Sora's Quest (28 page)

Finally, Sora could breathe. Then she turned on Crash and shoved him, unable to contain herself. “Bastard!” she hissed. “They could have caught us!”

She couldn't see the assassin's face in the darkness. He remained silent. She started to regret her words....

“But they didn't,” he finally said. Then he sheathed his thin sword and shouldered his bags. Sora watched him, stunned, focusing the best she could on his shadow. She couldn't understand why he didn't worry more. It had been a close call—far too close for comfort. And they still had to find the Grandmother Tree and save the Wolfies.

Crash started down the stairwell, the white flames of a torch flickering around the bend.

After a long, seething hesitation, Sora shouldered her bags and followed suit.

Chapter 14

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Crash signaled for her to wait. It was a welcome relief. Sora's legs were shaking from the long, steep staircase. This corridor had been darker and dustier than the last one, perhaps a passage through an older tree.

Turning his back to her, Crash started to take off his shirt. Sora's mouth dropped open, then she quickly averted her eyes. She turned toward the wall of the tree, staring resolutely at the wood grain, waiting as he undressed himself. “W-what are you doing?” she stuttered. It was silly, really. She had already seen him shirtless. But it was different when he was awake.
You know, not drowning.

“I'll be back,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” she asked. She waited a moment longer, but curiosity finally made her turn her head. When she looked, the assassin was gone, as though he had vanished into thin air. Only his clothes remained.

She stared at the heap of black leather and linen. Shirt, gloves, cloak...pants. Her eyes widened. Then she ran to the doorway, gazing out at the cold, gray lake. She saw a ripple of water near the base of the tree, thin rings spreading outward. He had barely made a splash.

Her eyes searched the mist, wondering where he had gone.
He could have at least warned me.
With a breath of annoyance, she sat down against the wall of the tree and stretched out her legs. She winced. Her muscles were terribly stiff and sore. She rubbed them as she waited.

Her thoughts turned to the Cat's Eye, to the manor. She wondered what Lily was doing—whether or not the maid had found employment, or if life somehow carried on, unaffected by Lord Fallcrest's passing. She had the sudden, terrible urge to write a letter, though it was impossible. Her fingers itched to put pen to paper.

Then she thought of the Wolfies and their impending death. It was pathetic, really. She was drained from the panic and excitement, but somehow, she still shed a few tears. First her father, and now this. Given the seclusion of the moment, Sora pressed her face against her knees and allowed herself a few exhausted sobs.

Perhaps ten minutes later, Crash returned with another raft. If she hadn't been watching for him, she never would have heard him approach. The assassin swam behind an abandoned elevator, his arms holding on to the edge, pushing with his legs. She watched his powerful shoulders flex. They were broad and heavily layered with muscle. A few nicks and scars stood out against his wet skin.

Sora wondered how many elevators had fallen over the years, plunging unwary passengers to their deaths. The thought made her shudder. She could remember the Catlin's body clearly, drowned beneath the lake.

She turned away before Crash got too close. He was in the nude, after all. She waited for him to dress, focusing on her muddy knees. She had never been remotely close to a naked man before, nix the previous day.
It was only a matter of time,
she told herself. Even her thoughts sounded awkward. They had been traveling together for over a month now. Nudity was bound to happen.

Once he was dressed again, they loaded their supplies onto the makeshift raft. She still found it difficult to look Crash in the eye. She wondered if he noticed. Probably.

The raft was barely big enough for both of them. At first, she was afraid it would sink. It bobbed threateningly low in the water, but somehow held. Crash handed her a broad piece of driftwood to use as a paddle. She was careful to match his rhythm; she didn't want to overturn the boat.

They passed several abandoned elevators and lumps of driftwood, lost relics of the Catlin colony. Trees loomed out of the mist, blocking the route forward, and several times they had to change direction. The air above the lake was icy cold, and her nose turned numb before long. She listened for any signs of a search party, but there were none. The lake stretched on and on, with no shore in sight.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked. They had kept a stealthy silence, but she no longer saw the point. They hadn't seen another living thing in almost a mile.

“To shore,” he said shortly.

“Right. That wasn't my question,” Sora replied. “Well, not really.”

“We're going to find the Wolfies,” Crash said. “I'll track them once we are on land.” He paused. “Or rather, in shallower water.”

Sora raised an eyebrow. She hadn't thought of that. They were deep in the swamp—what if the lake never truly ended? They would have to make their way back into the trees. She couldn't fathom how he could track the Wolfies above ground. They could be anywhere, and tree bark didn't hold footprints.

As though reading her mind, the raft suddenly ran up against an embankment. She could see black mud beneath them. Clumps of reeds and ferns grew from the thick paste, clotted with decomposing leaves. She wrinkled her nose. It smelled like rotten eggs.

Crash leapt to shore...or rather, a nearby fern, then grabbed onto a series of thick vines that dangled to the ground. “I'll be back,” he said. “Stay here. Don't make any noise.”

He shimmied up the vines like a squirrel. Sora watched, trying not to be impressed. Then he was gone.

She pulled her cloak closer around her and took out a dagger, holding it in her lap, looking around at the thick underbrush. Her view was obscured by wide, flat leaves and silky mist. She tried to listen for anyone's approach, but all she heard was the gentle lap of the lake and the call of birds.

* * *

Sora wasn't sure how long Crash was gone. Only that by the time he reappeared, she was half-crazy with worry.

“Well?” she asked, as he slid down the vines, appearing out of the mist like a panther from the dark. “Did you find them? Where are they?” She twisted her hands around her dagger. Were they already dead?

“This way,” Crash said shortly. “Grab the bags, we have to hurry.”

He led her up into the trees. If it had been a month ago, the climb would have been hard. But Sora was used to the swamp by now, clambering through branches and swinging on vines. She followed his lead into the canopy.

They found an old tree trunk that was hollowed out inside, and hid their bags there. Then they continued on their way. Crash moved at a relentless pace, jumping from one branch to the next, using vines to swing across wide gaps. Sora followed as best she could. It was hard going. The wilderness was thick with foliage and they had to cut their way through more than once.

After about ten minutes, she heard a faint pounding sound in the distance. Drums? She frowned, staring at Crash's back. She wanted to ask what it was, but she sensed that it was better to remain silent. If Catlins were nearby, she didn't want to be overheard.

“Here,” Crash whispered, showing her a gap in the leaves. They perched on the large branch, gazing out through the thick foliage. Surprise jolted through her.

Before her stood a giant tree, stretching well up into the sky. It glowed faintly with a strange, green light, clearly visible against the dark forest. The trunk was covered in moss and fungi so rich that it was hard to see the bark.

At one time, it appeared that two great trees had grown together, meeting countless yards above ground and tangling upwards. The tree stretched up and up into the sky, disappearing through the canopy, dwarfing the trees around it. The space between the two trunks was shaped like a lopsided heart. The tree's roots arched into the air like coiling snakes, dozens of feet above the ground. She guessed this was the Grandmother Tree.

Directly beneath the conjoined trunks, two poles had been erected with pyres beneath them. The poles were decorated with skulls and feathers.

At the base of the tree was a circular clearing. She could see bones littering the ground, even at this distance. The circle was lit by white torches, planted in even intervals around its border. And beyond the ring of light—hundreds of Catlin eyes. The first row sat on the ground, large drums between their legs, pounding out a uniform rhythm. The rest of the colony stood behind them, yowling and hissing, jumping in excitement.

Crash pointed. Far back in the shadows of the roots, she could see the two Wolfies bound and gagged, close to the central arch of the tree.

The drums leapt to a roaring pitch. Then, from the shadows, the Panthera leapt into the center of the ring. She recognized him by his sleek black fur and great height; he was far larger than the other Catlins. A wooden mask shielded his face. The Panthera continued to prowl and leap to the beat of the drums. It took Sora a moment to realize that it was a dance. He looked more like a great cat stuck in a pit, clawing its way to the air.

Then three other Catlin warriors leapt into the fray, dancing and spinning, crouching and leaping. They whirled alongside him, mimicking some sort of battle. Each of their masks was ornately painted in bright red and yellow. The teeth of various animals had been hammered into the wood, warped into terrifying faces.

As they watched, the Panthera bowled into one of the warriors. There was a great cry, the crowd was worked into a frenzy. The Panthera grabbed the head of the warrior and twisted it to one side, killing him in one blow. Then, he threw the body to the onlookers, who tore it to pieces.

She and Crash stared. Sora was completely horrified.

“What do we do?” she breathed. After the vicious demonstration, she felt utterly powerless. There were far too many Catlins to fight, even with the assassin's excellent skills. She doubted she would be much help. Besides one-on-one battle, she was inexperienced.

“Go around,” he nodded. “Under the tree. Free the Wolfies. I'll distract the rest.”

Sora was incredulous. “Distract them? How do you propose to do that?”

“There are ways.”

“You'll be killed!” Sora stopped there. She sounded terribly close to caring, and she didn't. Or at least, she told herself that she didn't. So what if the assassin was killed?
Dammit, this is a matter of survival!

“The Wolfies will be dead soon. We can't hesitate much longer. Now go!”

“But what about afterward?”

“Run back to our supplies. If I'm not there, leave without me. I'll find you.”

She shook her head, still disbelieving his words. But when she turned to speak to the assassin, he was already slinking off into the brush toward the circle of ravenous beasts. She stared for a moment, wondering if she should chase after him, try to change his mind. But no matter how fast her thoughts raced, she couldn't think of any other plan. There were simply too many frenzied Catlins.

I have to hurry,
she thought. Soon they would move the Wolfies into the open, and then there would be no chance of a rescue.

Using what grace she had, Sora dove in the opposite direction, shimmying down the trunk to the lower branches, then moving as quietly as she could around the opposite side of the circle. She kept the firelight in sight, avoiding the crowds of Catlins that huddled on the ground. Luckily, the great beasts were distracted by the Panthera's dance, and none of them looked up or even seemed to hear her pass.

Once on the opposite side of the circle, she dropped to the ground and dashed into the cover of the massive roots. This close, the tree was impossibly large; she could have built a city amongst its branches.

She wove her way through the giant roots, using hanging fungi to shield herself. Finally, she was almost to the heart of the tree. Two Catlin guards watched the Wolfies. They crouched on either side of the prisoners, ready to pounce, their sleek arms heaving with muscle. They both carried spears wrapped with twine and beads. Ceremonial masks covered their faces.

Sora paused, just out of the firelight, slightly behind a large root. She wondered how much they could see through those masks.
No time, make your move,
her inner voice urged. She clutched her knife. No, too small. Shifting quietly, she sheathed the dagger and pulled her staff from her back.

Suddenly, a great roar split the air, and the drums stumbled to a stop. Sora didn't waste time looking. She surged forward and hammered the first guard over the head, hitting him so hard that her elbows jarred. Then she turned to the next guard and smashed him in the face, the mask shattering. The Catlin fell back, stunned by the blow. She kept hitting him, unsure if it was enough, until she heard a sickening crack. Blood poured from the Catlin's nose. She stared, heaving, only a little horrified.
I think that did the trick.

Sweaty and shaking, she turned to the two Wolfies. Dorian's head sagged forward, unconscious. Burn watched her through wide amber eyes.

“Well done,” he choked.

She nodded, already reaching for the bone knife strapped to the dead Catlin's chest, and yanked it into her grasp. Then she turned and crouched behind Burn, working on his bonds. His wrists were tied by tough, old vines. The vegetation was thick and stringy, difficult to slice through.

Finally, Burn was released. He grabbed the knife and dealt with Dorian's bonds much more quickly. Then he picked up the unconscious thief and put him over his shoulder.

“But Crash....” she started, turning back to the ceremonial circle. Her view was blocked by tree roots. She couldn't see what was going on.