Broken Ground Read online

  Xanthe’s pink eyes met hers. “Okay,” she said at last. “I’ll stay.”

  “Thank you,” whispered Meilin.

  Xanthe tried to manage a smile. “You wouldn’t make it far without me,” she said, but Meilin could see the darker truth in Xanthe’s pale eyes. The girl had nowhere else to go. No one to go to.

  From the floor, Conor let out a small, stifled sound of pain, and Meilin flinched.

  Jhi, she called desperately. With a flash of light and a quick burst of heat, the panda was there beside her in the cavern. Jhi’s head swiveled slowly to get her bearings, obviously hoping to find herself back above ground.

  Sorry, thought Meilin. Not yet.

  The panda turned her steady gaze on Conor’s prone form. Jhi’s face remained passive, and where that lack of expression used to frustrate Meilin, now she clung to it, trying to absorb the panda’s calm. Jhi leaned forward and rested a single paw on Conor’s chest, while Briggan paced, his hackles still raised.

  For a long moment, no one said anything.

  And then Xanthe clapped her hands. “Like I was saying,” she said, an edge of worry lodged in her throat. “I think it’s time to set up camp.”

  The fire burned blue.

  Xanthe said the color came from the moss they used for kindling. It was perfectly normal—she’d been surprised to see their torches burn gold and white—but the bluish tint made the cave seem even more unnatural, painting the cavern in tones that belonged to an underwater world, a place of ocean, not earth.

  Meilin stood watch at one side of the cave, her quarterstaff in her hands. Conor and Jhi rested nearby, while Takoda and Xanthe sat by the opposite wall.

  Ahead of her, the path was darkness—no, people spoke of darkness, but this was something thicker—and it played tricks on her eyes, pulling her imagination toward unseen threats until she finally dragged her attention back to the cavern.

  Takoda and Xanthe had their heads together near the fire, making shadow puppets on the cavern wall.

  First, Takoda made a butterfly.

  Then, Xanthe made a blob that was apparently something called a snarle.

  Next, Takoda made a bear.

  Then, Xanthe made another blob with antennae she claimed was a gallor.

  Takoda shook his head with a shy smile. “That’s not a real thing.”

  Xanthe cocked her head, her pale hair glinting blue in the moss fire’s light. “Just because you don’t know what a snarle or a gallor is,” she countered, “doesn’t mean they aren’t real.” But there was a ghost of a smile at the edge of her mouth.

  “You are making them up!”

  Xanthe shrugged, but the smile widened. “Hey, you’d never seen a cyrix before either.”

  At that, Takoda shuddered dramatically. “And I hope I never see one again.”

  Kovo was supposed to be on watch, too, guarding the way they’d come, but the ape kept casting glances back at the pair by the fire.

  He’s jealous, thought Meilin. She was jealous, too, jealous of the way they could laugh, even now. She knew that if Rollan were here, he’d make her laugh. Or at least smile.

  Conor whispered in his sleep. He lay curled against the cave wall nearby. Briggan had finally stopped pacing, and now stood sentry beside the boy while Jhi worked her silent, soothing power.

  The strain had gone out of Conor’s face, and his breathing had grown steady and even. He wasn’t the only one calmed by the panda’s presence. Meilin could feel her heart slowing, her panic ebbing as she lowered herself to the cool cave floor. She put her back to the wall, crossed her legs, and tried to breathe.

  “I’ll take watch,” said Xanthe from the fire, casting a nervous glance at Conor as she spoke.

  Anger still flared through Meilin, at Xanthe’s fear, and the fact that she understood it.

  She wanted to lash out, to hunt down Zerif and attack him for hurting her friend and endangering so many. Instead she was stuck here beneath the earth, watching Conor suffer. Feeling helpless. Useless. The anger and panic and fear were like ropes, wrapping themselves around her. She wanted to fight back, to tear free, but knew that struggling would only make the dark feelings tighten. Instead, she nodded, and tried to breathe, ground herself the way her fighting instructors had taught her, and let the ropes fall away.

  Overhead, the blue light danced, and Jhi’s calm wrapped around her. Eventually she felt her eyes begin to unfocus.

  But as soon as they drifted shut, she heard a voice.

  Not a stranger’s voice, or an animal’s, not the gurgle and rasp of the Many or the sound of water on the cave walls. It was a voice she knew too well. Her father’s.

  Meilin’s eyes snapped open.

  “Meilin,” he called. The name echoed softly “… eilin … lin.”

  It wasn’t coming from the cavern, but from the tunnel beyond, a snaking path where the blue firelight quickly gave way to impenetrable black.

  Meilin frowned, wondering if she’d imagined the sound, but then it came again.

  “Meilin … eilin … lin. ”

  “Did you hear that?” she asked, turning back toward the fire, but there was no one there. No Takoda and Xanthe making shapes. No Kovo looming. No Conor and Briggan curled against the wall.

  Only Jhi, sitting before the fire, her dark round shape like a shadow puppet, and her face blank in a way that reminded Meilin of that horrible sensation when their spirit animal bond had been stretched.

  “Jhi?” she called. But the panda didn’t look at her. Didn’t blink.

  “Meilin … eilin … lin,” called her father. She knew it wasn’t him, knew it couldn’t be him, but there was so much strangeness here beneath the earth, and maybe, maybe, maybe …

  Meilin got to her feet. She could feel Jhi’s presence at her back, tugging, trying to keep her from following the sound, but Meilin had to know.

  She called into the darkness. “Hello?”

  Hello? Hello? Hello? It echoed.

  But no other answer came.

  Meilin took a step, out of the cave and into the tunnel, and then another, the blue light from the fire fading behind her until she could barely see the way ahead. Above her, roots pulsed like veins to a heart. As the tunnel sloped down beneath her feet, she knew it led toward the Evertree.

  Every time she thought of stopping, the voice came again.

  “Meilin … eilin … lin.”

  But now it didn’t sound like her father.

  It sounded like Zerif.

  It sounded like Shane.

  It sounded like Olvan.

  It sounded like Conor.

  It sounded like Abeke.

  It sounded like Rollan.

  It sounded like people she knew, and people she’d lost, and even people she hadn’t met.

  The ground beneath her feet became tangled with roots. The walls pressed in with them, and the tunnel became narrower and narrower, closing in until Meilin had to crawl on hands and knees toward the darkness at the heart of the world.

  And then, all of a sudden, the tunnel gave way, and she was in a massive cavern, as big as the greatest hall in the largest fortress in Zhong.

  She was kneeling on a stone floor, palms splayed, and under her fingers something had been gouged into the rock. Up close, it looked like a curve, but when she got to her feet, she gasped.

  It was, of course, a spiral.

  Meilin looked up, taking in the rest of the cavern.

  The roots of the Evertree were everywhere. They wound around the edges of the space and over the floor. They climbed the walls and gathered together in the ceiling. Light streamed from every root, illuminating the strange chamber. A dozen of the strongest tendrils came together into a canopy overhead and trailed down like curtains in the middle of the cavern. No, Meilin realized, not like curtains. Like bars.

  And standing there, in the center of the cage of roots, was a shape.

  At first it seemed like a monster.

  And then like a man.

  An
d then like something else entirely.

  Meilin knew just by looking at this thing that it was old, as old as the world, and as dark as the sky on a moonless night. Its presence seemed to soak up all the light and warmth, and radiate back a sickly cold.

  It had no edges, and when it twisted toward her, she saw that it had no face.

  And when it spoke, its voice whispered in her head, and the words all bled together like the rustle and crack and tread of the woods at night.

  Meilin couldn’t understand what it was saying, but it seemed so very important. Maybe, if she just got closer … She took a step, and the words got clearer. But she still couldn’t understand, so she took another, and another, until she was right in front of the cage of roots.

  The darkness smiled, and lunged.

  Its hands shot forward through the bars and wrapped around her throat and—

  Meilin sat forward with a gasp.

  She was still sitting on the cavern floor at the mouth of the tunnel. Someone had cast a cloak over her like a blanket. Xanthe was crouching over her, her pink eyes bright, her small, pale hand resting on Meilin’s arm.

  “You were talking in your sleep,” said Xanthe apologetically. Jhi sat a few feet away, gaze even but eyes dark. Had she seen it, too? The Wyrm? Meilin saw concern and sadness tinge the panda’s steady eyes, as if she knew what waited for them in the dark.

  I’m sorry, the panda seemed to say.

  They were so different, Meilin and Jhi, like fire and earth. Meilin would never have guessed that their bond would stay strong even now, under such strain. Maybe it was because of their differences. Meilin and Jhi were still distinct, and often at odds, unlike Conor and Briggan, who seemed to share the same soul.

  Meilin couldn’t help but wonder how Rollan was faring.

  The blue fire had gone cold, and Kovo was holding up their own revived golden torchlight while Takoda rolled a blanket back into his pack.

  “We should get moving soon,” said Xanthe. “It’s still a ways to go. Oh, and I found some rockweed for us to eat,” she added, holding out a ropy plant the color of seaweed.

  Meilin could imagine Rollan saying, “Mmmm, delicious,” in his sarcastic way. A pang went through her as she realized how much she missed him. She hoped he and Abeke were faring better on their own mission.

  “Thanks,” said Meilin, accepting the plant with dignity. She raised it to her mouth and hesitated.

  “Best not to try and actually eat it,” explained Xanthe. “The nutrients are in the juice. You chew on it, like this.” Xanthe demonstrated, chewing on the stalk the way Meilin had seen farmers in the countryside do, trying to keep their mouths from going dry on the hottest days of harvest. It wasn’t a very elegant process, but Meilin was crouching on a damp cave floor, her clothes stained with soil. There was a time for elegance, and a time for survival.

  Besides, the rockweed actually tasted good, like honey and river water, and soon Meilin didn’t care what she looked like, chewing the strange—fruit? vegetable?—food.

  Across the cavern, Jhi and Kovo seemed to be engaged in a staring contest. The ape was much larger than the panda, but even he obviously wasn’t immune to her influences, and Kovo was the first to break away, his red eyes escaping to the floor with a snort. Jhi made a small sound and rocked slightly, and if Meilin didn’t know better, she’d think the panda was being smug.

  “We need to get going,” whispered Xanthe, tossing aside a spent stalk of rockweed.

  Meilin didn’t understand why the girl was keeping her voice low until she saw that Conor was still curled in the corner. Briggan’s long body was stretched out beside him, like a barrier between the boy and the rest of the cave.

  She hated to wake him, but the fact was that only reaching—and defeating—the Wyrm could save him. Jhi could slow the sickness, but the panda couldn’t stop it.

  Meilin got to her feet. Her whole body felt stiff, as if … well, as if she’d spent the night sitting on a cold cave floor. She flexed her muscles, aware of how long she’d gone without a proper fight—sure, there were plenty of things to run from—and how badly she wanted to avoid one.

  She reached a hand toward Jhi. The panda considered her a moment before slowly bowing her head and vanishing in a burst of light and heat.

  Meilin crossed the cave to Conor, but before she could reach out a hand, his eyes were drifting open.

  Briggan stretched and nuzzled the boy’s cheek.

  “Hey there,” he whispered, a tired smile tugging at his mouth.

  “You’re awake,” said Meilin, kneeling beside him. “How are you feeling?”

  Conor sat up and rubbed his head, the blond tufts standing up in a dozen directions. Before she could stop herself, Meilin reached out and smoothed the hair, feeling his forehead as casually as possible.

  With Jhi’s help, and a few hours of sleep, at least his fever was down again.

  “What happened last night?” he asked.

  “You got … sick,” she said, searching for the right word.

  His gaze went to his infected arm, folded against his ribs, and then to Xanthe, who was standing across the cavern, watching. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I could—”

  “Conor, you should have said something.”

  He swallowed. “I’m already slowing us down.”

  “You have to tell us when it gets bad, okay? You have to tell me. That’s what friends do.”

  He shook his head and wouldn’t meet her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was sad and lost. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  Meilin tensed.

  There’s nothing you can do.

  They were her five least favorite words.

  When Zhong had fallen, she’d heard them.

  When her father had died, she’d heard them.

  But she wouldn’t accept those words, not now. Maybe she couldn’t save Conor—not on her own, not without help and time and luck—but there was something she could do. She could stand at his side. She could be strong enough for both of them.

  “You need to eat.” Meilin handed him a stalk of rockweed. “It’s actually not bad,” she said in response to his cautious look.

  Briggan sniffed the plant, recoiled, and looked pitifully at Conor until he dug a scrap of dried meat from his sack.

  “I can feel it,” he whispered, turning the rockweed over in his hands.

  She expected him to say the parasite, but instead he said, “The Wyrm. I can feel it here,” he said, touching his arm. “But also there,” he added, pointing down the tunnel Meilin had guarded, the one she’d wandered in her sleep. “We’re getting closer.”

  Every inch of Meilin’s skin crawled at the thought of facing the monster from her dreams, but she forced herself to smile. “Good,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Conor took her hand and got to his feet, but he looked uncertain. “Is it?”

  “Yes,” said Meilin. “Because the sooner we get there, the sooner we can fight.” She wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “And the sooner we fight, the sooner we can win.”

  THE TELLUN’S PRIDE II CUT LIKE A KNIFE THROUGH THE waves, buoyed along by a strong current, a good wind, and a stretch of clear sky. It was a grand ship, and with the help of the breeze and the two whales at the bow pulling it along, they were well on their way to Stetriol.

  “About time something went our way,” said Rollan, turning his face toward the morning sun. “This weather is amazing!”

  “Don’t say that,” warned Abeke. She was sitting cross-legged on a wooden crate, rolling an apple between her palms. “You’ll jinx us.”

  “Come on,” said Rollan, waving his hand. “How can I jinx us? There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

  “I’m serious,” she said. “Don’t talk like that.”

  But now he couldn’t help but tease her. “You know what?” he said. “I bet we get all the way to Stetriol without a drop of—” He was interrupted by the apple that Abeke lobbed at his head. Rollan dodged, an
d it caught him in the shoulder instead. There wasn’t much force behind the blow, and he finished defiantly, “—rain.”

  Abeke shook her head as he rubbed his shoulder where the apple had struck.

  “Tenavo,” she said.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “That was the word for bad luck in my village. Not just any bad luck, but the kind you ask for.”

  “Superstitious girl,” grumbled Rollan, fetching up the fallen apple. He took a big bite.

  “You’ll see,” she warned.

  Ten minutes later, the storm rolled in.

  They stood at the rail, watching it form on the horizon. It approached at first like a malevolent ship, and then something much bigger than a ship, and then a wall.

  Within minutes, the storm was on them, and it was raging. It swallowed up the blue sky, carrying clouds that went from white, to gray, to charcoal. Thunder rumbled through them, and lightning danced, and then the rain came, crashing down like a wave.

  Within seconds, they were soaked through.

  Rollan craned his head back, squinting through the icy rain. “Essix!” he called up into the worsening storm, but the bird was nowhere to be seen. She probably had the good sense to get above the clouds. Right about now, as the ship rocked under the growing swells and shuddered under the force of the rain, Rollan was wishing he could do the same.

  He had seen his fair share of bad weather, but he’d always been on land, crouched under an awning or in a doorway, tucked behind some bins or under a set of stairs. He’d never been in the middle of it.

  Now, standing on the deck of the Tellun’s Pride II, he didn’t have much choice.

  The downpour battered the deck and crashed against the hull, the ship bucking like an angry horse beneath them. Soon it was all they could do to stay on their feet.

  Abeke glared at Rollan. “Tenavo!” she repeated, the word sounding more like a curse as she shouted at him through the gusts of wind and torrents of rain.

  The crew, most of them caught just as off guard by the sudden storm, now scrambled over the deck, tying down all the cargo, tarping the crates, and collapsing the sails. Abeke and Rollan helped to drop an anchor so they wouldn’t be hurled off course, but the rope got stuck in its crank, and as they heaved at it, they both nearly went overboard.