Hunted

  “Conor!” Meilin cried desperately, somehow seeing him between Conquerors. Saying his name took Meilin’s concentration away for a heartbeat too long — a macaw swooped down and blinded her with scarlet feathers and claws. It gave a nearby enemy enough time to grab her by the leg and pull her down.

  “Briggan!” Conor shouted to the wolf, who darted into the crowd and heaved the Conqueror off Meilin. Another one, however, took his place in an instant — there were too many. Far too many.

  A bobcat leaped for Conor’s face; he threw his staff into the air just in time to knock it away. He bashed it a second time in the head, rendering it unconscious, then ran forward, staff held horizontal so that it crashed into the backs of a few unsuspecting Conquerors. A baboon grabbed hold of his arm, yanking him down so hard Conor thought he might have dislocated his shoulder. Wincing through the pain, Conor whirled around and punched it squarely in the face. Rollan was suddenly there, offering him a hand up, but he’d no sooner found his feet than he realized a group of Conquerors were surrounding the two of them.

  “Any ideas?” Rollan said. Essix swooped down, clawing at the eyes of a few Conquerors, but it wasn’t enough to stop the horde. Briggan was still helping Meilin; Uraza and Abeke were being forced farther and farther into the orchard. Conor gripped his staff; Rollan, his sword.

  Suddenly a pile of men were lifted into the air with a chorus of screams — Rumfuss! The boar smashed through them, sending fur and bodies flying. Conor wanted to pause and marvel at his size and strength, but there was no time. He spun forward, bringing the staff down hard on a nearby Conqueror’s head.

  Conor turned to see who needed help; there were still so many enemies, at least another half dozen, and mostly the ones with the sizable spirit animals. Meilin leaped from a branch and, midair, released Jhi from passive form. The panda slammed to the ground, butt-first, crushing a woman beneath her, and then in a flash was back to being a tattoo on Meilin’s arm. Finn was by her, fending off a man with a giraffe who used its muscled neck like a battering ram —

  Conor suddenly felt the unmistakable pain of teeth slicing into his shoulder. Devin’s black wildcat had leaped on him from behind. Its claws and teeth were tearing into Conor’s skin. He couldn’t stop himself from screaming in pain, and turned in a wide circle, flinging the beast off. Conor grabbed his shoulder, and his hand came away sticky with blood.

  “Not so great now, are you?” Devin hissed at him, and stalked forward. He tilted his head toward the wildcat, who raced back to him and threaded herself around his legs. Devin started forward; Conor lifted his staff but winced. He couldn’t hold its weight with his injuries.

  “You thought you were so special, didn’t you, Conor? You thought you were better than me. You thought Briggan made you greater. Briggan’s just a shadow of the Great Beast he used to be. Elda, however, is still a legend.”

  Conor backed up; strong hands grabbed his shoulders — a Conqueror. The man dug his fingers into Conor’s fresh wound until he shrieked in pain. Briggan, I need you, he thought desperately.

  Then he saw the wolf. Briggan was being held down by several Conquerors, one of whom kicked him sharply in the stomach. Briggan yelped loudly, and Conor could feel the noise in his skull.

  Seeing this, Devin snorted. “Great Beast? Sure.” He turned back to Conor. “Elda. Take him down.”

  Conor closed his eyes, but then immediately opened them again — he was scared, but he wasn’t going to face his death with his eyes shut. Elda yowled, deep, sharp, and rumbling, and sprang forward.

  Something else grabbed the wildcat in midair, crushing her to the ground. Something sleek and black, almost like a shadow rather than an animal. It bounded away quickly. Elda didn’t get up, but her chest continued to rise and fall weakly. Devin’s eyes widened and he rushed to her side. With a flash, she disappeared into a tattoo on his arm. The Conqueror holding Conor’s shoulders released him, drawing a knife to fight off whatever this new creature was. But the animal was too fast — it pounced on the man, slashing his neck with what must be massive teeth. Then it shot off toward Meilin and Finn.

  Devin was roaring angrily, shouting at the others. Karmo, who had been fighting Abeke, turned to look — just long enough for Rollan to tackle him to the ground and then hold him at swordpoint. Abeke dove for the hammerkop, which narrowly avoided her grasp and flapped for the trees. Conor ran for Briggan and shoved his staff deep into the stomach of the man kicking his wolf. It gave Briggan just enough time to bound to his feet and leap back into action.

  The Conquerors were realizing how dangerously low their numbers had fallen — three left, no, two, since Rumfuss had just tossed one over the wall.

  The dark shape, still moving too fast for Conor to see clearly, pounced on another man. Finn tossed his blade to Meilin, who held it aloft toward the final Conqueror. The man looked at her, then at the others. He then turned and fled.

  “Coward!” Devin screamed. “Come back and fight!”

  It was not very wise for Devin to draw attention to himself — Uraza heard him. She bounded across the orchard and pounced, slamming Devin into the ground with her front paws. She bared her teeth at the boy, flexing her claws out so that they pricked Devin’s shoulders.

  “Is everyone all right?” Conor finally asked, panting.

  “I’m fine,” Abeke said. “Just hold him there, Uraza —”

  “Get your stupid cat off me!” Devin barked.

  Abeke shook her head. “Never mind, Uraza. You can eat him.”

  This shut Devin up, at least for a few moments, while the others called out. Meilin had a bad cut on her arm, and maybe some broken toes. Essix was missing more than a few tail feathers, and it was making her fly all wobbly. Rollan had a black eye, though Karmo, lying on the ground with his palms up in surrender, had two.

  They’d survived. Not only survived . . . they’d won. Conor could scarcely believe it.

  And Finn — where was he?

  “Finn?” Conor called out. “Where’d he go?”

  “He was just here!” Meilin said, looking around in a panic.

  “I’m fine,” Finn said. His voice was hushed and thick with awe. It took them a few moments to work out where it was coming from. When they did, their jaws dropped in unison.

  “Finn!” Abeke finally said. “It’s you!”

  Finn smiled, really smiled, his face bright and open. Conor couldn’t remember him ever smiling before. The Greencloak lowered his arm and ran it along the back of a spirit animal — his spirit animal — who stood by his feet. He touched the creature with nervous, shaking hands, like he was very afraid this was just a dream.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Meilin asked wonderously.

  “I thought he was gone,” Finn said. “I thought he didn’t want me anymore.” His spirit animal looked up at him, then forced his head into Finn’s hand, nuzzling at him. He was beautiful — ink black, with even blacker spots that glowed in the moonlight.

  A black wildcat.

  18: Black Wildcat

  FINN WAS THE BOY FROM THE NORTH, THE LEGEND DEVIN only pretended to be. Abeke laughed loudly in shock, Meilin stared, and Rollan scoffed and shook his head like he still didn’t quite believe it. Even Rumfuss looked impressed.

  “The bond . . . never lost,” Rumfuss said, so wisely that it was hard to think less of him when he dropped his head and ate a mostly rotten apple from the ground.

  “Rumfuss,” Conor said. The boar looked up, and Conor dropped his head with respect. “Thank you for fighting with us.”

  “Thank you,” Rumfuss said roughly, “for . . . fighting for me.” The boar paused for a moment, then also dropped his head to the ground. At first Conor presumed it was to eat another piece of fallen fruit. Instead, the boar dug his massive tusk into the dirt of the nearest tree. It only took him a few moments to emerge with something hanging from it.

  “Is that —” Abeke began.

  “The talisman?” Conor finished.

  “H
ere,” Rumfuss said, stretching his neck out. Conor reached forward and took the pendant from the boar’s shining tusk, his muscles tensing at the animal’s smoky breath on his forearm. The talisman — the Iron Boar — was very heavy, and a deep rust color similar to Rumfuss’s hide. It was shaped like a boar, of course, and while Conor couldn’t be certain, he suspected the miniature boar’s tusks were made from bits of Rumfuss’s full-sized ones. They were too perfect not to be.

  “Thank you,” Conor said. “Thank you so much.” He slipped the talisman around his neck and turned to the others. Karmo rose, still at Rollan’s swordpoint. Uraza reluctantly got off Devin, though Meilin was quick to brandish her own dagger right under his chin.

  “Wait,” Rollan said. “Rumfuss. We promised to free him for the talisman.”

  “I will . . . be fine,” Rumfuss snorted, but Rollan shook his head.

  “We’ve got to get him out of here,” he said. He turned to Rumfuss. “Come with us. We’ll tell MacDonnell how you fought off Conquerors on his grounds. He’ll owe you a favor.”

  “Hopefully that favor will work for the rest of us too, because we don’t have the hare,” Conor said.

  “Hare?” Rumfuss asked.

  “MacDonnell’s lost spirit animal. He ran off before Finn and I could convince him to return. What do you think MacDonnell will care about more — that we didn’t hold up our end of the bargain, or that we stopped his castle from being invaded?”

  No one answered. It was hard to tell with someone like MacDonnell. Conor tucked the talisman under his shirt. With a resigned sigh, he led the others back through the orchard groves, toward the castle. The trek back through the massive gardens took nearly as long as it had to find the boar. Rumfuss followed, uprooting entire trees when they got in his way rather than walking around them. The two prisoners sulked silently the whole way — or rather, silently until either Rollan or Meilin poked them a bit too hard with the tips of their blades.

  They arrived back at the garden steps to see most of the castle staff waiting for them. The night sky was already brightening. Rumfuss had elected to wait within the boundary of the tree line. MacDonnell and his children stood ahead of the others.

  “Kindly tell me, what sounded like a war going on in my garden?” MacDonnell barked at them, motioning toward the orchards.

  “It was a war. Well, a battle, I guess. But it sure felt like a war,” Rollan said, and Karmo made a sound of agreement.

  “Lord MacDonnell,” Finn said. “Devin and Karmo allowed other Conquerors onto your grounds to help them capture Rumfuss the Boar and take his talisman.”

  MacDonnell’s eyes widened, and a vein on his forehead began to pulsate. Seeing this, his children stepped away. “You mean to tell me, these two not only insulted my hospitality . . . they invaded my home?”

  “We didn’t invade —”

  “Silence!” MacDonnell roared. “Guards! Relieve me of the burden of Devin Trunswick’s presence. Lock up him and his companion immediately. And force Devin to call his spirit animal into its passive state.”

  “It is in its passive state, sir,” Conor said shyly. “This wildcat belongs to Finn.”

  Now all attention shot to Finn, and a ripple of shock and awe raced through the crowd. Even MacDonnell’s lips parted in wonder as Finn stepped forward, his wildcat, Donn, moving regally beside him. Donn made Elda look like a kitten. He was all muscle, with eyes as bright and yellow as the sun reflected off water. His black fur was dark velvet.

  “The wildcat? The one from the legends? That means . . . you . . .” MacDonnell said, lifting his eyes to Finn. Suddenly MacDonnell was laughing, voice booming. “The true legend! In my home! I knew it couldn’t be that snub-nosed Trunswick child!”

  Finn bowed a bit, though he seemed rather bashful of the attention. Conor could relate. As the tittering and excitement died down, Finn cleared his throat. “My lord, we did not stop the Conquerors on our own. We were assisted by none other than Rumfuss, the Great Beast.”

  At this, Rumfuss, who had been mostly lurking in the shadows of the garden, stepped ever so slightly into the dwindling moonlight. The sheer size of him was obvious, even from this glimpse. The boar’s eyes landed hard upon Lord MacDonnell. A hush fell over the assembled crowd; a few people went indoors, wary of Rumfuss’s ferocity. Conor found himself wondering for the first time just how the Great Beast had ended up within these walls. A story for another time, perhaps.

  “It would be very honorable, sir,” Conor added, “for you to release him from captivity, in return for his heroics.”

  MacDonnell paused. He puffed up his shoulders a bit, and somehow managed to look nearly as large as Rumfuss. “The deal, if I recall, was my hare for Rumfuss and his talisman. I cannot allow lawbreakers to simply suggest new laws for their own convenience.”

  “Oh, come on!” Rollan snapped. “You’d be overrun with Conquerors right now!”

  “My castle, my law!” MacDonnell barked, and there was a buzz of agreement among the crowd, though Conor suspected this was merely because no one wanted to disagree with a man like MacDonnell. He shook his head, furious with himself for not convincing the hare sooner.

  Behind him, Rumfuss made a deep sound in his throat, one that was loud but strangely gentle, almost like a cat purring. Rumfuss inclined his large head, indicating over his shoulder with a perfect tusk, then stamped a foot on the ground softly.

  A collective gasp rose from the crowd. MacDonnell’s face paled and, even from afar, Conor could see his lower lip was trembling.

  It was the hare. It hopped from behind Rumfuss slowly, cautiously. Rumfuss looked down at the hare, who peered back up at him. They were speaking, though whatever they were saying was beyond any of the humans present. The hare now turned and looked up at MacDonnell, who sank to his knees in one swift motion. The sight of the great Lord MacDonnell in such a position sent a chorus of gasps from the assembled servants.

  Rumfuss looked up at MacDonnell. “Say . . . sorry.”

  “I’m sorry,” MacDonnell said immediately. “I’m so very sorry.”

  “Say . . . never again.”

  “Never again!” MacDonnell said, voice pleading.

  “Say . . . you want.”

  “What?”

  “I think the hare wants to know you want him,” Meilin said. She wore a pained expression that Conor couldn’t quite figure out. “That you are satisfied with him.”

  “I do! I am!” MacDonnell bellowed. With this, the hare sprang forward. MacDonnell’s face spread into a wide, teary grin as the hare leaped into the air and, with a flash, disappeared — only to reappear as a tattoo on the man’s forearm. MacDonnell rose, tears falling freely, and placed a hand over the hare tattoo, like he was afraid it would melt away.

  “You’re free!” he called out to Rumfuss. “Free! I should never have locked you up. You have my gratitude and my apologies, Rumfuss. I beg you to forgive me.”

  Rumfuss didn’t seem quite ready for forgiveness, but he patiently followed the guards around the edge of the castle. Then, when the gates had finally opened, he was patient no more. There was a sound that seemed to shake the entire castle, and suddenly the only Great Beasts left in the garden were the ones that had come with them.

  19: Iron Boar

  WHILE MACDONNELL WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPY TO HOUSE the Greencloaks as esteemed guests for another night, Finn had insisted time was of the essence. Though Rollan loudly protested — the boy had only slept a single night in that amazing bed — their group set off that very morning. Understandably, they bypassed Trunswick entirely, shaving several days off the return trip to Lady Evelyn’s. There they found a rather embarrassed Tarik, much improved from his previous condition. He was tired, but healthy enough to travel with them the relatively short way back to Greenhaven Castle.

  Finn, however, would not be going with them. After a hushed and intense conversation, Tarik returned to the group and announced that he would ask Olvan’s permission for Finn to remain at Glengavin. F
inn would act as a much-needed emissary for the Greencloaks in the North. He was, after all, supposed to be their long-awaited hero. It took a little convincing that the group wouldn’t need his protection on the way back — Tarik was clearly not yet at full strength — but Rollan’s enthusiastic and animated retelling of the battle in the apple orchard reminded the older Greencloaks that the Four Fallen had learned a lot on this trip.

  Still, they were glad that the remaining leg of the journey was so short, with just a single night’s stop between them and home. Soon they would be back in Greenhaven, enjoying a well-earned moment of peace and safety.

  They had done it, really done it. The second talisman was in Greencloak hands.

  That night, as Conor stood watch over the others, he reveled in the wide, starry peace of the Euran pasture for what might be the last time in a long, long while.

  And just for a moment, he let his guard down.

  A cloaked figure loomed out of the darkness. Immediately Conor scrambled to his feet, ready to cry out for the others. As he reached for a weapon, however, a low, familiar voice, said, “Conor, it’s me.”

  Dawson. Conor blinked at Devin’s little brother. He kept his voice quiet, so that he wouldn’t wake the others. “Why are you here? Are you alone?”

  Dawson pushed back his hood, revealing shiny, high cheeks and bright eyes. He nodded. “I have a letter for you.”

  Conor marveled that the younger boy had tracked them down just to deliver a letter, but he nodded. Bashfully, he admitted, “You know I won’t be able to read it.”

  “I’ll read it,” whispered Dawson, taking the weathered sheet from his cloak with a sad expression. “But just . . . I’m sorry, Conor. It’s from my father.” He took a deep breath.

  Conor, son of Fenray,

  I know that we last met under unpleasant terms, and you will not want to listen to what I have to say. However, I would like you to imagine the starving faces of your family as Dawson reads you this letter. Then you should imagine all the worse things than starvation that can befall a woman charged with betraying her lord to his enemy — even if this enemy is her own son. I have a bargain for you. Give the Iron Boar to Dawson. As soon as it is in my hands, I will forgive your family’s debt and your mother will go free. They will own the land they work, and all the sheep they tend. They will be freemen, no longer my serfs. All you have to do is give Dawson the talisman. And if you do not? I will hold them to every last copper that they owe me, and I promise you, they will starve this winter, and the fate of your mother will be far crueller. Rest assured this is the last you will hear from me either way. Devin has become involved in something that Trunswick can no longer afford to support openly, lest we collapse upon ourselves. Zerif tells me that if the Conquerors may have their talisman, then I may have my family back. And so you will have yours.