke leaped too, her stride lengthened, her strength increased.
Abeke landed and rolled. The movement made her head spin, and she was certain that had she not been as hungry as she was, her last meal would have left her stomach. A dozen shafts plunged into the earth beside her. Much fewer than the hundreds she’d thought she’d seen. She wasn’t thinking straight. She felt herself start to shake as her body seemed to realize before her mind that when she’d leaped away from the arrows, Conor had not. He lay hunched over, head bowed, three arrows lodged in his back.
He sat up suddenly and she gasped, stunned he was still alive.
“Abeke!” Conor yelled. “We’ve got to get to Meilin. Get behind Meilin!”
He stood, dropping his pack, and the arrows with it.
“Only one got through,” he said. “And just barely. I’ll be okay.”
There was another shout from Shane, and Abeke saw he had two hands up this time, waving them desperately. There were mor
e arrows. More than a dozen. More than they could dodge. More than they could live through. She closed her eyes.
The heat of the sun on her face disappeared, and she opened her eyes to shadow, a huge shape blocking the sun. She heard the sound of dozens of arrows hitting a target different than intended, like an awkward chorus of rugs being beaten clean, and she found herself still alive and arrow free. The shape between her and the archers moved, and the light caught a rippling of gray fur. Briggan! Great Briggan, made huge by the Slate Elephant, was nearly the size of a real elephant.
His fur was so thick, the arrows didn’t seem to have penetrated his skin. Conor jumped on the wolf’s back and raised his shepherd’s crook like some kind of shepherd king going to war.
“Get on!” he shouted.
“I’ll run with Uraza,” Abeke said.
Conor seemed about to argue, but a dozen soldiers were running at him. The wolf growled a sound like the end of the world, and for a moment, everything was quiet but for the whimpering of several animals that Abeke could not see. Then the Great Wolf leaped at the soldiers, and it all began again.
Briggan scattered the men, grabbing one between his powerful jaws. Abeke heard a sharp crack and the Great Wolf threw the body aside to snap at an approaching ox and its rider.
Abeke ducked behind some crates as more arrows flew. There seemed to be hundreds of Conquerors, and no one was listening to Shane. He’d stop them if he could, she knew, but the frenzy of battle swept away all thought and reason.
A great maned lion pounced. Abeke only noticed a blur of yellow before Uraza’s answering yowl raised the hairs on her arms. While the two cats fought, Abeke nocked an arrow. The swirl of golden bodies made targeting the lion impossible. She glanced up and spotted more archers on the roof. She saw one turn, targeting Conor on the back of Briggan. Abeke aimed and shot. The archer fell from the roof.
Uraza bumped her knee. The lion was still. Abeke put a hand on her spirit animal’s head.
“To Meilin,” she said.
They began to run. In her periphery, she saw Conor duck behind Great Briggan as more arrows shot from the tops of buildings, striking the wolf. It seemed impossible that his thick coat could deflect them all. And even the largest beast could be slain with sufficient ammunition and strategy. They needed strategy. In this kind of wild fighting, the side with the most fighters always won. And that meant she and her friends were sure to lose. And die.