Sora felt unimpressed. He certainly doesn't sound smart. Then she realized that his mouth wouldn't allow him to sound the words properly.
"Con-tain-ment," he finally managed.
"Containment?"
"Yes, and your pro-tec-tor is in the cells."
"My what?"
The Catlin looked rather flustered and made several yowling sounds under his breath before continuing. "The dark one, the one who threatens without words." Oh, Crash. "You are lucky to have such a pro-tec-tor."
Lucky he's locked up, maybe. "Protector, that's what you mean." Sora nodded to herself. "So they're alive?"
"Yes."
She almost cried in relief. She wanted to be with Burn, or Dorian, or maybe back home where she could run into the woods and scream until the world made sense again. Instead, she looked calmly toward the doorway, retaining her composure. Another Catlin stood there, this one equally terrifying, though the pattern of his fur was different. Tan with brown spots.
The Catlins yowled at each other, a guttural language that sounded more like two lions fighting in the woods.
"Our Panthera is ready to see you,” the first guard finally said, turning back to her. “Don't keep him waiting."
"Panthera?"
"Our warlord."
Sora nodded. She didn't have much of a choice, but she was still terrified. Nothing else for it. She slid off the cot and swayed on her feet, woozy from the poison. The room kept moving, fluctuating in and out, as though the walls were breathing. She had to put out an arm to steady herself. Come on, walk like a warrior! her inner voice spoke up. Chin up, foot down!
The two Catlins escorted her from the room. They both carried long spears with feathers and beads tied around the top, just beneath the spearheads. Their belts contained several knives. The blades were longer than daggers, thin and curved. Some appeared to be carved from bone.
They took her into the short hall, past another room barred by spiderwebs. It looked like a storage room, full of wooden crates and knapsacks. She caught a glimpse of her saddlebags and weapons laying in a pile on the floor. The Catlins didn't seem too concerned with security.
They left the building through a broad archway. The exit was enclosed by a thick wall of vines, densely woven together, blocking any light from outside. She watched as one of the guards lifted a clawed finger and touched the net of plants. He traced strange patterns in the air, perhaps symbols.
The Cat's Eye murmured again, stirring in her mind. Magic.
Then, with the sound of scattering leaves, the vines all pulled to one side, revealing the world beyond. The guards prodded her forward. Sora was led into daylight. A fresh breeze hit her face and she looked up, her eyes wide.
The Catlin colony was at the heart of the swamp, deep in the forest—yet not on the ground. Her foot landed on a wooden balcony. As she looked up, she could see massive trees on every side of her, as wide as mansions, stretching high into the sky. The trunks disappeared into thick gray fog. She couldn't imagine their peaks, or the dense canopy that must exist overhead, far out of sight. Their branches were as large as streets, their leaves as wide as wagons. Holes speckled their trunks, hollowed windows blazed with golden light, doorways sheltered with vines, dwellings and stores and who-knew-what- else. Plant life was everywhere, thriving in every nook and cranny of the giant trees, purple-hued moss and hanging flowers, stamens like lamp posts, petals big enough for her to climb on.
No trees like this could possibly be natural; they would have to be millions of years old. Sora instinctively touched the necklace under her shirt. The Cat's Eye was humming quietly at her neck, as though charged by the very air. Magic, though she couldn't fathom how.
Wooden platforms encircled each tree, providing wide balconies and market squares. Rope bridges, some as wide as boulevards, crisscrossed the colony on several different levels. The city spread upward as much as downward. They paused next to the railing of a balcony, and Sora looked down upon countless Catlin heads: vendors and shoppers, hunters, merchants, all bustling about their lives. It's far more crowded than Mayville! Perhaps larger, even, than the City of Crowns.
Rope elevators moved among the different levels of the colony. As she watched, a crate of vegetables swung into the air on a flat wooden platform, directed by an intricate system of ropes and pulleys. A few of the elevators hung off in the mist, abandoned or in disuse. Her eyes grew wide, watching the platform's ascent into the fog.
Her guards clunked their spears on the ground and showed their teeth threateningly. Sora didn't need more prompting. She continued to walk. The bridge in front of her was narrow, built of sturdy wood, tied together with thick vines. Their level was mostly deserted. A few Catlins passed in the distance, wearing identical white robes. She wondered if they were some sort of elite guard. She really couldn't imagine who they were.
She peeked over the side of the bridge again, watching the bustling city life. Then she stared beyond at the endless pit of mist. She was unnerved by the drop; there was no sign of any ground below.
"I wouldn't jump," came a higher-pitched voice from the second guard. She wondered if it was a female, since it stood slightly shorter than the first guard. "'Tis a long, long drop."
Sora shivered and moved to the center of the bridge. Only an idiot would try that—it was sure suicide.
They walked for some time. The colony was vast, stretching on and on. They boarded one of the elevators and descended a level, vines and wood creaking under their weight. The next floor down was a center of shopping and trading. It was much more crowded than the area she had started in. The guards stayed at her side, snarling at anyone who got too close.
The regular Catlin population did not wear white robes, but were almost completely nude. Or as nude as one could be when covered in fur. They walked around in different states of undress, exposing breasts, bellies and other parts. Some females had piercings through their ears and noses, decorated with hoops and beads, or long feathers hanging down the sides of their faces. The males were scarred and gruesome. The only article worn in abundance were knives. The Catlins all looked very different, no two coats the same, every color from albino white to blue-black.
Most avoided looking at her. Sora was reminded of several house cats sitting side by side, swishing their tails. If she accidentally made eye contact, a Catlin would curl its lip in a silent snarl, or press its ears back in a distinctly feline way. She wondered if it was rude to stare, or if she was issuing an unknown challenge.
Before long, she had a group of Catlin younglings behind her, jumping across bridges and ropes. They were as agile as squirrels, with giant fuzzy paws and huge eyes. Several times the guards tried to chase the children away, but they always came back. They gurgled and cooed to each other, which she thought might be laughter, but she couldn't understand a word of it. She had to work hard not to touch them, or snatch them up like stuffed dolls. These were not kittens, and she would probably get her hand bitten off.
Toward the end of the marketplace, they boarded another elevator. This one shot into the air at a startling pace, up and up, to the very top of the colony. When it finally came to a stop, they got off at a deserted walkway, not a Catlin in sight. Silent mist swirled around the giant branches.
In the distance stood an exceptionally large tree. Sora could see a door of vines standing out from the trunk, accented with exotic orange flowers. She could smell their pollen at this distance, pungent and thick, like overripe fruit. She licked her lips, suddenly nervous. A thousand fears rampaged through her mind. Her hands started to shake, so she clenched them into fists.
The archway was several dozen feet tall, formed out of the tree as though it had originally grown that way. They headed toward it. Nervous prickles rolled over her skin, and she began to feel a peculiar energy, a vibration in the air. A steady throb started behind her eyes. The Cat's Eye? She touched the necklace under her shirt, surprised. It vibrated and buzzed at her chest like an enraged bee. She glanced at the
Catlins surrounding her, but they gave no sign of noticing. What's wrong with it? she wondered, unsure what the stone was responding to.
They paused outside the massive vines. Sora waited, fidgeting slightly from foot to foot. The Catlins' tails swished through the air, ears slightly back, and she realized—were they scared? Really?
A curious tingle slowly crawled up her body, from her toes to her hair. She felt as though invisible hands were running over her, searching her, trying to find her secrets. Her Cat's Eye jingled softly—some kind of magic. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She wasn't sure if the necklace could shield her or not.
Then the thick vines slowly pulled back. Tendril by tendril they unfurled, revealing the corridor beyond.
The guards gave her a hard shove through the doorway; otherwise, she never would have gone through. She stumbled forward with a yelp as they pushed her with their spears, stuffing her into the room like a stubborn horse.
The vines coiled shut behind her, sealing out all light. Alone in the dark room, she felt full-blown panic consume her. Her heart raced until she thought she would faint. Images of wild beasts and deformed monsters rose in her mind. I need to calm down! she thought desperately, forcing herself to breathe, to think clearly. She had trained with Crash and Dorian; she could defend herself. She wasn't helpless. Of course, she had no weapons at hand.
She listened intently, trying to hear beyond the pounding of her heart. There was a raspy, heavy sound somewhere nearby. Breathing.
Suddenly light poured into the room. Sora gasped. At first she thought a lantern had been struck, but now she could see that several holes had opened along the wall. Portholes. Windows grown out of the very tree.
The Cat's Eye stirred again.
Sora could only stare. One after the other, windows appeared along the walls, allowing soft gray light to cascade across the floor. What manner of magic was this? The Catlins were somehow controlling the trees. She couldn't fathom such power. Had they created their colony purely out of magic? Were the trees natural at all, or planted by some otherworldly energy? With merely a touch of their fingers, the Catlins were able to manipulate the wood, command the vines. Who knew what else they were capable of....?
Now that the room was illumined, Sora could see that it wasn't as big as she had expected. A small conference chamber, perhaps as large as her bedroom back at the manor. A grassy, matted carpet split the floor, running toward the far end of the room. Her eyes followed the rug to its end, where a tall throne sat, a massive chair grown out of the tree, supported by woven branches. Feathers, leaves, and beautiful stones decorated the chair. And sitting on a cushion of moss and fur...was a ferocious Catlin.
Sora's mouth dropped. Sitting down, the beast was as tall as she was standing. He had a dark pelt, the color of rich soil, crossed with thin black stripes. White markings accented his jowls and chest. Her eyes traveled lower, to his long, faded green pants, his only article of clothing. A weapon of some kind rested against the throne. It was long enough to be a sword, but looked like it had been carved from a giant rib bone.
He watched her with two feline-yellow eyes. A gnarled gold tooth protruded from his lip.
Sora approached the Panthera and stopped a respectful distance away, turning to her long-hated court manners. I guess they're good for something. Who knew that she would actually need them in the swamp? She made an elegant bow—a curtsy would be a bit hard without skirts. She finished it with a flourish and clasped her hands before her, waiting expectantly. She didn't know whether to make eye contact or not. On one hand, it was a sign of her own heritage as a noblewoman. On the other hand, the Catlins didn't seem to respond well to direct stares.
The warlord gave a dry chuckle and motioned for her to step closer. His yellow claws, as long as an eagle's talons, looked threatening in the dim gray light.
"Welcome to my domain." The voice was deep and croaky. The accent was clearer than the guard's. "This is the last Catlin colony, and you are the only human to have seen it in a hundred years."
He paused, as though waiting for Sora to say something. She couldn't think of anything appropriate. Her heart was hammering—she was, quite honestly, terrified. How did one speak to a Panthera? Her words could make the difference between freedom or execution. She thought she might faint, but the outcome of that would be far worse.
After a few moments of awkward silence, the Panthera said, "Our colony was founded centuries ago. We sought refuge from the human world. Humans have since defiled the land of our ancestors. What is the phrase? You breed like rats.” The warlord looked her over again. “We want no dealings with humans, yet now you are here. I'd like to know why. And how."
Sora still didn't know what to say. Breed like rats? She supposed it might be true, but she still felt insulted. Humans weren't so bad. The Catlins appeared far more barbaric—and the Wolfies, the only other race she had met, were deranged by blood-magic.
The warlord spoke again before she could. "Answer me, human! The dark one and the Wolfies were far more entertaining than this! Say something, or your presence is of no use here!"
No use? So they were going to kill her if she didn't answer. Sora swallowed, organized her thoughts, and found the courage to look the beast in the eye. "We're not here to trespass," she said, and winced. "Or attack you, or anything like that. We're just trying to get through the swamp, that's all." She hoped that was good enough.
The Panthera narrowed those great, slitted eyes. "Is that so? But how have you found our colony? We are countless miles from the fringes of the swamp, no matter which way you travel.” His gold tooth gleamed. “You are an explorer looking to build a town.”
“No!” Sora said, alarmed. “No, not at all! We're just passing through. Once we leave, we'll never return, I swear.”
“I don't take the word of humans,” the Panthera sneered, displaying more teeth. “How did you make it this deep into Fennbog? We have warding spells that alert us to trespassers. There has been no such warning."
Warding spells. It suddenly made perfect sense why no one returned from the swamp. Even if someone was an expert navigator, the Catlins would find him and kill him. How many explorers had perished in this colony? She suddenly thought of the old scarecrow they had stumbled across, the bones littered at its base.
“How did you bypass our spells?” the Panthera repeated.
Sora stared. Her Cat's Eye had shielded them, of course. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't. The alien presence of the necklace asserted itself, more awake than ever. She was suddenly, irrevocably convinced that she could not tell the Panthera about the necklace. What if he tried to take it?
"What are you planning to do with us?" she demanded instead.
The giant Catlin was silent. The atmosphere grew fragile. One wrong word, and the peace would shatter like glass.
Then the warlord bared his teeth. “Boldness is greatly respected by my race,” he growled. “You are a warrior, small human, though I did not think so at first. I shall answer your question. The Wolfies will be taken to the Grandmother Tree, where we shall sacrifice them to the Earth Goddess. The Tree has been dry for decades, and Wolfy blood is rare indeed.”
Sora wondered if she looked as horrified as she felt.
The Panthera chuckled at her expression, and made a strange gurgling sound. “But I am not unreasonable. Tell me how you bypassed our wards, and you and your mate shall be set free...as long as you do not return."
Sora's eyes opened in alarm and fear. They can't kill Burn and Dorian! Then she paused, struck by the second half of the Panthera's sentence. “What?"
The Panthera frowned at her, a terrifying sight, and shifted in his chair. "Is the dark one not your protector?"
Sora was silenced by confusion. Her mind turned full circle, mulling over his statement, taking it apart one piece at a time. The guards had mentioned her “protector” before in reference to Crash. As I recall, the guard also called me "lucky," she thought with some humor. Ironic, to be su
re. Protector must mean something different to the Catlins. Something more...intimate.
“Sure,” Sora stuttered. “I mean, yes.”
The Panthera stared at her. She wished she could read his expression—he looked hungry, maybe. "Perhaps you don't know the meaning of the word?" he finally murmured. "The dark one implied that he was your protector, but perhaps I was mistaken. When males and females become bonded, we call them protectors and providers. It is a sacred bond, respected by our species. It is unholy and cruel to separate a protector from his provider."
Sora didn't know what Crash was playing at, but if he had implied as much to the Panthera, then he probably had a good reason. "Right," she muttered. "I understand now. Yes, he is my protector."
The Catlin warlord seemed satisfied by this, and nodded. "Now answer my questions—how did you get past the spell?"
Sora swallowed and searched for a good excuse. She couldn't say anything about her Cat's Eye; the necklace had somehow planted the thought firmly in her mind. It felt like a very bad idea.
Suddenly, the warlord leaned forward in his chair. It seemed his patience was running thin. He withdrew a hand, hooked his finger, and suddenly the wood rippled beneath her feet like water. With a shriek, Sora fell to the ground. The wood thrust forward in an unnatural wave, carrying her down the grassy carpet to the base of the throne. She sat there, shaking, staring up at the massive warlord. His clawed feet were as long as her forearms.
He spoke quietly, a low growl in his throat. “If you will not tell me, then I will force it out,” he hissed. Then, with another wave of his massive paws, the floor thrust upward.
Sora screamed. Vines fell from the ceiling, grabbing her arms. One went tight around her throat, cutting off her air. She was held up by the vines, suspended in mid-air, hovering helplessly above the ground.
The Panthera stood up, a terrifying height of perhaps ten feet. Silence filled the room. The only sound was of rustling foliage. More and more plants spread along the ground. Vines uncurled from the ceiling, dripping with venomous thorns. Toxic fungi thrust up from the wood and spores billowed into the air, creating noxious fumes. The vines loosened at her neck and she gasped, desperate to breathe, unwittingly inhaling the spores.