Broken Ground Page 3

  “Uraza?” called Abeke, holding out her hand, a gesture the leopard knew well. But Uraza did not come. The Great Beast’s violet eyes shone with a wild glint, her tail flicking nervously. Panic wound through Abeke’s chest.

  “Uraza,” she said, forcing strength and certainty into her voice.

  The leopard slunk several paces, head low beneath her shoulders, looking less like a spirit animal than a predator.

  “Please,” said Abeke softly.

  The big cat stopped pacing, and seemed to see Abeke for the first time. Her head lifted, as if catching a scent, and her mouth lolled open as she padded forward, soft dark fur brushing Abeke’s hand before Uraza vanished in a flash of light. A sudden heat flared against Abeke’s skin, and then the mark was there on her arm where it should be.

  She touched her fingers to it, trying to draw comfort.

  And yet … she could still feel the distance, the invisible cord between them drawing taut and slack and taut again, its strength uncertain. How long would it hold?

  “Abeke?” She dragged her attention up and saw Rollan, shifting his weight as he tried to support Anda. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded, and the three made their way out of the forest and toward the water in silence.

  “Stew. A bath. Stew. A real bed.” Rollan helped drag the boat up onto the shore.

  He had decided to pass the journey across the water by listing everything he planned to enjoy once they were back. Even though Abeke knew the only thing Rollan really cared about finding there was Meilin. Well, maybe Meilin and stew.

  “Wait, did I already say stew?”

  “I’m pretty sure you mentioned it,” said Abeke, tying off the rope. She looked around, but the docks were strangely empty. Up ahead, Greenhaven loomed.

  Rollan’s mood seemed to brighten with every step toward the gates, but the closer they drew, the more Abeke had a gnawing sense that something was wrong.

  It wasn’t anything specific, just a gut sense, but years of tracking and hunting in Nilo had taught her to pay attention when that feeling in her chest flared in warning. Surely if Abeke and Rollan had felt the strain on their bonds, the other Greencloaks had, too. Hopefully they knew what was happening, and how to stop it.

  “Hey,” said Rollan, trying to hide his interest as they climbed the steps to the gate. “Conor and Meilin, they have to be back by now, right?”

  Abeke smiled. “I’m sure. After all, they were only going to investigate the door in the Petral Mountains.”

  “Let’s hope they ran into less trouble than we did.” His voice was light when he said it, but something twinged in Abeke’s stomach.

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Let’s hope.”

  By the time they passed through the gate and into the courtyard, Abeke could feel the tension in the air. Every face she saw seemed drawn, and the guards all had their weapons out, their postures tense, as if they were trying to hold their ground against a wind.

  But it wasn’t just what Abeke saw that gave her pause, but what she didn’t see. Something was missing.

  And then Abeke realized, it was the spirit animals.

  Every time she’d been to Greenhaven, she’d been met with parrots and foxes, meerkats and pelicans, a hedgehog and a boa constrictor and a dozen other beasts. They dotted the fortress with color, filled the air with sound. But now they were gone—no, not gone, of course, just drawn into their passive states. The black tattoos stuck out from collars and cuffs. Whatever had happened to Rollan and Abeke back in the Amayan forest, it had obviously happened here at Greenhaven, too. And the Greencloaks must be just as scared.

  Only two animals were in sight: Olvan’s moose, standing sentry at the edge of the courtyard, and Essix, still circling overhead. She was an ornery bird, as stubborn as Rollan.

  But where was Kovo? The last time she’d been here, the Great Ape had been in the center of the square, surrounded by guards. Even as a spirit animal, he took up space. But there was no sign of him. Or Jhi. Or Briggan.

  Rollan eased Anda down onto the steps outside the great hall. A medic rushed forward to see to the boy’s wounds. He didn’t resist, didn’t even speak, only let the woman lead him away. Abeke caught him as he passed and squeezed his shoulder once, gently.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she said.

  Anda nodded vaguely but said nothing. The sadness in his eyes broke Abeke’s heart.

  “Some welcome party,” said Rollan, turning in a circle. “Meilin?” he called out. “Conor?”

  “I’m afraid they are not here,” said Olvan, the leader of the Greencloaks, appearing at the entrance of the great hall. He looked older, or perhaps just tired, new creases etched into his face.

  “Shouldn’t they be back by now?” asked Rollan, fear edging his voice. “You … you went with them.”

  “Yes,” said Olvan slowly. “I did.”

  “Then where are they?” demanded Rollan.

  “What’s going on?” asked Abeke, heart racing.

  Olvan hesitated, his wrinkles deepening in thought. His eyes tracked over the courtyard, as if he didn’t want to speak of what had happened, not even in front of his own Greencloaks. Abeke’s chest tightened, the way it did when she was on uneven ground and could feel it shifting, about to give way.

  What had happened to her friends?

  When Olvan spoke again, his voice was carefully even, but his gaze was filled with warning. “You two look as though you’ve had your own troubles,” he said, holding open the door to the great hall. “Come inside, and we can compare notes.”

  “What do you mean, they’re trapped?”

  “Lower your voice, Rollan,” instructed Olvan. The boy’s words still echoed through the great hall.

  Trapped … trapped … trapped.

  Abeke looked around then, and realized that the great hall, usually buzzing with activity, had been emptied. The three of them were alone, Abeke and Rollan on one side of the long wooden table, and Olvan on the other. The surface of the table was piled with scrolls, and bowls of stew waited in front of them, quickly cooling as they sat untouched, forgotten.

  “We don’t know exactly what happened,” explained Olvan, “only that the doorway collapsed behind them.”

  “What?” squawked Rollan.

  Abeke listened but said nothing. She ran her fingertips along the table’s surface, considering the hundreds of marks—scratches, dents, grooves—in its surface, focusing on the details as she tried to organize her thoughts.

  She worried about them all, but she worried about Conor most. He was running out of time, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the mark crawling up his arm, about what would happen when—if—it reached his forehead.

  The fight with Zerif came back to her, the horrible spiral on his face. The same mark was echoed in every one of the animals he now controlled, and the thought of him controlling Conor, too, made her stomach turn.

  “You didn’t want to tell us in the open,” she said slowly. “The other Greencloaks don’t know, do they?”

  Olvan rubbed his eyes. “Not all of them, no.”

  Rollan looked pale with anger. “Why on Erdas not?”

  The old man sighed. “The last few weeks have been trying on all of us, mentally as well as physically. I fear that this turn of events would be a blow we cannot afford.”

  “I don’t care about the Greencloaks’ morale,” snapped Rollan. “Not when our friends are stuck under the earth with Kovo, the ape who tried to destroy the world!”

  Abeke reached out and brought a hand to Rollan’s arm. She could feel his body, as tense as rope, beneath his cloak.

  Olvan, for his part, looked as if he were carrying the weight of Erdas on his shoulders. Abeke could tell it was taking all his strength to keep his own voice even, his manner calm.

  “Kovo is not what he once was,” said Olvan steadily.

  “Look,” said Rollan, “I’m all about redemption, but you’ll never make me believe that Kovo is on our side.”
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  “He is on Takoda’s side,” offered Abeke, “and Takoda is on ours.”

  “Takoda is trapped under the ground with the rest of our friends!” shouted Rollan, pushing to his feet. “How can you just sit there listening to this, Abeke? We have to go after them!”

  “Sit,” commanded Olvan. “Where they’ve gone, you can’t follow. The door has caved in, and it’s too fragile to force our way through. Your friends are still alive—”

  “How do you know?” Abeke cut in.

  Olvan gestured at the mountain of scrolls on the wooden table, ribbons of red and blue and yellow tying them shut. “Word comes from many sources, Lenori among them. She can feel Briggan and Jhi, as well as Kovo. They are all still alive.”

  “That doesn’t mean they’re safe!” protested Rollan.

  “Have faith in your friends,” said Olvan. “I do. And know that you are needed here. With Zerif infecting people and stealing spirit animals, it’s more important than ever that you two find the Great Beasts before he does. Bring them here to Greenhaven so that we can protect them from whatever he’s planning.”

  “But we failed,” said Abeke, her throat tightening. “Anda lost Tellun.”

  Olvan’s eyes darkened. Abeke could see the worry in his expression. Not only for Anda, but for all of them, for whatever Zerif was planning, whatever he would do when—if—he got the rest of the Great Beasts. “Tell me everything.”

  Abeke swallowed hard, and explained what had happened—first with Anda’s tribe, and then the appearance of Zerif and his stolen Great Beasts, the loss of the elk, the horrible strain on their spirit animal bonds.

  “We, too, felt the straining of our bonds,” said Olvan grimly. “We can only assume it’s because of the Evertree’s rot. Lenori tells us that her own bond shuddered when the tree did.”

  “And then there was the guy in the mask,” said Rollan, stabbing a spoon at his now-cold stew.

  At this, Olvan stilled. “What guy?”

  “He showed up at the last minute,” said Abeke thoughtfully. “He’s the only reason we got away.”

  “He had a red cloak,” offered Rollan, “and he wore some kind of mask. Weird and faceless, gave me the creeps. Didn’t say anything. But Abeke’s right, he did help us.”

  “The way he fought … ” said Abeke.

  “It was insane,” said Rollan, spirits brightening a little despite himself.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” added Abeke. “Not from Meilin, or my people, or even Zerif. It was like he … wasn’t human. It was as if a spirit animal were giving him strength, but there was no animal around. Not that I saw.”

  Olvan steepled his fingers. “Strange. A similar figure appeared here at Greenhaven not long ago, but his mask had the face of an animal carved in it. Some kind of cat.”

  “So there’s more of them?” asked Rollan.

  “It would appear so. This one called himself Worthy. He came asking for the Keeper. They left together and haven’t returned. For now, we must treat these strangers with caution. We don’t know if they are friends or foes.”

  “But the one in the woods,” insisted Abeke, “he helped us.”

  “Yet he conceals his face,” countered the leader of the Greencloaks. “We may share a common enemy in Zerif. But if you cross paths with him again, be careful.”

  Rollan slumped back in his seat. “So, what now?” he grumbled. “We’re just supposed to sit here, waiting for news of our friends? Waiting for Zerif to strike again? Waiting for the Evertree’s rot to break our spirit animal bonds?”

  “No.” Olvan shook his head. “I don’t expect you to sit here, waiting for anything.” He began sorting through the pile of scrolls on the table, searching for one in particular. Some were large, obviously brought by hand, while others were small and tightly coiled, the kind carried by messenger birds. Each was bound with a ribbon, yellow or red or blue … never green. Abeke wondered if that would be too obvious. A message just asking to fall into the wrong hands.

  Finally Olvan found the one he was looking for and plucked it out of the stack.

  “This just arrived from Lenori.” He slid the yellow tie from the paper and unrolled it. “Another Great Beast has awoken. So eat up and get your rest, because you two leave at first light.”

  “What about Anda?” asked Abeke.

  Olvan sighed. “As soon as he’s strong enough, we’ll return him to Amaya and help him find his tribe.”

  Abeke bristled at the idea that the boy was useless without Tellun. “But he belongs with—”

  The man reached out and curled his old hand over hers. “It’s not your fault, but Anda has no place here without his Great Beast.”

  A new wave of guilt rolled over her. They’d taken him away, all for nothing. The only thing she could do now was fight for him. For Tellun.

  Rollan sat forward on the bench.

  “So where are we going?” he asked.

  Olvan pinned down the scroll with his mug and finally met their eyes.

  “You’re going,” he said, “to Stetriol.”

  EVERYONE HAD OBVIOUSLY LOST THEIR MINDS.

  That was the only explanation Rollan could come up with.

  He shook his head and spit over the edge of the battlements. It was the middle of the night, the wind biting at his cheeks and messing his hair. He couldn’t quiet his thoughts enough to sleep.

  Stetriol, of all places. It couldn’t have been Nilo, or Eura, or Amaya, or Zhong, or even Arctica! It had to be Stetriol.

  He would rather face everyone he’d ever stolen from than set foot back in the land of the Conquerors and the Bile, Gerathon and Gar, the Reptile King and Shane.

  Olvan claimed that the land at the edge of the world was different now, that it had changed. According to the leader of the Greencloaks, Stetriol was now full of happy people and frolicking pets and rainbows and—fine, Rollan might be exaggerating.

  But still.

  The last time he’d been in Stetriol, they’d tried to kill him. In fact, every encounter Rollan had had with Stetriol and its people had been unpleasant. And no matter what Olvan said, Rollan wasn’t suddenly ready to assume the best from people who’d once showed him the worst.

  “They’re rebuilding,” Olvan had insisted. “And we are helping them. We must show them they can trust us.”

  Rollan fought back a snort at that. Trust. He hadn’t survived the streets of Concorba by trusting the people who were nice to him, let alone the ones who tried to stab him in the back. Sure, Stetriol had been through some bad times, but it had been cut off from the world for a reason.

  “Stetriol is now a post, occupied by Greencloaks,” Olvan had explained. “Our presence there is as large as it is here in Greenhaven, so you’ll be in good hands once you arrive. And this time you won’t be traveling alone.”

  In the end, those words had helped to ease Rollan’s nerves a little. But he still wished Meilin was going with him. Wished she were here. He knew she’d had to go with Conor, so Jhi could help heal him, but it didn’t change the fact that Rollan missed her. Not that he’d say that to her face. She’d probably just tease him if he did.

  Or maybe she wouldn’t.

  Girls were confusing.

  The wind on the battlements picked up. Rollan pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders. Below, the ocean made a constant shushing sound against the shore, while overhead it was a cloudless night with a bright wedge of a moon and a sea of stars. The kind of night that made Rollan feel small, though not in a bad way. Like he was part of something bigger.

  He picked at the edge of his green cloak, the garment he’d been so hesitant to put on. After all, being alone could be scary, but being a part of something was way scarier. And yet, being a part of the Greencloaks had helped him get his own mother back, had brought him close to Abeke, Conor, and Meilin. It had given him family, friends, things he thought he’d never have.

  He felt like he’d stolen something precious, and gotten away with it.

/>   Rollan forced himself to smile. Once a thief, always a thief.

  But someone—Zerif—was trying to steal those things back, and Rollan wasn’t letting go without a fight. He took a long, steadying breath and was about to whistle for Essix when he heard the footsteps behind him. Not the march of boots down in the courtyard, but the soft familiar shuffle of Abeke’s steps somewhere at his back. Rollan didn’t turn around. He knew that if he heard her coming, it was only because she wanted him to hear. He’d never met anyone so stealthy.

  Meilin the warrior. Abeke the tracker. Conor the loyal leader.

  What did that make him?

  “Can’t sleep?” asked Abeke, emerging from the shadow of the keep wall.

  Rollan shook his head.

  “Essix is restless,” he said, blaming the bird. The falcon appeared for an instant against the moon, then was gone again, swallowed up by the sky.

  “I can’t sleep either,” said Abeke. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m afraid I’ll wake to that feeling.… ”

  Rollan knew the feeling she was talking about. He’d felt it, too. Like his skeleton was being torn from his body with the skin still on. Like something important inside of him was bending, bending, about to break.

  “It seems like you and Essix are okay.”

  “Me and Essix … ” said Rollan, squinting up at the night sky. Was that true? “We’ve always let each other be. If this spirit animal bond is like a rope, maybe there’s just more slack in ours. I mean, remember how long it took me to convince Essix to even go into her passive state?” Rollan took up a loose pebble and lobbed it over the wall. “Silly bird.”

  He tried to keep his voice steady, but the truth was, Rollan was scared. He was having a harder time borrowing Essix’s sight these days. Even when he did, it felt unsteady, like he might fall at any second. Every time, he was left feeling dizzy, and like he’d eaten something rotten.

  Rollan forced himself to take a deep breath. He felt trapped.

  Trapped, like Meilin and Conor.

  “Do you think they’re okay, Abeke?” He didn’t have to say who.