The Rabbit and the Raven: Book Two in the Solas Beir Trilogy (23 page)

Retracting his claws, David moved away from the tail and slipped back into his human form. He walked over to the lady end of the lamia and stood staring at her while she continued her shrill, senseless screaming. She was as annoying as a three-in-the-morning car alarm. “Oh, shut up,” he said, and punched her squarely in the face.

She did. Dazed, she stared back at him, blessedly silent. Then she hissed, turned, and slithered off into the darkness, like a naughty child who had been shamed into obedience.

David watched to make sure she was gone, then hurried back to camp, shifting into a lion so he could run faster. The first thing he saw when he arrived was the black
cat. It was crouching over Cael’s body and snarling up at Jon and Marisol, who had climbed a tree. Abby was nowhere to be seen.

David launched himself at the giant
feline, flipping it on its back, pinning it to the ground with his front paws.

“David—no!” Cael cried, trying to sit up. But he was too weak to even manage that, and he collapsed onto the ground as his elbows slid out from under him in the soft dirt.

The large cat underneath David dissolved into a man with dark hair and skin and a lean, muscled body. He was wearing nothing but a loincloth and a grin.

“Greetings, Solas Beir,” he said.

“David,” Cael croaked. “
Please
do not eat the Southern Oracle.”

Immediately, David slipped back into his human form. Red-faced with embarrassment, he stared at the man before him. He had tried to kill the very per
son he’d hoped would become his ally. “My deepest apologies, Southern Oracle. I mistook you for someone else.”

David stood up and helped the man to his feet. Then he reached for a
cask and knelt to help Cael take a drink.

“Oh? And who might that be?” the Southern Oracle asked, frowning as he brushed dirt from his skin.

“Tierney,” David said, avoiding the man’s stern gaze.

“Forgive us, Southern Oracle,” Cael intervened, “but we have been haunted by many a horror these past nights. The journey to your village has been rather treacherous.”

“And I see that you have not arrived unscathed,” the Southern Oracle noted, crossing his arms. He looked up at Jon and Marisol, still in the tree, and smiled widely. “You can come down now. I promise not to eat you.”

“Thanks,” Jon said. “We appreciate that.” He climbed down to join the others.

“It appears I, too, was mistaken,” the oracle said to Cael. “After your Solas Beir attacked me instead of the lamia, I assumed you lot were a threat to the safety of my village. I—”

“Where’s Abby?” David interrupted. He looked around frantically; he could feel himself growing panicked.
Maybe she hid
, he thought, trying to reassure himself.
But how could she if she was tied up?

“She was gone when we got here,” Marisol said, swinging down from her perch. She narrowed her eyes at the Southern Oracle. “You didn’t eat her, did you?”

David’s eyes widened with alarm as he looked from Marisol to the Southern Oracle.

The Southern Oracle laughed. “No, my dear, I did not. I fear
, however, I may have given her a terrible fright. Do not worry—she did not go far.” He peered around the tree with the vines that had bound Abby. “Come on out, little one.”

The head of a white rabbit hesitantly peeked out over a tree root. The Southern Oracle chuckled and knelt down. “Come on, now. I will not bite.”

The rabbit hopped out from behind the tree. It stuck out a front paw as if it were studying it, and then looked up at the people towering above it. “Oh, you have
got
to be kidding me,” it said.

David’s mouth gaped open in shock. “Abby?”

“Yeah,” the rabbit answered. “It’s me.”

“Oh.” He sighed with relief. She was okay. Mostly.

“Yep,” Abby the rabbit said. “Of course,
I’m
the one who turns into a pathetic fur ball.”

“I wouldn’t call you pathetic,” David said, not even bothering to hide his smile. “You’re kind of adorable.” He picked her up.

“And fluffy,” Marisol added, stroking Abby’s soft fur.

“
Not
helping,” the rabbit growled. “Guess we know why Tierney had that little nickname for me. I’m going to
murder
him the next time I see him.”

“Well now.
You
are a pleasant little one,” the Southern Oracle laughed, scratching behind Abby’s long ears. “I apologize for not introducing myself properly. I am also known as the Jaguar King, for reasons that may be most apparent to you.”

“Quite,” Abby said, squirming in David’s arms. She hopped to the ground and turned back into her human self. “Never thought I’d be turning into an animal too.” She scrunched up her nose as if it itched, sneezed, and brushed away the fine white hair that had been tickling her. “And apparently I’m allergic to myself.
Fantastic
.”

“That was quite impressive,” the Southern Oracle smiled.

“Really? Because that’s not quite the word I was thinking of,” Abby countered.

“My dear girl, to be human and be able to transform yourself? That is
most
impressive. Never mind that the form seems diminutive. Every creature serves a purpose, no matter the size,” the oracle said.

“Don’t forget about Fergal,” David added, taking Abby’s hand. “He’s wicked with a sword and he’s little too.”

“I’ll try to remember that as I hop around. Maybe I’ll slay my enemies with lethal cuteness,” Abby scowled.

“Perhaps you will,” the oracle chuckled. “I have no doubt you would be quite fearsome in battle.” He reached up into the tree and pulled down some leaves from a parasitic plant attached to the tree’s trunk. He walked over to Cael, knelt down, and pressed the leaves to Cael’s wound. “Here, my friend. This should help you.”

Cael winced at the oracle’s touch, and then his face relaxed as the swelling in his leg eased. A nasty-looking greenish pus began to ooze from the wound. “Oh, that is foul,” Cael groaned, covering his nose. “Most foul indeed.”

“Indeed,” the oracle agreed, nodding. “But we must leech out the
venom.” He looked up at Marisol. “You, girl—what is your name?”

“Marisol,” she replied.

“Ah, yes. A lovely name,” the Southern Oracle said. “You climb well—grab a few more of those leaves to take with us. There is another plant higher up.”

Marisol scampered up the trunk of the tree and reached for a plant. The oracle watched her and then shook his head vigorously. “No, no—not that one. Never that one. That plant will kill you. The one beside it.”

“But they look
exactly
the same,” Marisol said, exasperated.

“Not to me,” the oracle replied. “There are subtle differences not easily discerned by the untrained eye.”

Marisol shot him a look and took leaves from the correct plant, avoiding the deadly one. She jumped down and brought them to the oracle.

“Thank you, dear,” the Southern Oracle said. “Do you have a pack to keep them safe? I am traveling a bit light, as you can see.”

Marisol nodded, keeping her eyes on his to avoid having to acknowledge what served as fashion in this part of the kingdom, David assumed. Then she looked up into the canopy, which had faded from black to grey. “It’s almost dawn.”

“Yes,” the oracle said. “My village is not far. If we start now, we should arrive in time for dinner. Shall we be off?”

“Sounds like a plan,” David said. “Cael is still too weak to walk, though. I’ll carry him.”

“Good,” the oracle said. “I would, but you seem to have damaged my shoulder in our earlier battle with the lamia.”

“Oh—I’m sorry about that,” David apologized. “Abby told me that Tierney appeared to her as a black panther, so I assumed, incorrectly…”

“He appeared to her and did not kill her,” the Southern Oracle mused. It was a statement loaded with questions.

Abby shrugged. “He wasn’t in a killing mood.”

“Intriguing,” the oracle said.

“He looks different than you—you have spots and he has stripes, like a black tiger,” Abby clarified. She glanced over at David and then turned back to the oracle. “Not that it would be easy to tell the difference in the dark. But he also has long fangs, like a saber-toothed cat.”

The oracle nodded. “Indeed, he does. And I am surprised you did not become more intimately acquainted with them.”

“He just wanted to chat,” Abby said.

The Southern Oracle stared at her, his eyes intense. “About what, pray tell?”

Abby shifted uncomfortably under the oracle’s gaze, and glanced back over at David. David nodded for her to continue. “He was trying to get me to see his side of things…and to recruit me,” she admitted.

“Well, dear Abby, I can see there is much more to you than just a small white rabbit. I will be interested to learn more during our visit,” the oracle said.

“May I heal your shoulder before we go?” David offered.

“I would like that. It has been a long time since I have held counsel with a Solas Beir, and longer still since I have seen one heal.” The Southern Oracle presented his shoulder; long, red claw marks stretched all the way from the joint to the blade.

David placed his hands over them and felt the heat flow from his palms. He winced as the wound transferred to his body.

“Ah, that is much better,” the oracle sighed, flexing his arm and shoulder. “Well done, Solas Beir. You have your father’s healing hands. Now, please, allow me to be the one to carry our friend.”

David tried to ignore the burning pain in his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said, his jaw clenched. “I’d appreciate it.”

The oracle helped Cael to his feet, and Cael cautiously tried putting weight on his injured leg. “I thank you as well, Southern Oracle. I am feeling better, but I can still feel
venom in the wound.”

The oracle slipped his arm around Cael, supporting him. “Have no worry, my friend. In a few days’ time, the wound will be healed completely. It was fortunate that I encountered you in this part of the forest. The healing plants grow in abundance here. Now, come. My people will be excited about your arrival. We do not have guests very often.”

The oracle shifted into his jaguar form, and then Jon helped Cael onto the oracle’s back before they started off into the forest.

Marisol
scooped up Jon’s and Cael’s packs and followed.

Abby picked up her pack and David’s, studying David as he carefully tested his shoulder. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” David whispered back. “I guess my claws did quite a number on the Southern Oracle’s shoulder.” He had a feeling he’d be paying for that particular mistake all day. His body seemed to take longer to mend itself with larger wounds; minor ones tended to heal almost instantaneously.

“What do you think of him?” Abby asked.

David pondered for a moment. “He’s not quite what I expected. At least he doesn’t seem too put out by our horrific reception of him. That was less than ideal.”

“Yeah—what a train wreck. Thank goodness he has a sense of humor,” Abby said.

Chapter Eight

THE BLOOD ALTAR

T
he village was not quite what David had expected either. Given the Southern Oracle’s clothing, David had envisioned a smattering of rudimentary huts in a clearing. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised when he was greeted by a sophisticated network of ornately carved spherical tree houses linked by suspension bridges.

Laid out below on an outcropping of stone was a plaza with a breathtaking view of a magnificent waterfall. Below the waterfall’s dramatic plunge was a series of pools, each with its own smaller waterfall cascading into the next pool, stair steps forming a river that widened and flowed eastward. In shallow areas, water coursed over black rocks carpeted in green algae.

When they stepped out of the perpetual grey-green twilight that defined daylight in the rainforest, David found the vivid emerald greens of the trees and turquoise blue of the sky stunning. The brightness of the sunlight made his eyes water.

The villagers were no less colorful, garbed in clothes dyed in every shade imaginable, almost as though they were reflecting the rainbow formed by the mist of the waterfall. Some, like the Southern Oracle, were more scantily clad, but others wore modest one-shouldered sarongs. No one, male or female, was wearing pants or shoes like David and his fellow ambassadors. In the hot, humid air, this made perfect sense.

It had been days since David and his friends had bathed, and sleeping in the dirt had not helped with personal hygiene. David could feel his clothes clinging to him. He could only imagine what he must smell like; he had become immune to his own stench.

The Southern Oracle seemed to notice David’s discomfort. “Have no worry, Solas Beir. There is plenty of time to make you beautiful before the feast,” he chuckled. He motioned for several of the villagers to join him in the plaza. “Take our guests to the pools—they could use some rejuvenation after their difficult journey,” the oracle commanded. Then he grinned. “And give them something more suitable to wear.”