“What? Praying that quickly? Come on, I gotta see
you sweat first,” the meeple rambles, slowly taking a step forward. I see the movement again above us and interpret in my brain what’s going on.
That damn woodsprite was right!
Just as the meeple takes another step, ready to strike me while my
spade is down, tree branches swoop down, pick up the meeple, twist its neck, and drop it to the ground as I stare in awe. I stand, motionless, not wanting to move an inch as the branches go back to simply swaying in the wind.
There is no further
threat, but there is a rustling of leaves that seems to be getting closer. I crouch to the ground, turning my head toward the sound, straining my ear to make sure I know exactly where it’s coming from. It is then that it appears, all disgusting and creepy: a deathman.
It walks straight to the meeple, not paying me any attention as it picks up the carcass and stares at it
, while kneeling. It lays the meeple back down and holds its hands a few inches above the creature, moving them back and forth, methodically, over the body. Slowly, a beautiful, round, iridescent specter escapes and hovers above the body. The deathman stares at the ball for a moment, then grabs it, puts it in its mouth, and swallows. It climbs to its feet, and before walking away, seems to wave at the tree in a neighborly sort of way.
The deathman leaves, and I still stand motionless in front of the tree.
I look up, waiting for more movement. “Umm... Thank you?”
I turn around to start my walk back to the encampment, and hear a whisper that resembles the wind: “You
’re welcome.” My walk quickly turns into a run.
Chapter 40
Proud
As I head back to camp,
thinking to myself that karma just scored, I remember Gunthreon’s words of the Higher Ones intervention with karma: I’m simply the beacon. In thinking that Neda surely must be involved, I intend to tell Gunthreon, when I suddenly realize camp’s much quieter than I remember it, so I approach with care. I hear Gunthreon’s voice above all noises, using his persuasion to calm the crowd. Fannie holds Nayla, and I whisper, “Is she gone?”
“No, she
’s still hanging on somehow, but I do not know for how long.” She pets her head gently.
“An
y idea why this was done?” I ask.
“Both Gunthreon and Conner are working on it, but aren
’t getting any concrete answers,” she replies, continuing to stroke Nayla’s head.
“It was a meeple,” I state
as Fannie’s head suddenly turns to look at me, “and it knew my name.”
“Why would one be here, of all places?” she
asks. I shrug. “Mooncats and meeples never mix well. Where did it run off too?”
“
It’s not running any longer. It’s dead,” I say. Fannie stares at me, looking a bit too shocked.
“Not by my hands,” I say, disappointingly.
“Maybe not by your hands, but you
definitely
had something to do with it.” Fannie answers.
In looking over the crowd, I see someone heading toward us and realize it
’s Bu. “Quick, take her into the forest and help her,” I plead. Fannie glares at me. “Please!”
“You
’re gonna be the death of me!” Fannie gets up and drags Nayla into the forest on a blanket while the mooncats stand and stare.
Suddenly, a
proud and exhilarated mass of energy approaches. I know instantly who it is behind me. “Kailey! Bu’s got something for you! Kailey will be happy!” Approaching, Bu holds out his hand, revealing my iPod. Cheeto is waddling after him.
“Oh, Bu. Jenna broke it, so I left it.”
“Kailey.” He shows me the iPod again. I see that the cords are wrapped and the iPod is on, so I put the earbuds in my ears and, sure enough, it works.
“Bu, you are so awesome!” I say. “How did you do it?”
“Bu also made these for Jenna.” He shows me a mini set of earphones, made with tiny pieces of some kind of spongy organic material.
“I don
’t think she’ll even go near this thing, but it was very nice of you to think of her.”
“Bu doesn
’t want Jenna to be afraid of these things. They are not bad,” he says. He then realizes that something is going on around him. “What’s happening?” In a heartbeat, I see proud Bu disappear and nervous Bu reappear. He picks up Cheeto and starts caressing her head.
“At least you aren
’t afraid you’ll get something from her,” I say, as I smile warmheartedly at Cheeto.
“Grebles don
’t catch ceetchan diseases,” Bu comments.
“Oh, great.”
As I explain everything to Bu, Gunthreon returns, looking exhausted. He overhears that a meeple was the culprit. “That tested my limits,” he says. “At least everyone is going back to their business. We’ve got nothing—except a few comments on a ‘new reign,’ which means Michel. Why would a meeple be here? I wonder if Michel is aware of the situation. We must talk to him as soon as possible.” Gunthreon stares at me as though he wants to say something.
“
I tried, too, and got nada,” admits Conner as he approaches. He sits on a rock nearby and looks like he’s thinking too hard. He looks and
feels
worn out. I smile at him, warmly, and then notice a slight change in his energy—a sense of appreciation.
A sudden crunching noise—sounding like sticks and leaves—from the
forest alerts us that we must move. We all move as fast as we can without catching anyone’s attention. I lead, and we find Fannie and Nayla quickly.
Nayla
’s regenerated eyes are wide open, and she has her two front paws again. Ladimer, not Fannie, stands over her. They both stare west at a figure approaching slowly. No energy emanates from this creature, so instinctively, I yell, “Deathman!”
Gunthreon yells, feverishly, “We must find out what happened! Get her underground! Lupa, did you pack that shovel?” Gunthreon shakes Lupa. “Lupa, get with me!” She then snaps out of it and hands him a shovel from her everything pack.
Bu stares at Nayla, tears trickling out of his eyes, lighting up his face. Shovel in hand, Gunthreon turns to Bu. “Bu, she’ll be okay, but you have to help. Start digging!” Gunthreon has already started a hole, and Bu quickly joins in with his big hands. I take my monk’s spade and use the shovel-sided end.
“Didn
’t think you’d actually be using your blade for its original purpose, did you?” says Gunthreon with a smirk, grime on his face. I remember that this is what Gunthreon said the monks used the shovel spade for: to bury people. “We have to get her buried before it gets here.”
The deathman moves ever so slowly, evidently seeing what we
’re doing but not caring.
“Just make sure you give me a large enou
gh hole to breathe through,” requests Nayla, suddenly conscious and aware of the approaching deathman.
“Oh, beautiful Nayla, be brave,” I say.
She softly purrs.
When our hole is big enough, Conner and Ladimer lift Nayla and put her in it. The deathman stops, but continues to stare.
“Cover her with dirt, now!” shouts Gunthreon. He’s so busy throwing commands, and everyone else so busy throwing dirt, that only I notice that the deathman is staring at me.
I want to say, “What?” but my better judgment tells me not to. The deathman continues staring as one of its fingers points up at me. Nobody else seems to notice.
“She’s covered,” mumbles Conner, breathing heavily. The deathman turns to where Nayla is, looks down toward the newly covered hole, shrugs, and heads back in the direction from which it came. Ladimer, with closed eyes, has his hands in the ground, trying to heal Nayla while she’s buried.
“I can
’t tell if it’s gone.” I shiver and glance down at Cheeto, who grooms herself as if nothing else is going on around her. Jenna hides behind a rock.
Gunthreon starts to brush the dirt off Nayla. “It
’s gone. Come on.”
Soon, Nayla is out, coughing up some dirt that got up her nose and in her mouth. Thanks to Ladimer, she is fully healed. “I thought so,” she says to Ladimer.
He attempts to pull off her tourniquet, but Nayla keeps it on. “I’m going to keep it...as a reminder.”
He nods, knowing exactly what she feels.
“I put nothing past a mooncat’s nose,” states Ladimer. “Are you going to try and kill me now or later?” He asks it rather simply.
“I can
’t. You may have a death warrant on your head, but you saved my hide. We are definitely even.”
Gunthreon moves in quickly, while she
’s still in the talking mood. “Nayla, you have to tell—,” but he doesn’t have time to finish, because a band of cats suddenly springs upon our party and circles us. Michel brings up the rear.
“My dear Na
yla, what is going on?” asks Michel. She puts her head down. “Many mouths have brought to my ears news of a tragedy. I seek the tragedy and find nothing but a dirty cat.” He turns to Ladimer with a devilish grin, his mouth still open. “And a dirty fool!” Several cats move toward Ladimer, and we all grab our weapons—Conner first—ready to defend Ladimer, as well as ourselves. Gunthreon begins to open his mouth to talk.
Ladimer throws up his hands in our direction. “Do not defend me. I must go with them. Rules are rules, after all. There will be no more bloodshed on my behalf.”
“But Ladimer,” groans Gunthreon, his face creased with worry.
“Let it be, my friend,” Ladimer
responds. Gunthreon takes a step back.
I turn to Gunthreon and whisper, “What
’s going on?”
“Just listen to Ladimer.”
“We will take Ladimer
and
Nayla,” barks Michel, authoritatively. “These tragedies, however, will not stop our party, so please be prompt tonight, and my deepest apologies for these little unfortunate events.”
Two rather burly cats reach out to take Ladimer
’s hands. In the briefest of moments, Ladimer’s palm brushes against one of the cat’s paws. The cat convulses, then falls to the ground, motionless. Ladimer puts up his now free hands and says, “Oops. So sorry. Accident.”
“Fabian! Nolan!” Michel yells. Two more cats emerge, these carrying gloves and spears. Ladimer allows them to approach as he puts his hands behind his back. They bind his hands and cover them with the gloves. The cats lead him away, and Nayla follows without a word. She turns her head back, and I see a small shake of her head. Michel nudges her along with his muzzle. They all leave as we stand, dumbfounded.
I hate being in the dark, in more ways than one. “I’ll ask again,” I say. “What is going on?”
Gunthreon, speaking
forlornly, replies, “Well, long ago, when Ladimer was new at his powers, he kind of made a stupid mistake.”
“And that would be?”
“He created the first mooncat.”
My jaw drops as I stand, looking in the
direction in which Ladimer left, remembering our conversation about making Bu human.
“I
’ll explain, but after we clean up. Let’s go,” says Gunthreon.
Chapter 41
High
It
’s near midnight and we are all as well-groomed as possible, thanks to a warm freshwater creek where we rinse off the cats’ scents, and Lupa’s endless supply of grooming products from her endless bag.
I think about Ladimer as I finish scrubbing up.
“Why would the mooncats be mad at Ladimer for creating them?” I query. “I’d think they would revel in the fact they get to meet him. But, wait, how old is Ladimer really?”
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” He stops combing his hair and sits on the nearest rock. “The reason they are so mad, I believe, is that Ladimer did it on a whim, for the sheer pleasure of a pixie who had a fascination with cats and wanted to see the extent of Ladime
r’s powers. So she coerced him although his subconscious told him how bad an idea it was. Ladimer had drunk too much mead that evening, and the devil on his shoulder won,” says Gunthreon, very solemnly. “He melded a lonely human traveler and one of the pixie’s cats into one being: the first mooncat. It was laughed at wherever it traveled, for it couldn’t figure out the simplest things, like holding a cup. Ladimer tried to help, but the creature was elusive, and eventually disappeared.” He pauses. “Wouldn’t you be a little angry if you were considered a joke?”
“That
’s quite the grudge to hold for so long,” I respond. “They seem a proud race, so why would they pass that from generation to generation? And what’s the deal with pixies? You all talk as though they are dangerous.”
“Just remember pride can fog the conscience. And speaking of consciences, pixies have none, only an unyielding
power over all things male.” Gunthreon looks to Lupa, who just shakes her head from side to side, showing her disgust in the matter.
I still don’t understand what’s so special about them. “So you
’re sure the mooncats will not kill Ladimer before we get there?”
Gunthreon starts polishing some loafers that Lupa pulls out of her pack. She walks off to help Jenna get ready. “They would want to make something like killing him a spectacle—maybe even a national holiday,” he says to me. “First matters first. We still have to find out why that meeple was here, and
retrieve any information the mooncats have on Neda. The mooncats have always been a neutral party, but love sharing information—for a cost of course.” I stare as he suddenly disregards Ladimer’s situation. “Ladimer is my friend, but there are other matters at hand,” says Gunthreon. “Save one, or one
million,
Kailey?” He briefly drops down his guard and I feel his energy, and realize his words are forced. He’s hurting just as badly as when Bu disappeared. Suddenly, his energy wall builds itself up. “Kailey, I’m glad you are using your powers, but please remember it’s also an intrusion. And it seems as though, in time, my powers may be null against you.” He pauses, looking as though he’s lost something very dear to him, forever. “Anyway, Ladimer can take care of himself. He’s quite resourceful when he needs to be.” But then he just stares at me, not looking very convincing. “I have to finish getting ready, and have much to think about.” Gunthreon marches off and I see his hands rise to his face when he thinks nobody is watching.
I walk over to Conner. “You
’ve been awful quiet. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”
“I can
’t believe we’re in this mess. Tell me karmelean, what have I done to be put in this situation? I know I agreed to help, but I can’t help think of how my life at home was easier—simpler, at least.”
“I
’ve been asking myself that same damn question, for months,” I profess. “And honestly, I think that no matter what the level of strife, we’ll be asking ourselves that same question. Life will never be perfect, and there will always be something giving us heartache, but I know, deep within my heart, that everything happens for a reason. We were all sent here, specifically, for a purpose. There’s got to be a light at the end of the tunnel.”
“Yeah, that
’s what they say about death.” Conner gets up and walks away from me, helping Lupa comb Jenna’s nappy head.
I look to Gunthreon and while concentrating on him, feel he’s an unhappy
, unsettling mess of energy. Something is bothering him deeply.
Bu, another mess, approaches
. I try building up my own wall of energy to block any intermingling, but I instantly feel downhearted. “Bu did not know Ladimer was responsible,” he says.
“You can
’t know of every story Bu,” I say. “Ladimer was young. You can’t hold that against him, okay? Even if it was because of a pixie, floozy, whatever, hmph. But that’s still something heavy to hold on your conscience. Maybe that’s why he went so easily.” Bu nods and pets Cheeto, who snuggles next to him. I see her peeking at me every now and then, but when I look directly at her, she closes her eyes, feigning sleep just like a certain dog I miss with all my heart. As I eye Cheeto, it seems like she’s going to pop at any moment and have the twelve babies she must be carrying.
Lupa looks marvelous
, but I would, too, if I had an everything pack. “Lupa, did you leave anything
at
home
?” I tease as she laughs.
“Gather round, please.” Gunthreon gestures for us to come close. His face is one of serious thought
as we approach and I can practically feel his guilt like a dagger in my back. “This is getting too dangerous for everyone,” he says, confirming what I feel. “I brought you all into this, and I’m realizing how selfish I’ve become and how this mission is jeopardizing all of you: my love, my son, my once best friend—everyone. I think it’s taking over my better judgment. And perhaps the fear of an informant makes this easier for me.” Lupa has surprise written all over her face as Gunthreon speaks. “It is not fair that you all risk your sanity, and life, for my cause—if you are indeed committed to this mission. I also fear that giving up any valuable information we find to the very creatures we are battling against is probable, if an informant is kept in my party.” Gunthreon eyes us all, slowly. “You are free to do as you choose, henceforth.” He bows at us and keeps his head down.
The sudden change in Gunthreon has us all examining each other
’s faces and body language, not really knowing what to say. The possibility of leaving seems especially appealing, but the thought of handing Velopa my realm without my best effort overshadows any actual action toward me leaving Gunthreon. Nobody speaks. I know everyone is contemplating going back to their respective homes, especially after the loss of Ladimer, as well as the stress of an informant among those we have grown close to.
I
’ve made my decision. “Well, lucky for you, you’re stuck with me,” I say. “I agreed to do this, and I keep my word. I was given my powers for a reason, and I know I am meant to do something meaningful with them. You can’t get rid of me
that
easy. If you try to lose me, I’ll find you and your energy—wherever you are,” I say, looking Gunthreon straight in the eyes, with no hesitation.
Jenna stands up straight and replies, “Well, don’t forget, I see all of your colors. And I see a beautiful rainbow before me. I am drawn to follow.” She smiles. “Plus, I don’t know how to get home from here.” I throw a towel at her and she ducks.
“I couldn
’t find anything better to do this weekend,” Conner laughs. “Real estate listings are down at the moment.”
Lupa simply says, “You persuaded me.” Gunthreon
’s face twists to say he didn’t, but then he sees she’s slyly smiling at him. He returns the grin.
Bu takes his cue: “Bu follow wherever you go. Bu love you, forever. Bu would never betray.” Gunthreon
’s face reflects his melting heart.
Cheeto pants at us and wags her tail. I think we can count her in, too.
Gunthreon holds out his hand to Lupa. “Looks like I’m stuck with all of you. Just remember I gave you all the out.” He pauses as we all sit motionless. “Fine, let’s do this.” Lupa takes his hand and squeezes it, and caresses it against her cheek. “Let’s discuss our strategy.”
The next
twenty minutes are spent deciding what to do, and this time, I am graciously accepted into the discussions. I pray to higher powers that the plan works.
Afterwards, I feel I need some pumping-up, so I turn on my iPod, stick in my earphones, and crank up some Black Eyed Peas. Jenna’s eyes widen as she watches.
“Jenna, isn’t it cool Bu fixed my iPod?”
“
Bu
fixed it?” she stutters. “I didn’t know grebles had any magical skills. I must have been mistaken in thinking they were all brawn.” I can tell she’s angry at Bu for fixing it, and so can Bu. This embarrasses him, so I show Jenna her very own set of earbuds. “No way!” she shouts. “Over my dead body!”
So I turn the volume as high as it will go and start dancing around, wiggling my butt and shimmying to the best of my ability. Conner tries not to watch, but being the male he is, he cannot help admire the jiggling going on. I catch Jenna watching him watch me. Then Lupa and Gunthreon turn to watch.
“Fine.” She grabs the earbuds from me and I pull mine out. We plug hers in, and as she puts the tiny foam pieces in her ears, she immediately winces in pain. I turn down the volume for her sensitive ears and restart “Let’s Get It Started.” As the music begins, she stands motionless, but eventually her body starts swaying, and then her arms, and soon enough, she’s wiggling her own butt for Conner, as everyone else laughs away their fears. When the song ends, I can tell I hooked Jenna in.
“Another one!” she hoot
s.
“Over your dead body? How quickly we change sides, Jenna,” says Gunthreon. I give him a face that says, “Stop it, or else.” He clams up quickly.
“Kailey, how about one more as we trek to our destination. Please?” asks Jenna, begging with both hands together. How can I resist a convert? Scrolling through my songs, I decide that Beethoven’s Fifth is not the best choice, so “Rockin’ Robin” it is. It turns out that Jenna actually has quite a bit of rhythm. She plays this one over and over.
“We
’re here,” says Gunthreon as he stops. I hear the beginnings of activity up ahead. As we cut through the dense shrubbery and approach the source of the sounds, I am awestruck at the sight that suddenly looms before us. A huge village hangs high up in the trees, comprised of hundreds of tree houses and actual buildings—several-story buildings—made of wood, stone, and mud.
“How?” is the only word that escapes my mouth.
“They are very clever beings,” Conner responds, sounding as astonished as I feel. His eyes are focused on what seems to be a pool of water in a large wooden basin, in which several mooncats bathe, again, up in the trees. “Amazing.”
Leon, my cheetah friend, waits at the entrance gate, smiling as we “ooh” and
“ah.” “Welcome, friends,” he chants. “I am your personal escort this evening. Kailey, how’s the hand doing?”
“It
’s doing fine, thanks for asking.” I blush, again.
I feel Conner lessen the distance between us as he gently grabs my good hand and squeezes it.
Leon ignores the gesture.
“Shall I take you to our main ballroom, then?”
asks Leon. I mouth the words “Main ballroom?” to Conner. With a bow, Leon pushes open the front gates for us.
As open fires blaze in stone pits, the scent of charred meat and fat drippings have us all filling our lungs with deep, full breaths. The bright, twinkling fire-lit sconces brighten every corner, continuing up for what seems miles into the sky, and as the flames sway with the wind, I imagine living here, in a world high above all others—a world hidden from humility.
The mooncats are busy with their families, hushing their curious children, and last-minute prepping. With plenty of food to fill the body, and elaborate set-ups of luxury within the trees, one would think the cats would exude happiness, but as I walk and take in the many emotions around me, I sense a heightened feeling of strain—a worrisome feeling. My thoughts turn to Ladimer as I envision him caged, like an animal.
Leon takes us to a staircase that seems to be cut into the base of a giant redwood tree, spiraling toward the heavens. “Stairs or pulley?” he says.
“How about we conserve some energy and take the pulley?” Gunthreon replies.
Leon points to Cheeto. “I recommend not letting her into our confines. Can she wait outside?”
Cheeto once again wags her tail and smiles at me. I bend down to her. “Honey, you be good and wait out here for us. You have to stay.” But as we begin to walk forward, she tries to follow. “Stay!” I point at her, and she stands motionless, looking sad, with her downturned ears. “Leon, does she have to?”
Simultaneously, Jenna and Conner roll their eyes at my resistance.
“Yes. I am sorry. We do not allow such creatures inside camp. They carry too many diseases.”
“Again with the diseases!” I wipe my hands on my pants. “Lupa, you got any kind of antibacterial goop in that bag?”
“Nope, sorry. I actually forgot that one,” admits Lupa.
“Spice jars are much more important, of course.”
“Oh, don’t go there.”