“I hear nothing, you’re imagining it,” Dorian said with conviction. “Really, sweetness, getting all worked up like this. It’s probably just fatigue-”
“No! You have to go look!” Suddenly Sora was scared. The jingling was just as loud as before, and she knew she wasn’t going insane. For some reason they couldn't hear it.
“Sora-”
“Dorian, do what she says.” The assassin’s voice was soft with authority. Sora was caught off guard by the sound of his voice — she hadn't heard him speak since that morning. “Put her worries to rest. It’s probably just an overactive imagination, but if not....”
Dorian nodded silently, though he didn't appear happy about it. He turned to the trees and withdrew two long, wickedly curved knives from his belt. Shoulders tense, he stepped into the treeline. “Stay with her,” he told Crash, his voice hard. It was an unexpected command. Sora was surprised by the sudden tension between the two men. As soon as I get to know these two, they change. Just who is in charge here, anyway?
Crash nodded. The thief moved swiftly into the trees, soundless, a stealthy slink to his walk. Sora felt chilled at the sight, reminded that these were two well-trained fighters. She reluctantly moved to stand near Crash, trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the trees. Ironic, as he was probably more dangerous than whatever awaited in the forest. She hardly felt safer standing next to him.
“Aren’t you worried?” she asked. Her anxiety forced her to speak. She couldn't look away from where Dorian had vanished into the trees. What if something really is out there? Will he be okay? And why did she care? Was the bastard growing on her already? Gross.
“It's probably just a squirrel,” Crash answered, his words short and clipped. Sora felt indignant. “And if there is something, not many beasts can take down a Wolfy mage.”
“So he really is a Wolfy?” she asked, chewing on her lip in concern.
“Of course.”
“Then can't he use his magic?”
“Do you think magic just comes out of his ears? It's not that simple.”
Well, he didn't say 'no,' she thought. She would have to ask Dorian about it when he returned. She was suddenly distracted by the idea of magic; she wondered what it looked like, and if it would be anything like her favorite stories or something completely different. Maybe he could teach her some tricks. She could imagine the Wolfy sitting at a market booth somewhere, rolling weighted dice or shuffling an enchanted deck of cards....
“Magic is not something to romanticize,” the assassin snapped, as though reading her mind. “It's dangerous and unnatural. The world is better without it.”
Sora shrugged, ignoring his harsh tone. “Magic is all but legend, anyway,” she said, remembering her history lessons. “It's been extinct since the War of the Races... if the War even happened. Who cares about it?” She tried to look disinterested. “Some people say that the races never existed.”
“And would you agree with them, after meeting Dorian?” the assassin asked; it was a rhetorical question. “There are small bands still running around, scattered, hiding their identities from humans. You've probably met several and didn't even know it.” He looked at her with a hard eye. “Dorian is one of the very last of his kind.”
Sora was shocked, but she tried not to show it. She wanted to sit down and think it all over, try to re-imagine the world she lived in; it seemed to be a much different than what she had pictured from her manor window. She knew that Dorian had to be a Wolfy; his fangs and ears proved as much. But for all of her life, she had thought the races were a myth, no more than fantastic stories from a long forgotten age. Even if the races had once existed, everyone knew they had died out hundreds of years ago. Great civilizations turned to dust; there were hardly any relics left, any remnants of the ancient cities, of the old temples and shrines and castles. It was a different world now.
But Dorian was a Wolfy. With magic, at that! She felt like she could jump with excitement. She had so many questions, she didn't know where to start. “One of the last of his kind,” she finally said, thinking of Crash's words. “How many Wolfies are left?”
“Three,” he answered.
Suddenly a howl split the air, causing the tiny blond hairs on Sora’s arms to rise. She looked at the trees in alarm, then her view was blocked by the assassin. He stepped in front of her, shielding her from whatever was coming. He had drawn a thin sword out of his cloak and was half crouched, prepared to lunge at a second's notice.
There was a thrashing noise in the trees and Dorian appeared, his hand clamped to a wound at his side. She could see blood oozing from his hip. She tried to take a concerned step forward but was pushed back by Crash. Her eyes turned back to the trees. There was something else coming.... Again, she could feel it, though she didn't know how. A thundering in her ears, a percussion against her skin — sleigh bells.
Crash leapt forward just as a creature shot out from the shadows. It was tall and bulky with a lurching gait, rusty fur, skeletal arms and long, bent legs, unlike anything she had ever seen before — a monster? Was it possible? Her mouth dropped open, then she lost balance, collapsing onto the ground in panic.
Everything was a blur of movement. Dorian was flung to one side by the sweep of a claw, and the beast roared, shaking the branches above them; leaves rained down from overhead. It dove after the Wolfy, but Crash leapt between the creature and his fallen friend, his sword ready. Sora thought it looked rather puny against the monster, which lumbered around their camp, a mountain of teeth and claws. The beast roared again in fury... then the jingling noise returned to her ears, catching her by surprise.
Time seemed to slow down. Sora wasn't sure what came over her, but the sound of bells grew louder, and suddenly she wasn't herself anymore. She felt suspended, dazed. Something else rose inside of her, something warm and steady and fluid. It swept her thoughts away, taking control. Suddenly she was on her feet, dashing across their camp, covering the distance in a few leaps. Then she was standing in front of Crash, inches away from the monster, her arms flung out as wide as she could hold them — as though to bar the creature from passing. She was defenseless, her chest fully exposed, nothing between herself and the monster but air.
The beast came on in slow motion, hurling at her with blood on its mind. Then suddenly a green light flashed, splitting the night, illuminating the trees, and a dome of energy seemed to explode from her chest. It fell over the three travelers. Sora felt like she was inside a tent. Bolts of yellow electricity crashed down around them, creating a barrier stronger than iron. The creature hit the bubble and let out a screech of pain. There was a startling snap! A sizzling pop!
The dome glowed, flashing green and yellow, then slowly dissipated, flickering out of existence. Sora sank to the ground, hit by a wave of exhaustion, completely overwhelmed. She tried to put a hand to her chest, to understand what had happened, but her limbs were shaky and useless.
Several yards away was a steaming pile of flesh. In the beast’s place was a mangled, burning corpse, much smaller than the actual creature had been; it looked like a fox or a badger, half-skinned and matted with blood. Sora stared at the sizzling body for a long moment, then slowly swooned to one side. Caught herself with her hands. Gagged.
She stayed like that for several minutes in silence, staring at the smoking corpse, trying not to empty her stomach on the ground. No one moved. No one spoke. Finally, she turned to see what her companions were doing, and found both Crash and Dorian staring at her, eyes wide and unreadable, obviously just as alarmed as she was. She gazed back at them, letting them see her shock and confusion. She had nothing to hide, no explanation, no secret weapon hidden under her shirt. She waited for them to speak, wondering what they might say, if either of them could tell her what had just happened. Under my shirt.... Suddenly concerned, she reached up to touch her mother’s necklace, relieved to find it still warm and in tact. She let out a long, slow sigh. Good, it hadn't fallen off in the fight.<
br />
Then Crash reached down and grabbed her, his hand going to her neck. There was no warning. At first Sora thought he was going to strangle her, and she opened her mouth to scream, but instead he caught the silver chain and pulled the necklace into the open.
“Impossible,” he murmured, his eyes dark. Sora began to tremble, recoiling from his touch. She didn’t like his hand on her necklace, though she wasn’t sure why. She would have knocked him away if she hadn't been so terrified. The assassin stared at her, his expression unreadable, then he turned to Dorian. “She wears a Cat’s Eye,” he said.
Dorian also stared at her in shock, a new expression for him. “A... a Cat's Eye?” he muttered, incredulous. “So that creature-?”
“Yes. He’s found our trail.”
The two shared a meaningful look that Sora didn’t understand. At that moment she felt more alone than ever before, completely barred from the conversation. What the hell is going on? There were too many secrets. What did her necklace have to do with anything? And why was she so blasted tired?
“I’m sure whatever you two are talking about is extremely important,” she said, irritated. “But can someone explain to me what just happened? And what is that?” She pointed at the smoldering corpse, disgust curling her lips.
“It's a dead animal,” Crash said bluntly.
“I can see that.”
Dorian tried to answer. “It was transformed with blood-magic into the creature you just destroyed,” he offered.
“Oh,” she grunted, raising an eyebrow. It made just about as much sense as anything else. “Fair enough,” she said sarcastically. “And my necklace?”
The two looked at each other again. Neither seemed to want to speak. Finally Dorian said, “It's a Cat's Eye.”
“A what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Come now, sweetness, did you knock your head? Haven’t you ever heard of a Cat's Eye necklace?” She stared blankly and he tried again. “Haven't you ever wondered how the humans killed off all of the races?”
Sora didn't understand. What did the races have to do with anything? She put a hand to her head, the world spinning. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.
“The War of the Races,” Dorian said, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. He was beginning to sound like Crash. “The beginning of the end. What, do you think the races just dispersed and died off? The humans exterminated them, one by one.”
“B-but how is that possible? Humans don't have magic-”
“Exactly. So your kind used these things instead. Cheating.” He went to reach for her necklace, but she yanked it away, guarding the jewel protectively. She wasn't sure what made her do it. She was suddenly afraid that they would try to take it away from her — her only link to her mother.
“I still don't get it. What's a Cat's Eye?” Sora repeated. “And why does it matter?”
“It's a stone,” Crash answered her. She turned to look at him. He pinned her with his stare, his eyes like gleaming daggers. “A stone that eats magic. It protects whoever wears it, a talisman of sorts. It was the undoing of the races, the only reason why humans won the War. While wearing these stones, the humans became immune to magic and its effects... just like you've demonstrated tonight. The rest is history.”
“Why haven't I heard about this before?” she asked.
“Ignorance?” Dorian offered.
She shot him a glare. The Wolfy glared right back. Sora couldn't understand why he was being so defensive right now; why they greeted her necklace with so much hostility. She had never heard of a Cat's Eye before, but it sounded important. Hadn't she just saved their lives? That's what I did, right? Wasn't it? Or had something else protected them from the monster, some miracle of the forest? She was still very confused.
But neither of the men pursued the topic. The short, fierce conversation was over. Sora pulled herself up onto a log and sat there, her head in her hands, trying to fight off another wave of nausea. She felt weak, drained, used. She kept replaying the scene over and over in her head, the monster in the darkness, the sound of sleigh bells, and then her sudden act of heroism. She hadn't been in control of her own body. Had she? No, impossible, she couldn't even remember moving her own limbs. Something else had taken control. But what? The necklace? How is that possible? The thought left her cold.
“Are you telling me... that this necklace will protect me from magic?” Sora finally asked, after her stomach had calmed down and she was able to breathe easily.
Several minutes had passed, and the two men had gone back to their positions around the fire, almost as though nothing had happened. Crash was cleaning his sword. Dorian was taking the rabbits off of the spit and slicing the meat. The monster's corpse still sizzled a few yards away, tainting the air with its smell. No one seemed eager to touch it.
“It will protect you, sure... but at a price,” Dorian offered, still not looking at her. “Magic always has a price.”
Sora had the sudden feeling that they weren't telling her everything. If her necklace really was a Cat's Eye, it did not seem to be a welcomed discovery. She frowned, suspicious. “What do you mean by that?”
Another long, awkward silence. Neither met her gaze. She moved over to Dorian and sat close to him, leaning in, trying to catch his eye. When he finally spoke, his eyes stayed focused on the ground. “The Cat's Eye is more of a curse than a blessing,” he said. “It's a parasite, a semi-living thing that feeds on magic.... And it uses the bearer as much as it protects him.”
Sora didn't like the sound of this. “And?” she prompted.
“It creates a psychic bond with whoever wears it. If the bearer ever removes the stone, it will break the bond and they will fall into a coma,” he said. “The psychic backlash is extremely damaging. In some cases, the bearer dies. This is why the Cat's Eye are so rare these days. They were disposed of after the War, too dangerous to be kept as mere trinkets.”
Sora's hand traveled to the necklace once again and she touched the stone. It had always been strangely warm, even in the dead of winter. It had the texture of smooth skin, as though she truly did wear an eye around her neck. She frowned and went to unclasp the necklace, but Dorian's hand stopped her.
“Weren't you listening?” he snapped. “You can't take it off. Not now.”
“Why? Because of some stupid legend? I don't believe a word of it. This necklace isn't going to kill me.”
“Don't be a fool! If the races exist, then the Cat's Eye exist. I'm not talking about silly stories, girl. The necklace is real. It is bonding to you as we speak. Have you been wearing it longer than a day?”
Sora thought back over the last twenty-four hours. With slight hesitation, she nodded.
“Then it's too late to be removed. Leave it.”
“But....” Sora's voice faded to silence. She had nothing left to say. She didn't know if Dorian's words were true, but she had seen the effects of the necklace only a few minutes before and felt its burst of power. Worse than that. She had sensed it in her mind.
It seemed impossible, but there was no other explanation for what she had just experienced. Sora suddenly wondered if it was awake and conscious, listening to their words, to everything being said; perhaps hearing her very thoughts. Sharing them. Influencing them? She shuddered. I will not scare myself! No, it was just a dumb story. She had never heard such a thing as a psychic bond, or a necklace that fed on magic, and used the bearer like a parasite. She would have to find out more once they got to Mayville. There was bound to be a library or a jeweler, or some sort of specialist on the matter....
And my mother.... Who had she been, to have had such an extraordinary artifact? Was she still alive? And where? How am I going to last long enough to find her?
“Dorian, we’re changing plans,” the assassin said abruptly.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. We’re going through the swamp.”
Dorian looked up at Crash. Sora could sense his alarm. “But-”
“We
have a Cat’s Eye now. The spells won’t harm us, and Volcrian won’t be able to follow.”
Sora was once again in the dark. “Wait a moment, what swamp? And who’s Volcrian?”
They ignored her. “We should consult Burn about this,” Dorian said uneasily. “He might not like it.”
“It's our best chance at escaping the mage.”
“Maybe you're right... but we should wait.”
They fell to silence once more. Sora was completely bewildered, but could see that she wouldn't get any answers. Dorian started passing around the meat and she took her portion, then moved to sit down on her bedroll. Honestly, she didn't have much of an appetite anymore. She was too worried to eat. She didn't want to travel through a swamp, and she didn't like the sound of that name, Volcrian — it made her think of vultures and wolves and frozen things.
“Will I... will I be traveling with you?” she asked, her voice small.
“With that necklace? You can count on it,” Dorian replied. He didn't sound happy for her. “So eat and rest. Tomorrow we reach town.”
Sora went back to her meat and tried not to think of the next day, or the past hour, or anything other than the mud on her boots. She could still escape. She told herself that, trying to keep her hope alive. She could still get away and find her mother. It was that, or become another tool in somebody else's game, and she was done being a pawn. Her eyes traveled to the trees, to the night, to the stars above her, distant and twinkling. She had made it this far – but when would she have her freedom?
* * * * *
Volcrian’s eyes snapped open. No.
He hadn’t been expecting this.
After all of the blood he had put into his sorcery, the hours spent catching the fox, the various failed attempts at creating other creatures, monsters that all collapsed back into dirt — and the beast had been destroyed. Poof. Obliterated in a matter of seconds.
He had seen the battle through the monster's eyes, the green dome of energy, the surge of power, a burst of pain. The mage took a deep, calming breath, and kept breathing until his mind was cold and clear. A lack of information, he thought soothingly. The girl had a Cat's Eye. There was no other explanation for the green light and the terrible vortex of energy — and no one could have foreseen that.