Wild Born Page 9

  “I’ll believe it when I see it,” the bald man said.

  The hooded man held up his waterskin. “Get ready to eat your words.” He walked over to the cage with the dog inside. “Sit, Admiral.”

  The dog sat.

  “Speak.”

  The dog barked and wagged its tail.

  The hooded man uncapped the waterskin and held it between the bars. “Come.”

  The dog came forward and the man poured fluid into its mouth. Abeke could see some splashing free. Then he backed away.

  Several other men stepped closer to the cage, warily clutching long spears. One held a bow with an arrow set to the string.

  Abeke didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of the dog convulsing and enlarging. It didn’t cry out like the rat, but it whined softly. As the dog changed, its muscles pulled taut, bulging grotesquely. Its eyes grew fierce and wide, and foam began frothing from the corners of its mouth. The dog let out a low growl before launching itself against the side of the cage, very nearly toppling it over onto its side.

  “Sit, Admiral,” the hooded man called from a distance.

  The monstrous dog shifted into a sitting position.

  “Speak.”

  The beefy dog let out a powerful bark that resonated through the jungle, sending birds flying from the trees.

  “Good boy, Admiral,” the hooded man called. “Good boy.”

  “All right, I’m impressed,” the bald man admitted. “But I wouldn’t let it out without a leash.”

  Some of the other men chuckled. Most still held their weapons cautiously.

  A swirling breeze stirred the air.

  Suddenly the dog whipped its head toward the jungle, staring directly at Abeke. It let out a rumbling growl. Some of the men glanced in the direction the dog was staring. Abeke resisted the urge to immediately retreat. If she moved while their eyes were on her, she would give herself away for sure. She had to rely on the leaves and the shadows.

  The dog’s growl built into a series of vicious barks.

  “What is it, Admiral?” the hooded man called, following the animal’s gaze.

  The huge dog barked more fiercely.

  “No, no, no,” Abeke whispered.

  The dog began to savagely ram the sides of the cage. The men were shouting to each other, but Abeke couldn’t make out their words under the noise. Barking and thrashing, the dog went into a frenzy. The cage shuddered violently. The dog began bashing the roof, and the wood began to crack and splinter.

  Abeke felt sharp teeth on her arm. Uraza was gently biting her. Once Abeke noticed her, the leopard slunk back deeper into the trees. Abeke joined her retreat.

  The wild clamor continued behind her, and then there was a violent crack. Glancing over her shoulder, Abeke saw the enormous hound crash through the roof of the cage, the bars falling away in all directions. Ignoring the men, some of whom made halfhearted jabs with their spears, the monstrous dog raced straight toward Abeke, spewing sand with each massive stride.

  Uraza broke into a run with Abeke sprinting beside her. All pretense at stealth abandoned, Abeke tore through the jungle, wishing she had brought more weaponry than a knife. Then again, what good would any weapon do against the savage dog?

  The animal stampeded behind them. Ferocious barks and growls impelled Abeke forward. There was no time to strategize — she ran with everything she had, driven by pure terror. The same terrain that had permitted her to creep alongside Uraza now tripped her up. Branches lashed her body, roots grabbed her ankles, and the uneven ground was treacherous. She stumbled to her knees several times and fell flat once, but always rose as quickly as she could, clawing at the vegetation, half running, half swimming through the leaves.

  The gigantic dog was gaining rapidly. Any moment, those teeth would seize her. She had lost sight of Uraza. The dog was nearly upon her. Determined not to be an easy victim, Abeke drew her knife and whirled.

  Her senses abruptly sharpened. She saw the overgrown canine coming and shrank into a comfortable crouch. As it lunged, she sprang sideways, swinging her knife. The tip of the blade scratched the brute’s flank as the beast blurred past her.

  Abeke put a tree between herself and the dog. It struck the tree with enough force to shake the jungle, but the trunk held. Abeke raced away, but the frothing dog pursued her relentlessly. She tripped, rolled onto her back, and held up her knife in desperation. The dog surged forward, mouth gaping, teeth huge in the darkness.

  With a screaming roar unlike any cry Abeke had ever heard, Uraza hurtled out of the night, her jaws closing on the side of the dog’s neck. The impact broke the dog’s rushing attack. Leopard and dog tumbled together in the darkness, narrowly missing Abeke, snarling and spitting, teeth flashing, claws slashing.

  Abeke’s first instinct was to run. Her second thought was to help Uraza. But then she got the distinct impression that she should climb. The notion came so strongly that she leaped to the nearest tree, embracing the trunk with arms and knees. There were no branches to grip, but she pulled with her arms and clamped with her knees, somehow heaving herself higher and higher.

  At last she found short limbs where she could rest. Behind her, she saw Uraza had taken to a tree as well, a red wound marring her magnificent pelt. Below, the frustrated dog barked and bayed and finally howled. Abeke’s tree shook as the dog rammed it with manic tenacity. She held tight. She had lost her knife. Her only hope was to outlast her attacker.

  Something caught the dog’s attention and it ran over to another tree. Dimly, in the leaf-filtered moonlight, Abeke saw a figure high in the branches. It held a bow, and was launching arrow after arrow down at the dog.

  The huge dog leaped and barked and growled. It clawed futilely at the trunk. No matter how many arrows found their mark, it didn’t seek cover. Finally, with a slow inevitability, the arrows did their job. The creature sank back, took two wobbly steps, then collapsed on the forest floor with a plaintive whine.

  The figure climbed down from the tree. He paused beside the rapidly shrinking dog, then came to the base of Abeke’s tree. “Come down, Abeke,” a hushed voice called. She knew the voice. “It’s dead. Come down — we need to go.”

  Hugging the trunk, Abeke shinnied down the tree and dropped to the ground. “Shane! How did you find me?”

  “Did you think I’d let you roam the jungle alone at night?” he replied.

  “You followed me?”

  “Not so loud,” Shane warned, looking away through the trees. “I’d rather the men on the beach not find us.”

  “The men,” Abeke said, lowering her voice. “They made the dog into a monster! They fed it something.”

  “I know about them,” Shane said. “I didn’t know they were here tonight until it was too late. Otherwise I would have steered you away.”

  “How far back were you?”

  “Too far. I try not to make my presence known, although I’m sure I never fooled your leopard.”

  “What were those men doing?”

  “They’re trying to find a replacement for the Nectar. They try out their concoctions in secret.”

  “The Nectar doesn’t create monsters!”

  “These men are testing different substances,” Shane said. “I don’t know all their goals. It would not end well if they caught us. We should go.”

  Uraza prowled into view, her side bleeding. Crouching beside her leopard, Abeke flung her arms around her neck. “Thank you,” Abeke murmured. “You saved my life.”

  9 vision

  IN A LOFTY ANTECHAMBER, DAYLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH A stained-glass window, splashing colorful patterns across the floor. Briggan explored the area, sniffing the corners and the furniture. When the wolf passed through the tinted light, dappled hues glossed his gray-white coat. Conor had lost track of how long they had waited. It frustrated him that even though he was no longer a servant to Devin, he was still stuck inside a castle all the time. He could tell that Briggan didn’t love being cooped
up either.

  The door opened and Rollan emerged with Essix on his shoulder. Conor and Briggan looked up expectantly. Apparently Lenori and Rollan were finally done.

  “Your turn,” Rollan said.

  “How was it?” Conor asked.

  Rollan shrugged. “She wanted to know about my dreams. If it was a test, I don’t think I passed. Have fun.”

  Conor entered the room where Lenori waited in a large, padded chair that dwarfed her petite frame. Her green cloak rested on a nearby table. Feathers were braided into her long hair and several beaded necklaces and bracelets hung from her neck and wrists. Her bare feet rested on a low ottoman, her soles callused and brown.

  Beside her chair, a peculiar bird roosted on a tall, portable perch. The bird had a slender neck, a down-curved bill, and vibrant plumage of every shade. Lenori indicated a nearby chair to Conor. He sat down, Briggan on the floor near him. She looked at him with eyes as unfathomable as the ocean. He wondered if she could read his mind.

  “How are you, Conor?”

  The question was posed mildly, and seemed sincere. “Me? Honestly? I keep wondering whether Briggan came to the right person.”

  Lenori smiled. “No beast would bond with the wrong person, least of all a Great Beast. Where does this worry come from?”

  Conor regretted having expressed the concern. Her posture was relaxed, but there was no escaping those watchful eyes. “All of this is just so far beyond anything I ever expected.”

  “I think I understand.” Her voice was gentle and melodious. “Don’t pressure yourself to evolve overnight. You’ll grow into this role. Tell me about your dreams since Briggan arrived.”

  Conor considered the question. “Once, in real life, I had to fight off a pack of wolves from the sheep I protected. I’ve had to relive that night in my dreams a lot lately.” He glanced over at Briggan, who had his mouth open with his tongue hanging out. It was the closest a wolf could get to smiling.

  “Have any other animals visited your dreams?” Lenori asked.

  “I don’t know,” Conor said. “I saw a ram not long ago. The kind with big curly horns.”

  Lenori leaned forward. “Where was it? What was it doing?”

  The circumstances returned to him vividly. It had been the rare sort of dream that felt exactly like real life, even in memory. He had been climbing a high, rugged mountain, the rough stone as cold as ice beneath his palms. Scaling a sheer face, he had reached a point where he could progress no farther, nor could he descend the way he had come.

  As the wind kicked up, he had clung to the mountainside miserably, knowing he could continue or retreat, and either way he would fall. His muscles burning, the air too thin to satisfy his lungs, he had held on as tight as he could, knowing that eventually his strength would fail and he would plummet to the base of the cliff. Why had he climbed so high?

  Since holding still meant certain death, he’d decided that he had to keep going, no matter how scant the handholds. Stretching, he hooked his fingertips over a tiny wrinkle in the rock overhead. As he searched for his next handhold, the sun crested the mountaintop, blinding him.

  Squinting, grimacing, arms burning, toes slipping, he fumbled for anything to grab with his right hand. Then a shadow had fallen across him, and he peered up at the huge silhouette of a ram, staring down at him from higher still up the cliff. The sight of the beast had made him forget his peril. He had stared for a long moment before his hands failed him. He gave an agonized scream and then he fell, his stomach lurching to his throat as he hurtled toward the ground. Just as he was about to hit, he woke up, slick with sweat.

  “I was in the mountains,” Conor said. “I saw it right before I woke up. The sun was in my eyes. The ram was big, but it was hard to see details.”

  “Have you ever worked with bighorn sheep?” Lenori asked.

  “No. But I’ve seen pictures of Arax. My parents have one. The ram in my dreams was like him.”

  “Was it like him, or was it him?”

  Conor was very conscious of her heightened interest. Didn’t she ever blink? He knew the answer, but felt awkward. He worried it would come across like he was trying to sound important. He glanced away, then back. “It was just a dream. But, yeah, I think it was Arax.”

  “Have you dreamed about any of the other Great Beasts? Rumfuss? Tellun? Do you know all of them?”

  Conor chuckled uncomfortably. “I know there are fifteen, the Four Fallen plus the other eleven. I’m no expert. I can name some of them — Cabaro the Lion, Mulop the Octopus. Arax, of course. Shepherds pay extra attention to him. With enough time I could maybe remember them all.”

  “The Great Beasts have protected Erdas since time out of mind. We would all do better to be more familiar with them. Besides the four obvious ones and those you named, we have Tellun the Elk, Ninani the Swan, Halawir the Eagle, Dinesh the Elephant, Rumfuss the Boar, Suka the Polar Bear, Kovo the Ape, and Gerathon the Serpent.”

  Conor noticed Briggan’s ears prick up. “I haven’t dreamed about the others. Just that ram. Do you mind me asking why you’re so interested?”

  “I doubt it was an ordinary dream.”

  Briggan stood up, watching her intently.

  “The wolf seems to agree,” Lenori said.

  Briggan barked, making Conor jump.

  “Dreams can range from the meaningless to the prophetic,” Lenori said. “It usually takes experience to discern one from the other. The dreams Rollan and Meilin shared with me were of little consequence. I hoped for more from Meilin, but she needs to grow closer to Jhi first. I suspected your dreams might be weightier, and you haven’t disappointed me.”

  Conor shifted in his chair. “Why’d you suspect me?”

  “Briggan was among the more visionary of the Great Beasts. He is known by the titles Packleader, Moonrunner, and, significantly, Pathfinder.”

  Conor reached out and rubbed the coarse mane on the back of Briggan’s neck. “Are you really all of those things?”

  Briggan turned his head, his tongue lolling out in another wolfish grin.

  “I too have seen Arax the Ram lately,” Lenori said. “That is why we gathered at the Sunset Tower in Amaya, the nearest Greencloak tower to his current domain.”

  “You know where to find him?” Conor asked.

  “I don’t know his exact location,” Lenori said. “But I hope we may be able to find him together. Aside from the recent return of Briggan and the Fallen, none have encountered the Great Beasts for many years. Arax is among the most solitary. He prefers the mountaintops, exercising his influence over the winds and terrain in the highest places of the world. We can’t trust luck or woodcraft to find him. The wilds of western Amaya are untamed. Unguided, we could search for years and never get close.”

  Lenori paused for a moment, then spoke in a softer voice. “Would you mind trying for a waking vision?”

  “Me?” Conor asked. He was no prophet. “What do you mean?”

  “Briggan may be able to use your connection to share information glimpsed from afar.”

  Conor rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I wouldn’t know how to begin.”

  Lenori crossed to Conor and knelt before him. She took both of his hands in hers. He tried not to go completely rigid.

  “Unbeknownst to some Greencloaks,” Lenori explained, “spirit animals do not only exist to let us swing a sword harder. There can be aspects to the connection more valuable than running fast or jumping high. If you relax, I believe I can show you.”

  “I’ll try if you want,” Conor said. He certainly couldn’t relax with her holding his hands.

  Perhaps sensing this, Lenori backed away. “Don’t try to force it,” she instructed. “Relax and gaze upon Myriam, my rainbow ibis. Watch her as you would a campfire on a lonely night.”

  The bird on the perch spread her multicolored wings. She bobbed gently, causing cascades of color to ripple through her vivid feathers. Trying to follow Lenori’s instructions, Conor thought about how he w
atched campfires. He tried not to stare hard at a fixed point. Without searching for anything specific, he let the rainbow ibis serve as his center of attention.

  Lenori was speaking but Conor got lost in the cadence of her words. Her voice was rhythmic, a melodic pulse that steadied and calmed him. Dimly he noticed Briggan turning in a circle, first one way, then the other. He began to feel very drowsy. He blinked his eyes, but it didn’t seem to help. In fact, with every blink, the room became more of a blur.

  Conor stared down a misty tunnel. Where had that come from? He soared down the hazy passage without any sensation of movement. At its end, he saw a grizzly bear and a raccoon hurrying across a wide brown prairie. With an effort of will, he sped up until he glided alongside them.

  There was no wind in his face, no physical evidence of his speed. But the shaggy grizzly bear ran hard, as did the raccoon. Both kept their eyes fixed on the horizon. Looking ahead, Conor saw a spectacular mountain range. Atop a distant ridge, the great ram was outlined in sunlight.

  As soon as his eyes locked on the ram, Conor found himself pulled from behind. Against his will, he withdrew back into the misty tunnel until the animals became specks in the distance. The tunnel collapsed and dissolved. Conor realized that Lenori, Briggan, and the rainbow ibis were all staring at him. He felt clammy. His mouth tasted weird and oddly fuzzy, like after a long sleep.

  “What did you see?” Lenori inquired serenely.

  “Huh?” He felt unsteady. “I . . . I saw a raccoon and a big, shaggy bear. They were running toward some mountains. I could see Arax beyond them, up high on the rocks. They were heading straight at him.”

  “A bear and a raccoon,” Lenori repeated. “Anything else?”

  “I didn’t notice much else. I was mostly focused on the bear and the raccoon. I had to go through a long tunnel.”

  Lenori gave a triumphant smile. She took his hand, squeezing it gently. “You did it, Conor. I think you found our path.”

  In less than an hour, Conor was escorted past a dozen armed guards and through multiple sets of double doors to a high room with the curtains drawn. He found Olvan, Lenori, Tarik, Rollan, and Meilin waiting, along with all of their spirit animals. Tarik’s otter darted around the room in bursts of motion, clambering across furniture and bookcases. Tarik’s pairing with Lumeo seemed odd, since the tall Greencloak was so serious. Olvan’s moose stood near the fireplace, its massive form out of place indoors. The dignified room had a feel similar to the Earl of Trunswick’s study, but it was even bigger.