The Burning Tide, Page 3

  Rollan took a seat with Abeke, Kirat, and Tasha. Karmo—Jolt—served them steaming bowls of what smelled like fish stew.

  “Ugh,” Kirat said, wrinkling his nose. “More fish.”

  “At least it’s hot,” Rollan said, spooning sips into his mouth. “If experience has taught me one thing, it’s that you never turn down a hot meal. You never know if it will be your last.” He quickly finished his bowl and passed it back for another. He couldn’t help but notice that Abeke accepted a bowl, too, but only held it in her hands to warm herself.

  “Guess I’m not very hungry,” she said with a weak smile when she noticed Rollan watching her. “Maybe Essix wants it?”

  She set the stew on the ground. Rollan stared at Abeke’s face, at her blank expression, almost devoid of life or energy. Was that what it meant to lose a spirit animal? The thought made him shudder. Strained though his relationship with Essix could be at times, he couldn’t fathom the pain of not having her with him.

  Essix hopped down to the offered bowl, pecking at the contents as best as she could. Rollan reached down and pet her cowl, glad for the reassuring touch of her presence.

  There was a sound of footsteps echoing off hard stone. All at once, the relaxed manner of the Redcloaks changed as they put down their bowls and sprang to attention.

  “Now that you’ve all eaten,” said a voice from behind them, “it’s time we get down to business.”

  Rollan looked up to see Shane standing in the mouth of a tunnel, his figure lit orange against the magma glow. He had taken his mask off, and Rollan was again struck by his changed appearance—his yellow crocodile eyes and the glimpse of scaly green flesh creeping up his neck.

  Shane had once been a strong, handsome ruler—heir to the throne of Stetriol. Now he looked like a monster.

  The boy stepped into the middle of the room with the bearing of a king. Rollan had to begrudgingly admit that the name fit. “I’m sure you’re all curious why I’ve brought you here,” Shane began.

  “I assumed we would go sledding,” Rollan said. “Maybe have a nice snowball fight.”

  Shane ignored him and took a seat on a rock, facing the group. “We Redcloaks … ” He paused and shook his head, as if unable or unwilling to say what needed to be said. “I’m sure you’ve recognized some former Conquerors among our people. Worthy and Jolt you’ve even fought personally.”

  “And suddenly you’re acting like our best friends,” Rollan said. “It’s downright creepy … and don’t even get me started on your weird faces. I get why you guys use masks.”

  “Watch it!” Stead said, leaping to his feet, one hand on his sword.

  “Stead,” Shane said in a commanding voice. The young man stopped, still glaring at Rollan, his jaw clenched. Finally he sat back down. Shane turned back to them. “Forgive our hot tempers. It’s a sensitive subject for some of us.”

  “What happened to you all?” Abeke said, her voice hoarse. “I think you owe us that much, at least.”

  Shane watched her for a long moment, then nodded. “It’s hard not to think of it as a punishment. Every one of us drank Gerathon’s Bile. When the Bile’s power faded, most Conquerors simply lost their spirit animals. Freed from our control, the beasts either attacked their former masters or fled. For a small number, however, there was no escape. One day I awoke to find I couldn’t summon Grahv from his passive form. The tattoo on my chest began to itch and fade, and in its place I found … ”

  Shane lifted his shirt, revealing a wide swathe of green, scaly skin where Rollan had once seen a crocodile’s jaw curving around his neck.

  The former king of Stetriol let out a husky sigh. “It’s the same for all the others. Somehow, our spirit animals have become a part of us. Any gifts they gave us in their active states—strength, speed, uncanny powers—have returned, but at the cost of our humanity. We are all changing. Into what, I can’t say.”

  “How awful,” Tasha said. Her clear blue eyes were wide with pity.

  “I suppose it is,” Shane said. “But we have so much to atone for. Me most of all.” Even behind Shane’s eerie stare, Rollan thought he could detect genuine pain in his face. “What we did in the war, what I did to all of you—” He looked up for a moment, his yellow gaze set on Abeke. “There’s nothing I can do to fix it … no matter how I wish I could.” He shook his head, blinking at the ground.

  “Is that it?” Rollan said. “You dragged us here so you could apologize? You could have written a letter and saved us all a lot of time.”

  “This is not just about me, or what I’ve done.” Shane took a deep breath. “I brought you here because I need your help. Erdas needs your help.” He turned his yellow gaze on Rollan. “There’s someone you need to meet—someone who needs to talk to you.”

  Rollan rolled his eyes. He was getting tired of Shane’s dramatics. “And where is this mysterious someone?”

  A creaking voice whispered beneath his feet. “She’s right here, birdyboy.”

  The voice was so close to Rollan that he immediately shouted out in surprise and leaped clear off his seat, fumbling for his dagger. The bowl of stew that he’d been holding flew up into the air and landed with a loud slosh! right on his head.

  Rollan spun around, staring at the person who had spoken to him. It was an old woman with cracked, leathery skin, laughing with a huge toothless smile. She was lying on the ground at his feet, arms at her side. Her white hair was tangled and greasy, hanging limp from her thin face. And her eyes … were gone. Where two eyes should have been there were only soft dents in the flesh—as if someone had sculpted her from clay and forgotten that one feature.

  Rollan wiped fish stew from his face, still breathing heavily. For the third time in less than an hour, he was surrounded by laughing Redcloaks. He glanced down at Essix, who seemed similarly amused. “Very funny,” he muttered, flinging boiled fish guts from his cloak.

  “Sorry to have startled you, birdyboy,” the old woman said, then sniffed the air. “Or is it fishyboy? I can’t tell for sure.” She reached a gnarled finger toward him and scooped a glop of fish stew from his shin. Then she put it into her mouth, tasting. Apparently the crone approved of the taste, because the next moment she reached out again for more.

  “Get off me!” Rollan cried, shoving her back. He turned toward Shane, blade raised. “Who is this crazy old bat?”

  The old woman moved closer, wriggling across the ground. “I am no bat, birdyboy. Yumaris is an earthworm!” She scrunched up her face. “So tiny I can wriggle through the cracks of the world. So quiet I can hear the whisperings of tomorrow … or is it yesterday?” She shook her head, as though confused about the difference between the two.

  “Her name is Yumaris,” said a quiet voice. Rollan was surprised to see that it was Abeke who had spoken. Her voice sounded different, tense. “She was one of the Conquerors with Gar,” Abeke went on. “I saw her when Zerif brought me to Gar the first time, and then again when Meilin and I were taken prisoner. I think she was a seer of some kind.”

  The old woman clapped her hands. “Not just was, hollow-girl! For all my blindness, Yumaris remains a seer still. And what I see now … ” She shook her head, her strands of limp hair swaying back and forth. “What I see now … ” Apparently whatever the old woman “saw” was too much to speak of, and she started muttering, twisting at the ends of her hair. The next moment she was talking to the tips of her fingers, like each of them was a little pet.

  “Great,” Rollan said, sitting back down. “You dragged us halfway around the world to meet a crazy person.”

  “Yumaris is crazy,” Shane agreed. “And dangerous.” It was clear from the tone of his voice that he might have resented the woman’s help. Rollan wondered what else had transpired between the two of them. “But she’s also useful. In these times, we can’t afford the luxury of picking our allies.”

  “Tell me about it,” Rollan said, snorting.

  “Her visions have kept us alive these last months,” Shane cont
inued. “And they led us to these ruins, where even Zerif couldn’t find us. She wasn’t always quite this … eccentric. Her spirit animal was an earthworm that gave her glimpses of the future. When she inherited these powers in full … Well, she’s a bit confused now.”

  “She thinks she’s an earthworm,” Stead said flatly.

  Rollan watched Yumaris, who was currently trying to claw her way into the rocky wall with her bare hands. It looked painful. She gave up with her hands and started chewing the rock. “So why bring us to her?” Rollan said.

  Shane met his eyes, his face deadly serious. “Because she’s the only thing standing between us and the destruction of the world.”

  THEIR MEALS FINISHED, SHANE ROSE AND APPROACHED a narrow tunnel. “Stead, please take Tasha and Kirat to the others, and help them set up camp.”

  “We’re not here to do servants’ work,” Kirat said, standing. “We’re coming with you.” Cabaro was similarly inclined and growled in agreement.

  “You seem to think you have some authority in this place, little lord,” Shane said, leaning against the rock wall. Rollan smiled to himself, thinking that Shane might dislike Kirat as much as he did. “Everyone does their part here. The truth is we only brought you along to keep Cabaro away from Zerif. I’m just as happy to throw you in a cell, if you’d prefer. What I have to say is for Greencloaks alone.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Rollan saw Abeke lower her head. “Then maybe I should join the others,” she said.

  “Stop that!” Rollan swatted her arm. “You’re still a Greencloak—spirit animal or not. And there’s no way I’m going to follow Mistress Wormbrain and King Lizardface into a steaming volcano without some backup.” He made a stern face to show her that he was only half kidding. That he really did need her.

  Abeke rolled her eyes, but Rollan could tell she was doing it to conceal a smile. He couldn’t possibly imagine what it would be like to lose a spirit animal, but he knew that without Uraza, Abeke needed a friend now more than ever.

  “King,” Stead said, approaching Shane, “there was some talk of Kirat training the other Great Beast summoners in combat. Perhaps he can do that instead of chores?”

  Shane considered it. “It couldn’t hurt. Very well.” He signaled for Stead to lead Kirat and Tasha to the outer camp.

  Rollan and Abeke followed Shane and Yumaris down a steep tunnel staircase that seemed to go straight into the base of the volcano. Steaming pools of lava filled the cold air with an eerie red glow. “Are you sure it’s safe to chisel away the walls of a volcano?” Rollan said, hopping over a hissing puddle of lava. “What if you, um, spring a leak?”

  “That’s not likely,” Shane said. “These tunnels were here long before we arrived. The ruins themselves are carved from some kind of rock that doesn’t melt—something mined deep within the ground.”

  He led them past a small balcony that overlooked the inside of the volcano. Where Rollan had expected a molten lake, he instead found an enormous round stone door made of overlapping blades that intersected in the middle—like the folds of an iris.

  “The main volcano cauldron has been stopped up for centuries,” Shane explained. “The lava you’re seeing here is all flowing from cracks in and around the surface. So long as you watch your step, you should be fine. Plus it helps light the way.”

  As they circled around the floor of the ruins, Rollan noticed a towering shard of ice in the center of the cavern—a frost-covered stalagmite that was nearly as tall as the mountain. “What’s with the giant icicle?” he said.

  Shane shrugged, peering up at the tower. “We’re not sure. There’s some sort of structure underneath, but cold air from the mouth of the volcano has encased whatever it is in a sheet of ice too thick to penetrate. The tower is clearly connected to the ruins, but until we learn more, we’ve decided to leave it alone.”

  The path inside the mountain was not a straight line; rather it crisscrossed and branched a dozen times over to create an enormous maze. They continued turning one way, then the next, descending deeper underground.

  “Stay with the group and keep your eyes open,” Shane said. “If you get lost in here, it could be days before we find you again.… That is, if you manage not to fall down a lava flue first.”

  Despite his warning, the party was not being led by Shane. Yumaris guided the group, running her hands along the walls, sniffing the air, and getting into arguments with the stones.

  Rollan watched her scramble down to her knees and rub her hair into the ground. “You sure the old lady’s fit to guide us?” he said.

  “If Shane trusts Yumaris, then so should we,” Abeke said firmly. “He’s got more reason to hate her than most. She helped kill his sister.”

  Rollan looked up at Shane, whose face was half covered in shadow. “The past is the past,” the boy said curtly. “Like the rest of us, Yumaris is trying to make up for old sins.”

  Rollan eyed the old woman, presently sniffing some dirt she found on the tunnel ground. “Yeah, she seems really torn up about it.”

  Yumaris popped the dirt into her mouth, made a face, and spit it out. “I can feel things,” she whispered. “Vibrations echoing deep underground. Footsteps long passed and footsteps not yet come.”

  “That’s how you and your Redcloaks were able to track us,” Abeke said to Shane. “Yumaris could sense where we were moving.”

  “Exactly,” Shane said. “But it was all we could do to keep up with Zerif. He’s clearly got his own way of tracking the Great Beasts, and it won’t be long before he finds us here.” He put his hand along the rock wall. “Luckily these ruins aren’t without natural defenses. When he gets here, we’ll be ready.”

  “What exactly is this place?” Rollan said. He had by now noticed that the walls were covered in all manner of carvings. “Some kind of lost temple?”

  “Not exactly a temple,” Shane said. “The ruins are an ancient trap. The work of Hellan priests that lived here centuries ago.”

  “The Hellans?” said Rollan. “Someone needs to brush up on his geography.” Rollan had never had any formal schooling, but even he knew about the ancient Hellans. They were a people who lived in the garden paradise of Athenos a thousand years ago. “Hellans worshipped the sun and walked around barefoot. Why would they travel all the way to this frigid rock? That’s completely insane.” He glanced nervously at Yumaris. “No offense.”

  “Yes, offense!” Yumaris exclaimed merrily.

  “That’s true about Athenos,” Shane said, “But these carvings tell a different story. The Hellans were more far-traveled than we realized. One group of Hellan priests exiled themselves here, to the bottommost pole of the world.”

  “Not a pole! A hole!” Yumaris chimed in. “It’s the gullet of Erdas, what runs from tail to tip.”

  Rollan was a bit confused by all this, but Abeke seemed to follow. “So this volcano is at the world’s axis,” she said. “Well, that would explain what’s gotten into Essix.” She pointed to the falcon, who still sat perched on Rollan’s arm. “She can barely keep upright in this place.”

  Rollan scrunched up his face. “What would that have to do with how she flies?”

  Abeke explained, “In Nilo, every spring would bring huge flocks of homing cranes, traveling thousands of miles to a specific lake … almost as if they had a map and compass. Our village Greencloak once told me that the birds followed magnetic currents that moved with the tides—that’s how they knew how to find their way home each year. If we’re at the bottom of the world, then those invisible currents are stronger than anything Essix has ever felt … strong enough to completely scramble her sense of direction.”

  “It’s true,” Shane said. “A few of our Redcloaks were bonded with birds. They find themselves constantly disoriented.”

  Rollan wasn’t so sure. The idea that the Great Beast Essix could be bested by some “invisible currents” was alarming to say the least. And what would happen if they faced Zerif’s army in this place? Rollan would b
e as alone as Abeke. “So why did the Hellans build all this?” he said, returning to the subject at hand. “And why risk your own life just to show it to us?”

  “These ruins are more than just some remote outpost. This whole place is an enormous snare.” Shane fixed his yellow eyes on Rollan. “They built it to stop something called … the Wyrm.”

  Just hearing this word made Yumaris shriek in terror. “The Wyrm! The Wyrm!” she cried. “I can hear it, uncoiling in its foul egg … hatching deep below! We must hide! Hide!” And the next thing Rollan knew, she had scattered off down some dark tunnel, abandoning the rest of the group.

  Shane shook his head, like he had seen this before. “She can really run when she puts her mind to it. I should know better than to mention the Wyrm in her presence. She’ll be useless for the rest of the day.”

  “How ever will we survive?” Rollan said with mock despair.

  “I’ve heard of the Wyrm before,” Abeke said. “Zerif mentioned it when we fought in Amaya. He said it was awakening, and that he was awakening with it.”

  “If Zerif likes it, then I hate it,” Rollan said. “So what exactly is this Wyrm thing? Some kind of fancy new spirit animal?”

  “I don’t think it’s new,” Shane said, continuing down the path. “I think it’s older than the Great Beasts. And if I’m reading these carvings correctly, it’s the source of the parasites—everyone who is infected is somehow drawn to the Wyrm, forced to do its bidding.”

  Rollan knew this wasn’t quite true. “Hate to contradict you, boss, but we’ve seen the effects of the parasites firsthand. Everyone infected is under Zerif’s control, not some Wyrm. Once they’re infected, beasts and humans alike do exactly what he commands.” He tried not to look at Abeke when he said this—recalling how Uraza had tried to attack her in Nilo.

  “That may be true,” Shane said. “But what if something else is controlling Zerif? What if he, too, is being used by the Wyrm?”

  “Zerif commands an army of humans and spirit animals,” Abeke said. “Could this Wyrm possibly be so powerful?”