The Burning Tide, Page 2

  “Shouldn’t you be babysitting our new recruits?” she said, helping him up the top rung. Rollan had been tasked with keeping tabs on two newer children who had recently summoned Great Beasts, Kirat and Tasha. The thought of Rollan playing the role of Greencloak mentor almost made her smile. Quite a change from the boy who once loudly claimed to care for no one but himself. She suspected their own mentor, the late Tarik, would have shared her amusement.

  “I set Kirat to swabbing the latrine,” Rollan said. “Thought it would build character.” He dug into the pockets of the fur-lined coat that the Redcloaks had given him and removed a rasher of dried shark meat. “I swiped a second helping of lunch. Thought you might be getting hungry up here.… ” But even as he said this, his eyes fell on the pile of untouched food at her feet—several days’ worth of rations.

  Abeke gave a tight smile. “Not a big fan of seafood, I’m afraid.” The truth was, she hadn’t eaten in two days. She simply didn’t have an appetite. “It gives me a bad stomach.”

  Abeke saw worry flash across Rollan’s face, which he quickly replaced with a forced grin. “Oh, well. More for me!” He chomped down on a strip of meat and settled in beside her, apparently unable to take the hint that she wanted to be alone.

  The deck of the crow’s nest was designed for one adult, and there was hardly enough room for the two of them. Rollan sat with his back against Abeke’s, each of them staring out in a different direction.

  “You haven’t seen Essix up here, have you?” he said through bites of shark meat. “She’s been acting strange for days now, swooping around in big uneven loops, high then low then high again.… I can feel her uncertainty, as if the air were making her dizzy. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s been nipping at the Redcloaks’ grog barrels.”

  He probably meant this as a joke, but Abeke couldn’t manage even a smile. “I tried bringing her into passive state, but the moment I did that, I started feeling dizzy, too. Just this morning I threw up my whole breakfast on the deck. Hence the fresh appetite.” He sighed, chuckling. “I swear that bird will be the end of me. My life would be ten times easier if I’d gotten a three-toed sloth … or maybe a nice, slow beetle. A beetle would have been grand!”

  Abeke pulled her knees tight against her chest. “At least you have a spirit animal,” she said quietly.

  She felt Rollan take a deep breath behind her. For once, he seemed to be at a loss for a witty retort. “Wonder how much farther it is to this mysterious Redcloak base?” he asked more seriously. “Never imagined a place could be so crushingly cold. No life, hardly any fish even. Just huge chunks of jagged ice. This place makes Suka’s ice palace look positively cozy.”

  Abeke nodded, smiling despite herself. What felt like a lifetime before, she and Rollan had ventured to the northernmost mountains of Eura to find the talisman of the Great Bear, Suka. But that particular talisman had been stolen by Shane, the Devourer. The very same Shane who now captained the ship they were traveling aboard. Even now, it was unclear whether they were guests or prisoners.

  “Do you really think we can trust them?” Rollan said, as if reading her thoughts. “I know they saved our lives back in Nilo—more than once, even. But still. We’ve been deceived before.”

  Abeke eyed the crew moving far below, all of them wearing long red cloaks and cloth masks over their faces. Each mask was marked with the image of a different animal. The masks provided some warmth from the bitter cold, but that was not why they wore them.

  These “Redcloaks” wore masks to hide their faces. Every single one of them, down to the last woman and man, had a pair of inhuman eyes peering out from the folds of her or his mask. The few who had been bold enough to take their masks off around Abeke and the others revealed patches of skin that were disfigured into a twisted hash of animal and human.

  Abeke still wasn’t sure what had happened to produce this strange result, but it was unnerving to say the least. Shane himself had greeted her in Nilo with the cruel yellow eyes of a reptile—the eyes of his lost spirit animal.

  Perhaps that was no less than he deserved. The boy’s crocodile tears had once convinced her to lead him right into Greenhaven, where he promptly betrayed her. That Shane now wore the symbol of his deception seemed only fitting.

  But thinking of Shane and his crocodile only made her think of Uraza. Abeke closed her eyes, remembering the moment when Zerif’s parasite infected her beloved spirit animal. How Uraza’s violet eyes had suddenly clouded over. And worse than that, how a part of Abeke’s own heart and soul had just as suddenly vanished.

  Once in control of Uraza, Zerif had ordered the leopard to kill Abeke … and Uraza had listened. Without a moment’s hesitation, Uraza had pounced at her, claws out. Had it not been for Cabaro intercepting the attack, Abeke would be dead. But then, how much worse could death really be from what she was already feeling?

  All that would have been difficult enough for Abeke to process, but the recent discovery that the leader of the Redcloaks was none other than Shane—the Devourer who had once set out to destroy them all—was more than she could handle. She had trusted Shane once before and paid a dear price for it. And yet here she was, sailing to a secret location on a ship under his command.

  But what choice did they have? With Zerif’s army of infected Greencloaks hunting down the other Great Beasts, they had nowhere else to turn.

  “I don’t know if we can trust him,” Abeke said at last. “But when I look at him now … some part of me thinks he really has changed.”

  “Oh, he’s changed all right—into a lizard-eyed freak. If anything, he looks more like the Devourer than ever before. Not exactly reassuring.”

  “Still,” Abeke said. “If he wanted us dead, he could have just let Zerif do the job. He needs us for something. It’s just a question of what.” She shivered, pulling her cloak tighter. “Wherever he’s taking us, let’s hope we get there before we freeze to death.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a faint cry of a bird. “It’s Essix!” Rollan said, climbing to his feet. “She sees something.” The cry had come from far ahead, somewhere deep in the clouds. Abeke watched as Rollan closed his eyes and put a hand to his temple—trying to see through his spirit animal’s eyes. Abeke had seen him do this many times before, but only now did it fill her with a pang of jealousy. A moment later he stepped back, blinking. He had the slack-jawed look of someone who had just beheld a wonder beyond his own imagining.

  “What is it?” Abeke said, standing. “Did you see the Place of Desolation?”

  “One thing’s for sure,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’re not going to freeze to death.”

  GROWING UP IN AMAYA AS HE HAD, ROLLAN HAD certainly heard stories about volcanoes—tales of long-dead kingdoms now buried under blankets of petrified ash. But none of those stories had captured just how awesome it was to behold an actual live volcano. Rollan had seen it first through Essix’s eyes, and then only for a brief moment—a glowing red cauldron spewing miles of steam into the cold air. His falcon had returned to him shortly after, and she seemed grateful for the chance to rest herself on the edge of the mast.

  It was nearly an hour before the Expiator came within view of the steaming black mountain that towered over the horizon. Having only seen it from Essix’s eyes overhead, Rollan was unprepared for its size. The volcano was massive—large enough to hold half of his home city of Concorba inside of it.

  “I’ll say one thing for our friend Shane,” he muttered to Abeke. “He knows how to make an impression.”

  “Land ho!” a female Redcloak with a bird mask called, ringing a bell on the ship’s fore. “All hands to the main deck!”

  Rollan and Abeke went belowdecks to find Kirat and Tasha and gather what few belongings they had managed to bring with them when they fled Zerif’s army back in Nilo. They came upon Tasha practicing the defensive forms that Rollan had taught her, a large staff gripped tightly in her hands. In the past few weeks she had shown herse
lf to be a dedicated student … though it had quickly become apparent that stationary fighting positions were best suited for the girl. Tasha couldn’t seem to walk ten steps without tripping over her own feet.

  Kirat, meanwhile, was caught in yet another battle of wills with his Great Beast. Proud, fierce Cabaro was apparently as prone to seasickness as Uraza had been, and had hidden himself under Kirat’s bunk, refusing to leave even for meals.

  “I’m trying to help you, you overgrown house cat!” Kirat said, hands in the air. “If you go passive, I can escort you down to land myself. Everybody wins!”

  In reply, the lion bared his white teeth and growled.

  Kirat showed his own teeth, which were chattering in the cold. “When you die down there, I think I’ll have you turned into a nice fur coat. At least then you’ll be of some use to me.”

  Rollan put a hand on Kirat’s shoulder. “Leave him. He’ll come out when he’s ready. I know from experience there’s no use commanding a stubborn spirit animal. They’re Great Beasts. Not servants.”

  As he said this, he couldn’t help but glance at Essix, who had perched herself on his right arm, refusing to move from that spot. The gyrfalcon gripped him so tightly that he could feel it through his thick leather gauntlet. Rollan suspected that whatever strange disruption the falcon had felt in the air had made her wary of flying. He reached up and scratched her under the beak, and surprisingly she let him. Whatever it was about this place that made her so uncomfortable, he hoped it faded soon. He didn’t want to find himself in a fight without Essix at his side.

  Their packs gathered, Rollan and the others were summoned by a Redcloak called Stead who wore the mask of a ram.

  “King has gone ahead. You four are to follow me,” the boy said, in the tone of one who was used to having his orders obeyed. “Watch your step on the gangplank. If you fall into the water, you’ll be frozen before we can fish you out.”

  The base of the volcano was encased in the thick shell of an enormous icy glacier. Rivulets of steaming red lava snaked through the ice, filling the air with a damp, sulfurous odor. The Expiator had been docked at a pier that looked to have been chiseled out of the side of the glacier. Small huts and glistening bridges were similarly cut from the ice. Rollan and the others shuffled down the gangplank and onto the glacier’s surface. Unlike the snow up north, the ground here was hard and ungiving—the sort that would hurt to fall on.

  “Careful,” Rollan said as Tasha rushed down the platform right behind him. He heard a cry as the girl slipped on her very first step on the ice and landed hard on her rump—her pack spilling out behind her. “Maybe we can fashion you a sled,” Rollan said, reaching down to help her to her feet. “Ninani can pull it.”

  Tasha ignored his extended hand. She swung her foot around, sweeping Rollan’s leg from behind and sending him crashing onto the ice beside her. He felt his face grow hot as every Redcloak watching burst into laughter. “On the bright side,” he said, wincing as he pulled himself back up, “at least I know you’ve been practicing.”

  Stead led them up some narrow steps that curved around the edge of the volcano, providing them an overhead view of the camp. Glancing below, Rollan saw that everyone was wearing red cloaks—except for a small pack of kids just a bit younger than him. There were maybe a half dozen of them, all wearing sealskin coats.

  “What’s the story with them?” Rollan said, nodding at the group. “You ran out of red fabric?”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t guessed,” Stead said, his voice heavy. “Those are the other victims of Zerif’s parasites. Kids like you, who summoned Great Beasts as spirit animals.”

  Squinting down, Rollan realized that he recognized the face of Anda among the other kids—the Amayan boy who had summoned Tellun. But how had he ended up here? The last time Rollan and Abeke had seen Anda was in Greenhaven. Olvan had been preparing to send him back home to Amaya.

  “Zerif tracked them all down and stole their spirit animals,” Stead said, “sometimes destroying their homes and families in the process. They’re here to take back what was stolen from them.” It was all Rollan could do not to sneak a glance at Abeke, who undoubtedly recognized her own pain in their hollow faces.

  The children were all working diligently, helping to dig trenches in the ice, cooking food, mending boots. The idea that these Redcloaks had managed to gather the other Great Beast summoners—while he and Abeke had failed—irked Rollan. “Must be nice to have your own personal army of servants,” he muttered.

  Stead turned and regarded Rollan through his strange white mask. “They aren’t our servants,” he said finally. “They’re here because King rescued them. He wants to help.” Then he turned and began scaling the path again.

  “What we really need is an army of fighters,” Stead continued as he walked. “But it’s too late to train these children. Especially without their spirit animals.” He cocked his head to one side, studying Rollan. “Or maybe you could help with that? I hear you have a gift for mentoring young warriors.”

  Rollan couldn’t tell if he was being mocked or not, but the proposition horrified him. “Not me,” he said, nodding to Kirat and Tasha. “I’ve paid my dues with these two, and that was plenty. Trying to teach Kirat anything is like trying to get Cabaro into passive state. Impossible.”

  Kirat scowled. “Maybe if you actually knew what you were doing, I would listen.”

  Rollan looked at the boy, who was the very picture of smugness. That this boy was the nephew of Rollan’s old mentor, Tarik, was almost impossible to believe. He thought of the amulet resting at the bottom of his pack. The amulet that Kirat’s mother had given him. It was Rollan’s job to hold on to it until Kirat had matured enough to follow in his uncle’s footsteps. At the rate things were presently going, Rollan would die of old age before that happened.

  “Think you can do better?” Rollan said, nodding to the children working below. “Be my guest.”

  He had meant it as a joke, but Kirat seemed to consider the idea. The boy folded his arms. “Maybe I will.”

  “Later,” Stead said, interrupting the contest of wills. “Right now we should eat, before King comes. He’s going to want to talk to you.”

  “King … ?” Abeke said. “That’s what you call Shane?”

  Stead nodded. “He tells us not to, but … old habits die hard.”

  Rollan looked at Abeke, trying to read her face. The Shane they knew would probably have forced people to call him king on punishment of death. It was hard to imagine him as anything but a ruthless leader. “Stay close,” he whispered as they followed Stead up the snowy path. “And keep your bow handy.”

  Rollan and the others soon found themselves sitting in an alcove carved into the side of the mountain. A small group of Redcloaks joined them there, but stood aloof several feet away. It was as if they were afraid of Rollan and Abeke. Afraid … or ashamed.

  Stead removed his mask to reveal a pair of horizontal pupils in his eyes—just like a ram.

  The other Redcloaks appeared to be from all different parts of the world. As they slowly removed their masks, Rollan saw a girl with the flitting black eyes of a bird, a man with pinhole pupils like a lizard, and another with sad, doglike eyes and a rash of long fur that crept up his neck. It was all Rollan could do not to stare.

  Though the air outside was frigid, the temperature in the alcove was comfortable. A vein of red lava flowed through a man-made channel that ran around the perimeter, warming the ground just enough so Rollan could breathe without his teeth chattering. The Redcloaks outside were busy tending to an enormous cauldron of stew that was hanging over a pool of bubbling lava.

  Stead was watching them, his strange eyes moving between the figures. Many of their masks were off now. It seemed they were preparing to eat. “This is Shadow,” Stead said, gesturing to a woman with catlike eyes.

  “And these”—he nodded toward two boys who had kept their masks on—some kind of wildcat and a bird with a long straight beak—“
are Worthy and Jolt. Though you may already know them by different names.”

  The boys slowly removed their masks, and Rollan’s mouth fell open. Beside him, Abeke sucked in a hiss of air. Standing before them were none other than Devin Trunswick and Karmo—two of the young Conquerors they’d beaten back in Eura while searching for Rumfuss’s talisman.

  In the handful of brief and unpleasant encounters he’d had with Devin, Rollan had never once seen the boy without a sneer. Now the Euran noble’s catlike eyes seemed weighted to the ground—like he was ashamed to be seen.

  Karmo’s own wide brown eyes were on Abeke, who glared right back at him.

  There was a great deal of glaring back and forth, in fact. Stead coughed uncomfortably.

  It was Devin who broke the silence. “So … ” he said, his eyes finally rising. “How’s Conor?”

  Rollan barked out a hard laugh and shook his head. “If this is your idea of a joke,” he said, “I’m not looking forward to the punch line.”

  “It’s no joke,” Stead said, sighing. “King suspected you’d be mistrustful. I don’t blame you. But know this—Worthy and Jolt, like all of us, are here to atone for their crimes.”

  Rollan decided to take the boy at his word … at least for now. “So you all get to pick secret names?” he said. “Can I request that people start calling me Handsome?”

  “Most names are based on our spirit animals,” said another Redcloak woman with black, hungry eyes that reminded him of a bat. “So maybe we should call you Featherbrain?”

  The others all laughed at this jibe, and even Abeke smirked. Rollan was annoyed at being the object of ridicule, but also surprised. Up to this point the Redcloaks had been completely humorless. But seeing them crouched around the stewpot, he wondered if the things they’d endured had built a bond between them … just like the bond he felt with Abeke, Conor, and Meilin.

  Perhaps Stead was being more forthright than Rollan gave him credit for. This wasn’t an army. These were friends.