Ferran's Map (11 page)

Beyond all of that—though it seemed
pathetic—she had to consider the kiss. That unforgettable kiss on
the bow of the
Dawn Seeker
when she and Crash left the
Isles. She hadn’t quite been the same since.

“I fought the
garrolithe
in the
Crystal Caves,” she said quietly. “That’s where the problem
started.”

“I was getting to that,” Ferran replied
softly. “Your Cat’s-Eye stone has been imprinted by powerful,
ancient magic. The
garrolithe
is no simple work of sorcery.
It is a war-spell called a
mecha-animist
.”

“A mecha-animist?” Sora echoed.

Ferran nodded. “Before the War of the Races,
skilled sorcerers would make magical little pets called
animists
and keep them as companions, or sell them to
wealthy families for a profit. But after the war started, sorcerers
from different races would come together and unite their magic,
creating terrible beasts of power. The mecha-animists are true
monsters meant for battle. I’ve only seen one such creature before;
they are very rare. And
very
dangerous.”

“But how…?” Sora began.

He didn’t wait for her question: “The beasts
were created by magical energy, and therefore immortal, unless
intentionally destroyed. The
garrolithe
, as you call it, is
now contained inside your stone. Imagine wearing a lion around your
neck—it won’t come when you call, and it won’t respond to your
begging or pleading. It’s a wild creature—it wants to be free.”

“Then how do I fix it?” Sora finally
asked.

“The only thing it will follow is your
strength. You need to tame it.”

Sora bit her lip with uncertainty. “You make
it sound like breaking in a horse….”

“It’s a similar process, but harder, because
you don’t have any physical tools to work with. It all comes down
to your strength of will.” Ferran gave her a pointed look. “To
continue to use the Cat’s Eye, you need a greater level of mental
discipline than you’ve had up to this point. More power requires
more control.”

Sora sighed and leaned back on her hands,
wincing as a rock bit into her injured palm. “Great,” she muttered.
“More complications.”

“Don’t look at it like that,” Ferran said
reproachfully. “You’re very lucky, you know. We all are. Without
the
garrolithe
, we’d most likely be dead.”

She nodded absently—true, but she was too
distraught to appreciate his words. “So what now?” she asked. “How
do I fix the stone?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the stone,”
Ferran grinned. Then he reached up and prodded her forehead. “You
need to fix your
mind,
my girl.”

“And how do I do that?” she asked. She
rubbed her temple and gave him a disgruntled look.

“I’m going to teach you,” he replied. “It
will take time and commitment, but seeing as we won’t reach the
City of Crowns for a little while, I think you can manage
that.”

Sora nodded. She recalled how he had used
his Cat’s Eye in the plague-ridden building. His control was
effortless, like watching Crash with his swords, or her mother with
her healing. She knew she had a lot to learn from him, and the more
she considered it, the more eager she became. She desperately
wanted to reclaim her connection to her Cat’s Eye. It wasn’t like
losing a tool or a weapon—she felt, somehow, as if she had lost a
very dear friend.

“You’re right,” Sora said abruptly. Hope
bloomed. Finally, a sense of purpose, a way to make herself useful.
“I need to be productive. I need to get better at this. All of it.”
She smiled at him, surprised that she felt like smiling at all.
“When do we start?”

Ferran glanced up at the sky, then suddenly
yawned; his toothpick started to fall out of his mouth, but he
caught it in time. “Well, I promised your mother I would fish with
her tomorrow. We’re heading into catfish territory, and I’ve heard
that some catfish in the Little Rain grow seven feet in length and
weigh over 200 pounds….” He stopped, perhaps realizing his
digression. “The day after. Evening is the best time. I’ll meet
with you on the
Dawn Seeker
.”

Sora nodded eagerly.

“Feeling better?” Ferran asked, sticking his
toothpick back in his mouth.

“Much better,” she sighed. “I’m ready to go
back to the ship.” She couldn’t wait to get out of this forest,
with its blighted trees and blackened berries.

Ferran nodded and stood up. “We’re ready!”
he called.

At first she didn’t know who he was speaking
to, and then Crash appeared between the trees. She stared at him
for a moment, tall and dark against the late afternoon light. Had
he heard their entire conversation?
Of course
, she
thought.

She expected him to ignore her as he had
been doing, but his eyes skimmed over her before he motioned to
Ferran to take the lead. The treasure hunter strolled into the
forest at a leisurely pace, backtracking through the woods as he
followed a visible trail of trampled brush and broken twigs.

Meanwhile, Crash fell into step beside Sora.
She glanced sideways at him, staring at the sharp line of his jaw,
his tousled black hair. He seemed distracted, his thoughts as
distant as his gaze. She was suddenly reminded of his short battle
with the villagers, how the shadows had surrounded him in a dense
cloak, how he had manipulated the darkness like it was an extension
of his body. She hadn’t thought he could wield magic.
But of
course he can
, she winced.
He’s one of the Sixth Race
.
What kind of magic did the Sixth Race use? The question was on the
tip of her tongue, begging to be asked. But that also scared her.
He had a demon inside him—did she truly want to know more?

“Have you seen Caprion?” she asked instead.
“He didn’t follow us back from the village.”

Crash shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “He
flew off over the woods. Maybe he found something of interest.”

Sora could tell he was lying.
He’s hiding
something,
she thought. Her brow darkened. “Maybe he’s in
trouble,” she said. “It’s not like him to vanish on his own.”

“Then maybe he went back to the ship,” Crash
said shortly. He changed the subject. “Your hand is bleeding; you
should have Lori look at it when we return.”

Sora stared at him. If he meant to distract
her, it worked. His words annoyed her, though. Weeks of silence;
why now a sudden show of concern?

“I’ve had worse injuries,” she glared.

“Wounds can fester.”

“So can feelings.”

Crash gave her a searching glance, then
slowly raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you festering?” he asked
pointedly.

She frowned. “That’s not what I meant,” she
muttered. In fact, Sora wasn’t quite sure what she meant. For weeks
he had kept his distance; it seemed unfair for him to suddenly
swoop in and care about her again. Or pretend to care. She just
wanted him to explain himself.

“I miss it, I guess,” she finally relented.
“I thought we had…something different between us, I don’t know.”
Well done.

Crash let out a slow, thoughtful breath.
They walked in silence for a minute more. Then he said, “This is
really my fault.”

Sora waited for further explanation, then
she winced. “Don’t act like I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I
kissed back.”

Crash hesitated. “I recall that.”

“I didn’t mind it at all.”

“I see.”

“In fact, I enjoyed it.”
There
. “Not
that you asked. Or cared to ask.” She tried not to sound bitter,
but it was impossible to hide.

Crash caught her wounded hand abruptly,
holding it up between them. Sora almost tripped. They came to a
halt. She turned to face him, trying not to show her nervousness.
She could handle his rebuffs, his cold shoulder and even a mean
word or two. But staring him in the face…
this
was hard.

“I know you enjoyed it, Sora,” he said,
firmly holding her wrist. He glanced briefly around the forest, as
though someone might be watching them. “But you understand that
nothing can come of it.”

“Yes, I do understand that,” she said
reproachfully.
Another lie.
“But I don’t understand why you
have to avoid me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Yes, you are! The whole ship notices. And
the rumors—”

“I’ll handle the rumors,” he cut her off.
Then he added more gently, “I’m still here, Sora.”

She looked up, meeting his gaze. He sounded
stern, but a softness entered his eyes, a slight glimmer that she
recognized. Some of the tension drained from her shoulders. As she
hesitated, he swiftly undid the bandage from her hand.

“I haven’t left your side,” he repeated.
Then he turned her hand over, inspecting her palm, pressing
slightly on the reddened skin around the wound. “Does this hurt?”
he asked.

“I…uh….” she muttered, struck dumb by his
simple touch.

He grinned slightly, a wry quirk of his
mouth. “No infection, then,” he murmured.

The wound looked like a popped blister. Her
blood had burst through the fragile new tissue. Sora recalled the
excruciating heat that had consumed her body when the
garrolithe
appeared. She chewed her lip in thought.
Will
it be this way every time I use my Cat’s Eye
? More questions
for Ferran once they began training.

Crash reached into the pouch at his belt and
withdrew a strip of clean linen, then began freshly wrapping her
hand. She wondered if he had brought the linen just for her,
anticipating that she might open the wound. Her throat closed at
the thought, and she took a deep, steadying breath. Yes, this was
what she missed—his closeness, knowing she could lean on him...and
that he wanted her to.

When he finished wrapping her hand, he
continued to hold it, looking down at it thoughtfully. He seemed to
be wrestling with himself for a moment. “Are you fond of him?” he
finally asked.

Sora frowned, taken off-guard. “Who?”

“Tristan.”

“Really?” she asked, with a slow, wide
grin.

Crash grimaced.

Now she wanted to laugh. “Not at all. In
fact, I rather detest him at the moment.”

“Good,” he said after a brief pause.

Sora blinked.
Is he jealous
? Could a
man like him even be jealous, and over a clowning Dracian, at that?
The thought caused a small sense of satisfaction. She smiled,
showing her teeth.

Crash’s expression remained darkly ironic,
his thoughts turned inward. Then he adopted a slow, secretive
smile.

A sense of foreboding crept over her. “Why
do you ask?” she prompted.

He didn't reply immediately.

“What are you planning?” she asked
again.

“Why does it matter?” he hedged. “I thought
you weren’t fond of him.” His eyes glinted when he looked at her,
and her heart stuttered momentarily.
He’s teasing me,
she
thought.
He has to be.

“I’m
not
fond of him,” she repeated,
flustered. “I want the rumors to end, but…not violently.”

“And you assume I would do that?”

“Well….”

Crash shook his head. His mouth twisted as
he said, “I’m wounded you would think that of me,” he murmured.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come now! Don’t
play innocent. I know how you are, Crash!”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

He suddenly raised her hand and blew softly
against her palm. The brush of air sent chills all the way down her
arm. Sora’s mouth dropped open.

“Then don’t worry about it,” he finished. He
released her hand and continued along the path through the
forest.

Sora stared after him, at a complete loss.
Confusion swirled inside her as she watched his retreating figure,
trying to regain her voice.

Crash glanced back before disappearing into
the trees. “If you don’t know what to say, at least keep walking!”
he called.

Her mouth snapped shut and she scowled. He
shook his head, silently laughing at her. She had the keen sense
that he could see right through her—that he knew her better than
she could ever know him.

“Arrogant bastard,” she muttered, following
him into the woods.

CHAPTER 5

Caprion met them on the banks of the river.
Sora noticed that he and Crash staunchly avoided looking at each
other. She frowned; those two were usually more than willing to
trade blows.

The Harpy transported them back to the
Dawn Seeker
, where the crew had assembled to greet them.
Captain Silas listened grimly to the news of his two missing
crewmen, then stalked off, grumbling about a wasted day of travel.
The rest of the crew eagerly flocked around Ferran, offering him a
tankard of cold ale in return for the full story. They wanted to
know what had happened to the two crewmen and details about the
village.

“I would tell you,” Ferran replied, holding
up his hands. “But I need to get back to my skiff. Can’t just leave
her behind.”

“Ach! I’ll watch over her,” a short Dracian
offered eagerly. “Just tell us what happened!”

Ferran allowed himself to be convinced,
perhaps a little too easily. Sora watched as, with an ironic grin,
Ferran followed the crew back to the mess hall as the Dracian left
to watch his houseboat. She shook her head. By tomorrow morning,
his story would be embellished beyond recognition.
Not that it
needs much exaggeration,
she thought, but Ferran played to the
crowd and the Dracians enjoyed a tall tale. Sora wanted to share a
reaction with Crash, but the assassin had gone.

Lori approached Sora's side once the Dracian
crew had dispersed. After her eyes silently assessed Sora for
injuries, she gave her a tight hug. Sora noticed that her mother
looked tired. “Our patient didn’t make it,” she explained. “Too
much damage to the lungs. There was no chance of saving her.”