Quintessence Sky (40 page)

"What is it?" Elizabeth said.

"Catherine is alive." Parris's eyes didn't
focus properly, as if he were in some other place, watching a
different scene unfold. "She is safe, and . . . Maasha Kaatra . .
."

Matthew stared at him in consternation. He
knew Parris was bonded to Tanalabrinu, that what the manticore saw
and heard, Parris could too. The claim that Catherine was alive
made Matthew's heart pound, but Maasha Kaatra? He'd been dead for
more than a year. Was this a true vision, or some kind of
reverie?

Parris's eyes snapped back to the present.
"Rinchirith is coming. The Spanish conquistadors, hundreds strong,
and thousands of manticores, are on their way here, right now, with
plans to kill us all."

The room erupted into noise. Ferguson jumped
to his feet. "We'll fight them," he said. "Fear not, your Grace. We
will defy them to the last man." Others jumped up as well, shouting
once more.

"Silence," Elizabeth said. Her voice cut like
clear crystal over the din. "They are too many. We must flee." She
tilted back her chin and caught Matthew's eyes over the crowd.
"Matthew Marcheford, where are we to go?"

Matthew gaped. She was asking him? Of course,
Elizabeth had no knowledge of the geography of this place, so she
would have to ask someone. Ramos shot him a subtle, told-you-so
smile, while everyone waited for him to speak.

"North, into the mountains," he said. "As far
from the bay as possible. We should find higher ground, with a
defensible position."

"North it is," Elizabeth said. Her tone was
imperious, and although she had walked out of the forest with no
explanation, they all moved to obey her, gathering their supplies
for another exodus. Matthew marveled at her poise and strength of
authority. She had been here an hour at most, and already she
commanded more complete obedience than any governor had ever
managed.

TORRES'S men were well-disciplined and
marched in a formation designed for forest terrain. Torres himself
rode at the front with the cavalry, following the manticores. The
creatures, however, did not travel in straight lines. They seemed
to roam randomly, following some pattern of the terrain that Torres
couldn't see, sometimes on the ground and sometimes through the
trees. If they were following a path, it was not one suitable for
humans. The manticores led them down into ravines and back up
again, through thick brambles, into marshy areas that squelched
underfoot. Occasionally, they had to leave their guides and strike
out on their own to take some easier path, trusting that the
manticores would find them again and lead them on.

It occurred to Torres that this could be
intentional on the part of the manticores, and that they were
laughing at the humans from up in the trees. If so, there wasn't
much he could do about it. As long as they eventually led him to
what remained of the colonists, he could handle a little delay.

The real problem was that he wasn't
commanding any respect from these savages, nor had he managed to
intimidate them with his technology. This was not a good start in a
relationship where he had intended to dominate and exploit them.
The only leverage he had over them was his guns. He had given them
a few dozen as a gesture of good faith, but he would have to start
trading them for more concrete goods.

First things first. He had to find the
original colonists, force them to tell everything they knew, and
then kill them. That done, he would have a better idea of what he
needed. Shekinah flatworms, to be sure, and quintessence pearls,
probably some living animals and plants. More of those eels Barrosa
had showed him that could turn things into gold. That alone would
make his trip a great success. He didn't have to worry about
subjugating the natives, not on this trip anyway. Eventually, they
would need a proper colony here, with a fort and a regular garrison
guarding the bay. There would be plenty of time to teach the
manticores proper respect, and to set them to some useful task.

They reached the foothills of the mountains,
and the march grew more difficult, though somewhat straighter. The
slope was steep, and the ground was made of loose, rocky soil with
treacherous footing. Finally, they crested a rise and found a
clearing. The mountain rose up again on the other side of the
clearing, but there were fissures in the rock face that looked like
they might be the openings to deep caves. In the clearing itself
was evidence of construction: wooden beams and stone blocks
partially assembled or stacked in piles. They checked the caves,
and found the remains of cookfires, but no people.

"Where are they?" Torres demanded.

"They were warned of our coming." Rinchirith
said.

"Who warned them? Did one of yours betray
us?"

Rinchirith ignored the question. "They have
no stealth, no skill. They leave a trail as bright and stinking as
a—" He made a clicking, coughing noise that was no language Torres
had ever heard, and gestured with two of its tails.

"What does that mean?" Torres said.

"It means we can track them."

WHEN Matthew and the others had migrated to
these caves in the first place, their line had been scatted,
stretched thin as those who couldn't travel as fast trailed behind.
This time, Elizabeth insisted on a formation, keeping everyone
close, with ranging scouts both ahead and behind. Elizabeth herself
had difficulty with the pace; she was new to the strength and
agility quintessence gave her body, and so was unused to using it.
Ramos adjusted more readily, and he carried his daughter Antonia
along as easily as if she were made of straw. Before they left, he
had circulated among the colonists, distributing the supply of salt
he had brought with him from England. Combined with what they had
been able to scrape hastily from the deposits in the cave, they
were all well-supplied.

They climbed steeply uphill through forest,
and the speed at which they traveled made it imperative to watch
for roots and branches underfoot. Matthew remembered the
vulnerable, straggling line from their first migration, and felt
foolish. It hadn't even occurred to him to keep everyone together
as a group for safety. Though, why should it have? He was young,
not even married, not a leader. He wasn't responsible for their
protection. In fact, he was such a terrible leader he had destroyed
their entire settlement. So why did people always look to him when
there were decisions to be made?

A sharp whistle came from behind them, and
one of the scouts ran up past him and addressed Elizabeth.
"Conquistadors on our trail," he reported. "They left the caves and
are marching this way, though their speed is much slower than
ours."

"How did they know which way to go?"
Matthew's father asked.

The scout shook his head. "We must have left
signs. Footprints, maybe."

It seemed unlikely to Matthew—the ground near
the caves was rocky and packed hard—but perhaps the Spanish were
better trackers than he expected. "Where are the manticores that
were supposed to be with them?"

"Could be a hundred, and I wouldn't know it,"
the scout said. "No skink tears."

"We press on," Elizabeth said. "If you see
any sign of the manticore force, report immediately."

The scout nodded and bowed, but it was the
last thing he did. A crack sounded from somewhere to their left,
and when the scout straightened, a bright red stain bloomed on his
chest. His eyes wide and glassy, he coughed once, spraying blood
onto Elizabeth, and collapsed to the ground.

AS CATHERINE and Maasha Kaatra traveled with
Tanalabrinu, more and more manticores joined them. First it was
just a dozen, serving as a kind of honor guard, but they kept
appearing out of nowhere, and every time Catherine turned around,
there was a larger group. She gradually became aware that there
must be a vast company of manticores moving through the trees
behind and around them. An army.

"Why are so many coming with us?" she
said.

"They would follow the star-bird,"
Tanalabrinu said.

"What are you not telling me?"

At first, Tanalabrinu did not answer, and
Catherine wondered if he would refuse. Then he said, "Rinchirith's
army has already reached your human colonists. They are surrounded
and overwhelmed. I fear we may be too late to make any
difference."

A knot of dread fell into Catherine's
stomach. "How far away are they?"

As if in answer, they came to a rocky
outcropping devoid of trees, allowing them a view of the ground
below. The view was tremendous, vast stretches of forests and
plains carpeting the landscape. They were much closer to the sea
than Catherine had realized, close to the eastern cliffs where the
water pounded against the rocks, impassable for any ship. On a
slope far below them, she could see a horde of manticores pouring
into a stretch of forest while even more held back, keeping their
quarry surrounded. It was a hundred times as many manticores as
there were humans on the island. She couldn't see them well enough
to pick out any individuals, but the roar of their attack filtered
up to her ears faintly on the wind.

"We have to save them!" Catherine said.

"The path goes to the right," Tanalabrinu
said. "It follows the curve of the mountain and comes out at the
base of those trees, there."

"Too slow. Look at them all! My family and
friends will be massacred."

"It’s the only way. My warriors are swift. We
will soon engage the enemy."

Catherine looked down at the manticore army
far below. The drop was not sheer, exactly, but it was very steep
and strewn with loose boulders. "Not swift enough. You go that way
if you want."

"What do you intend?"

"To rescue them."

With a shout to give herself courage,
Catherine ran forward and careened over the edge. She flew faster
than she ever had before, half running and half falling, trying to
avoid scree that could trip her up. One mistake and she might
simply fall the rest of the way and crack her head open on a
rock.

A ululating war cry behind her told her that
Tanalabrinu, at least, had followed her over the edge, and soon a
roar like an avalanche came from behind her. She dared not look
back, needing to keep her eyes on her footing. Either it
was
an avalanche, disturbed by her feet and rushing down to crush her,
or else Tanalabrinu's army was plunging down the slope after her.
Either way, she had no choice but to keep running and keep her
feet.

Finally, the slope smoothed out toward the
horizontal, and she found herself careening straight into the
rearguard of Rinchirith's manticore army. She kept running, turning
her skin to iron and blazing out with quintessence fire. They fell
back as she and the hundreds of manticores behind her smashed
deeply into their midst.