The Burning Tide, Page 4

  “I don’t know,” Shane said, shrugging. “Gerathon could exert control over those of us who drank the Bile, but not on this level. All I know is what these carvings tell us. They say that the Wyrm’s egg fell from the stars and landed in a place called Sadre, deep under the earth. It’s been living dormant underground for centuries. Until now. The Wyrm is waking, and when it hatches, it will devour everything in its path.”

  Rollan swallowed. “Conor and Meilin are underground. They were trapped after falling into some hidden doorway. You’re saying they’re down there with that thing?”

  “Possibly,” Shane said. “And my source tells me they had another with them, a boy named Takoda, who summoned his own Great Beast.”

  All of this was true, but Rollan was surprised that Shane knew it. “Just how many spies do you have?” he said.

  Shane shrugged. “Only one—but he’s very good at his job. I’m taking you to meet him now.”

  Shane pointed to the wall beside him, which was etched with drawings of ancient figures digging holes at different points on the globe, meeting in the middle. “According to these carvings, the volcano was drained to make room for some kind of snare. Beneath those doors in the floor of the chamber is a tunnel that goes clear down through the center of Erdas. And somewhere in the middle is a thing called the Chamber of Tides. It’s a construction powerful enough to stop the Wyrm.”

  “So if the Hellans completed the trap,” Rollan said, “then why haven’t they used it yet? Why is the Wyrm still alive?”

  “It’s not so easy,” Shane said, and he led them down the corridor. “This trap can’t be sprung until after the Wyrm hatches. And it’s unclear how we’re supposed to open the doors and activate the trap—they wanted to keep that a secret. If we’re reading the carvings correctly, there’s only one living soul who knows how to activate the snare. The same one who helped build this place. Though getting his help might be difficult.”

  “I’d imagine so!” Rollan quipped. “This place is thousands of years old. Whoever built it is probably a bit indisposed at the moment. Dead like the rest of the Hellans.”

  “Unless … ” Abeke said. “They weren’t human hands.” She turned to Shane. “The one you’re speaking of wasn’t a Hellan, was he? You’re talking about a Great Beast?”

  “A Great Beast built this place?” Rollan said. “Which one?”

  “An old friend of ours,” Shane said as he rounded a corner. He pointed into the shadows toward a face carved into the stone. Rollan peered through the lava-lit corridor and stared at the carving. It was a large face, with a heavy brow, dark eyes, and sharp fangs. It was a face of pure evil.

  “Kovo?” Rollan said. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  ABEKE GLANCED AT ROLLAN, WHOSE FACE WAS TWISTED with confused disbelief, and she thought she knew how he felt. They had just been told by Shane that Kovo—the Kovo—was the secret mastermind of this centuries-old plan to stop the Wyrm.

  “Kovo … ?” she said, unable to look away from the hideous carving before her. “But he’s … he’s … ” She shook her head, somehow unable to form a complete thought.

  “He’s pure evil!” Rollan burst out.

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” Shane said. “I was as shocked as anyone.”

  Abeke nodded, swallowing. Shocked didn’t begin to describe what she was feeling. Her hands were clammy and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. Even after all that had passed between her and Shane, so many betrayals, she still somehow believed he was trying to help. But one look at this carving and she knew the truth: Shane would never change.

  “You’re working for Kovo,” she said, inching away from Shane, who was watching her intently. “How could I have been so stupid to trust you?”

  “I’m not working for Kovo,” Shane said to her, his voice pleading. “All I know is what the carvings have told us—that Kovo knows the secret of this place. Whether we like it or not, he is the key to destroying the Wyrm.”

  “You ever think that he’s just trying to eliminate the competition?” Rollan said. “Kovo is evil, end of story. If he made this snare, then it can only be for his own selfish gain. We’d be fools to trust him.” He shot a look at Shane. “Or you, for that matter.”

  “Don’t forget that I saved your life,” Shane said, stepping toward him. “More than once.”

  “Stop fighting,” Abeke said. She pushed both boys apart. “Whatever we’re feeling doesn’t matter. Zerif’s army is out there, and he’s collecting Great Beasts—three of which are currently residing on this island. If we want to have a chance of stopping him or the Wyrm, we need to act quickly before he finds us.” It wasn’t exactly what she felt, but the force of her words seemed to make an impact on the boys.

  “Four,” Shane said quietly.

  “What?” Rollan snapped.

  “There are four Great Beasts on the island.” He turned toward a narrow corridor leading away from the middle of the volcano. “Follow me.”

  Abeke and Rollan trailed Shane through several corners, the tunnel growing colder and colder until they reached a large chamber carved out of rock deep underground. They were far below sea level, and the tunnel should have been flooded. Abeke reasoned that the dip had actually trapped the air inside.

  A small pool of warm water bubbled up in the middle of the floor, creating a steaming hot spring that made the air damp and salty.

  Sitting at the edge of the water was a small girl with strange, almost bluish skin. She was dressed in draped cloth. Her bare legs rested in the pool, and she was weaving a blanket from strands of long seaweed.

  Shane approached the girl. “Niri, say hello to our friends.”

  The girl put down her work and turned her head toward them. “We’ve been waiting for you.” She said this warmly but made no effort to stand and greet them properly.

  Abeke stepped closer and saw that Niri’s skin was painted blue with swirling tattoos that covered her whole body. “You’re from the Hundred Isles,” she said. She offered a kind smile, knowing something of those tropical climes. “You must hate the snow almost as much as I do.”

  “Niri was there when Zerif and his army burned her entire village to the ground,” Shane said darkly. “She’s probably beyond hating things like weather.”

  “Forgive me for not standing to greet you,” the girl said. “I find myself unequal to the task.” She lifted the corner of her seaweed blanket to reveal that her legs were both thin and misshapen.

  “Your legs don’t work,” Abeke said, trying not to sound horrified. “Did Zerif do that?”

  “I was born unable to walk or even swim,” Niri said simply. “In the Hundred Isles, our lives are lived in the sea. Not being able to swim made me an outcast. Not even the healers would agree to see me. They believed my family had violated tapu. My father and mother cared for me in isolation, far from shore, shunned by the rest of our tribe.”

  “In the end that’s what saved her,” Shane said. “When Zerif’s army landed, all her kinsmen rushed to fight him, but she was left behind in the jungle. He burned the village down looking for Niri, but she was smart enough to keep herself hidden until the Redcloaks could rescue her.”

  “Why did Zerif want you?” Rollan said.

  “He didn’t want me,” Niri said. “He wanted him.” The girl pointed to the ceiling of the cave. There was a place where the rock had been replaced with a sheet of solid ice that shone blue light on them—sealing them off from the ocean water. The ice was cloudy, but on the other side Abeke could just make out the shadow of a large creature floating back and forth in the water. A creature with eight legs.

  “Mulop!” Abeke said.

  Indeed it was Mulop, and upon hearing his name spoken, the octopus swung his many arms in greeting. The Great Octopus looked smaller than when Abeke had last seen him in the grotto beyond Dagger Point, but he was still enormous. The shadow darted from view and a moment later there was a splashing at Abeke’s feet as a large tentacle ros
e up from the pool of water and nuzzled itself against Niri’s hand. Mulop’s skin had an iridescent glow, like the inside of an oyster shell—a hundred colors reflecting in the cavern all around.

  “Tell you honestly,” Rollan said. “I’m relieved to see it’s Mulop you’ve got down here. I was afraid we were going to be shaking hands with Gerathon!”

  “Mulop saved my life in more ways than I can count,” Niri said. “When Zerif attacked my village, Mulop was able to cloud the minds of his army and keep me hidden. And even before that, he changed my life. Mulop’s thoughts stretch to every corner of Erdas, and he shares a connection with every living thing. Through our bond, I’ve felt my own senses expand, letting me experience parts of Erdas I would never have imagined. That’s how I was able to sense the Redcloaks coming to my aid.”

  Abeke looked at the girl, her bony legs thin beneath the blanket. She wondered what it would have been like to grow up not knowing the joy of running or swimming or climbing a tree. The appearance of Mulop must have been a revelation—it was a chance at a new life.

  But thinking of someone else’s spirit animal only made her miss her own. She tried to picture Uraza somewhere far from here. Even knowing that the leopard was under Zerif’s control, she still wished she could see her spirit animal once more.

  “What do you mean by sense?” Rollan said, interrupting Abeke’s thoughts. “Mulop gives you the power to feel the minds of others?”

  Niri nodded. “He can also cloud our own minds, making us harder to sense—which is what he’s doing right now.”

  “That’s the reason we’ve been able to stay hidden from Zerif’s army for so long,” Shane said. “So long as Mulop is on our side, Zerif will never be able to track us here. But the time for hiding is over. Now we need Mulop to help us find Kovo.”

  “Wait,” Abeke said. “Kovo is underground with Meilin and Conor. Why not have him talk to Briggan?” Her mind flashed to Conor’s face, sick with worry over his own infection. She hoped he was all right.

  Rollan swallowed beside her. “Or maybe, um, Jhi?” Abeke glanced at the boy whose cheeks seemed to have reddened at the mention of Meilin’s spirit animal. “Just a thought.”

  Shane shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t. Since he was reborn, Mulop’s powers are considerably diminished. He’ll only be able to maintain a connection for a very short time. And in order to talk to Kovo, Mulop will need to stop hiding our locations. We’ll be exposed. Once that happens, Zerif will come for us. Hopefully we’ll have enough time to learn how to trigger the snare.”

  “What if Kovo doesn’t want to help?” Abeke said.

  Shane met her eyes. “Then we’re all as good as dead.”

  MEILIN DIPPED A MOSS SPONGE INTO A STONE BASIN filled with stagnant water. She wrung it out and dabbed it across Conor’s burning forehead, across the dark spiral that spread along his skin like a cancer. His clothes were soaked in cold sweat, and he was shivering. “This will help the fever,” she said, hoping it was true.

  The boy lolled his head in her direction, swallowing with cracked lips. There were dark wells below his eyes. Conor hadn’t taken food in days. “Meilin,” he said, his voice faint and pleading. “Let … me … go.”

  “You know I can’t,” Meilin said. She looked down at the ropes bound around his wrists and ankles. Conor had cut deep wounds into his flesh trying to pull himself free. The wounds would become infected soon if they didn’t find some way to clean them. But she knew that releasing him would be his death. Ever since setting foot in this cursed city, Conor had become overwhelmed by a desire to reach the Wyrm. He would have blindly scaled the spiraling bell tower in the middle of the city, which stood directly beneath the Wyrm’s pulsing glow. And when there was no more tower to scale, he would have jumped from the tower, trying to reach the egg, his thin arms outstretched, falling to his death. Meilin knew this was true because the courtyard around the tower was already thick with the broken bodies of those who had tried the very same thing. Sacrifices to the Wyrm.

  Conor had been infected by one of the Wyrm’s parasites in Nilo. He had fought bravely against the corroding power, but it was clear that his constitution was fading. When they first landed in this fallen Sadrean city, the home of the Wyrm, Conor had tried running toward the egg, fighting anyone who dared to get in his way, even his own spirit animal, Briggan. Meilin and Takoda had finally resorted to binding his hands and feet so he couldn’t run. Briggan now lay beside Conor, curled up like a guard dog. Whether he was trying to protect Conor from the group or the group from Conor was unclear.

  “We can’t release you,” Meilin said again. “Not until you’re free of the Wyrm’s control. It’s for your own protection.”

  Conor grit his teeth, lurching as if a surge of pain had just slithered through his whole body. “Let me GO!” he growled. He jerked his arms and feet, pulling at his ropes, even though the struggle clearly caused him more pain.

  Meilin set down her sponge and touched the tattoo on her arm. Jhi, the Great Panda, appeared at her side, yawning. Meilin reached out and scratched the black fur behind Jhi’s ears. “Can you help him?” she whispered. “Can you stop the cuts on his arms and legs from getting infected?”

  Jhi cast a doubtful look at the boy but nodded solemnly and lumbered toward Conor. Meilin noted with a pang of sympathy that Jhi’s body looked thin, which was not a good look for a great panda. There had been little food beyond what mushrooms and roots the group could forage—and these were not things that Jhi enjoyed eating. Meilin tried to keep her in passive state as often as possible, but she also knew that Conor needed all the help he could get.

  She watched as Jhi stepped around Briggan to Conor’s side. The panda leaned down and licked the wounds around Conor’s bound ankles.

  “Get away from me!” Conor screamed, kicking his legs.

  Jhi gave a sharp yip as Conor’s foot struck her in the muzzle.

  “Conor!” Meilin shouted, standing. She already had her fists out, ready to defend her spirit animal. Briggan had sprung to his feet and was crouched beside her, also growling at Conor.

  Jhi turned toward both of them and shook her head, letting them know that she was unharmed. She turned back to Conor and again began ministering to the boy’s wounds. Conor struggled but soon gave way to exhaustion and fell back asleep.

  “Thanks,” Meilin said, looking down at Briggan. “I know this can’t be easy for you, either.”

  The wolf let out a quiet whine, his tail slunk down, and returned to Conor’s feet.

  AFTER SUMMONING JHI BACK INTO PASSIVE STATE, Meilin left Conor to visit the top deck of the lighthouse. A modest structure overlooked the shores of the Sulfur Sea. This building, like everything else in the city, was carved from some sort of rare stone that she had never seen before. She found Takoda at the top of the steps, seated at the open window.

  “I heard shouts downstairs,” Takoda said. “Conor?”

  Meilin nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek. “He’s asleep now. Jhi is tending to him.” Kovo was nowhere to be seen, which didn’t surprise her. The Great Beast spent most of his time maintaining the glowstone perimeter that he had set up around the center of the city. The Many were afraid of the light, and the glowstones created a barrier that protected them from approaching the bell tower. Kovo was almost fanatical about the glowstones. He spent every day maintaining them, searching for new stones to replace those that had begun to dim.

  Meilin joined Takoda at the window, which overlooked the eastern half of the city. The lamp in the lighthouse was meant to be fueled by glowstones, which Kovo had taken away. In their stead he had stocked the lighthouse with clay urns of oil and medicine that he had gathered from apothecaries and abandoned shops around the city. He insisted that the urns remain untouched but when asked what they were for, he refused to explain.

  Meilin, Conor, and Takoda had been traveling the caverns of Sadre for what must have been weeks now. Down here it was like a second world, one hidden beneath
the surface of Erdas, populated by its own tribes and creatures. Meilin certainly missed the warmth of the sun, but what she missed most was the simple ability to count the days. In Sadre there were no days, only perpetual darkness—one endless night.

  “You don’t know how important sunlight is until it’s gone,” she said.

  Takoda nodded slightly, his eyes fixed on the slightly phosphorescent waves lapping against the shore. “It’s kind of peaceful, though,” he said.

  Meilin didn’t know how to respond to this, and so she said nothing. She stared at the Sulfur Sea, which even from here emitted an unpleasant brimstone aroma. They had only barely escaped those dark waters.

  In her mind, Meilin could still hear the piercing shriek of the corrupted eels that had nearly devoured her and her friends. She tried not to think of Teutar and the rest of the crew of the Meleager, who had sacrificed themselves so Meilin and her friends could continue their quest to stop the Wyrm.

  And now, after so much struggle and pain, they had reached their destination: a fallen city that looked to be older than time. Giant stone towers connected by bridges and twisting staircases were chiseled right out of the strange rock.

  “It must have been beautiful, don’t you think? Before everything?” Takoda had asked the question upon landing on the shores of the city. Meilin noticed that Kovo had grimaced at his human partner—almost like a smile.

  Even after all their travels, after all they had endured together, Meilin was still uncomfortable having the Great Ape in their party. He made no move to betray them, but she couldn’t erase the memory of that final battle against Kovo at the Evertree. The gorilla was selfish, cruel, and, worst of all, he was smart. If it weren’t for the fact that he alone seemed to have some sense of what was going on, she would have left Kovo behind a dozen times now.

  Takoda had always argued that he thought Kovo’s reasons for trying to take control of the Evertree were more complicated than just world domination. Now, seeing its roots firsthand, Meilin could only begrudgingly agree.