“This isn’t a spat!” Rollan shouted, feeling like he might very well explode on the spot. “We’re trying to save the world!”
He felt a hand on his arm. It was Abeke. “Yelling isn’t going to make them fight,” she said gently. She pulled Rollan back from the group, speaking in a low voice. “Look at them. They’re scared. Most of them have already lost their spirit animals. That’s a pain greater than you could ever understand.” And here her face flickered with the pain of her own loss—of her own Uraza ripped from her. “They don’t need threats. They need a reason to keep on living. They need to be inspired.”
Rollan rolled his eyes. “Inspiration really isn’t my style.” He desperately wished that Meilin were there—she would certainly know how to rally their spirits.
Abeke nodded, dropping her voice even lower. “We already have a born leader in our midst.” She nodded to Kirat, who had resumed his argument with Devin on the gangplank.
“Kirat?” Rollan said. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Abeke shrugged. “Perhaps we’ve done him an injustice by treating him like a helpless child. He was not raised to take orders, he was raised to lead. Don’t forget, Tarik’s blood runs in his veins.”
The mention of Tarik’s name put a lump in Rollan’s throat. Their old Greencloak mentor had been the only adult who had ever really believed in Rollan. He had trusted Rollan when everyone had lost faith in him. And Rollan knew that Tarik would want him to show that same faith in his nephew. “Ugh,” he muttered. “I hate it when you’re right.”
Abeke nodded to him and together they stepped past the other Great Beast summoners, approaching Kirat. The boy had been scratching Cabaro’s mark on his neck with no success at drawing forth the Great Lion. “We owe you an apology,” she said.
“Keep your apologies,” Kirat said, lowering his hand. “I’d rather keep my life.”
Abeke nudged Rollan, and he realized that she was expecting him to do the talking.
Rollan was good at begging, at lying, at swindling for food, but not this. He took a breath, trying to think about what he could say to make Kirat understand. He tried to imagine how Kirat felt in this moment, having fled from the destruction of his home to find himself in this desolate place.
“It’s okay to be scared,” Rollan said slowly. “But it’s not okay to run from your duty. You agreed to protect these children, and they’re depending on you. Your father fought before giving up Zourtzi. Do you really think he would run in this situation?”
The mention of Kirat’s father was clearly a sore spot, and the boy’s face softened slightly.
“The Redcloaks need this ship, not to mention the extra hands,” Abeke added. “These others won’t listen to us—we’re wearing the same cloaks as the army that’s coming this way. But they will listen to you. You’re a trained fighter, and you’ve spent a lifetime watching your father build and protect the greatest fortress in all of Nilo by inspiring thousands of subjects. We need you to lead.”
Rollan reached into his pack and removed a small amulet with an iron chain. “This belonged to your uncle, Tarik.” He held out the chain for Kirat to see. “The man you were named after. He died trying to protect the world from Zerif. And now it’s your turn to join the fight.” He ran his thumb over the cracked green stone. “Your mother gave it to me. She told me I should save it for when you were ready to follow in his footsteps. It was her last wish.”
Kirat’s face softened even more. “She … my mother told you that?”
Rollan nodded. “She did. The only question now is: Are you ready?”
Kirat reached out a hand, which Rollan couldn’t help but notice was shaking. The boy took the amulet and stared at it in the cold afternoon light. He held it for what felt like an eternity. Then he dipped his head and placed the chain around his neck. It was not an expensive amulet—Kirat’s silken socks were probably worth more than the common gemstone—but when the boy raised his face again, he looked more richly garbed than any prince Rollan had ever seen.
Kirat turned away from them and faced the other children, who were huddled at the bottom of the gangplank, waiting for him to speak.
“Are we going?” asked Cordalles. “We’re running out of time.”
“There’s no time.” Kirat took a deep breath and turned toward them. “I did you a disservice by leading you to this port—by letting you think there was a way out of danger. I claimed that it was the smart thing to do. But it wasn’t intellect that motivated me. It was cowardice.”
“Better to live a coward than die a hero,” said Dawson.
“You’re probably right,” Kirat said, shrugging. “I’ve never been too impressed by courage. I remember my tutors and scrollmavens talking fondly about courageous heroes falling in battle. Hearing those songs and ballads, I always thought that it was a flimsy reward for losing one’s life.” A few of the children chuckled at this nervously. “But really,” Kirat continued, “all my scorn for courage was an attempt to cover up my fear. My whole life has been dominated by fear. My father was the most powerful merchant lord in all Nilo, second only to the high chieftain. Some would have called him a tyrant. I was terrified of him. But all his soldiers and battlements and might were nothing in the face of Zerif’s army.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
“Not exactly the rousing speech we were hoping for,” Rollan muttered.
“Shh,” Abeke whispered. “At least they’re listening.”
Rollan looked at the other children and saw that Abeke was right. The children were hanging on to Kirat’s every word, some of them even nodding. “I’m done being afraid,” the young lord continued. “I’ve already lost everything. My family, my wealth, my home. You have all lost even more than that—having your spirit animals ripped from you. Which means you have nothing to fear. How can we possibly fear a thing like death, when we’ve nothing to live for?” The boy stood before them, his uncle’s amulet glinting against the afternoon sun. “Truly, it is Zerif who should fear us.”
He paced in front of them, raising his voice, speaking more quickly. “We are not ordinary children. We didn’t just summon spirit animals. We are the first in the history of Erdas to summon Great Beasts.” He pointed to different children as he spoke. “Rumfuss the Boar … Suka the Polar Bear … Halawir the Eagle … Arax the Ram … Tellun the Elk … Dinesh the Elephant.”
“But Dinesh is gone,” said a Zhongese girl. “So are the rest of the Beasts.” She had tears standing in her dark eyes.
Kirat nodded. “Dinesh may be gone, but you remain, Kaiina. And you have his resilience within you.” He spread his arms wide. “The same is true for all of us. Our beasts didn’t just come to human partners at random. They came to us … because each of us has something inside ourselves that reflects the nature of our Great Beasts. The wisdom of the elk, the courage of the eagle, the determination of the ram, the cunning of the boar, the strength of the polar bear.” His eyes flicked to Tasha and Ninani. “The grace of the swan.”
Rollan looked at Tasha and the other children. They were all watching Kirat with intense expressions. A few of them looked like they were about to cry. Rollan had to admit that Kirat had a way with words.
Kirat paced in front of them, standing tall. “But this is not a time for mourning. This is a time for action. The same Great Beasts that came to each of us have now been captured by a force more evil than any Erdas has ever faced. They need our help.” He drew his gilded rapier from its sheath, raising it over his head. “Would we really turn our backs on them? Or will we FIGHT?!”
“We fight!” the children cried. There was a flash and the next moment Cabaro stood beside Kirat. The lion raised his head and released a tremendous roar that rocked the boat and shook the water.
The other children stared at the beast in awe. Rollan stared, too. It seemed the great Cabaro had suddenly decided to lend his support to his human partner. And Rollan thought he understood why. This was a whole new Kirat.
WHILE ABEK
E AND KIRAT LED THE NEWLY ENERGIZED children into the caverns, Rollan remained outside to let Essix stretch her wings and fly a few laps around the mountain. He watched her soaring through the cold air and wondered what it would feel like to be so high above the world. He could, of course, share her vision and see it, but that wasn’t the same.
“You make sure to stay safe for what’s coming,” he said to the falcon as she landed again on his arm. Win or lose, he didn’t want to end up like the other Great Beast summoners. Like Abeke.
By the time Rollan caught up with them in the caverns, he found them all paired off in sparring formation, each clutching swords. Kirat stood in front with Tasha, who had her staff and was preparing to charge.
“Keep your knees bent,” Kirat said instructively. “Don’t watch your opponent’s eyes or even their hands—the feet can tell you everything you need to know. Wait for them to make the first move, and when they are transferring weight between feet”—he swung the dull end of his rapier under Tasha’s leg as she charged—“you draw your weapon in the opposite direction.” Tasha flipped backward, landing hard on her back. “Let their movement work against them.”
Several of the children managed to apply this technique with similar success. Rollan clapped, stepping into the room. “Not bad,” he said. “Seems you were paying attention to my lessons on the Expiator.”
“Only as an example of what not to do,” Kirat said, stiffening. “I enjoyed seven years of training under the best duelists in all of Nilo. It’s time I put that knowledge to use.”
Rollan couldn’t help but smile. It seemed that even the new-and-improved Kirat could still talk back. He turned to Abeke, who was at the far wall conferring with Howl, his face covered with a white coyote mask.
“What’s going on over here?” he said.
“We’re stuck.” Howl shook his head, his ears twitching slightly behind the mask. “We need to raise this lava gate, but it’s encased in ice.” He pulled against a lever that refused to budge. “We could melt it with torches, but that could take an hour.”
“Allow me,” Kirat said, joining them. He nodded to Cabaro, who was crouched behind him. The lion rose to his feet and moved to the lever. With one swipe of his mighty claw, the ice shattered, releasing the gate’s lever.
“Problem solved,” Abeke said.
Howl pulled the lever, which now moved easily. There was a ratcheting sound inside the cavern wall, and then a stone gate opened near Rollan’s feet. Steaming lava slid from the hole and ran down a groove in the cavern floor, filling up a sort of cauldron at the edge of the window. “So how does this work?” Rollan said.
Howl pointed at the basin of bubbling lava. “This fills up to create pressure. Like a water tank. And when we pull the main winch”—he hiked his furry thumb at a huge handle—“then the basin will drain into those trenches around the perimeter.”
“A lava moat,” Rollan said. “Not bad.”
“It could be better,” Kirat said. He didn’t sound arrogant, just matter-of-fact. “What if we used archers to drive the incoming forces to that ice shelf near the edge of the island? Then when the lava sweeps through, it will drop them into the freezing sea.”
Rollan, Abeke, and Howl all looked at Kirat, who blushed. “It’s … just an idea.”
“No, it’s a great idea,” Howl said.
Rollan had to agree. He may have enjoyed more experience in hand-to-hand combat, but he knew nothing about strategy. “There’s one problem,” he said. “Those are still Greencloaks out there—possessed or not. They’re our friends. We’re not going to kill them.”
“Our friends?” Kirat turned toward him, eyes flashing. “Tell that to everyone in this room who’s had their family killed.” The boy shook his head, taking a deep breath. Rollan could actually see him forcing back his own emotions. “I know this is hard for you, Rollan. But this is war. And if we don’t stop them, a lot more people will die.”
“He’s right,” Abeke said. “We can’t let our feelings about the Greencloaks get in the way of stopping Zerif.”
Rollan looked at Abeke, shocked to hear such a thing coming from her. Then again, she was a hunter. She always had more of a killer instinct than he did. “Fine,” he said, sighing. “But let’s at least try to keep the casualties to a minimum.”
“I’ll alert Shane to prepare the archers,” Abeke said, stepping back.
Rollan still didn’t feel completely comfortable with Shane. And he knew that Abeke’s feelings were even more complicated.
“You fighting with Shane … ” he said carefully. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“He’ll need archers,” she said firmly, “and I’m the best shot he’s got.”
Howl pulled up his mask and offered a toothy grin. “Don’t let Talon hear you say that. She’s a master with a crossbow.”
The debate was cut off by the sound of a conch shell from one of the lookouts. Rollan and the others all rushed to the window and peered out over the frozen sea.
Zerif’s fleet was fast approaching: six ships surrounded by a swirling cloud of white fog. The cloud lifted up from the boats and moved closer to them—growing larger and larger.
“What is that stuff?” Rollan said. “It’s too cold for fog.”
Howl narrowed his lupine eyes. “That’s not fog.” He ran to the tunnel and cupped both hands around his mouth. “INCOMING!” he hollered. “Everyone! Back from the windows!”
The next minute a snowy tern darted through the window and plunged its beak straight into Tasha’s leg. She screamed, and before Rollan or anyone else could react, Cabaro pounced on the bird and snatched it in his mighty jaws. He snapped the bird’s neck and flung it to the ground. The tern lay dead and twitching, its head marked with the swirl of Zerif’s parasite.
Rollan looked out the window and saw that the cloud was really thousands of birds—all flying toward them at deadly speed. He ducked to one side as three more snowy terns darted into the window, each one hurtling toward a different target. There were screams all through the camp as birds swept into the mountain, attacking Redcloaks. They were not hard to beat away, but there were so many of them that it was nearly impossible to see.
“Defensive position!” Kirat called, and they all raced to the middle of the room, backs together.
The air shuddered as he heard cannon fire from the Expiator. Rollan and Essix fought against two birds that were swarming around Abeke. The war had begun.
Essix screeched, grabbing a possessed tern in her razor claws. “Go!” Rollan cried, slicing his dagger through the other bird’s extended wing. Abeke locked eyes with Rollan for one last moment, and then she was gone.
ABEKE RACED THROUGH THE TUNNELS TO THE ARCHERS’ keep along the high rim of the volcano. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was glad to be away from the other Great Beast summoners—she had been afraid that Howl would insist that she belonged with them. Zerif’s terns squawked and slashed through the caverns. The Redcloaks had drawn their arms and were swiping at the birds, chasing them through the maze of tunnels.
“The birds are a distraction!” Abeke yelled. “Everyone stay at your posts!”
Abeke followed the winding path that moved up the inside of the volcano. The path led her through an archway that was nearly as high as the icy tower. She ran through the arch to find a narrow cavern with a series of slat windows cut into the rock—the archers’ keep. Shane was there with a handful of other Redcloaks. Yumaris was with him, too, huddled in the corner, fending off an attacking bird that had found its way through the slats. Abeke drew her own bow, quickly nocked an arrow, and cut through the bird—killing it in one shot.
“Oh, bless you, hollow-girl,” the old woman said. “That early birdie was trying to get the worm.”
“Don’t mention it,” Abeke gasped. Steam rose from her mouth as she struggled to catch her breath. Icy wind whistled through the windows, covering the floor of the cavern with a thin layer of snow. Apparently the Hellans’ lava channels c
ouldn’t go this high.
“What are you doing here?” asked the birdlike girl named Talon. She was loading a bolt into her crossbow. “Shouldn’t you be babysitting the others?” She took aim and shot her bolt straight through the heart of an approaching tern, which veered off course and slammed into the opposite wall.
“Change of plans,” Abeke said, lowering her bow. “We need to save our arrows for the landing party. We’ll drive them to the far trench by the water and then release the lava gates.”
“Who died and put you in charge?” Talon said, her sharp eyes darting between Abeke and the window.
“No,” Shane said, stepping to Abeke’s side. “It’s a good plan.” He turned to the row of archers. “Hold fire. Let’s wait out this first wave until Zerif lands.”
Another possessed bird swept through the window.
“What’s the point of waiting if we’ve been pecked to pieces by the time Zerif gets here?!” shouted a boy with a bear mask. He snarled, swatting at the possessed bird, which was trying to claw out his eyes.
Shane drew his sword and cut toward the bird, sending it wheeling out of the tower. “We’ll have to find some other way to take the birds out.” He turned back toward Talon. “Tell Stead to release the gate on balcony number six!”
Talon ran to the archway and shouted the command into the tunnel. The order echoed down the mountain until it reached Stead’s ears. A moment later, a vent of simmering lava spilled out from the side of the rock, directly onto a pile of loosely packed snow at the base of the mountain. The snow hissed and melted to create a huge cloud of billowing vapor. The cloud was enough to blind the incoming birds, which suddenly were unable to navigate. Pained squawks rang out as the soaring flock missed their targets and instead crashed against the outside wall of the mountain.
“Nice work,” Abeke said, shivering.
Shane’s astonished smile at this meager praise sent a tremor of guilt through Abeke’s chest. He looked like she’d just kissed him on the cheek.