Wild Born Page 11

  “They’re really here?” Abeke asked. He might have simply been trying to lure her out of hiding.

  “They’re not just here,” Shane said. “They’re waiting for us.”

  She felt nervous, but hoped it didn’t show. “Lead the way.”

  They started walking toward the walled buildings. “You should probably put Uraza into her dormant state.”

  “Won’t they want to see her?” Abeke asked.

  “It proves your abilities,” Shane said. “You’re young to use the dormant state. It also shows respect. Some of their spirit animals don’t get along well with others. If you keep Uraza with you, they’ll have to make their animals passive. It would be rude.”

  Abeke could see what he meant, but wasn’t it rude for them to expect her to put Uraza away if their animals were the unfriendly ones? The visitors clearly meant a lot to Shane, so she decided not to argue. Abeke held out her arm and called to Uraza. With a stinging flash, the leopard became a tattoo.

  It was not far to the walled stronghold. They passed through a massive iron gate and Shane led Abeke to the central building. They entered and went to the main chamber. A pair of guards who Abeke didn’t recognize stood outside a set of heavy doors. They bowed to Shane and let them pass.

  The visitors were assembled at the far side of the large stone room. A throne had been set up, and on it sat a regal man just entering his autumn years. His temples were touched with gray, and he had a craggy face with a jutting chin. A circlet ringed his head, wrought like a snake consuming its own tail. Below his heavy eyebrows, dark eyes watched Abeke intently.

  Before his throne stretched an enormous crocodile. Abeke had no idea they could grow so large. From snout to tail, it was longer than five grown men lying end to end.

  “He’s a king,” Abeke murmured to Shane.

  “Yes,” Shane muttered back. “Behave accordingly.”

  To one side of the king crouched a wizened old woman on a stool, bundled in coarse rags. Drool dribbled from one corner of her withered lips. On the other side of the throne stood Zerif. He was dressed in fancier clothes than when they had last met, and his hair was slicked back.

  “Zerif!” Abeke cried. Her eyes had been so drawn to the man on the throne and to the crocodile that she had been slow to recognize her former protector.

  He gave a polite nod. “I told you that we would meet again.” He gestured toward the throne. “May I introduce General Gar, king of the Lost Lands. Sire, meet Abeke, the summoner of Uraza.”

  “No small feat,” said the man on the throne. He had a voice that carried weight. It wasn’t terribly deep but, like his face, it was full of presence. A voice accustomed to giving orders.

  “Is that your crocodile?” Abeke asked.

  General Gar raised his eyebrows. “Indeed. A saltwater crocodile, from the continent of Stetriol.”

  Abeke frowned. Stetriol? Erdas had four regions, and none were named Stetriol. She shivered as her eyes strayed to the huge reptile. Abeke had only heard of one person who ever had a saltwater crocodile as a spirit animal. The Devourer.

  “What are you thinking, Abeke?” General Gar asked. “Speak freely.”

  “It’s just that . . .” Abeke hesitated. “I’ve seldom heard of a big crocodile like this as a spirit animal.”

  “Only once, am I right?” General Gar said with a knowing grin. He waved a dismissive hand. “It gets mentioned all the time. The Devourer, from the children’s stories, was said to have been paired with a saltwater crocodile. But he died long ago. I know it is rare across the rest of Erdas, but in Stetriol, summoning a saltwater crocodile is no cause for astonishment. It occurs from time to time.”

  Abeke looked to Shane, and then to Zerif. They seemed at ease. “I see.”

  “It’s true, Abeke,” Shane said. “The histories don’t mention Stetriol, but it’s a real place. I was born there.”

  “He’s right,” Zerif assured her. “The Greencloaks wrote the histories, and they deliberately ignored Stetriol. No surprise there. They committed horrible crimes against the people of our continent.”

  Abeke measured up Zerif. “You told me you work with Greencloaks.”

  “I do, on occasion. Some of them are very good people. Others seek to dominate the world. The organization has been corrupt for a long time, and is getting worse. Listen, nobody knows more about the Devourer than the people of Stetriol — we were the first continent he conquered, all those years ago. We were grateful when the Greencloaks freed us from his evil rule, until they turned on us. Women, children — the Greencloaks tried to wipe out all life on Stetriol, as if the common people were responsible for what the Devourer had done. We had suffered under the tyranny of the Devourer, and then we suffered worse after the Greencloaks defeated him. Only by hiding did any of us survive.” Zerif’s dark eyes held Abeke captive. “The Greencloaks were ashamed of their actions and tried to hide the fact that Stetriol ever existed. For the most part, they succeeded. They removed it from the histories and from the maps. But not all the people in Stetriol perished. The survivors had descendants. General Gar is their king.”

  Abeke shot a curious glance at Shane. This information was new to her, but she supposed it was all plausible.

  “You are understandably puzzled,” General Gar said. “Perhaps you imagine yourself among enemies, for that is how the Greencloaks characterize everyone but themselves. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

  Chinwe was the only Greencloak Abeke had actually known. She had always seemed kind of mysterious, but had genuinely cared about the village. In the stories, the Greencloaks were always the good guys, but if the Greencloaks had written the stories . . .

  Shifting on his throne, General Gar raised his eyebrows. “The war happened long ago. We do not hate the Greencloaks. The butchers who slaughtered our ancestors are long gone. But you must forgive us if we are slow to trust them. They tried to exterminate us once, and we fear they may do the same again. This is why we have endured centuries without the Nectar, our people suffering the illness and death that accompanies natural bonding.”

  Abeke looked to Shane again. “How awful! Your bonding . . .”

  “Occurred without any Nectar,” Shane said. “I was one of the lucky ones. Other friends and family weren’t.” Abeke realized with surprise that Shane’s eyes were wet. She had never seen him look so vulnerable.

  “We mean the Greencloaks no harm,” General Gar said. “We mean no harm to the other nations of Erdas. We just want the chance to protect our people from the side effects of natural bonding. Our problem is that the Greencloaks control all the Nectar, and use that control to wield power over the people of Erdas. The Greencloaks should make the Nectar available to everyone.”

  “They share it,” Abeke said, thinking of Chinwe.

  “The good ones do,” General Gar agreed. “But they only share it on their terms. In return, they want influence, control. And those are the best of them. Some keep it for themselves. Or, worse, they share false Nectar. It is already a terrible problem in Zhong and Amaya, and the problem is spreading.”

  “That doesn’t seem very fair,” Abeke admitted.

  “Exactly,” Shane said. “But we can’t risk asking them directly. If they know people survive in Stetriol, they might come destroy us.”

  “We have a plan to help them listen to reason,” Zerif said. “Did you know that each of the Great Beasts possesses a talisman?”

  “I think so,” Abeke said, unsure. “My mother mentioned them in the stories she told.”

  “All of the talismans contain powers that can be used by the Marked,” Zerif explained. “The Greencloaks are currently seeking the talismans of the Great Beasts. They wish to control all of the talismans just as they control the world’s supply of Nectar.”

  “We intend to claim the talismans first,” General Gar said. “That way the Greencloaks will have to listen to us. And the talismans will give us some protection in case the Greencloaks try to wipe out Stetriol
again. We cannot lose more loved ones to the consequences of natural bonding. With our modest numbers, we are risking everything to obtain a few of these talismans. Abeke, we hope that you and Uraza will help us.”

  Abeke felt confused. “Me? How can I help? I know nothing about any talismans. Unless . . . do you think Uraza has one?”

  “Uraza lost her talisman when she was killed, as did the other Four Fallen,” Zerif said. “No one knows where they ended up. We have people investigating those. Shane’s sister, Drina, leads that team.”

  “We don’t require information from you,” General Gar clarified, and gestured to the crone on the stool. “We have Yumaris. Her spirit animal is an earthworm. Yumaris has lost touch with daily life, but she sees with a penetrating eye. She is how Zerif found you. She recently located one of the talismans, in Amaya. I want you to join Zerif and Shane to help us retrieve it.”

  “You and Uraza can help repair the world,” Zerif said, his face intent. “Join us in protecting our homeland and helping to make the Nectar available to all who need it.”

  Abeke frowned. Something didn’t feel right. She trusted Shane, but it was all so much to absorb. “What about the men who were making monsters?”

  General Gar nodded. “Shane informed me about your unfortunate encounter. Those were not our men, but I am aware of them. They constantly experiment in the attempt to find a replacement for the Nectar. I applaud their desire to make Nectar freely available, but I have no love for their methods.”

  “It was a terrible accident,” Zerif said. “We have already sent an envoy to inform them of the danger they caused and to insist they take their unnatural tests elsewhere.”

  Abeke nodded. She had hoped General Gar’s people hadn’t been behind those monsters, but needed to be sure. Their cause sounded just. Everyone deserved to protect their home. Chinwe had called the Greencloaks the protectors of Erdas, but she had always been extremely secretive about the Nectar. And Chinwe was probably one of the good ones.

  General Gar, Zerif, and Shane all seemed to respect Abeke, and even more, they seemed to need her. They had gone to great lengths to find her and to train her. Perhaps her great stealth would help them get some of the talismans.

  Shane took her hand. “It’s a lot to take in,” he said. “We’re involving you in our problems. If you need some time to think this over, just let us know.”

  Abeke shook her head. Here she stood, with a king asking for her help, along with the man her father had trusted to watch over her, and her first close friend in all the world. There would be time to learn more details later. For now, she would do whatever she could.

  Abeke squeezed Shane’s hand. “You can count on me,” she said. “I’ll help you find the talisman.”

  12 BOULDER CITY

  FOUR HORSES CANTERED ALONG A FADED TRAIL BORDERED BY low, scrubby bushes. A long, angular ridge occasionally gave variety to the dry, rolling terrain. Rollan rode at the back of the line. A week ago, he had never sat astride a horse. After several days in the saddle, the soreness was wearing off, and he was growing more comfortable with his mount. The horses were all chargers, bred by the Greencloaks not only for power and endurance, but also for intelligence and loyalty. Rollan supposed it paid to have horses furnished by animal experts.

  Conor was up ahead, then Meilin beyond him, and finally Tarik in the lead. All wore green cloaks. Olvan had provided Rollan with a gray one.

  The commander of the Greencloaks had struck a deal with him. If Rollan helped retrieve this first talisman, he would receive enough money to last him a year, along with the official friendship of the Greencloaks, meaning he could stay in any of the towers and — a point Rollan was careful to include — eat their food. Rollan would receive nothing more until all of the talismans were accounted for, in which case the Greencloaks would buy him a manor and provide him with enough money for five lifetimes. Olvan had stressed that at any point throughout the process, Rollan could renounce his rewards and take up the green cloak instead.

  With the crest of a long and gradual rise approaching up ahead, Tarik slowed his mount to a walk, and the others followed his lead. Overhead, Essix gave a cry and came spiraling down to land on Rollan’s shoulder. Meilin wore Jhi on her hand, Tarik’s otter lay curled at the back of his saddle, and Briggan loped tirelessly alongside Conor.

  From the top of the rise, Rollan looked down with the others at a rustic settlement. A few dirt streets crisscrossed the imperfect rows of adobe buildings. People bustled along with a few wagons, horses, and a handful of dogs. Despite the activity, the crowds were nothing compared to what Rollan was used to in Concorba. None of the buildings looked very large to him, and several of them were in shoddy condition. The low wall around the community was made of stacked stones, which Rollan found downright pathetic.

  “Our first destination,” Tarik announced. “Boulder City.”

  “ ‘Pebble Village’ would ring truer,” Rollan scoffed.

  “It’s also called Sanabajari,” Tarik went on. “Nonnatives tend to prefer the nickname. The towns are small here in the far west of Amaya. Few care to brave the dangers beyond the more settled region of the continent. The folk who live here are from sturdy stock. It would be sensible to avoid a mocking tone.”

  “I see why Amaya is dubbed the New Lands,” Meilin said. “No section of Zhong is this . . . uncivilized.”

  “Zhong is known as the Walled Lands,” Tarik said. “The territory within the Wall is highly developed and well-tended. But I have seen corners of the continent beyond the Wall that make Boulder City appear refined.”

  “This is where we’ll find the bear and the raccoon?” Conor asked.

  “If Lenori and Olvan interpreted the vision properly,” Tarik said. “Barlow and Monte used to be Greencloaks at Sunset Tower. They broke their oaths to become explorers. They’ve spent the last fifteen years roaming the wilds of western Amaya. Few, if any, have traveled this continent as widely. I’ve not met them personally, but by reputation they’re expert outdoorsmen. Barlow’s companion is a bear, and Monte’s is a raccoon. Perhaps they’ve come across Arax in their wanderings. That’s the hope, at any rate.”

  “How do we know they’ll be here?” Rollan asked.

  “We don’t,” Tarik admitted. “Greencloaks try to stay aware of their own, present and former. Last we had word, Barlow and Monte had established a trading post in Boulder City. If they’re not here, we’ll pick up a trail.”

  They rode down a slope, through a gap in the low stone wall, and onward into town. Rollan noticed the cold stares from people on the street and in doorways, most eyes dwelling on the green cloaks worn by the other members of the group. Nearly all of the people in view were men. The majority were hardy and weathered, with threadbare clothes and rough beards.

  Tarik pulled up in front of the largest building in town, a dingy white two-story structure with an amber tiled roof. A covered wooden boardwalk wrapped around the establishment, and a sizable sign proclaimed it the trading post.

  In a flash, Tarik’s otter became a design on his arm. “Send your falcon aloft,” the Greencloak suggested to Rollan. “Conor, leave Briggan outside.”

  “Essix, take to the —” Rollan began, but his falcon sprang into flight before he could finish.

  “Would you mind guarding the horses, Briggan?” Conor asked.

  The wolf sniffed Conor’s mount, then sat nearby.

  “Will there be trouble?” Rollan wondered. He wore a knife at his hip. Living on the streets, he had always carried a small blade of some sort, but the Greencloaks had supplied him with the finest he had ever owned. The weapon on his belt was a true dagger, well-made and keen, almost a short sword. He had a much smaller knife tucked in his boot.

  “Perhaps,” Tarik said. “Some former Greencloaks hold grudges.”

  “Interesting,” Rollan murmured.

  “Should we take off our cloaks?” Conor asked.

  “Never out of shame or to win favor,” Tarik said. “It s
ets a bad precedent. We must stand behind who we are and what we represent.”

  But what do you really represent? Rollan wondered. He watched a group of surly, squinting men go out of their way to walk a wide circle around the Greencloaks. An older man leading a laden mule paused to consider them, one fist on his hip. Across the street, hesitant faces appeared in the windows.

  “Everyone is staring,” Conor muttered.

  “Then let’s give them something to watch,” Tarik said, leading the way into the trading post. He wore his sword strapped across his back. Meilin had brought her quarterstaff. Rollan noted that Conor left his ax back with his saddle.

  Everything screeched to a halt in the trading post as they entered. Diners at the bar paused mid-bite, and trading at the general store came to a dead stop. In the silence, Rollan noticed plentiful animal hides on display, along with outdoor gear and row upon row of axes, swords, and other weapons.

  Tarik strode over to the counter in the general store. Several big men made way for him, their gazes ranging from suspicion to outright hostility. Behind the counter a balding man with a mischievous face surveyed the newcomers.

  “Greencloaks?” he groaned with a smirk. “Official business or just passing through?”

  “I’m here to look in on two former colleagues, Barlow and Monte,” Tarik replied.

  The man behind the counter looked perplexed for a moment, then gave a nod. “Been some time since those two wore much green. Can’t claim to have seen either of them lately.”

  “That so?” Tarik asked. “Do they still own this trading post?”

  “They do,” the man replied. “It’s the most successful emporium hereabouts, which frees them from minding the day-to-day operations.”

  Rollan heard a brief uproar behind him. He pivoted to see Essix gliding toward him through the open door. The falcon landed on his shoulder. Forcing a smile, he stroked the bird with the back of one knuckle, trying to act as though the appearance had been expected. As usual, Essix was out to prove she could go where she wanted, when she wanted, regardless of instructions. Both Tarik and the man behind the counter stared at him. Rollan waved a hand. “Go ahead. Don’t mind us.”