They all slowed to a stop as they reached the shore. The waves crashed in perfect arcs, sliding white foam up the sand and toward their feet. Rollan pulled off his boots and let his toes wriggle in the surf. He breathed deeply. The air was salty and cool. Nearby, Uraza leaned her head forward and tentatively sniffed at the water. Behind her, Jhi ambled up. The panda paused behind Uraza, rolled her silver eyes innocently skyward, and gave the great cat a playful nudge. Uraza fell forward into the surf. She immediately pounced up, shaking water from her head, and gave Jhi a grumpy swat with her paw. Jhi just blinked big, sweet eyes back.
Abeke and Meilin laughed as Uraza chased Jhi along the shore, the two acting for a moment like they were young cubs.
“I wonder if Olvan’s forces defeated the Conquerors,” Conor said as they all joined Rollan.
“Maybe they’re already sailing for Greenhaven,” Meilin added.
Rollan smiled at that thought. He pictured the gray mood lifted from Greenhaven, and how beautiful the hills must be now. He looked down the line of Nilo’s coast that curved off into the horizon. “It will be a long journey back,” he said.
Abeke nodded, but she had a smile on her face too. “A journey spent in the best company.” She looked at Meilin as she said it, and Meilin beamed.
“One more journey,” Meilin replied. “A victory march.”
Rollan nudged Meilin in the ribs with his elbow. He gave her a sidelong grin. “I bet I can beat you back to Greenhaven.”
Meilin raised an amused eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Hey, you’ve been gone for a long while, and I’ve been training. Just saying.”
Meilin merely grinned. “Then let’s see a demonstration.”
Rollan tossed hair out of his face. Then, without warning, he darted down the shore.
“Hey!” Meilin exclaimed. “No warning? No ‘on your mark’?” She bolted too, leaving Abeke and Conor to jog along behind them, grinning at their antics.
Some things would never change. Meilin caught up to Rollan and passed him. As she did, he caught her, threw an arm around her neck, and ruffled up her hair. Meilin squealed, her laughter ringing out in the clean ocean air.
It was so nice to laugh.
It was so nice to head home.
The storms stopped in Zhong, and the earthquakes quieted in Eura. The snow disappeared from Nilo, unveiling the land in its former beauty.
Even better, the Conquerors had been defeated. With Gerathon’s death, the Bile had lost its power over those who drank it. In that instant, nearly half of the Conqueror armies had simply abandoned the battle. The rest quickly surrendered.
As they sailed back toward Greenhaven, the four saw all the signs of normalcy returning to the world. Relieved looks graced the people’s faces in port cities. Clusters of cheering citizens sometimes gathered on the shores to watch the Greencloaks sail by.
Still, signs of healing did not mean that tragedy was forgotten. The land bridge between Stetriol and Nilo remained, and many cities were still picking up the pieces, building new homes and farms around broken, collapsed ones. Erdas would take time to heal. Without the Nectar of Ninani, no one could be sure how the future would look for new bonds with spirit animals, or even that bonds could happen at all, until the new Evertree matured. But one thing was for sure: The bonding sickness was gone, and with it, the Bile and the Nectar.
The links between man and animal could begin anew.
On a beautiful, warm afternoon, the Four Fallen and the Greencloaks’ caravan finally docked at home. As they made the final leg of their journey, Rollan could see the spires and battlements of Greenhaven Castle peeking out from the climb from the docks, basking under the light of a bright sun.
Overhead, Essix soared and let out a call of fierce joy. Rollan smiled as he looked up at her tiny figure, then turned back to the castle’s silhouette.
“I can’t believe you actually became a Greencloak,” Meilin said as she walked beside him. She shot him a quick smile.
“Me neither,” Rollan replied. “I look awful in green.” Even as he smiled back, the memory of Tarik came fresh to him, bringing with it a sharp stab of pain. Rollan imagined Tarik was still alive, traveling home with them now. What would he have made of everything they’d accomplished?
Meilin watched him thoughtfully, as if she knew what he was thinking.
“Do you think Tarik would have been proud of me?” Rollan asked in a soft voice.
Meilin reached over to take his hand. She squeezed it once. “I know he would be,” she replied.
“Hey, guys,” Conor said as he trotted back to them. Abeke walked nearby too, unable to contain her excitement. “Look at the crowd that’s gathered near the castle. They’re all waiting for us!”
Rollan craned his neck. Conor was right; as they crested the top of the staircase, he saw before the castle’s silhouette a mass of people, their faint chants carried on the wind. Rollan thought they were chanting something about victory and the Four Fallen. He certainly recognized a cheer for Essix.
“Let’s go join the party, then,” Rollan exclaimed, hurrying upward.
It seemed like the closer they came, the bigger the crowd got. By the time they crested the final staircase and saw the sprawling courtyard of Greenhaven Castle, masses of people had completely filled either side.
“The Four Fallen have returned!” someone yelled as they approached. “The heroes are back!”
The cheers were deafening. Rollan waved enthusiastically as their procession passed through the crowds, while Conor bowed his head in humble acknowledgment. Abeke and Meilin just gaped in awe. With the people were also spirit animals – a beautiful crested heron next to a girl with pigtails, a boy with a white-faced monkey sitting on his shoulder, another boy with a hedgehog. As they threw rice and colorful strips of paper in the air, the heron flapped its wings to blow the paper toward them. Rollan laughed, swatting the strips away.
“Mom!”
Conor’s shout stopped Rollan short. His eyes darted to where Conor was looking, and there, he saw Conor’s mother and family rushing out of the packed crowds and onto the courtyard’s center. Conor pushed forward, stumbling in his haste, and then ran toward her. She pulled him into a huge hug.
Abeke let out a startled laugh from where she walked Her father and sister waved at her from the side of the street. They had come to see her! Rollan couldn’t stop smiling as, in spite of everything, she rushed over to them. She paused for a moment right as she reached them, as if unsure what to do next, but Soama pulled her into a hug, and Pojalo put his hands on their shoulders.
Rollan searched in vain for a sign of his own mother. I won’t find her here, he reminded himself with a sinking heart. Gerathon was gone now, and though his mother no longer needed to obey the Bile or live in fear – she had been with the Conquerors. Meilin and Abeke had both seen her in Nilo. Even with the Conquerors dissolving after their losses, there would be no reason for her to come here.
What wishful thinking. Rollan steeled his heart. Expectations just lead to disappointment, he reminded himself. He looked back at Conor hugging his family and tried to imagine himself in the same place, tried to convince himself that seeing his friend’s joy would be the same as experiencing his own.
“Rollan?”
The voice was quiet, so quiet that Rollan barely heard it. He whirled back around. Where did it come from? He looked at the cheering faces, but saw no one familiar looking back. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. Perhaps he’d imagined the voice. Rollan shook his head and was about to turn away when he heard it again.
“Rollan! Rollan!”
“Look!” Meilin exclaimed, pointing into the crowd. There Rollan saw a frantically waving hand making its way closer through the people. It was a woman. She had dark hair and tanned skin, and her eyes were a warm, breathtaking brown. He watched her as she made her way into the street, but even when she stood there, right before him, he could hardly believe the sight.
Mother?
She didn’t look like she had the last time he’d seen her. She looked happy now. Free.
Rollan couldn’t remember stepping forward. He couldn’t remember if he said anything, if he called out for her like Conor had, or even if he bothered to smile or laugh or cry. All he remembered was running across the cobblestones. One moment he was still with the rest of the procession, and the next, he was in his mother’s arms, holding on for dear life. He was laughing. Crying? He didn’t care.
“You’re here!” he said.
Aidana didn’t answer. Maybe there wasn’t much that needed to be said, at least not yet. So she hugged him tight, and he returned the embrace. How long ago had it been since Rollan sat in a filthy dungeon cell, a lost orphan that nobody wanted? How much had changed. He smiled so hard that it hurt.
Through a haze of joy, Rollan realized that Abeke had stepped over to join him in his celebration, along with her father and sister. Conor and his family were hurrying up the path toward them. Rollan wiped his eyes and laughed. Then he gazed at where Meilin still stood, alone.
She was smiling too, but in the midst of all these family reunions, she looked a little lost, as if unsure whether or not she should be allowed to join them. Rollan’s smile wavered for a moment.
Meilin’s father was gone. She would have no reunion here today. When she saw Rollan’s face, she smiled wider in an attempt to hide her sadness.
“Meilin,” Rollan called out. He motioned for her to come over.
She hesitated, but when Abeke and Conor piped up too, Meilin took a tentative step forward, and then headed over with a shy smile. “Hi,” she said softly to their gathered families.
Aidana smiled warmly at her, then patted her cheek. “Hello, my darling,” she replied. And before Meilin could utter anything else, Rollan’s mother pulled her into a tight hug.
They all joined in, Abeke, Conor, and Rollan, until they were one big pile of arms and legs and hearts and smiles. Rollan found Meilin and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He looked from her to Conor, then to Abeke. “We’ll always have a family,” he said. “Always.”
At those words, Meilin’s moment of sadness faded away, and her smile turned genuine. She hugged them all back.
If Rollan used Essix’s vision right then, he would see, among the throngs of celebrating revelers, a tiny, almost insignificant cluster of friends wearing cloaks of green, each blending in with the ones next to it, so that no one could tell where one ended and the others began.
They were one.
The End
MARIE LU is the New York Times bestselling author of the Legend Trilogy and the Young Elites series. Before becoming a full-time writer, she worked in the video game industry as a Flash artist. She currently lives in Los Angeles with her husband, one Chihuahua mix, and two Pembroke Welsh Corgis, and spends her time writing, reading, drawing, playing video games, and getting stuck in traffic.
You’ve read the book—now join the adventure at Scholastic.com/SpiritAnimals!
Enter the world of Erdas, where YOU are one of the rare few to summon a spirit animal.
Have your ebook ready and enter the code to unlock huge rewards!
NXNC3WD2TC
There are two sides to every story.
A sneak peek of
Book of Shane #1
By Nick Eliopulos
Available only in ebook.
by Nick Eliopulos
SHANE’S LIFE CHANGED FOREVER THE DAY HE WOKE TO the sound of screaming.
It was a scream right out of a nightmare – a sound of terror, and mourning, and fury all tangled together. It was barely human.
He’d never heard anything like it before, yet he knew at once that it was coming from his sister.
Shane leaped from bed and bolted from his room. At some point he stubbed his bare toe on stone, but the pain wouldn’t register until much later. At the moment there was only Drina, and the distance that kept him from her. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause at her threshold to wonder what terror awaited him, what monstrous sight could tear such a howl from his sister’s throat.
But he paused when he entered the room and its unnatural twilight. His own bedroom had been bright with morning’s light, and the hallway too. Something in Drina’s room was blocking the light. A frayed and tattered tapestry? Thick strands of cotton? Shane couldn’t quite make sense of it.
Drina had stopped screaming, but she lay convulsing in bed. Something was terribly wrong.
He went to her and gripped her by the shoulders, willing her to be still, but her body jumped and jerked beneath his fingers. She looked up at him with eyes that didn’t see him. They registered only horror.
He realized he was saying her name, over and over again. “Drina. Drina.”
Then he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.
He didn’t turn all at once. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and his ears prickled. He knew somehow that making any sudden moves would be a terrible mistake. So he kept his hands on his sister’s shoulders, and turned his head slowly, very slowly, until he was looking into the far corner of the room.
Squatting there in the shadows was the largest spider Shane had ever seen.
It saw him too. It stared back at him with eight eyes, alien and unreadable. Other than the bands of yellow along its abdomen, it was entirely black. Venom dripped from its fangs to the floor.
It stayed absolutely still, and Shane tried to stay still too. But he couldn’t suppress a shudder of fear and revulsion. He had to do something. Others would arrive soon – others must have heard Drina’s scream. And the next person through that door would step right beneath those dripping fangs.
He took a heavy brass lantern from Drina’s bedside.
He turned away from her slowly, so that he faced the spider. He would have to put all his strength behind his throw. He might only have one chance at this.
Those alien eyes stared back, unblinking.
Shane shifted his weight and gritted his teeth. He reared back with the lantern, ready to let it fly when –
Suddenly Drina screamed again. This time, she produced a word: “No!”
She lurched from her bed, shoving into him with all her might. Shane went flying; his head smacked against stone. The world reeled, and he hit stone again, and the lantern shattered all around him, covering him with broken glass.
“He’s mine,” his sister said. Through a haze of red he watched her take an unsteady step toward the creature on the wall, her arm outstretched, palm up. “He’s mine.”
It was only then that the true horror of the situation finally dawned on Shane. Despite his fervent hopes, his sister had summoned a spirit animal.
Unconsciousness came for him, and he did not fight it.
He didn’t want to see what happened next.
Shane never woke slowly. In the two years since Drina had summoned her spirit animal, he jolted awake each morning, usually in a cold sweat, always with a sense of dread. This morning was no different. He immediately scanned the ceiling, then checked the four corners of his bedroom for any sign of an animal. He kept the stone walls bare and the room clear of any clutter: the better to be sure nothing could hide from him. Finally, before daring to place his feet upon the floor, he leaned over the side of his bed, peering into the shadows beneath it like a young child checking for monsters.
It was only after he was satisfied that he had not summoned a spirit animal in his sleep that he remembered to breathe.
Shane knew the odds of being Marked were slim. He reminded himself of that fact every day. Yet despite the odds, every member of his immediate family had summoned an animal. People said they were cursed, and there were times Shane himself believed it.
He was nearly thirteen years old now. If he was going to get a spirit animal – and the bonding sickness that usually came with it – it would happen soon.
Shane slipped from bed and pulled his damp nightclothes over his head. He took a fresh tunic and trousers from h
is wardrobe – a wooden antique from which he’d removed the doors. That way it was one less hiding place for him to fear. And besides, Shane’s uncle had use for any wood he could get his hands on.
As he dressed, Shane remembered a time in his childhood when a servant would wake him, bathe him, dress him. But nearly all the servants were gone now. And it was just as well – there was no money with which to pay them, little food with which to feed them.
Shane knew very little about the lands outside of Stetriol, but he suspected he was the poorest prince in the world.
He walked the long hallway that led to the dining hall, trailing his finger along the stone wall and tapestries, leaving a line in the dust. The tapestries showed legendary scenes of Stetriol’s ancient past. On one, torrents of water flowed from the mouth of a frog, creating all the lakes and rivers. Another showed two lizards painting patterns on each other, one with a fine brush and an eye for detail, the other without care.
Shane knew of other tapestries – forgotten tapestries that still hung from the rafters in a dark and disused corner of the castle. Those artworks celebrated other animals entirely: formidable birds of prey, and huge, vicious cats, and an octopus with startlingly intelligent eyes. But the Great Beasts had cursed Stetriol. They were better forgotten.
Lost in thought, Shane jolted with surprise when he rounded a corner and saw a cloaked figure standing before him. He hoped she hadn’t seen him flinch, but it was hard to sneak anything past his tutor.
“Yumaris,” he said, nodding his head in greeting.
“My prince,” she said, lowering her own head in a sort of bow. Shane imagined if she attempted to lower herself any more than that, she might never manage to get up again. She clutched her staff as if without it her heavy robes might drag her to the floor.
He wasn’t sure exactly how old she was, but during her history lessons it was easy to imagine that she spoke from personal experience. The oddest thing about her, though, was that she sometimes spoke of the future as if it were history too.