Ferran's Map (9 page)

Then she heard an unexpected moan from
behind her, and whirled to face the door of the building. To her
shock, she saw several corpse-like villagers rising from the last
row of benches. Were they already dead or near death? They looked
wasted and skeletal, and a ravenous gleam lit their eyes. One moved
to block the doorway. She recognized only a shock of red hair—his
skin was as pale and corpse-like as the woman by the river. He
snarled at her with ferocious intensity, spittle flying from his
lips.

Sora raised her staff and rammed it into the
Dracian’s face, toppling him behind the bench.

The stone murmured weakly at her neck. It
flickered, and then the glow slowly faded from her staff. She
backed away from the row of villagers toward the center of the
room, clutching her weapon before her. Her necklace couldn’t handle
another dose of the plague, and she needed time to recover.

Then a new figure stepped into the doorway.
As Sora staggered backward, fear gripping her heart, completely
exposed to the oncoming attack, she gasped.

Crash entered the room, sword in one hand
and dagger in the other. A grim and terrifying expression marked
his face. As soon as he set foot in the building, the shadows
seemed to move away from the walls until the whole room darkened.
Sora watched, stunned. She had never seen him like this.

The assassin turned to the plague-ridden
villagers. At the sight of him, the corpses recoiled and hissed,
cringing, raising their hands meekly like slaves beneath a
whip.

Crash struck down a man to his left with his
sword, slicing off his arm with a mighty heave. The shadows twisted
around Crash’s body like living snakes, then shot toward another
corpse and dragged the man to the floor. The corpse wailed in
frustration, then the shadows plunged into his mouth, cutting off
his voice.

Sora watched, horrified and entranced. Her
Cat’s Eye let out a fierce rattle of alarm. She had never witnessed
this kind of magic. Crash manipulated the darkness easily, seeming
to direct it with his thoughts. A lethal aura emanated from his
presence, striking her cold with fear. She wondered, then, if she
was witnessing the demon’s power.

She turned around just as another ragged
hound flew at her, growling and scratching. She smacked the dog
over the head. Dark mist smoked from its ears, but no blood. Sora
staggered again, almost falling to her knees as the plague entered
her necklace.
No more,
she thought, as though the Cat’s Eye
had spoken aloud.

Ferran seemed to have reached his limit
also. He came to her side while Crash took on the remaining
villagers. “Come,” he panted. “Let’s go.”

As they began to run, she heard a rumble
different from the hoarse growls of the hounds. She and Ferran
looked back to the far corners of the room. Her Cat’s Eye jingled
loudly, and for a moment her vision swam. She blinked her eyes,
trying to clear her vision. A green glow tainted her sight, and she
felt a strange pressure in her nose as the necklace asserted itself
over her senses. She wondered if the plague was now affecting her
stone.

Then as the room shifted before her, she saw
a black cloud accumulating toward the back wall that slowly formed
into a shape. Strands of smoke curled into arms and legs resembled
a spider, though it was larger than a bear. She clutched her
necklace in one hand as fear gripped her heart. The Cat’s Eye was
showing her something not normally seen. The smoky beast attached
itself to a corpse. Sora watched in horror as it drained the body
to a dry husk, then released it back on the ground.

The creature turned to look at her, and she
found herself staring into ten gleaming red eyes. As it took a
crawling step toward her, Sora flinched.

The beast realized it had been seen and
released a high-pitched, keening wail. Darkness spilled from its
body like tar, then gushed across the floorboards toward them. Her
Cat’s Eye jingled loudly in warning. Sora took a step back,
horrified.

Ferran saw what was happening, grabbed her
arm and dragged her toward the exit. “
Run!
” he roared.

Crash still battled the plague victims at
the doorway. Sora felt a scream welling in her throat. No way out.
No way out!

We’re trapped here
, she thought, her
mind spinning. She didn’t know which way to turn. The shadowy
creature wailed again and moved toward them, its many legs reaching
out in every direction.

Then, unexpectedly, she felt a stirring in
her chest. A fierce and smoldering energy spread through her body.
The sound of bells crashed over her ears, as strong as an ocean’s
wave. She stumbled to her knees, crying out.

Rage poured through her, setting her blood
on fire. No, not exactly rage. More like unspeakable, roaring
strength. She struggled to contain the feeling that her body was
outside of her control. Pain. Unimaginable pain, and then a
horrible, building pressure….

Flash!

Blinding light—and a rising howl, somewhere
between a wolf and a mountain lion--filled the room. White energy
poured from her necklace in a cascading river. A shape formed in
front of the wave: a mane of bristling quills, four massive paws
and spiraling horns as thick as branches. She knew this ferocious
beast—knew it, but couldn’t believe it.

The
garrolithe
burst from the Cat’s
Eye like a rampaging lion, filling the room with blinding light.
The corpses and hounds screeched as it tore through them, ripping
apart bodies, scorching the wood beneath its paws. Trails of blue
fire followed in its wake. The plague’s black, tar-like substance
scattered before it, gripping the ground like living tentacles. The
smoky beast shot to the roof and lifted the tin slates to escape;
it bled through cracks in the windows and forced its way under the
door.

The light from the
garrolithe
grew
until Sora clamped her eyes shut. Its howls paralyzed her. She
heard the windows shatter. She didn’t feel the arms that lifted up
her body, or hear the footsteps as she was carried outside; she
didn’t feel the wind against her face or the sunlight on her skin.
Her thoughts spun chaotically behind her tightly shut eyes. Her
stomach churned. She heaved dryly, choking on her own breath.

Then darkness crept in, stealing her
strength and senses.

CHAPTER 4

Crash followed Ferran through the narrow
streets of the decimated village, holding Sora tightly in his arms.
They moved at a fast jog, Ferran limping slightly from his mangled
boot. The howls of the
garrolithe
continued for another
minute, then abruptly stopped. Crash didn’t know what that meant.
He saw Sora’s glowing Cat’s Eye begin to fade, returning to its
normal dull sheen. Her face looked pale, but she didn’t appear to
be wounded.

Worry knotted his brow. He tried to reason
through their battle, to understand what had happened, but in all
honesty, he could hardly focus. The demon writhed inside him,
excited by its use of magic, pounding against his ribcage, as
fierce as his beating heart.

They’re here,
it whispered
maniacally, dancing beneath his skin.
The master rises. He
comes. They’re here!

Crash sucked in a deep breath, reining in
his thoughts and firmly shoving down the beast, which churned in
his gut, stubbornly resisting. Its presence seemed stronger now
after he had come into contact with the Dark God’s essence. He was
barely in control.

Enough
, he thought, focusing on
moving forward, on Sora in his arms: his anchor.

The wind shifted as they neared the edge of
the village and rushed through the trees in a shimmering green
wave, carrying the scent of decay.

For a moment, the branches of a large oak
parted, and he glimpsed a vague silhouette seated on a branch high
above the ground.

Crash paused in mid-step and looked intently
at the towering, ancient tree. The wind calmed. The branches
stilled and the leaves became a knotted curtain, hiding the trunk
from view, but he knew what he had seen.
Not Caprion,
he
thought. The Harpy would have hailed them.
Not anyone
familiar.

He felt more curious than concerned. The
tree and its mysterious passenger stood a dozen meters away—not an
immediate threat.

The demon’s words suddenly took on new
meaning.
They’re here.

He had to investigate.

“What is it?” Ferran asked, tension in his
voice.

“Take her,” Crash replied, and gently placed
Sora into his arms. “I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

Ferran took the girl, lifting her easily.
His gaze wandered to the trees, then to the silent village. “Where
are you going?”

“I won’t be long. Take her a safe distance
away,” Crash said, indicating Sora’s unconscious body. “I’ll catch
up to you.”

Ferran finally nodded. He continued through
the woods, back toward the Little Rain, eager to leave the village
behind.

Crash waited for Ferran to disappear through
the underbrush before he approached the ancient oak tree. Then he
caught a glimpse of Caprion’s gleaming form far in the distance, a
hundred meters or so in the sky. The Harpy circled slowly on the
wind, his wings flickering in and out of view. Crash clenched his
teeth.
Coward,
he thought. Did the seraphim know about their
battle in the courthouse? Did he know the fate of the Dracians, or
the danger he had put them in?
No matter,
he thought.
Caprion wouldn’t have been much use. The Dark God’s plague would
have overcome him; those wings could only defend against so much.
But why didn’t he fly down to greet them now?

He’s trailing me,
Crash thought.
Suspicious bastard.
But perhaps it was a good thing. Friend
or foe, at least he had someone watching his back.

He neared the base of the large tree. No
sense hiding his intentions. The person in the branches wanted to
be noticed. As he walked, he felt that darkness stir again. The
demon knocked against his ribcage. A thin, wheedling voice
penetrated his thoughts.
Will you listen now?
it
grinned.

Crash pushed it away.
No,
he
thought.

He reached the base of the tree and looked
up through the branches. He didn’t see the mysterious figure. Then
a rustle in the underbrush caught his attention.

They’re baiting me,
he thought.
Someone wanted him alone in the woods.

Crash’s hand roved to his dagger, feeling
the firm steel blade through its sheath at his belt. He thought of
Sora’s pale face—of the
garrolithe
that exploded out of her
Cat’s Eye only a few minutes ago, robbing the girl of her senses.
He was sorely tempted to return to her side. But he knew, somewhere
deep in his gut, that this unknown visitor had come just for
him.

Crash took off into the woods without
warning. He caught a glimpse through the canopy of the Harpy
following him from above. Crash ignored Caprion and focused on the
chase. He heard the rustle of branches up ahead, the light rhythm
of footsteps. His visitor knew how to run in the forest without
crashing clumsily through the underbrush.
Trained in the
Hive,
he thought. Despite a few scuffs in the dirt, the
stranger’s footsteps left no mark. The crushed leaves seemed
intentional. Crash followed swiftly.
The Shade. They’re here.
They have to be
. And then he thought,
It’s about
time.

Finally he reached a small clearing in the
woods. The trail of crushed leaves and snapped twigs vanished
before him. He stopped and turned in a slow circle, scanning the
vegetation. The stale smell of rotting wood met his nose. The
forest’s decay seemed to spread for miles around, tainting the
wilderness with an acrid stench.

Then he saw it. A dark shadow in broad
daylight where none could exist, like a stain on the fabric of the
world. As he watched, a figure stepped from behind one of the
trees. He was shorter than Crash, below-average height for one of
the Sixth Race, and slight of build. His identity remained hidden
by a hood and a black cowl tied around the lower half of his face,
but Crash recognized the venomous green eyes of his own race, the
reptilian coldness of the man’s gaze. One eye drooped slightly from
a long scar that trailed down his forehead, continuing across his
cheek before vanishing beneath his half-mask.

Crash looked for weapons but saw none, only
a pair of strange gauntlets covering the man's fists. The metal
gloves were serrated along the sides, creating jagged blades along
his wrist and forearm. Crash had never seen such a weapon before,
but doubtless this man was one of the Named. He could tell by the
unwavering certainty of the assassin’s gaze.

“Viper,” the man said. “
He who hides in
the grass.
” His voice sounded thin and stifled, as though his
nose were twice-broken. “Bit of a lone wolf, aren’t you? I didn’t
expect you to come to me.”

Viper raised an eyebrow. He glanced at the
surrounding trees, searching for more of the Shade. Despite the
aloof nature of his people, they usually didn’t travel alone.
Assassins were typically assigned to task forces, teams of three
savants
with a Named assassin at their lead, or on more
deadly missions, several Named assassins acting in concert. He
doubted the Shade would send only one man to confront him.
What
are they playing at?

“I take it you’re responsible for the
decimation of the village?” he asked directly.

“A lesser minion of the Dark God,” the man
replied. “He is strong enough now to unleash His plague-bearers.
Did you enjoy the blight? Were you impressed?”

Crash shifted. Impressed? Disgusted,
perhaps. He saw the blight upon entering the building, though
Ferran and Sora had only noticed the creature toward the end of
their brief fight. He knew it was from the Dark God’s realm, though
did not know how it had arrived in the world of Wind and Light.
These must be the silent, invisible entities spreading the
plague
, he thought. More shards of the Dark God’s body, just
like the demon who inhabited his own.