by Jeff Rosen
“What happens if the oroc doesn’t choose him?” Caley asked.
“I don’t think they’d let anyone actually … die,” Lucas replied weakly.
The oroc landed, folding its wings and thrusting its long, glossy snout into Kip’s stomach so hard it knocked him on his back; then it gobbled up the sandwich that had popped out of his armor. Kip shoved the oroc’s snout away and sprang back to his feet indignantly, swiping oroc snot from his armor.
“That was my snack, you great goobery beast!”
The oroc seemed momentarily surprised; then it reared onto its hind legs, let out a shriek, and beat its wings so furiously it almost blew Kip over again. He managed to stay on his feet and stared back at it with a defiant look. The oroc shook its head several times, gnashing its teeth and pawing the ground, then eventually settled down and kneeled. Kip climbed clumsily onto its sloping back, which made a perfect saddle. As soon as he sat, the oroc unfolded its wings and launched like a rocket, with Kip hanging on to its glowing mane for dear life.
A few students began to clap, and Lucas shouted, “Way to go, Kip!” but a look from Pike silenced everyone. The oroc did a loop around the arena, and Kip gave everyone a cheeky wave—which was a mistake because the instant one hand was off its mane, it immediately rolled without slowing down, sending Kip dropping like a sack of stones to the arena floor. His armor instantly tightened, and he bounced once then didn’t move.
“He’s hurt!” cried Lidia.
Pike held out a hand for everyone to stay put. After a moment, Kip’s armor loosened again and he sat up, looking stunned but OK. He gave a weak thumbs-up and returned shakily to the others as a few kids clapped him on the back.
“Princess Ithica Blight,” Pike read from his scroll.
Ithica strode past Caley. If she was scared, she wasn’t letting anyone know it. She stood in the middle of the arena, raising her visor to scan the orocs as if daring one to come down. Nothing happened for a moment, and her smug smile slipped a bit. A large oroc with a jet-black coat dove at her. For a moment Caley had the happy thought it would carry Ithica off to its nest—or wherever orocs lived—and feed her to a bunch of little orocs, but after some more shrieking and beating of its wings, it landed in front of Ithica and kneeled. Ithica climbed on its back, and the oroc rose into the air and swooped around. Caley had to admit it was a pretty decent ride. Ithica managed to land her oroc and got back in line, accepting the congratulations of the tiara twits with a bored look that seemed as fake as the rest of her.
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Ithica sniffed. “And orocs smell worse than boggers. I’m going to have mine hosed down and perfumed.”
One by one, the others were called by Pike and each was able, somehow, to get an oroc, except Evegny Pooner, who had an antelope baest and was beginning to develop hooves for hands. Lidia Vowell protested to Commander Pike that they should find an oroc and let it ride Evegny—to which Pike just snorted that the Equidium was no place for “alternative thinking.”
Lucas Mancini somehow managed to fall asleep on his oroc, which even seemed to impress Pike momentarily.
“Princess Caley Cross,” Pike announced.
As she made her way to the center of the arena, Caley was thinking that everyone else probably knew a lot more about the oroc situation than she did (zero), and certain tiaraed twits would no doubt be delighted if she fell flat on her face … or worse. But for some reason, none of that mattered. In fact, the feeling she’d had when she first set eyes on the orocs was stronger than ever. She wanted to ride one. She would ride one. For the first time in her life, Caley felt like she belonged right where she was, doing exactly what she was meant to be doing.
The orocs were circling overhead. Maybe she could pick one out. A green one to match her eyes would be cool. Caley raised her visor to see better, and as soon as she did, they began shrieking. It wasn’t the same sort of sound they had been making before. This was more like the noise crows made when a strange bird attacked their nest. It sounded angry. Her armor grew tighter. The next thing she knew, the orocs dove at her, one after the other, beating their wings and snapping their teeth. Caley tried to remain motionless, as she had seen others do. Maybe it was some kind of test. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Pike drop his scroll and begin to run toward her. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Her armor was so tight now she could barely breathe. She felt a thud on her shoulder. An oroc had tried to bite her! Another one bit, then another, and soon they all began to swarm her. Her armor was fending off the attack—for now—but she huddled in a heap on the ground, shaking with fear. It was funny, she thought, how quickly you could go from wanting something with all your heart to being scared to death of it.
(But not “ha-ha” funny.)
Stable hands came spilling out of the tunnel, but they couldn’t get close to the frenzied orocs. Suddenly, they scattered as a dark shape burst through them and heaved Caley onto its shoulders. The Scabbard, swinging a spike-studded club, batted the orocs away as he hauled her into the tunnel, yanking the iron gate down behind them. He dropped her roughly to the ground, wiping the blood from a gash across his face where he’d been bitten, which had already begun to close up.
“Thank you,” Caley managed.
“Can’t let high borns get gutted in the Equidium,” grunted the Scabbard. “Not if I wants to keep my job.”
He spat out one of his baked-bean teeth and stalked off, leaving Caley shaking in the dirt.
CHAPTER TEN
The Darkness
Caley ran, still in her armor, from the Equidium all the way to the greenhouse on the edge of the gardens. She sat on a bench and began to sob. She couldn’t remember the last time she had. There had been so many good reasons to (*see Caley’s life), but she could never remember crying.
Until now. Until the orocs.
A puddle grew beneath her riding boots, and Caley realized with a shock her eyes were gushing like a waterfall. For a moment, she thought she might drown in her own tears.
“Weepy willow.”
The little old fox-man from the Council Chamber had suddenly appeared behind her. He pointed his staff at the willow tree Caley sat under—the one with the crying face in its trunk. She saw that its eyelike knotholes were also gushing water.
“Planted it myself. I find a good cry now and then helps clear the head. Or at least the sinuses.” He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket in his gardener’s overalls and handed it to Caley. “I believe yours may be sufficiently drained.”
The willow stifled a few sniffs and stopped crying.
“Perhaps we should take a walk? I’m Pim. I feel we’ve met before …”
Pim peered at Caley with his astonishingly bright orange eyes a moment, then began to stroll through the greenhouse with her. Several small furry-looking berries leaped off a bush and went splatting to the ground.
“Leaping lemming berry bush. Complete failure, I’m afraid. They always jump just before you can harvest them. Oh … there’s one left. Catch it!”
Caley managed to catch the berry.
“Try it,” encouraged Pim.
She bit it … and immediately spat it out.
“It tastes like an old battery!”
Pim shrugged. “Just as well they’re impossible to harvest. Isn’t nature wise?”
Caley saw another plant that seemed to have a bunch of little red glowing buttons for flowers.
“I call that ‘sunny surprise,’” said Pim. “Press one.”
She did, and it gave her whole arm an electric shock.
“Ow! Why didn’t you tell me that was going to happen?”
“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise then, would it?” Pim smiled.
“What’s the point of growing these?” Caley asked with a frown. “Seems like a serious waste of time. Most flowers and plants are either pretty to look at or you can eat them. Yours are just silly.”
“The world is full of serious things. And I usually find them to be
far more of a waste of time than my flowers and plants. I always do one silly thing before teatime. You might try it. But I assume you’re here about the nuts.”
“Nuts …?”
“The squirrels have not buried a single nut this year so far as I can tell.” Pim stroked his long gray whiskers thoughtfully. “What do you think it means?”
“That … it’s going to be a short winter?”
“Or never-ending.” Pim gazed out the greenhouse at the forest that bordered it. “The squirrels know, but they never tell. Of all the creatures, squirrels have never made the Unbreakable Bond with humans. Which is a pity, because I believe squirrels would have many interesting things to share with us. I find it’s often the most seemingly insignificant creatures that have the most important parts to play. Perhaps you could ask about the nuts if you’re ever talking to one.”
“I don’t talk to squirrels,” Caley said quickly.
Pim regarded her with his twinkling eyes. They seemed to burn right into her brain, so Caley made herself stop thinking about Neive. She had promised not to tell anyone about her baest. Her thoughts swung back to the orocs, and she felt another tear roll down her cheek, though they had walked quite a way from the willow by now. Pim removed a trowel from a pocket in his overalls and began to pry a gnarled rust-colored weed from a flower bed.
“Most people dislike weeds. But they are just as useful as any other living thing if you bother to get to know them.”
Pim pried on the weed some more. It appeared to be fighting back against him. One of its roots grabbed his trowel.
“This, for example …” he grunted, wrestling with the weed, “can easily destroy an entire garden in a single day. Every plant has a defense. A rose has its thorns, ivy its poison, but they are nothing compared to this. I call it ‘fearfew’ because it fears few things … even gardeners!”
The fearfew grabbed Pim’s arm and began dragging him down into its widening hole as Caley watched with growing alarm.
“On the other hand,” gasped Pim, “chop it up and sprinkle it on some salad, or brew it in a tea, and a person becomes just as fearless as fearfew!”
“Master Pim!” Caley shouted into the weed hole that was now so deep all she could see was the point of his frayed straw hat.
“Animal cracker?”
Pim had popped up behind her with a clump of fearfew in his hand. He grabbed his hat before it disappeared into the hole and pulled a box of animal crackers from another of his pockets, which seemed capable of holding anything.
“It is forbidden, of course, to transport goods from Earth to Erinath,” he winked mischievously, “but I do love these. Major Fogg brought some back for me when he brought you.”
Pim gobbled up a cracker and gave one to Caley.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I should probably trim that willow. It’s getting quite out of hand.” He wiped a tear from his eye with a handkerchief, wrapped the fearfew in it, and handed it to Caley. “Oh, and would you mind bringing this to Doctor Lemenecky? He may find some use for it.”
“DID you see Gorsebrooke?” Ithica Blight’s mocking voice rang out. “I thought he was dead after that oroc threw him.”
“I went first,” said Kip. “I should get a medal.”
“Because your name was called first,” chided Lidia Vowell.
Caley’s classmates were in the stable, admiring their orocs. Caley slipped past them into the changing room where Neive was waiting. She gave Caley’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze and helped her out of her armor.
“You’ll get an oroc next time.”
Caley nodded woodenly, but she knew there wouldn’t be a next time. She could still feel the terror in the pit of her stomach from when the orocs attacked her—and the humiliation as she was hauled out of the arena in front of everyone. She handed Neive the handkerchief Pim had given her. Neive regarded it, puzzled.
“It’s fearfew,” said Caley. “Can you give it to Doctor Lemenecky?”
Caley headed out of the changing room with Neive, hurrying quietly past the others, hoping no one would notice her.
“Lucas, you’re probably the only person ever to sleep through their first oroc ride,” one of the O’Toole twins pointed out.
“They’ll write songs about it someday,” said Lucas, patting his oroc.
“Lullabies,” said the other O’Toole with a grin.
Everyone laughed, their faces still flushed with excitement from the Equidium.
“Anyone could fall asleep on Lucas’s oroc,” said Ithica. “It’s so gangly and spotty, like Lucas. I’ve studied the breeds. Mixed breeds have dull temperaments and lots of horrid spots and streaks.” She gestured to her oroc. “Mine’s all black. Solid colors mean pure bloodlines. I’ll have to come up with a suitable name for him.”
“How about Nightmare?” suggested Kip.
The orocs suddenly began stomping and shrieking, and Kip noticed Caley and called across the stable to her. “Caley! You OK?”
Caley turned to Kip and tried to paste on a smile. The others were staring at her now, grim-faced as if they were dealing with someone who just had a death in the family.
“Not everyone gets their oroc the first try,” Lidia said gently.
“Seems even orocs hate earthlings,” said Ithica.
“Take that back!” Neive got right up in Ithica’s face.
“You may go.” Ithica snarled at Neive.
The Pingintees immediately lumbered up beside Ithica, while Kip went and stood next to Neive.
“She doesn’t have to do what you say,” Kip told Ithica. “You’re not in charge. Princess Caley is.”
“She’s not in charge of anything.” Ithica’s cold blue eyes narrowed at Caley. “She’s not from here, and she’s not a real princess. Even her own mother didn’t want her.”
Caley’s hands began to turn bright red, and her amulet started to buzz. Neive immediately pulled her out of the stable.
“She’s not worth it,” said Neive.
THE following day, Caley checked her schedule on her way to the academy, and her heart sunk. Equidium was the first class. Even the business with the athrucruth wasn’t as distressing as the thought of seeing orocs again. The duchess was already in the courtyard, organizing students into single file to lead them into the stable.
“Duchess Odeli,” Caley started as she hurried up to her, “I can’t go to the Equidium. I might have Crohn’s disease. Or it could be conjunctivitis. Cholera …”
“I see,” said the duchess. “You should probably go to the infirmary. I’ll send for Doctor Lemenecky—”
“Never mind,” Caley said quickly, “I’ll live!”
Caley slunk to the back of the line behind the others as they headed into the Equidium. Anything was better than Doctor Lemenecky!
As soon as she entered the stable, the orocs began scratching their claws against their stalls and shrieking. Caley dashed into the changing room. Neive was waiting for her beside her locker.
“I can’t deal with this.” Caley shook her head.
“I was thinking,” said Neive in a low voice. “I wonder if the orocs are freaked out because you’re a you-know-what.”
“Athrucruth?” whispered Caley.
Neive nodded. “Orocs are sensitive to their rider’s energy, and a you-know-what has a lot of that.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” said Neive. “But you can do this. At least try one more time.”
Caley tried to smile. Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely put her boots on.
THE class stood at attention before Commander Pike in the arena as Caley slunk to the end of the line. Pike turned to Caley.
“Princess Caley, we will attempt again to find an oroc for you.” Pike nodded to the stable hands, who headed into the tunnel leading down to the stables. Caley instantly felt sick. Pike turned to a long wooden chest.
“While we wait for the orocs to be brought up, we will begin fire-sword lessons
.”
The class exchanged excited looks as he opened the chest to reveal what looked like a row of sword handles made of polished stone. Pike picked up one of the handles. Instantly, a bright red electric flame shot from the end of it.
“I’ve always wanted to hold a real fire-sword,” Kip said to Caley. “My brothers never let me even look at theirs.”
“Each of you, collect a sword,” ordered Pike, “and form a circle.”
There was a mad dash to the chest.
“One at a time!” shouted Pike.
Once everyone was in a circle with their sword, Pike told them to activate them.
“You will need to concentrate on starting the flame,” instructed Pike.
A few kids managed little sparks; some shot out feeble flickers, like broken bug zappers. One of the Pingintees got a pretty decent electrified flame going and almost burnt her own nose.
Pike frowned. “It helps if you hold the handle away from your body.”
Ithica’s fire-sword began to glow with a flame about the size of a garden snake. By her expression, you’d have thought she’d discovered fire all by herself.
Kip squinted and managed a pretty decent flame.
Caley was pleased to be able to create a glowing flame about the length of her forearm. Her mood quickly sunk, however, when she heard the shriek of orocs echoing in the tunnel beneath the arena.
“Swords away for now,” Pike called. “Princess Caley, step forward.”
Caley couldn’t seem to move. She’d heard of people frozen with fear and decided this is what it must feel like. (*Unpleasant. Very.)
“Caley …” Kip gave Caley a gentle nudge.
“I can’t ride an oroc,” Caley told Kip miserably.
The orocs began to fly from the tunnel. In a moment they would see her, and she felt sure that this time no one could save her.
“FIRE!” someone shouted.
The chest containing the fire-swords was burning, the flames threatening to spread up the parchment-like walls of the arena. Pike spied Kip standing beside the chest, flaming fire-sword in his hand.