She concentrated on walking down the stairs instead. She couldn't help but think of her father's death, of the knife flying through his throat, the spatter of blood. She wondered whether or not his burial had been arranged. Technically, that was her responsibility — she felt a momentary stab of guilt. So much left undone at her manor. Was she really just running away from a wedding? Or was it deeper than that — running away from chores, from vanity, from real life? What if she was really just a spoiled child, never wanting to grow up, avoiding adulthood at any cost? Its endless succession of responsibility and sacrifice.... She couldn't answer that question.
So what if he's dead? she told herself, thinking of her father. It's not like I ever really knew him. I didn't ask to be born into that house. True — but he was the only blood relative she had ever known.
Sora curled her lip. She felt a sudden, keen disgust for the man who walked in front of her. For a moment she regretted saving Crash's life. She should have let him drown; he deserved as much. She didn't want to be his friend — didn't care what secrets he hid. He was a bastard, ruthless, heartless. She couldn't trust him; she had to remember that. She hoped this Volcrian character would catch up with them soon. She wouldn't mind seeing the assassin come to a gory end. She just hoped it would happen after they escaped the swamp.
She told herself as much... yet staring at his back, traveling down the long staircase, something was undeniably different. Her dislike of the assassin was now tainted with something deeper, something unexpected. Fascination, perhaps — but it was more than that. A growing suspicion that he was quite a bit more than he seemed.
* * * * *
Sora tried not to pant so heavily. She crouched near the wall, exhausted, struggling to regain her breath.
They had reached the bottom of the first tree, boarded the raft, and sailed it across to where Crash was certain of the Wolfies' location. Then they had made another mad dash up an impossibly long set of stairs. This time Crash had kept the lead, moving with a grace and swiftness that Sora found impossible to match. It seemed like the upcoming mission had rejuvenated his strength. He seemed full of eager anticipation. For what, more bloodshed?
His energy had rubbed off on her. Sora felt giddy and anxious at the same time. They were going to rescue the Wolfies — her first rescue attempt ever! Now this is what I call adventure! she thought, unsure if she should be excited or scared out of her wits. At the moment it was a bit of both. Her eyes shifted to the silent assassin. His confidence seemed to spread into the space around him, soothing her nerves. Finally she was able to breathe easily. The plan was going to work – it had to work.
Crash was listening to the noises above them, his ear pressed against an identical trap door in the ceiling, just as he had done before. This tree's interior was a mirror image of the last one. Sora wondered how he could hear so well.
"We'll wait a few minutes, then go up.” Crash looked over at her. “Remember, be silent.”
Sora gave him a look. “I’m not an-”
“Idiot, I know,” he cut her off. “Don't be stubborn. Do you know what you have to do?"
She rolled her eyes. Her hair was loose and kept falling in her face; she was sorely tempted to chop it all off. “'Get the weapons and stay out of the way,'” she quoted, trying to leave the sarcasm out of her voice.
Crash looked at her closely, eyes narrowed, then nodded and turned back to the trap door.
Sora tried to calm her racing heart. Anxiety twisted in her gut. She was eager to get things moving — all of this waiting around was making her nervous. She looked down at her empty hands, wishing for her staff, her daggers, for any sort of weapon.
Abruptly she thought she heard something. She turned her head slightly, listening. There was a small tickle in her ear, and it took her a moment to realize that it wasn't truly audible. The Cat's Eye. Some deep part of her, the part connected to the necklace, whispered magic. It raced across her skin, unexplained goose bumps. Magic, yes — but from where?
Immediately she was on alert. She looked around, wary, still listening — but after a moment the feeling receded. The sense of magic dissipated like thin smoke. She shook her head, confused and uneasy. What could it have been? A trap? Some unknowable Catlin power? It was impossible to tell.
Crash was sitting still as stone right underneath the trap door. Sora held her breath, not wanting to disturb him, to alert anyone to their presence. The floor above creaked. Footsteps.
Thunk thunk thunk. Pause. A few muttered voices. Then a door slam.
"It's time," he said quietly.
Sora nodded, excitement racing through her. Crash placed his hands on the door and pushed it up as softly as possible. With only half an inch of space, he peered through. She could catch a dim glimpse of the room over his shoulder.
A Catlin guard paced across the floor crosswise to them, a spear in one hand and a long, wicked knife at its belt. It crossed from Burn’s cell back to the wall, then back again. Sora held her breath, hoping that no one would notice the slight ridge in the floor.
Crash timed the beast's movements with his eyes. Sora watched, fascinated, as the assassin slowly bent into a crouch. Was he going to attack? Gods, she wasn't ready yet! She tried to stay calm.
It all happened so fast, Sora barely had time to blink. Without warning, Crash leapt from the hidden passage and sailed through the air, ramming the Catlin full in the back. He latched onto the beast with his feet and legs and brought his fists down powerfully in a double-handed strike, right between the Catlin's ears. There was a soft grunt. The beast dropped to the ground, instantly unconscious.
Sora realized she was missing her cue. She vaulted fully into the room behind him, eager to help. She looked down at the still body of the Catlin and tried to suppress the hatred that surged within her — it was a sudden, unexpected feeling. But she knew its source: the Cat's Eye. She could remember the same reaction to the Panthera. It was as though the necklace was alive, experiencing everything she did, feeding her thoughts and emotions. A troubled frown marked her brow. She felt very uneasy inside of this room, acutely exposed.
Crash tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to a room off to their right. The door was closed, but she recognized it from earlier — it was where the Catlins had stashed their equipment. She nodded and made her way over to it, stepping over the stunned guard. A horrible feeling of uncertainty twisted her gut. What if they were discovered? What if the Catlins attacked? She felt a terrible lack of control. How was she supposed to defend herself without a weapon? She was no match for a huge beast in hand to hand combat.
Stop wasting time! Sora tried to clear her mind of worry, to focus on the task at hand. She approached the door and put her hand on the knob. It just seemed too easy....
She tugged open the door. A gasp escaped her lips.
A tiny shockwave moved through her, running over her body like cold water, then across the ground and into the walls. Into the tree. Abruptly her ears were filled with the urgent ringing of bells — jingjingjing! On and on and on....
Sora stepped away from the cabinet, her mouth open. Thanks to her necklace, she knew immediately what had happened. It was a trap after all — an alarm of some kind, some sort of magic connected to the door. Now the Catlins would know they were escaping.
“Crash!” she exclaimed, whirling around. “Crash, it’s a trap, it has an alarm! They know we're here!”
The assassin didn't seem to have heard her. Infuriatingly calm, he had drawn the key from his cloak and was walking purposefully down the hallway toward the Wolfies' cells. Sora stared at him in shock. Is he deaf? Or just crazy? Then she followed after him, unsure of what else to do. Her ears were ringing with the sounds of her Cat’s Eye.
“Did you hear me?” she demanded, sweat breaking out on her brow. “The weapons-”
“Are perfectly fine in the room you just opened,” Crash responded. “Now get them out and prepare yourself!”
Sora stared, completely shocked.
“Y-y-you-!” she stuttered, realizing the only possible reason for his cool manner. “You knew all along, didn’t you? That’s what the Catlins were talking about, the spell on the door — and you didn’t tell me!”
Crash turned and looked at her.
“You bastard!” she finally spat. “I trusted you!”
He didn’t even flinch, just stared blankly at her, unaffected. “If you’re finished,” he finally said icily, “we have about two minutes before they get here. I suggest you hurry.”
Then he turned around and continued back toward the cells. Sora stared after him, still numb with betrayal and shock. Finally she whirled back to the room and went to retrieve the weapons. How could he lie to her like that? She had saved his life. Weren't they on good terms with each other? He even started calling me by my name, by the Goddess! Yet he still treated her as though she was an inferior servant, a useless simpleton, or... or a captive. I am a captive, she reminded herself. It hurt more than she wanted to admit.
The jingling was gone by now, the silence far too empty. The nerve of him, using me like that! Angry and frustrated, she pulled open the room and looked at the array of knives, swords, and other small weapons hanging from the wall. She recognized their weapons in the far corner — the rest looked old and rusted, probably from other prisoners, taken a long time ago. She considered taking a few, but they had no realistic way of carrying them.
Sora quickly fastened her knife belt and grabbed her staff from the wall. Then she began collecting Dorian’s daggers, Crash’s various throwing knives, a thin-bladed word, and a few other goodies she recognized from Burn's collection. Finally she stood facing the mercenary's giant sword. She bit her lip. There was no way she could lift that.
“Allow me,” a familiar voice boomed from behind her, and Sora turned in surprise. The Wolfy in question was standing there, a grim smile on his broad features.
Abruptly she was filled with relief. Sora launched herself at the giant. She threw her arms around him without hesitation, ridiculously happy that the Wolfy was alive and well — We made it in time, they're not dead! So far, their plan was a success.
Burn chuckled, and his own thick arm rested on her shoulders. “I missed you too, kid,” he said.
Sora looked up and met his sparkling golden eyes. They were still lively despite the bruises on his face. She had missed him more than she had thought.
“Aw, how cute,” another voice drawled. “Excuse me while I go wipe my eyes. Here, Crash, pass me your hanky.”
Before Sora could stop herself, she wrenched away from Burn and threw herself at Dorian, smacking forcefully into his arms and throwing them both against the wall. Another huge hug. Who would have thought she could be so worried? Here she was, embracing them as though they were lifelong friends, not thieves holding her captive. The mage’s arms were warm and tight around her, trapping her against his thin chest. She glanced up at him, a short distance, and met his large blue eyes.
He smirked down at her, showing his fangs. A peculiar glint lit his eyes. “If you wanted to be this close to me, you only had to ask,” he said, the tease back in his voice.
Sora didn't know what to say to that. She stared at him until the smirk slowly melted from his features, turning oddly intense. Those brilliant eyes darkened.
“Your knives, Dorian,” Burn interrupted. Abruptly Sora was released from the tight embrace. She stood stiffly as the thief turned to accept the blades, her heart beating peculiarly hard, her stomach strangely fluttery. She frowned, confused by what had just happened.
“Down the trapped door,” Crash said, reminding Sora that they weren't safe yet. She turned to see Dorian already slipping into the darkness. “Hurry!”
Bam!
Something slammed against the outside door, making it shiver on its hinges. Bam! Bam! Sora barely had time to prepare herself. A second later, the door was knocked off its frame and sent smashing to the ground, splintering into pieces. A series of yowls lit up the air, and a group of Catlins barged into the room, bristling with knives and spears.
Everything became motion. Shouts and cries echoed from the walls. Crash met them head on, his thin blade flashing; he dropped two guards within seconds. Sora didn’t have enough time to think, to gather herself, to be scared. Suddenly — inexplicably — the Cat's Eye roared to life. She felt it surge inside of her, a wave of sound and undeniable purpose. It consumed her mind like wildfire.
The ringing of bells erupted in her ears, and Sora had to wonder if she was going insane. She had never experienced anything like it before. The necklace seemed different — no magic, just the alien presence in her own head, her body spiraling out of control. A sudden jolt of energy shot through her legs and arms, and then her thoughts were pushed out of the way. The Cat's Eye took charge.
Her eyes became large, blank pools. She focused as a Catlin, a smaller, lighter one, flying at her with a spear. She moved with a speed she didn't know she had, dodging the thrust, swinging her staff, connecting squarely with the Catlin's head. Her attacker staggered for a moment, then regained his footing, shaking off the blow. Sora felt like she had awakened from a dream, like everything was finally crystal clear. She knew with perfect clarity what the Catlin would do next, where it would strike, how it would move. She felt loose. Relaxed. Mechanical.
The Catlin set on her with a volley of thrusts and jabs, trying to impale her on the end of his spear. She didn't need to think. Sora dodged the lightning quick attacks, reacting purely on instinct. She didn't now where she had learned such moves — certainly not from Crash or the Wolfies. She hadn't had enough practice to become this skilled. Her body moved easily, gracefully, bending to the will of the Cat's Eye.
Sora let loose a volley of swings and jabs, breaking the spear’s end off and cracking the Catlin’s paw. With a yowl, the Catlin dropped its ruined weapon and drew a dagger, lunging at her with fury in its eyes.
Another Catlin was approaching behind her. Calm and impassive, she sidestepped a spear thrust from behind and brought up her staff, deflecting the dagger blow. She leapt over the dagger aimed for her knees and brought her staff down on the Catlin's head full force, catching him between the ears. The Catlin dropped to the ground, blood running from its nose.
Suddenly the other Catlin grabbed her staff from over her head, trying to yank it from her grasp. Sora let go of her weapon with no second thought, watching it fly across the room. Pulling out her daggers, she whirled on the second attacker and cut his spear in half, then slashed at the Catlin’s belly. Her blow was stopped by an arm that got in the way, but she landed a deep gash on the forearm, splitting the beast from elbow to wrist. The Catlin let out a howl of pain. Its wounded arm fell uselessly to its side, but the creature still held a short sword. Sora started swiping with both daggers, whirling around, blocking and slashing in such fluid movements that it felt like dancing — mindless, thoughtless, effortless. The necklace guided her completely.
A slash landed on her shoulder and got no response. She couldn’t even feel the pain. The enemy hesitated, thrown off by her reaction. Perfect. Taking full advantage, she plunged her dagger deep into his chest, cutting it open with one slash. The Catlin fell to the floor with a gurgling scream.
Sora leapt over the mess and landed near Crash, kicking a spear into her grasp from the floor. The assassin was defending against three Catlins and didn't notice her approach. She took the spear and plunged it through the back of his nearest attacker. The beast collapsed to the ground, screeching in pain.
Then the assassin looked up. He momentarily met Sora’s wide, blank eyes. She saw an echoing coldness in his expression, removed and distant; it caused a tremor to run through her. There was a dull ringing in her ears, a slight shiver — then abruptly the spell was broken.
Blinking in confusion, Sora looked around the massacred room, stunned and dizzy. For the moment, all of the Catlins were either killed or unconscious. More would be coming soon, she knew, but right now all was still. She couldn't fully
remember what had happened, where she had been, trapped somewhere in her own mind... but now the smell of death reached her nostrils, she had to fight back the choking urge to puke. Her face paled considerably.
“This is getting us nowhere,” Crash said, his voice cutting through her fog of confusion. “More are coming. Burn! Get down the trap door!”
The Wolfy turned and looked at the two of them from his place in the corner. He was wrenching his sword from a dead body and wiping it clean. “Eh?” he muttered. “Oh, right.”
“Sora, you’re going with him,” the assassin ordered.
Sora turned to look at him in surprise. “What? Now? What about you?”
"I'll hold them off,” he said flatly. “And you're of no use here — just go!"
"Nonsense, I just saved your neck! Twice!” Her voice was so vicious that she surprised herself. “And what if they capture you next? We're a team — we’re not leaving anyone behind!” Why should I even care? If he wants to die, let him!
“Burn, drag her out of here!” he yelled past her. Sora opened her mouth in outrage, but at that moment more yowls erupted from the doorway. The assassin leapt to defend the space, dropping the first two Catlins with one clean swipe.
A hand grabbed Sora by the back of her shirt and literally lifted her off her feet, hauling her backwards. Her yelp of surprise was answered by Burn's voice — “Down you get, lovey!”
Filled with aggression, Sora tried to fight her way out of the Wolfy's grip, twisting and clawing like a wildcat, but the mercenary was far too strong. He shoved her staff into her hands, trying to force her down the hole in the floor.
Then a sudden, startling sound caused them both to turn.
Sora saw it first. A Catlin they had originally thought was dead had climbed to its feet and grabbed a dagger from the floor. Frozen in horror, Sora watched as the beast launched itself toward the assassin’s back. Burn tried to move, but he was hampered by Sora's weight in one hand.