Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles)

by T. L. Shreffler

  Soon Sora was out of view of her mother's house. The sun warmed her face, and she was accompanied by the sonorous calls of birds.

  Chapter 3

  During the late summer, the sun would suck the moisture from the grass, burning it to a flimsy yellow. Her mother told Sora that brushfires were common in these parts. Even a simple magnifying glass could light the plains on fire.

  For now, though, summer was still a few months away and the fields were a springy green cushion. Sora took a brief rest in the fields while her horse rummaged for fresh grass. It was about mid-afternoon... she had to find her direction.

  She lay down on her back, obscured by the tall strands, breathing in the moist air; she felt sheltered from the larger world, momentarily invisible. She reached up to touch her necklace, running her fingers across its warm, smooth surface. It had always felt more like skin covered by a thin film rather than a rock.

  Her mind wandered to her friends: the dark assassin who had kidnapped her so long ago, and Burn, the Wolfy mercenary, a giant warrior and one of the last of a dying race. She could clearly remember their faces, their specific traits and features.

  She meditated on their images for a while, attempting to communicate with the Cat's Eye, to describe what she needed. Something stirred deep in her mind, like the beginnings of a dream. A dull noise reached her ears—the jingling of sleighbells. That was the same sound the necklace always made, the gem's subtle way of communicating with her. She didn't know if all bearers heard the same sound, but her Cat's Eye had a certain way of alerting her—the bells.

  Sora received a clear impression that the necklace had already decided the course of her journey. She had never used the necklace like this before, and was a little disconcerted at having to read its nudges and impressions. She sank into a deeper meditation, her breathing slowing, her limbs growing heavy. Over time, the world slipped away. She was floating in a black space, with no sensation of the wind or grass beneath her, as though she had entered a dark tunnel.

  Then, vaguely, she felt like she was standing on rocks or sand—and a long, deep corridor stretched before her. Where do we go from here? she asked silently. The words echoed in the deep emptiness, as if she was talking in a void. Had she been heard?

  After countless minutes, perhaps even an hour, she felt the necklace nudge back at her, like a hand resting on her shoulder. She was startled back to consciousness.

  She climbed to her feet without a second thought, as though directed by a clear voice and turned southwest, across the plains. That way.

  Her horse grazed a few dozen yards to her left; he saw her and trotted over, bumping her with his nose, eager for attention, even slobbering on her shirt. She gave the mare a handful of oats so it wouldn’t set its attentions on her hair, grinning wryly at its antics. All of her mother's horses had distinct personalities and were excellently trained. Sometimes, they seemed close to human. She wondered if Healers had a certain affinity with animals.

  Sora mounted, then looked around. West. She could feel the Cat's Eye urging her in that direction, like a finger poking into the back of her head. Who knew how long she would have to travel to find her friends—it could be another six months. No, it would be sooner than that. She wasn't sure where that thought came from, but it crossed her mind with the slight chiming of a bell.

  She shook her head, her thoughts swimming with this strange, new communication from the necklace. For so long, it had been silent... but now, it was wide awake.

  After only a bit of hesitation, she started off across the fields.

  * * *

  Days passed—she had been traveling a week or more. Sora grew accustomed to sleeping under the stars, although she had to admit that the trek was a bit lonely. Sometimes she talked to her horse out of sheer boredom. At night, she was never certain if she should light a fire, since the plains were large and flat and any sort of light was easily visible. She saw ground squirrels, rabbits, foxes and owls; luckily, nothing bigger than a deer. She didn't waste time trying to hunt; that was one skill she had never learned. She ate from her rations instead, something that she was very good at.

  Finally a shape appeared, an oblong shadow on the horizon with thin clouds rising above it. As she neared, she recognized a trail of smoke off in the distance. A town—had to be.

  She was miles away from home and had never traveled this far across the grasslands before. At least the town in the distance gave her a tangible direction. A small smile spread across her face. Maybe she could find an inn and stay the night. The thought of sleeping on the cold ground again was not very appealing. It had been frosty the last few nights, and she had been forced to cover herself with her saddle blanket. Ugh, the smell.... Now she stank like horse sweat. Even worse, she was almost out of rations. She would need to refill her bags at a few trade stores.

  She continued forward, pushing her horse at a slow canter. The afternoon stretched on. Toward sunset, the town became fully visible on the grassy plain, a circular colony with tall wooden walls and wide, flat rooftops.

  She reached the front gates a few minutes later. Her horse slowed to a walk, and she approached the entrance curiously, uncertain of what she might find. Tassels and bells hung from the wooden archway, clinking dully in the light breeze, small emblems of the Goddess. She had seen similar charms on barn doors and storefronts. One guard stood on either side of the tall gates, dressed in heavy steel armor. They nodded as she passed.

  Sora stopped when she was just inside the gate, glancing back at the guards, who had already returned to scanning the fields: two grimy, pimply young men. From their expensive-looking armor, she guessed they were King's soldiers, probably recruited from local farms. She decided to try her luck—what could it hurt?

  "Excuse me,” she asked politely, “I was wondering if you’ve seen a man pass through here recently. Maybe you'd remember? He's about so tall, black hair, green eyes, wears dark colors....?"

  The guards turned to look at her in surprise. One of them, a sunburned redhead with giant splotches of freckles across his nose, scratched under his helmet. “You talkin' about the Ravens?” he asked. “Aye, we caught a few. I think there was one that kind of matched that description....”

  Sora's eyes widened, curious. “Ravens?” she echoed. “Like... birds?”

  The other guard choked out a derisive laugh. He had straw-colored hair and a stern, serious face, too gaunt to be handsome. “No, miss. As in outlaws and thieves. The Ravens are a notorious group of bandits in these parts.”

  “More like pigeons, really!” The freckled one added with a wide grin. “Or crows. They hop around in people's trash and take whatever's shiny.”

  “Quiet, Don,” the blond guard said coldly. “The Ravens are lawless, bloodthirsty criminals, no doubt about it.”

  Sora mulled the words over in her head. Lawless, bloodthirsty criminals. Her companions weren't the most respectable types... but the thought of them hiding out in the tall grass and then attacking caravans made her want to laugh. And they certainly wouldn't have been caught by a pair of acne-covered farm boys....

  “We arrested the pair just last night,” the blond guard continued. “Fools tried to steal from the town treasury. Now they're locked up in the cells. Just who is this person you're looking for, anyway?”

  Their eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Sora didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked down the well-worn streets, at the hard-packed dirt and empty vendor stalls. She experienced a moment of horror as a brood of hens hobbled into view, their beaks black and splotchy, feathers missing from their wings. No one else was in sight. The town was eerily quiet.

  Then she frowned. “Oh, an old friend, I don't know if he's a bandit, though. He's been... eh... missing for quite a few months. Think I could take a look?”

  The freckled soldier raised an eyebrow. “A look at the prisoners?”

  “Yes,” she nodded. From their wary expressions, she realized how strange she must sound; they must not get a lot of trav
elers asking to visit their jail cells. She widened her eyes, trying to look innocent and naive. “He's been missing for so long, and I've been so worried!”

  “Right...” the redhead said slowly. The two soldiers shared another glance, then looked back at her. “Could we see your wrists first, miss?”

  “My wrists?”

  “Aye,” the blond guard spoke up. “Let's see 'em.”

  Sora frowned, but complied. She dropped the reins and rolled up her long sleeves, showing the guards her bare, white wrists. The guards looked at them carefully, and one even stepped up to the horse, taking her small hand in his and turning it over, inspecting it closely, as though she had a knife up her sleeve. Which she did, but she was far better at hiding that.

  “She's clean,” the blond guard said. The freckled one looked relieved.

  Now it was Sora's turn to stare incredulously. “Clean? Is that what this is all about? Well, honestly, I haven't bathed in several days. Road dust has a way of clinging....”

  “No, we meant your wrists,” the redhead soldier interrupted her. “You don't carry the mark of the bandits. They always brand their members... scar them with fire... you know, to identify them.” He looked a little pale at the thought.

  Sora felt her lips twist into a grimace. “Brand them?” she echoed. “Like cattle?”

  “Aye... or slaves.”

  She wasn't sure what to think of that.

  The blond guard motioned for her to follow, and turned toward the guardhouse. “If you'll come with me, miss, I'll show you the prisoners."

  She dismounted her horse and tied it to a nearby post, then followed the blond guard toward a large brick building next to the front gates. The redhead stayed behind to keep watch. He turned his back to them, staring out across the plains.

  “I take it you're not from around here?” the blond asked, looking at her curiously. Now that they were alone, he seemed more relaxed.

  “Just passing through,” Sora said, somewhat guarded. It occurred to her that Volcrian might travel this way as well in the next few weeks. She might have already made a mistake by speaking to the guards. They would certainly remember her if anyone described her appearance.

  “Ah,” the soldier said. “Well, better that way, I suppose. You should be careful on the road. We've been fighting off the Ravens for years now. They'll go after anyone—caravans, travelers, children. I've even seen them make off with stray chickens.”

  “They sound more like jackals than ravens,” Sora commented.

  “Aye, they're bandits, through and through. We killed the old leader almost eight years ago, shot through with an arrow. For a while, things died down, but in the last few years, they're more active than ever! They've been attacking towns, raiding our warehouses, stealing livestock and robbing inns.” The soldier leaned close, as though sharing a secret. “We suspect they have a new leader, but no one's got close enough to see him.”

  Sora nodded, listening with half an ear. She didn't really care about bandits, not if it didn't involve her friends. She had heard rumors of such things back home, when speaking to the farmers who passed through her mother's village. They had talked about terrible, depraved outlaws who watched the roads, but she hadn't realized the problem was nearby—or that the bandits were even real. She wondered if the Ravens would eventually make their way further north to her mother's area. She couldn't help but feel a little concerned. Her mother lived out in the woods by herself, after all.

  “Here we are,” the guard muttered. He withdrew a keyring and unlocked the heavy iron door, nodding to Sora to pass through.

  She stepped into the cool, shadowy interior. The floor was tiled and swept clean. It appeared to be a common room; there were a few wooden tables and a barrel of water—or, she suspected, ale—in the corner. The narrow windows along the far wall let in faded light, casting the room in a pinkish glow. Tall and long, the windows were barely wide enough for her to fit an arm through. Also on the far side of the room were stairs leading to a lower floor, probably to the jail cells. A rack of weapons and heavy iron shields rested against one of the walls; no other soldiers were in sight.

  “The patrol should be back any minute now,” the guard mentioned, following her gaze to the rack of weapons. “They usually return at sunset. I'll let you have a glance at the prisoners, but you should probably go before the Cap'n gets back. He might not like it.”

  Sora nodded. Wouldn't want to upset the Cap'n, whoever that was. Then her stomach growled. She considered turning around and leaving to seek an inn for the night, but she had already come this far. She might as well see who they had downstairs. One thing was for certain, though.... She doubted such a place could hold her companions for long.

  They traveled down the narrow flight of stairs. Sora found herself in a broad room with jail cells lining each wall. The place was more or less clean, but weighed down by the heavy smell of urine and human waste. She gagged on the stuffy air, feeling its thick texture in her mouth. There was no ventilation. How long had it had taken that stench to build up?

  “Here's the two we captured,” he said, pointing down the row of dark cells.

  He took a step forward, but suddenly a strange noise reached them through the walls. Sora was surprised that any sound could penetrate that dense building. It was hollow, like a horn or a bugle.

  The guard next to her stiffened, then gave her an apologetic glance. “That would be the Cap'n back from patrol,” he said. “I've got to meet them at the gate. I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere!” He turned and ran up the staircase, his boots slapping on stone.

  Sora watched him go, then turned back to the dark, dank cells. She would just take a glance and be done with it. She thought of calling out Crash's name, but something about the gloom stopped her. Although she doubted that her companions were anywhere close by, she still started down the length of the room, flinching at each shadow. Ugh, she thought, spotting a small movement in the corner. Rats!

  The first prisoner she came across was not very impressive. She thought at first that he might be dead, he was so thin and ragged, until she saw the hollow rise and fall of his chest. She took a step closer to the bars and raised an eyebrow. Blinked. She was so tense that she had fully imagined her assassin friend lying there on the ground, dressed in rags, as bony as a buzzard. But a second look revealed a haggard stranger with dishwater-brown hair and a grizzled face. Not her assassin friend, by far.

  Then something moved in the next cell over. There was a muffled groan. Sora frowned; it was a girl's voice, unexpected. She walked to the next cell and stared at a small heap inside it, curled in a ball on the ground.

  The girl unwrapped herself, slowly sitting up, stretching her pale, skinny arms. She looked up with wide gray eyes, and Sora was struck by their color—lavender, in the shadows.

  The prisoner didn't say a word, only stared with those large, soft eyes. She was so thin and small, at first Sora thought she was a mere child, but small mounds of breasts were protruding from her chest. Still, she couldn't have been more than fourteen. Her hair was thin, blond, platinum in the murky light, falling in wispy tufts to her shoulders. She was dressed in swaths of rags, in an assortment of different colors and fabrics. They looked like things she had pulled off of laundry lines or found discarded along the roadside. Her face was dirty and gaunt, with hollow cheeks and an alarmingly dark bruise on her jaw. Sora had the sudden urge to reach out and touch her, to assure herself that she wasn't a ghost.

  “What... what are you doing in here?” Sora asked, shocked.

  The girl's soft, vulnerable expression suddenly changed, and Sora was met with the face of a street child, hardened and suspicious. “What does it look like?” she asked sarcastically. “They arrested me.”

  “For what?”

  “None of your business!” she spat venomously.

  How does a child like this wind up in jail? Sora wondered, ignoring the girl's attitude. Incredibly young and small, she looked as harmless as a fly. The g
irl tried to rise to her feet, but the effort took her longer than it should have; she was terribly thin and weak. Sora wondered when she had last eaten.

  “How long have you been here?” she asked.

  “I don't know, a few days,” the girl said. “They threw me in here with this other guy. They'll hang me for sure before the week is out.” Her eyes flashed defiantly. “That's what they do to us, you know. Hang us.”

  Sora frowned. She wasn't necessarily against hanging criminals, but this girl was far too young to be executed. She could remember when she was that age, she hadn't known not to steal honey scones from the manor's kitchens. What could this child possibly have done to warrant hanging?

  “Why?” Sora asked again.

  The girl sat up straighter, looking her in the face, her eyes narrow... then suddenly she sagged, as though the wind had been taken out of her. “Stealing,” she finally said, looking to the ground. She appeared even younger now, like a small mouse. “That's all.”

  Sora's heart went out to the street urchin. Where were her parents?

  A sudden door slam broke the silence. Sora jumped slightly and turned toward the staircase. She could hear footsteps approaching, the soldier returning to check on her. She bit her lip, conflicted, then glanced at the girl. No one so young deserved to be hanged.

  The guard appeared at the bottom of the steps, another man by his side, this one older and grayer, with a grizzled chin and pronounced nose. The older man stared at her with cold gray eyes.

  “I see we have a visitor,” he said, his gaze lingering on her wrists. Sora knew what he was looking for, and turned her wrists out. She figured this was the Cap'n. He had a tall, confident stance, like a man used to giving orders.

  He nodded sharply to her, then glanced at the girl in the cell. “Do you know this one?” he asked.

  On sudden inspiration, Sora nodded, surprising even herself. “My sister,” she said, raising her chin slightly. She tried to hide the tremor that went through her. She had a gut-sinking feeling that she was about to get into trouble....