The blow should have dropped him, yet he shook it off. Surprised by this, for a moment she didn't know how to react. Then he suddenly reached out and fastened his hand around her knee and with powerful fingers, squeezed the joint.
She cried out. It felt as though her knee were breaking! Her knife fell from her hand. The man released her, though she didn't know why—perhaps her scream had startled him—but she didn't give him a second chance. Without hesitation, she reached for her staff, which was strapped to her back. She pulled it out, holding it in front of her, shifting from her sore leg.
The man picked up a long branch from the ground, holding it in an identical fighting stance. Sora's mouth dropped open—absurd! None of the Ravens so far had been trained fighters; just petty thieves with old, rusty knives. She couldn't remember the last time she had fought an opponent, staff-on-staff.
She lunged forward, enjoying the feeling of the familiar weapon in her hands. The man moved to meet her, fearless and confident. He ducked her swing, then brought the makeshift staff up into her ribs. Uff! Sora hadn't expected the blow; that had slipped straight through her defenses. She staggered back, the wind knocked out of her.
The man took another swing, the staff whirling in his skilled grasp, but she ducked to one side just as it sailed over her head. She leapt away, trying to put some space between them, but pain stabbed into her foot, cutting through her boot and into her heel. With a grunt, Sora hobbled backwards, off-balance. The moon glinted and she saw her dagger on the ground, stained dark with blood. She cursed herself for her own carelessness, realizing she must have stepped on it by mistake.
In that second of hesitation, the man was on her and had her down on the ground, sprawled in the wet leaves. He held her pinned down by sheer weight, then put his staff to her throat and pressed it down to cut off her air supply. Feeling her control slipping away, Sora was filled with a sudden, intense fear. Terrible things could happen to a girl in the wilderness. Her mother had warned her. Men were capable of evil, despicable acts....
She reached out to one side, grasping for anything that might aid her in her struggle. Finally, her hand connected with the bloody dagger on the ground. Perfect!
Desperate, she grabbed the knife and lashed out wildly. She didn't know if she had cut him, but he sat back fast. Sora took her chance and launched herself to one side, rolling in a circle. Suddenly he was below her and she sat astride him.
He was prepared for the move. When she looked down at him, he had a long dagger in his hands, a new weapon he had pulled out of his cloak. Moving on instinct, she grabbed his hand and tried to take the knife away. It was a pure match of strength. Sora tried to keep her balance as he twisted beneath her; she cursed her light weight. If only I were a little heavier!
The man flipped the two of them over again easily. Now she was on the bottom, her legs astride him, his hips pressed against hers in an unexpectedly intimate way. She wasn't prepared for it. Suddenly she couldn't concentrate—she felt his hips, his torso, his thighs pressed against her, hot and powerful. She had never been under a man before; somehow, she hadn't envisioned this exact scenario. His body was large, heavy, muscular. She let out a harsh breath. Her control broke. She had been wrestling with the knife, but suddenly her arms caved and her body quivered with adrenaline and nerves, no longer able to resist his strength.
The man pressed the knife against her throat again. They held that position, each panting and heaving for breath, their bodies locked together. Sora didn't dare move. She tried not to think of the position they were in, of all the stories her mother had told her cautioning her to be careful. She let her chest rise and fall, the air choking in her lungs, fear and strange anticipation surging through her belly. He was a worthy fighter, for sure. It made her blood race.
Finally, she gasped, "W-who are you?"
There was another long, silent moment.
In a violent movement, the man dropped the knife and yanked back her hood. A rare beam of moonlight cut through the trees, illuminating her face. He stared at her, blocked by shadow, unreadable. He gazed for a long time—longer than she thought reasonable. Sweat dripped down both sides of her face and she felt cool air on her skin. There were leaves in her hair.
Fear coiled inside her again. She was acutely exposed in this position, defenseless. He could do anything he wanted to her.
Then he pulled down his own hood.
It took her a long moment to make out his face, which was turned away from the moonlight. But slowly, the angles and planes became visible. And finally, the color of his eyes. Green, like the deep meadows of the forest. All the air left her for a second time. She had seen green eyes like that before. Could it... could it really be....?
“C-Crash?” she whispered. No, impossible! She blinked, expecting it to be an illusion, like the man she had seen in the jail cell. But those glowing, vibrant eyes caught the moonlight and, for a moment, seemed as bright as fire.
He stared at her as though she were a ghost. She tried to shift from under him, but was suddenly uncertain. Why wasn't he letting her go? The memory of her vision came roaring to life again, his maniacal laughter, the evil that had oozed from his body. His eyes flickered over her, a shadow crossing his face, something dark and heated and feral....
Then he quickly sat back, lifting his weight off her. He allowed her to slip from beneath him, then rolled onto his feet, standing up and sheathing his knife. He held out a hand to help her up.
Sora was shocked, to say the least. He still hadn't said anything. She should have expected this. He's never been the chatty type.
When she took his hand, she was surprised to find herself shaking. Or maybe it was him? He pulled her to her feet. She let out a slow breath, amazed at the battle they had just fought. Dear Goddess, what if I had killed him? She almost laughed at the thought. As though I could.
Suddenly, there came a rustling from the bushes and a hulking figure appeared. She recognized the golden, wolf-like glow of his eyes, which burned through the night like a wild animal. “Burn!” she exclaimed, unable to keep the relief from her voice. It was certain now. She wasn't dreaming. She had finally found them!
She would have run to the giant mercenary—her heart felt like it might burst from her chest—but he was holding tight to the struggling, hissing form of Laina. From what she could tell, the girl was fighting for her life, with no results. The Wolfy looked down at his captive in amusement, then back to her. A wide smile was on his broad face.
"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed. His booming voice shook the night, breaking the moonlight's spell; she doubted that he was capable of whispering. “We thought you were a pair of those bandits. They attacked us a few nights back and took our horses and supplies."
Sora’s mouth dropped. “You thought we were bandits?” she asked in disbelief. “But we thought you were bandits!”
The Wolfy laughed again.
“This is all very funny,” Laina said, her hair in disarray and her tone nasty. “But it would be much more fun if you would let me go!”
“Oh, sorry,” Burn grinned again, a sheepish twinkle in his eyes. Laina broke away from his muscular arms and jumped to Sora's side, still carrying the panicked, slightly-winded look of an escaped rabbit. She stared at Sora and the two men.
“Okay,” she finally said, sizing them all up. “I take it these are the two you’re looking for?” She put her hands on her hips, her eyes darting back and forth. She looked absolutely silly.
Sora sighed. “Yeah, these are the two,” she confirmed. “Laina, the Wolfy over there is Burn, and this is Crash.” She motioned to the man next to her.
Laina’s eyes landed on Crash and she paused, a frown tugging at her lips. Sora frowned too, then turned to look at him, wondering what was going on.
Crash was glaring. Hard. In fact, he looked so scary that she wanted to run screaming back into the woods—if only for a moment. She had seen that look before, long ago. It's not a good sign.
“So, Laina, why don’t you come with me and tell me all about yourself,” Burn tactfully broke the silence. “Our camp is a ways over there through the trees. We were just about to set a fire.” He glanced at Sora meaningfully. “We’ll leave these two to talk.”
Laina and Crash stared viciously at each other for a moment longer, then she slowly nodded. With apparently no qualms at all, Laina turned and linked her arm with Burn’s arm, and the two walked off into the woods.
Sora shook her head at the sight. She could remember her first meeting with Burn; he had a way of dissolving tension. Then she turned to look at her assassin friend. Blinked. Crash was now staring at her, a strange expression on his face.
"What?" she asked, her eyes straying to the cut on his cheek. It was shallow, but visible. She fought the urge to grin. So she had landed a blow after all....
"Been practicing?" he asked, a thin trace of amusement in his voice.
Now she couldn't keep from smiling. Coming from Crash, that was a huge compliment. “No,” she said, trying to be humble. “It’s mostly the Cat's Eye... which is actually why I’m here right now, but, uh, I'll get to that in a moment.” Her voice faltered. Now what? “Just why are you guys so close, anyway? It's been a year!”
He shrugged, his eyes scanning the clearing. “That long?” he asked, as though he hadn't thought of her at all, which was probably true. “We're on our way to the port of Delbar. For a while we were doubling back north, but we decided it would be better to leave the continent. Catch a ship overseas.” He paused. “This is certainly unexpected.”
Oh. Sora nodded, her stomach sinking slightly. A part of her had hoped they had been coming back to visit her.
Then the assassin strode past her to pick up one of the knives he had dropped. She picked up her own knife and sheathed it smoothly, suddenly awkward. She had been so set on finding him for such a long time.... Now that he was here, she wasn’t sure what to say.
“So why are you here?” Crash finally asked, wiping off his blade and tucking it under his cloak. “I thought I told you to stay put. You were supposed to forget about us.”
A lot easier said than done. Sora realized that the man she had glimpsed on their last day together was not about to resurrect himself. No more mud fights or tickle wars. She prepared herself to deal with the cold, familiar Crash. Business first.
“I had a vision,” she said. He looked at her steadily, making her flush in embarrassment. Somehow, she thought that would mean something. “Well, a dream, maybe, but it was from the Cat’s Eye. It meant something, Crash. I've been learning about these things. I....” She wondered how she was supposed to communicate with him, explain the sickness that was spreading across the land, the sight of Volcrian, of Dorian's body in the grass, of the islands and his own terrible transformation....
He continued to stare at her, then said tonelessly, “Sit down.”
“What?”
“Sit down. Your foot is wounded. Then tell me about this dream.”
She frowned and moved to one of the trees. She sat down at its base, purposefully selecting a beam of moonlight so they could see each other. Much to her surprise, Crash knelt down before her and gently tugged off her boot. Then he pulled off his gloves, inspecting the cut foot, his fingers deft and hard with callouses. She tried to ignore his firm, warm hands, the touch of skin against skin. It was surprisingly difficult and distracting.
With a deep breath, she started her narrative.
She did her best to describe the illness that she and her mother had discovered; how it had infected the livestock, then the farmers, and had only been cured by the Cat's Eye. Then she began to describe the dream. It was still branded in her memory, as though it had happened just a few minutes ago, so intense that she could still smell the ocean air, hear the call of seagulls and the rush of waves. Strange, because she had never seen the ocean before.
As she talked, he wiped off the wound and bandaged it with strips of cloth. The only sign that he was listening were the glances he gave her whenever she paused. Once finished, he sat back and gazed at her intently. His full attention was unnerving, but she continued, once again horribly self-conscious. She couldn't tell what he was thinking; couldn't read his face. She went on to describe the book her mother had found, the forbidden Wolfy magic, and finally, the discovery of the Dark God's weapons. Crash lowered his eyes then, staring intently at the ground.
Finally, she ended her story with how she had met Laina. His eyes avoided hers, his face drawn. He looked down at the crushed leaves beneath their feet.
“Do you have the rapier hilt?” he asked slowly.
She nodded. “Do you want to see it?”
“No, it's fine,” he murmured. Another pause. “And the other weapons... they have manifested as well?”
He spoke about them as though he knew about the Dark God and the curse. As though he had known about it for a long time. She frowned—but how could he know?
“My mother seems to think so,” Sora replied. “Though honestly, I haven't seen them.... I'm assuming that Volcrian summoned more than one wraith.”
Crash nodded. “Well, if the sickness is any indication, then she's probably right. Your mother is a wise woman.”
More silence.
Sora cleared her throat. “She... she said that we need to travel to Barcella, to speak to the High Priestess of the Goddess. She'll be able to interpret my vision.”
Crash nodded again.
It wasn't the reaction she had been expecting. She hesitated. Then, “I wish I could say that it was just a dream...but I remember it perfectly, Crash. It still wakes me up at night. The Cat's Eye....”
He looked at her sharply. “I'm not questioning you,” he said. “I don't know a lot about the artifact, but I trust you wouldn't run out here on a whim. You realize that destroying the weapons might require you to release the necklace?” His gaze settled on her throat, where the stone lay hidden under her shirt.
No, she hadn't. And to be honest, Sora had avoided thinking about that for a long time. When she first put on the Cat's-Eye necklace, it made a psychic bond with her mind... if she removed it, the bond would break, her mind would break... and she would die. The backlash of a broken bond would destroy her from the inside out.
She nodded, unable to speak.
“And you're willing to do this?” he asked softly.
She didn't know what to say.
His words sat heavily between them. She wondered, briefly, if he would stop her. If he would refuse her help, force her to turn around and go back to her mother. She could suddenly, easily imagine it. Part of her was relieved by the idea. It would be better than breaking contact with the necklace, slipping into a coma and slowly dying. But so far, that wasn't part of the plan. It would also mean standing by while a plague overtook the world. She couldn't imagine doing that, either.
And she would never see her companions again. They would have to run from Volcrian indefinitely, leave the continent, head to some other faraway land, some place with different languages, customs and clothing. Perhaps far to the west, where there was nothing but rocks and sand.
She breathed deeply, but it was Crash who spoke.
“If your mother said there is a plague, then I believe it,” he said quietly. “Did you think I wouldn't?”
Sora felt a knot forming in her throat. Why was she suddenly so emotional? “The thought had crossed my mind,” she said.
Crash let out a long, slow breath. Then he nodded. “I wasn't sure what the rapier hilt was when I first saw it, but I had my suspicions. And I've seen this sickness that your mother talks about. Burn and I just passed an entire field of cattle, all dead. If you're willing to do this, then so be it. We will travel to Barcella....” His face grew hard. “But we must hurry. I am certain that Volcrian is on his way.”
Sora swallowed. Really? He would travel with her? She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath, waiting for his rejection....
Crash released her
foot. “Barcella is about two days' travel to the south,” he said. Then suddenly he was standing, pulling away from her, turning back to the trees where Burn and Laina had disappeared.
Sora looked after him, studying his tall, dark frame as he walked away. Then Laina’s laughter drifted through the woods, shaking her from her thoughts. She rose to her feet, brushing herself off. “Do you have anything to eat?” she asked, following the assassin into the trees.
"Squirrels and berries," he said, and she caught a hint of humor in his voice. "Just like old times.”
Chapter 5
Volcrian knocked on the door and waited impatiently.
He had tied his horse to a tree at the edge of the property. It was a good animal, obedient and docile, no hidden agenda. So far, it had lasted the entire trip around the swamp, crossing treacherous mountain slopes and broad valleys, and still it showed no sign of tiring. Quite a fine beast, worthy of its previous owner, the late Lord Garret.
Volcrian had killed the man, drained him of blood, and taken his steed. He was sure the act was justified, though he couldn't waste time trying to remember why.
The town he had come across was small and isolated. Its east side fringed the Catlin swamp, its northern end cut by a long, rocky trail—which, if one followed far enough, would lead straight to the mouth of a mountain pass. It was the direction Volcrian had traveled from. For a year now, he had ridden through the highlands, spending nights in river basins or on dry, flat, deserted hills.
They weren't proper mountains like the ones he had seen in the far, far north, thousands of miles away, above the City of Crowns. There, the great peaks and slopes of The Scepter climbed over twenty thousand feet into the sky. No, these were highland mountains, made of rocky gray stone, windswept and rolling. But still, it had been an impossibly frustrating detour. The swamp was vast. Traveling around it had taken more than twice as long as cutting straight through.