Volcrian's Hunt (The Cat's Eye Chronicles)

  Suddenly, the temperature dropped. Cold air arose from the ground. Volcrian stumbled backwards, his body shuddering, and the tainted aura began to spread. It wrapped up the mage's neck and over his face, clasping the Wolfy in a dark shroud. He let out a muffled scream and fell to the ground, his body twitching and convulsing.

  As soon as Volcrian fell, the earth seemed to tilt, and Viper stumbled to one side. A sense of nausea passed through his body, and he blinked. His vision swam briefly, then cleared. The day grew brighter, the mist lifted, the standing stones pulled back into their original positions. He turned and glanced at the trees, noting that they no longer loomed threateningly toward him. All the broken branches and torn limbs had disappeared.

  An illusion, he realized. Volcrian had drunk his blood and manipulated his mind. The entire time, he had been fighting ghosts.

  Crash turned back to his opponent. When Volcrian had collapsed, he had lost hold of the spell. Now. Do it now. The demon started forward, stalking across the grass, and paused over Volcrian's body. The mage's eyes stared sightlessly up at the sky—then slowly turned black, as though filling with ink.

  The Dark God didn't want to lose this battle. Oh no, He wanted to use the mage as a vessel, and if Crash waited much longer, he would be dealing with much more than blood magic.

  Kill him, Crash ordered, asserting his will.

  No, the demon rebuked. Excitement surged. Its mouth watered in anticipation. He comes.

  Crash's focus tightened. He thrust himself forward, pushing the demon back. Remember your true master, he commanded. He forced himself to take control of his body, pushing into his arms and legs, reclaiming his throne.

  No! the demon bellowed. No! No! No! Crash could feel the creature digging in its claws, scrambling for a foothold, trying to reclaim its freedom.

  But his will was stronger.

  Crash broke through the demon's control and lunged forward. He needed to utilize the demon's body while it still lasted. Now that the beast's mind was in remission, his new form wouldn't remain for long. He had to work quickly. He could already feel his strength wane.

  He grabbed Volcrian by the neck and dragged him across the ground. The mage's body shuddered and twisted, in the throes of a seizure. The stone table was only a few yards away, and he threw Volcrian's body on top of it, pressing him into the hard rock.

  “Sora!” he yelled, hoping that his vocal cords would work. What came out was a strangled roar, but somewhere in that sound was a name. “Sora, now! Use the Cat's Eye!”

  * * *

  Sora stared at the demon in the field below. She couldn't seem to make her feet work. She knew it was Crash—reassured herself of that fact—and yet he looked like a monster, blackened skin and giant wings, spikes along his shoulders as long as swords.

  The beast roared, its voice carrying for miles around. It sent another bolt of paralyzing fear through her. She had the intense urge to cower behind the pedestal. Inside that roar, she thought she heard words, but she couldn't be certain.

  Then Burn's voice reached her from below. “The Cat's Eye!” he yelled. She had to strain her ears to hear him. “Use the Cat's Eye!”

  Sora nodded and forced herself to turn toward the pedestal. She felt as though her body was fighting her, clumsy and stiff. She reached into her pocket, finding the small stone wrapped in a piece of a cloth. I hope this works, she thought desperately, and plunged the stone onto the pedestal.

  It spun slightly on the flat surface, moved by the energy of the sacred ground. But after a few seconds, it slowed down and rolled to a stop. Silent.

  I need to bond with it, Sora realized. She didn't have any other choice. They had to kill Volcrian. If she waited any longer, it might be too late.

  She didn't give herself a chance to turn back. She grabbed the stone with her bare hand. A jolt of electricity shot through her body as the new bond was formed. Its presence burst into her mind, searching for a place to fit. She felt a terrible, jarring pain.

  The new bond clashed with the one that was already in place. She heard a strangled tussle of sleigh bells, and the second Cat's Eye began to smoke in her hand, burning a hole in her skin, trying to embed itself into her flesh. The two necklaces were wrestling with each other, fighting for dominance in her body. She pressed the second stone onto the pedestal, forcing it down with her weight.

  Then she screamed. She felt as though her mind was being split in two. She couldn't balance any longer, and she collapsed to her knees, gripping the pedestal for support.

  I have to do this, she thought, her head throbbing. She struggled for control, forcing her limbs to work.

  “Finish him!” she yelled, directing her command to the second stone. Another wave of fire crashed through her; hot energy ran down her arm, channeling into the Cat's Eye.

  There was a fierce, terrible crack!

  Sora was thrown back to the edge of the cliff, losing hold of the pedestal. She rolled to a stop, inches away from plunging to her death. When she opened her eyes, the world was spinning—colors, objects and light were all swirled together, like a spun painting. At its center was the Cat's Eye, creating a vortex of energy that would devour all that it touched, amplified by the power of the standing stones. Not even the wind could escape it.

  * * *

  Volcrian was panicking. Somehow, he had lost control. He had blacked out for a moment—he didn't know what had happened—but now the demon held him down by the throat. He didn't know what the assassin planned to do.

  Suddenly, he felt tendrils of power snake across his skin, weaving over his hands and legs, tying him down to the table. Terror struck him. He recognized the fierce pull of the Cat's Eye, far stronger than he remembered.

  The ropes of energy crushed him to the stone slab. He felt a terrible suction at his chest, paralyzing his lungs, his pulse beating erratically. He felt as though his heart would be torn from his body. Bones snapped. A rushing noise consumed his ears, like the torrents of a mighty river. He could feel his strength drain out of him, his skin becoming paper-thin.

  Then, a burst of excruciating pain. A scream ripped from his throat. Volcrian felt himself being pulled forcefully upward, leaving his solid, warm flesh behind. The howling wind and his own yells vanished from his ears. He no longer felt the demon on top of him, his vision darkening.

  Dear brother, I have failed.

  * * *

  A spiral of light emerged from the Cat's-Eye stone, swirling like a tornado. Instead of stretching upward, it bent down toward the sacred circle—to the stone slab where Volcrian's body lay.

  Strange sensations shot through her. Sora felt his fear, his rage, his deep sorrow. She watched his soul lift out of his body. Volcrian's spirit flew through the air, sucked into the Cat's Eye like a wind-tunnel.

  She felt Crash's spirit next, but it was gone before the Cat's Eye could catch hold of it. Then the stone's power began to overflow, seeping over the edge of the pedestal in a wave of white light.

  Static snapped over her skin, leaving small burn marks. The Cat's Eye sought out her body, trying to recreate the broken bond. Sora grabbed her own necklace and begged it to protect her, to stop the light from touching her. She didn't know if it worked. She felt as though she would be burned to ash.

  The smaller stone could withstand no more. With a sickening crack, it split in two. Abruptly, the wind-tunnel dispersed. The magic vanished, trapped forever inside the two broken halves.

  A backlash of power clapped the air, shattering her senses into a thousand shining shards.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CRASH OPENED HIS eyes with a groan.

  He lay on the grass next to the stone table, in the center of the sacred circle. He raised himself slowly into a sitting position. His head throbbed. His hands shook. Numerous cuts and bruises covered his body, and blood still seeped from the thick gash on his forearm. He winced and ripped off the sleeve of his shirt, wrapping it around the injured limb, binding it tightly.

  How much
time had passed? A day? An hour? He glanced at the sky. The sun was still high, a little past noon. He must have fallen unconscious for a matter of minutes.

  He stood up, using the stone table to support himself. There was no sign of Volcrian's body—only a blackened stain on the granite and a few scraps of cloth, the leather from his boots. The table reeked of burned flesh. Crash gazed at it for a long moment, reflecting on the battle. So many years of running—it was finally over. So why didn't he feel relieved?

  The rest of the clearing was torn up from the fight; there were long rents in the earth and shattered rocks, patches of scorched grass. The wind blew eerily across the field, carrying dead leaves with it. The black stones stood in their silent circle, looking on impassively.

  Hells, he thought, his headache intensifying and pulsing down the center of his skull.

  Then his eyes traveled beyond the clearing to the tall cliff that rose above the sea. He couldn't see anyone standing on top of that hill. His hands suddenly turned cold. Sora.

  He pushed off the stone table and stumbled across the grass. It took him a minute to regain his coordination. He was exhausted from the demon's transformation; he felt empty, drained to the bone. He had to summon all his remaining strength just to walk to the base of the cliff.

  Burn was sitting there in the shade of a tree. Countless dead bodies littered the grass. They already looked decomposed, their flesh gray and bloated, as though they had been dead far longer than a day. Crash only noticed in passing. He nodded to the large Wolfy, who raised a tired hand, his head bowed toward the grass. He didn't appear to be injured, yet he was too tired to rise to his feet.

  Crash turned back toward the hill—it was tall and steep, an intimidating height, considering his exhaustion. Long grayish-green grass swept over the hill's surface, and a brown dirt path marred by footprints cut up its side. He started upward as fast as he could. I promised her. He repeated in his head that mantra of strength, over and over again. I promised her.

  Panting and sweating when he finally reached the top of the slope, he paused for a moment, regaining his breath. Immediately his eyes landed on the cracked Cat's Eye on top of the pedestal. Part of the gem had melted into the rock. He didn't dare get too close, for it still hummed and smoked with energy, like a sputtering fire. From the size of the stone, he was certain it was the second Cat's Eye, the one that Sora had taken from the Caves. At least that meant her bond was still intact. Hopefully.

  Then Crash saw a prone figure behind the pedestal. His heart slammed within his chest. Without thinking, he scrambled around the rock and knelt to the ground, bending down near the girl's head.

  "Sora," he whispered. He rolled her body over, his hands shaking; she was pale and cold. He touched her face gently, his fingers playing over her soft skin. Gods, don't let me be too late. He knew she wasn't dead—she couldn't be dead—he had promised to keep her safe.

  Foolish, the dark voice murmured from far back in his mind. The demon swam languidly about, grinning at him. You knew you couldn't keep that promise.

  Leaning down, he placed one ear to her chest and listened, trying to hear above the hammering of his own heart.

  For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Crash's hands tightened on her shoulders. He felt a terrible pit open in his stomach—a hole that could swallow him effortlessly. He was too late; he had failed her. No....

  A faint murmur. Was that her pulse? It was barely there, the whisper of butterfly wings, perhaps a trick of the mind. He waited, not daring to hope. After a long pause, he heard another dull beat. A murmur of life. She wasn't quite gone yet.

  His chest tightened; he needed to act swiftly. Her breath stuttered, fading. He turned her face toward him, checking her mouth for obstructions, trying to understand the strange state of her body. Was she paralyzed? In a coma?

  He didn't know how to fix a broken bond, but he wasn't even sure that was the problem. Her necklace was still intact, but her lungs weren't working. It didn't matter—he would give her his breath.

  He carefully covered her mouth with his—and breathed.

  * * *

  Sora fell through a black hole, spinning and ricocheting off bits of memory. Visions of her distant past flickered before her eyes, disorienting. Voices shot past her ears: Lily's hum in the morning, beckoning her awake; her stepfather's low rumble, annoyed by her childish games; the sound of horses and chickens from her mother's farm rustling beneath her bedroom window.

  As the darkness dipped and turned, Sora felt herself start to fade. Her hand came into view, and she saw its outline become fainter and fainter, disintegrating before her eyes. It was almost transparent.

  Burn...Crash...she thought hazily, though she couldn't quite summon their faces. I'm falling....

  Suddenly there was a light before her, a tiny white ball flying closer and closer. It chased after her through the surrounding darkness. Her eyes locked on it, unable to look away. She saw the silhouette of a hand reaching for her. A strong, glowing hand....

  She stretched toward the light, suddenly desperate to be there. The glow came closer and closer, until it was just inches away. She turned her body toward it, grasping, straining with effort. So close....

  Finally, their grips locked.

  * * *

  The ground was hard and cold beneath her. She could hear the distant roar of the ocean in her ears. A brisk wind touched her face. She was terribly, terribly cold.

  A cough fought its way from her throat. Something moved against her mouth, then pulled away.

  “Sora?” a voice asked.

  She opened her eyes a crack, squinting against the harsh light. It took a long moment to focus. Finally, Crash's face came into view. Crash.

  “You...you're alive,” she gasped. She felt as though she were speaking at full volume, but the sound leaked from her lips, weak and raspy. The voice of an old woman.

  “I suppose I am,” Crash echoed, and a wry smile crossed his face. “And you are, too.” He looked pleased with that. She tried to smile back at him, but her face felt stiff and numb.

  She lifted her head, but the world swam around her. Then she slumped back down. “I can't move,” she muttered. Her voice was even quieter than before. Why couldn't she move? By the North Wind....

  “Shhh,” Crash murmured, placing his hands on her shoulders, holding her down. “Don't get up. I think your body is in shock...the Cat's Eye....” his eyes shifted to the stone pedestal behind them.

  Sora followed his gaze. Yes, the Cat's Eye. She remembered now. He probably didn't understand what happened very well, but it made sense to her. She had broken the second bond. It hadn't been strong—she had used the stone for only a matter of seconds. Yet her body was certainly affected. She wondered how close she had come to death. That thought left her chilled.

  “Volcrian's gone?” she muttered, unsure if Crash could hear her.

  He glanced down, meeting her eyes. “Yes.”

  “And...Burn?”

  Crash's hand gently cupped the side of her face. “He's fine,” he said softly.

  She let out a slow, painful sigh. “Good.” Her strength faded with the word. Holding a conversation was far too taxing. But...but....There was something terribly important that she had to tell him. Something...she tried to remember. Her senses were slipping away, soft and fleeting, like darting birds.

  But Caprion, she finally realized. Caprion would be coming for them tonight, to take them to the Dracians. She had to tell him....

  “Come on,” Crash murmured, slipping his arms under her and lifting her from the ground. He paused for a moment, adjusting to her weight. He seemed almost as tired as she was. Worry entered her thoughts. They were vulnerable for the moment, unable to defend themselves if the Harpies were to attack.

  He turned to the slope. “We'll find a place to set up camp.”

  Sora tried to keep her eyes open, tried to formulate a sentence. But the more she focused, the more she couldn't seem to grasp the words. They s
wirled about on her tongue, mixing and dissolving. She licked her lips. “The Harpies....”

  “Don't worry, they won't find us.” Crash's tone was firm. She stared up at his face as he carried her, trying to force her thoughts through her mouth, gripping his sleeve in frustration. But it was futile. Her vision slowly melted into darkness.

  * * *

  Lori stood at the bow of the ship, the sunset fanning out behind her. The water caught the light, reflecting the bright colors, turning the ocean to molten gold.

  To the east was a wall of impenetrable clouds, heavy and tumultuous. With Jacques' wind magic and the help of Ferran's Cat's Eye, they had subdued the storms long enough to pass through. Lori shuddered, remembering several sleepless nights combating the waves. This was where Sora's ship had capsized, splitting and sinking into the ocean. She didn't want to imagine that. Deep, biological instinct paralyzed her at the thought.

  Before them were the gray shapes of the Lost Isles, becoming dim and vague in the fading light. They were perhaps a few miles offshore. She could hear the Dracians shouting to each other in excitement, pointing over the railing, calling orders to bank the sails.

  That morning Jacques had left to find his missing crew, flying over the ocean to one of the smaller isles. They had returned almost two hours later, coasting down from the sky, about fourteen of them.

  One woman swam up alongside the ship, her scales bright blue in the water, in sharp contrast to her auburn hair. “Drop me a rope!” she called. The pirates had pulled her up willingly, gazing at her scaled form, taut and athletic. A few of Silas' crew were human, but they didn't seem fazed by the Dracians. Considering their Captain, they had probably seen a few odd sights over the years.

  Now they neared the Harpies' island. It was the largest of the lot, arching over the waves like a giant green turtle. Lori leaned forward, sighing. She had a terrible sense of doubt in her stomach. She had only met a few Harpies in her life, but none of them had been very warm or helpful. They stayed aloof, uninterested in human affairs. She wondered if the Harpies of the Lost Isles would be any different. Was Sora even there? That thought worried her the most. What if her daughter hadn't made it...or worse, had perished along the way? Her throat closed at the thought.