“Well, you were fighting for them and all,” Rollan said. “I figured you might have the inside track on all things Conqueror.”
“I already told you how it happened,” Abeke replied stiffly.
“Tell me again. I love happy endings.”
She sighed. “Rollan, don’t you remember what it was like when you called up Essix? Was she what you expected?”
Of course she hadn’t been expected. Rollan hadn’t been expecting much of anything, as he had been sitting in a prison at the time, and in prison, disappointment was generally the most practical thing to expect. And even if he hadn’t been incarcerated, he couldn’t have expected Essix to appear. Nobody called up Great Beasts.
“Sure,” Rollan replied easily. “Miracles happen to me all the time.”
Abeke made a face. She touched the tuft of coarse fur at Uraza’s shoulders, as if for comfort. “Don’t you remember how uncertain everything was? Nobody knows if they are going to call up a spirit animal at all. And the rituals make it so nerve-racking. Everyone is looking at you. There is so much pressure.”
“I didn’t have a ritual,” Rollan said. “I had a homeless guy and a rat. But I get the idea.”
Abeke stopped. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. Actually, I don’t. That’s basically the beginning, middle, and end of it, anyway: homeless guy, rat, magical falcon. Happy ending. Told you. I love those things. Go on with your story.”
She said, “My ritual was very well attended. We desperately needed rain, and there was hope that a new rain dancer would be named. Then, all of a sudden I had a spirit animal, and it was a Great Beast and then it began to rain! My father had never looked at me like that before. My sister had never looked at me that way before — no one had. Everyone thought I was the new rain dancer. I was still trying to understand that I’d summoned a spirit animal! And then in the middle of the commotion, Zerif appeared and told me that he needed me to help save the world. Maybe you would have done better, Rollan, but during all that, I really didn’t think to ask him, Are you telling the truth?”
Rollan thought back to his own summoning. Zerif had appeared not long after Essix had. But Rollan had doubted him. And then taken off running.
To be fair, that was how Rollan approached most situations in life. He’d pulled the same stunt for the Greencloaks too: doubt and run. Never a bad plan.
Abeke broke in ruefully, “You did ask him, didn’t you? Or at least, you didn’t trust him.” When he looked at her, surprised, she added, “I could tell by your face. You were thinking I was foolish to go with him.”
“A fool’s better than a traitor.”
Very serious, she nodded. “Rollan, I want you to know that I won’t let the Greencloaks down.”
I’m not a Greencloak, he thought. But he didn’t say it out loud.
Instead, he watched Uraza slink damply after Abeke as they retreated to the ship’s cabin. After they had gone, Essix flapped down to join him, her talons tight on the wet wood.
“Thanks for your help back there,” he told her. “What do you think about her?”
Essix stretched out a leg and chewed on one of her talons.
“That,” Rollan said, “is exactly how I feel about it.”
It kept pouring. Once they made landfall, they transferred the supplies to the horses and set off through the damp evening. Technically, the horses were supposed to be a privilege. A way to make the long journey faster and more agreeable.
But practically, Rollan wished they were walking. Neither he nor Essix got along with his horse. For starters, Rollan wasn’t the best of riders. Life as a street urchin hadn’t exactly prepared him for hours in the saddle. Back in Concorba, if he’d wanted to go somewhere, he’d gone on the bottoms of his own two feet. It was only because of their last mission that he’d had any experience on horseback at all. In fact, after that ride across Amaya, he still had blisters in all kinds of places where blisters shouldn’t be.
Also, his horse was a terrible animal. Terrible to look at, with its flecked gray coat, and terrible to be around, with its habit of biting Rollan. If he relaxed his hold on the reins at all, the creature would bend itself almost in half to nip at his legs. It hated Essix too. If the falcon got anywhere near, the horse would rear and snap toward the bird.
“Maybe it’s hungry,” Conor suggested as they rode side by side through the drizzle.
“Hungry for human flesh, maybe,” Rollan replied.
Overhead, Essix cried out; the horse pinned its ears back angrily. “Falcon flesh too.”
“If you treat him with respect, he’ll treat you with respect,” Tarik called.
Easy for him to say, Rollan thought as Tarik and Meilin began a conversation about the pleasures of being taught horseback riding before one could walk.
After a few hours, Rollan was wet to the skin. His scruffy hair stuck to his forehead. The rolling, treeless countryside was already soaked green and black. Even if they’d wanted to stop, there was no shelter.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, “this reminds me of home.” He’d spent countless evenings on the streets, pressed against a wall, barely out of the rain. Stomach growling, always hungry.
Well, at least now his stomach was full.
“Too tough for you?” Meilin asked sweetly. Her black hair was slicked on either side of her face.
“Oh, no,” Rollan replied. “I’m great at being cold and wet. One of my finest skills.”
Meilin shot back, “Did you have tutors for that?”
“I taught myself.”
She smiled at that, then hid it, fast. But Rollan had already seen. Ha! Score one point for me.
He was a little worried at how much he was getting used to not living on the streets, actually. He still hadn’t made up his mind over whether or not he wanted to work with the Greencloaks permanently, but if he left now, he’d have to get used to being hungry and dirty and mostly dead all over again. Just a few weeks ago, all he’d cared about was whether or not he’d get to eat once every three days. Now he had stopped worrying about meals and was instead concentrating on getting a smile out of a snotty general’s daughter.
Slippery slope, Rollan, he reminded himself. Don’t forget how to be on your own.
“It will be better once we get in the trees,” Tarik said, gesturing to a small copse of oaks ahead.
“We’ll need to be on our guard,” Finn spoke up, the first thing he had said since they mounted the horses. “Eura is not as safe as it once was. You all should remember the lessons you learned in training before we left.”
The main lesson Rollan had learned in training was that Meilin was dangerous with a handkerchief.
Taking advantage of his distraction, Rollan’s horse stopped in its tracks and tried to take a bite out of his leg.
“No way!” he told it, jerking the opposite rein. “That’s my favorite leg.”
From down the road, Tarik said, “Your horse used to be a spirit animal. His human fell in battle. That’s why he’s so irritable.”
Rollan worked to save his favorite leg and then the other one. “Pretty shoddy reason.”
Abeke said thoughtfully, “I hear it’s unbearable if the bond is broken.”
“It’s true,” Tarik said. “As you four know, the bond is a powerful thing, and it gets stronger the longer you’re together. To lose your bonded partner is like losing a limb.”
Rollan’s horse made another grab at him. Yellow teeth snagged fabric and narrowly missed bone.
“I’m right on track to know what that feels like,” he muttered.
“Do you think the horse is jealous of Rollan and Essix’s bond?” Abeke asked.
There was not a lot to be jealous of. Essix would come to Rollan in a pinch, but they both seemed to be loners. Rollan couldn’t figure out a way to get through to the falcon — or even if he really wanted to. He’d gotten along fine before she came along, and he figured he could probably manage fine after too. He guessed she felt the sa
me way about him.
Tarik lifted a shoulder. “Possibly. Or it could just remind him of what he once had.”
Rollan twisted to look at Abeke. Her bond with Uraza seemed pretty great. The leopard followed her as if the two of them were thinking the same thoughts. Wanting the same things. With Essix, Rollan felt they wanted the same thing about as often as any bird and boy would . . . which wasn’t much at all.
Tarik’s horse spooked, hooves stamping and scraping on the ground. Rollan couldn’t immediately see what had startled it. Then he glimpsed a small, furry animal scrabbling up the horse’s side. Tarik swiped at it with a surprised, hoarse laugh. He called out, “It’s a weasel!”
Rollan curled his lip. He hated weasels more than his horse. They were like rats, but longer. Like snakes, but furrier.
“What’s going on up there?” Finn asked from his position at the rear.
“I’ve got it under control!” Tarik called back, swatting at the biting and clawing animal. It looked like he was being attacked by a scarf. Behind him, Conor and Abeke clearly couldn’t decide if they were allowed to laugh.
The weasel lunged for Tarik’s eyes. Tarik blocked the animal — barely. His horse reared again.
Suddenly a surge of intuition jolted through Rollan, certain and overpowering and ferocious. His eyes found Essix in the sky without having to search for her. The falcon’s gaze was fixed on him as well. This was one thing they had in common: an uncanny ability to read people and situations. And when they worked together, the connection was — well, it was easy to see why Essix was called a Great Beast.
Now Rollan knew the truth as clear as if someone had shouted it to him.
Something was wrong.
This was an ambush.
“Watch out!” he shouted. “It’s a trap!”
Finn scanned the woods, his expression sharpening. “Conquerors! Arm yourselves!”
Two men plunged out of the brush, a fox on their heels. In a decisive move, one seized the bridle of Finn’s horse and the other threw himself at Tarik. Lumeo, Tarik’s spirit animal, an otter, twisted suddenly out of his dormant form. A third man charged from the trees, a badger on his heels.
Rollan’s stomach dropped.
These new animals were no ordinary animals.
They were spirit animals.
Conquerors’ spirit animals.
“Don’t just stand there!” Meilin ordered, voice clear and ringing. “Attack!”
Rollan realized he had been frozen by the chaos. Up ahead, Tarik jumped off his horse and drew a knife against his human attacker, even as the weasel dug its teeth into his shoulder. The Conqueror easily avoided Tarik’s knife — the bond between him and the weasel was giving the man superhuman agility. More Conquerors emerged — too many to count. Everything was a mess of people and spirit animals. So many spirit animals.
Rollan kicked his horse to get closer to the fray. The action promptly caused the horse to swing its head to snap at him.
“No!” he said furiously. “You grass-burning chump! Look! They’re in trouble! Go that way!”
The horse bucked. Rollan clutched its neck to keep from flying off. Briggan loped by him, Conor close to his heels, dagger in hand. Abeke was right behind, wielding a large tree branch like a weapon as Uraza pounced. They all looked gloriously useful.
Overhead, Essix cried out. In falcon language, it clearly meant Do something!
“I’m trying!” Rollan said. “Where’s your sense of loyalty, horse?!”
The horse reared. This time, Rollan slid right off the back of his rain-slick saddle. Both his pride and his tailbone shouted angrily as he landed. The horse was gone faster than you could say traitor.
He clambered to his feet. Essix swooped low to see if he was okay.
At least somebody is loyal around here, he thought. He gave her a thumbs-up. He didn’t know if she understood. Falcons didn’t have thumbs.
Two other Conquerors were closing in on Tarik. One of them was bald and had a snake wrapped loosely around his arm. The other was dramatically mustached and had a small cat at his feet. As Tarik parried their blows with astonishing precision, Lumeo pounced on the cat in a chaos of fur and tooth. The cat’s Conqueror was momentarily distracted and Tarik took advantage of this, delivering a roundhouse blow to his foe’s midsection. The Conqueror stumbled back into Tarik’s horse, who delivered a kick of its own, knocking the attacker unconscious. The cat fled to the woods.
Conor and Briggan were holding off the Conqueror who’d been joined by the badger — the man seemed to weaken as soon as Briggan got the badger clamped in his jaw. Finn stood in the shadows, head bowed, holding his side tightly. He seemed to be fighting a battle that existed behind his own closed eyes. The Conquerors hadn’t noticed him yet. Close by, Meilin had been drawn farther away to fight with two other Conquerors. When Abeke approached with her tree branch to give aid, Meilin shouted to her, “I don’t need your help!”
Abeke looked shocked, but she wasn’t deterred. She leaped to rescue Finn as a Conqueror discovered him. It wasn’t ideal, but Meilin, Abeke, and Finn looked like they were handling themselves. Tarik, on the other hand — he faced not only the persistent weasel, but also the bald Conqueror with the snake wrapped around his arm.
Rollan ran toward him. The weasel scrambled up Tarik’s face. In that moment, the bald Conqueror tossed the serpent. Blinded by the weasel, Tarik didn’t immediately understand this new threat.
“Tarik!” Rollan shouted. “It’s the snake!”
The Greencloak’s hands tightened around the serpent. Too late. The snake’s fangs sank into his arm. Tarik shook off the weasel and ripped the snake from himself, but he staggered. In this moment of vulnerability, the bald Conqueror raised his sword, about to deliver a killing blow.
There wasn’t enough time for Rollan to reach him before the sword fell.
“Essix!” he yelled. Surely she would come through for him when it was really important.
The falcon dove, claws outstretched. She landed on the enemy’s bald head a moment before he swung the sword. As the Conqueror flailed, nothing but feathers in his view, Rollan scrambled to seize the man’s sword.
“Get it off of me!” the man screamed. His eyes were shut tight; Essix’s talons were inches away from them.
Rollan clutched the sword threateningly. “If I do, will you leave us alone?”
“Anything!” the man said. “Trust me!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rollan glimpsed the snake slither into the bald Conqueror’s open hand.
“Unfortunately for you,” said Rollan, “I don’t trust anyone.”
The Conqueror threw the serpent forward, but Rollan was ready. He swung the sword. The heavy blade sliced the snake neatly in two and kept on swinging.
Right into the Conqueror’s leg.
Both Rollan and the bald man howled — the Conqueror in pain, Rollan in surprise. It was the first time Rollan had ever struck a human with a proper sword, and unbelievably, no one had been around to notice it. Well, except Essix, Rollan thought as the falcon flapped into the air with a dry, approving cry. He gave the falcon a hasty one-finger salute as he spun to deal with the remaining spirit animal. The weasel, however, had slunk into the trees. It must have been looking for its human partner.
The Conqueror continued wailing.
“Don’t move a muscle,” Rollan warned, sword still pointed at him. “You try to slither your way out of this one, you might lose something precious to you — like your life.”
A cry pierced the air from where Conor had been fighting his foe. Without removing the sword’s tip from his prisoner, Rollan glanced toward the commotion. Briggan held a Conqueror’s spirit animal in his jaws — the badger Rollan had seen earlier. The Conqueror watched anxiously from the edge of the woods. With a growl, the wolf opened his jaws; the badger fell lifeless to the ground.
The Conqueror threw up his arm, trying to call the badger back to him. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still noth
ing. No tattoo would form. The man let out an anguished cry. No one moved against him as he shifted to claim the badger. Without even a glance for the others, he disappeared with it into the forest.
Conor did not follow. There was a curious sadness in his face.
Rollan was unsympathetic. The Conqueror should have known: Don’t bring a badger to a Great Beast fight.
Rollan turned his attention to Tarik, whose clothing was tattered and bloodstained.
“It looks worse than it is,” Tarik muttered, teeth clenched in pain.
“That snake —” Rollan began.
“A Euran adder. I need to get the herbal antidote for the venom. Unfortunately, it will only get worse.”
This sounded alarming to Rollan. “Have you been bit before?”
Tarik answered calmly, “No. But I have seen others.”
“Can you walk?”
The Greencloak winced. “Is my horse gone?”
Nearby, Conor nodded grimly. Gone. In fact, aside from the Conqueror’s groans, which Rollan thought were uncalled for, the forest had fallen uneasily silent.
Rollan called out for Meilin, Abeke, and Finn.
There was no reply.
“Where’d they go?” he asked Conor.
Conor pointed. “The others galloped that way. But we’d never catch up. Our horses are gone.” Even Tarik’s well-behaved steed had vanished, spooked by the combat.
“Well, this is a grand adventure,” remarked Rollan. “Three missing and one chewed on. What do we do now?”
With a grimace, Tarik pushed himself onto an elbow. In a low voice so that the Conqueror couldn’t hear, he whispered, “There’s a Greencloak near here. An old informant. I think that’s the best place to go. Finn knows her, and she will have the antidote. I’m afraid you’ll have to help me walk, though.”
Conor and Rollan each took one of Tarik’s arms and hauled him up. Lumeo stood by his side, his coat uneven and sodden from the fight in the damp underbrush. His normally playful expression was keen, trying to anticipate what Tarik might need from him.
“It’s all right, old friend,” Tarik said to his spirit animal. He was shivering in an alarming sort of way. “Don’t worry.”