Othersphere (28 page)

These innocent animals had been saved from extinction in our world and now were being drawn into battle with us, where we would probably send them into extinction again. Even the thought of slaughtering one of them made me feel sick.

The Bengal growled low.

I turned to him, tail lashing.

I looked again. A few of the animals, including the early hominids, had made it through the doorway, but most of those closest to it were shying away from its aberrant energy.

Farther on, limbs flailed. Was it some kind of fighting, a tussle or struggle? I craned my neck but couldn't see more. Was it my friends, fighting Orgoli? I needed to know. I needed to go. We had to get these animals out of here and put a stop to the real villain. Now.

I could speak to those most like us at least
, the Bengal suggested, indicating the Caspian and Bali tigers below, which were already staring up at us, lips curling in uncertain snarls.

The Bengal beckoned to the nearest tiger-shifters and they began a careful descent toward the tigers below, making every effort to chuff and show by tail and posture that their intentions were friendly.

I needed a way to speak to all the creatures down there at once. To tell them to go home, that Orgoli was not their friend, that this world they were invading was no longer a place where they could live, for it had already wiped out every other creature like them.

I felt deep sadness for the world then. That it could no longer be home to the Caspian and Bali tigers, to the giant crocodiles and flashing red beetles. Mastodons, purple frogs, and three-toed horses, none would be welcome in our polluted, industrialized world. Our world was the poorer for their loss.

I vowed to myself with the holiest words I could find—by the Moon, by my Mother's love, by my friends and my soul and my stripes—that when I was home and safe, I would go to college, I would study ways to reclaim species on the brink of extinction, and I would do everything in my power to save them.

But first we had to save these below us, and defeat Orgoli.

And survive.

A flutter of wings neared me, and a strange red bird with black stripes on its wings circled over my head.

That voice. It was in my head, but I knew it. It was my birth mother, Khutulun. I squinted up at the bird as it glided down and, with a flick of its feathers, landed on my back. I curved my spine around in a C to see her better. She looked like a tiger-striped cat that had sprouted feathery wings, with a tigerish fuzzy muzzle and ears and a sleek furry bird body that sprouted orange-red feathered wings. Her feet, embedded in my own fur, were taloned like an eagle's.

That was all I could think to say. I thought how she had flown away when Orgoli had attacked me in his biggest form, how quickly she had abandoned me. So much for the blood tie she always seemed to invoke. My friends had stood by me more solidly than she was capable of. Once I had thought she might be the key to finding myself, but now the only thing I felt for Khutulun was indifference.

She preened a little.

Then fly away,
I thought back at her.
Go. You're no use to me.

Even if what she said was true, I didn't want to own a world. The idea was ridiculous to me now. I wanted . . . her help.

How can I speak to all those animals below?
I asked.
Can you communicate with all of them at once?

She peered down her striped nose at the river of creatures ebbing around the buzzing by the doorway. Several indistinguishable shapes scuffled near its edges, and I caught my breath, wanting to somehow rush past the crowds and get there.

My anger and dislike for her rose precipitously.

That's no concern of yours!
I lashed my tail and bared my teeth.
Tell me how!

Khutulun's eyes in this form were still tip-tilted and green. They examined me with cold calculation. I felt the deep cunning behind them working its will.

I shivered. There it was. The thing I could do to save all those animals. And if I sent them safely home, I would no doubt save many of the shifters fighting against Orgoli on the other side and probably my friends as well. Orgoli alone would still be tough to defeat, but it was better than facing an army.

The ground on the other side of the doorway heaved upward with a brain-rattling
harrumphing
sound, as if a great beast under the floor had wakened.

Your father wreaks havoc on that world,
Khutulun said inside my head.
While you stand here and refuse me.

Oh, she was good. All that guilt to get me to stay with her. I tried to picture a life without Mom, my real mom, and Richard, without Arnaldo and his brothers, London, Amaris, Morfael, and Lazar.

Without Caleb. A pain deep as the great sea struck my soul as I thought of him. I would never see Caleb again.

But saving all those animals, maybe saving the world from Orgoli—that was worth a sacrifice.

You will be living where you were born, as was meant to be,
Khutulun said, her husky voice crooning.
You can help heal this world from all the damage Orgoli and your world have done. And every night the moon will sing you to sleep
.

The moon could sing to me back home, if only I stopped to listen. And back home there was a lot of healing and helping to do, too.

But maybe that home wouldn't exist if I didn't do this to stop Orgoli.

You promise to tell them exactly what I say?
I asked.
And you promise that all of them will hear you?

Khutulun leapt from my back to take brief flight, then shifted in mid-air with such precision that her suddenly humanoid feet gracefully touched ground. Her tall, elegant form was clad, as mine had been, in soft white thistledown woven into a long, warm, clinging dress. Nature in Othersphere cooperated with the Amba, acting in perfect concert to keep us warm whenever we needed clothing, to help us move through and around the world, and to part the clouds of the eternal storm. It spoke to us and helped us. Orgoli had violated that covenant. Perhaps I could restore it.

Khutulun's head in her humanoid form was as high as mine in my tiger form. She stretched out a graceful, long-fingered hand and stroked the fur on my cheek.

“I will do as you say,” she said, now speaking aloud. “If you will make me that promise.”

I looked back at the horrible doorway. An exotically spotted ibex with huge horns and a giant buffalo had crossed the threshold, and charged off to one side, out of sight. Whatever fighting had been going on before was no longer visible. I had to help. Somehow. If I promised to come stay with her when all this was over, maybe I could pull the creatures back and fight Orgoli with my friends before I came back forever.

A terrible roar split my ears, and a striped blur flew up the dune to leap, paws outstretched, right for Khutulun.

She reacted too fast to follow, jumping to one side as the Bengal tiger twisted in mid-air, trying not to miss.

He landed on the sand at my side, twisting and snarling, ready to leap again.

I put a paw bigger than his head on his back and shoved him down, digging my claws in enough to hold him, but not deep enough to draw blood.

He struggled, but not with his full strength, snarling at her.

I glanced up at Khutulun. She was backing away, her already pale skin now so paper white I could see the tiny blue veins running beneath it. She was afraid of the tiger-shifter. But that made no sense. He and his kind hated Orgoli, too.

The Bengal slowed his struggling, still growling at Khutulun.

A chill ran down my spine, even as I told myself that the Bengal had to be making a mistake.

But then why was Khutulun shaking her head, stepping back from us both, moving carefully on the shifting sand beneath her feet?

“No,” she said. “I was Orgoli's mate twenty years ago, when he brought your kind through. That's where you remember me from. But you were just a child then, and not long after that I broke with the tyrant, for he wished to consume my child, my daughter. . . .”

The Bengal shot me a look of dawning comprehension.

I nodded.

Another tiger-shifter paced up, the Caspian and Bali tigers not far behind her. She growled at Khutulun, crouching and ready to pounce. This tiger shot an angry glare at me when she saw I had the Bengal pinned.

“Not anymore.” Khutulun's voice shook as she backed farther away. “I broke with him again. Don't you see? We're on the same side now.”

I lifted my paw from the Bengal, and he slowly got up.

You broke with him recently, not years ago. That's why you tried to contact me a short time ago,
I said to her.
By possessing my mother at the Lightning Tree.

“I contacted you then because at last I was free to do so!” Khutulun looked behind her as a few tiger-shifters circled there to surround her. “Your father kept me prisoner, forced me to do as he asked, and as soon as I could, I ran away and tried to find you.”

The Bengal paced closer to her.

The female tiger-shifter, who looked like the Russian female I'd spoken to earlier, lashed her tail and bared her fangs.

I stared at Khutulun. Had I ever really hoped she might help me learn who I was? The mysterious figure who had seemed to want me back these last few months looked ashen. She evoked nothing in me but disgust.

You didn't want me back in your life because you loved me,
I said.
You wanted me back because you quarreled with Orgoli, because you needed my help to kill him and save your own hide.

“You need my help!” Her voice rose, shrill and commanding. “You need me to speak to all the creatures down there. You made me a promise.”

But I hadn't promised anything. The Bengal had interrupted in time.

And if Khutulun could communicate with all the animals in Orgoli's army—why couldn't I? I was her daughter, after all.... Like the moon rising, rays of light crept through the dark corners of my mind, and I saw how it could be done.

All the pleading fled her face, replaced by disappointment and shrewd calculation.

I nodded, and inwardly said good-bye to my dream of a birth mother who might define me. The death of that dream was surprisingly easy, for it had been replaced by the reality—that, as Caleb had said, I was who I chose to be. That would not be Khutulun.

Be careful,
I said to the tiger-shifters.
She is dangerous.

I turned my back and began descending the dune.

“Fool!” Khutulun shrieked as the tiger-shifters closed in. “You walk away from the ultimate power! You could have everything! No, you shall not have me!”

I heard the warping of air as she shifted and the whoosh of tiger-shifters as they pounced.

A terrible squeal accompanied by a desperate flapping of wings, and Khutulun flew raggedly over my head, whimpering, one leg dripping red. She curved her black-striped wings away from the doorway and disappeared against the dark sky, heading back toward Othersphere's greener slopes. I didn't try to watch her go.

I climbed the next, lower dune, and looked down at the great bears and snakes, the frogs and the herons and the mastodons clustered near the doorway, cawing or trumpeting or baying unhappily. I reached out with every atom in my body—pushed outward in all directions, into the sand, the air, out to sea, and I asked them all, animal and rock, plant and ocean, to hear me. I'd been able to communicate with a storm, after all, and with a tree, and with tiger-shifters. Why not with all of them?

Friends,
I said.
Please do not go.

Hundreds of animal heads turned to me. If they had ears, they were at attention, even though I had not spoken out loud. Except for the unnatural drone from the doorway and the sweet lapping of the waves on the sand nearby, this part of Othersphere was silent.