(Tiger Saga #2) Tiger's Quest

by Colleen Houck

  I saw it and tried to get my glove off. Kishan stood me up, supporting all my weight on one arm. He pulled off my glove with the other hand and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he guided my hand into the cold depression carved into the bark of the wooden marker. Now that I was closer, I could see intricate carvings all over the wood that had been partially covered by the snow. If I’d felt better, I would have loved to examine them, but I couldn’t even stay upright without Kishan.

  I kept my hand pressed against the wood but nothing happened. I tried to summon the fire in my belly, the spark that made my hand glow, but I felt deadened.

  “Kishan . . . I . . . c . . . can’t. I’m too . . . c . . . cold.” I felt like crying.

  He took off his gloves, unzipped his jacket, tore his shirt underneath, and put my frozen hand against his bare chest, covering the back of it with his own warm hand. His chest was hot. He pressed his warm cheek against my cold one and rubbed the back of my hand with his palm for a few minutes. He spoke, but I didn’t understand his words. He shifted to protect me from the wind, and I almost fell asleep as he held me in the warm cocoon he’d created. Finally, he pulled back a little and said, “There, that’s better. Now, try again.”

  He helped me angle my hand. I felt a small spark of tingly warmth and urged it to build. The power was slow and lethargic, but it did build until the handprint glowed. The pole shook and began to glow too. Something happened to my eyes. A green sheen fell across my vision like I’d put on a pair of green-tinted sunglasses. It made the glow from my hand look bright orange, and the orange traveled from one pole across the fabric tail to the other pole.

  The ground shook, and we were enveloped in a bubble of warmth. Too weak to continue, my hand slipped out, and I fell back against Kishan, who scooped me up in his arms again. A little bubble of static formed between the two poles and grew larger. Colors shifted inside the bubble, which were too vague and fuzzy to make out at first, but they grew bigger and started to come into focus. I heard a boom, and the picture snapped into place.

  I saw green grass and a warm yellow sun. Herds of animals grazed lazily beneath leafy summer trees. Where we stood I could smell the scent of flowers and feel the sun warm my face, yet the wintry sleet still fell across my cheek. Kishan took a step forward, and another. He carried me into the warm paradise. My head lolled against his arm as I listened to the sound of the storm fade. The cold air grew more distant and then left with a pop. That’s when I fainted.

  18

  Good Things

  I woke near a crackling fire at dawn. Kishan was warming his hands.

  I shifted and groaned, “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. How do you feel?”

  “Umm . . . I’m feeling better actually.”

  He grunted. “You started healing as soon as we entered this place.”

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “About twelve hours. You healed here almost as fast as Ren and I do outside.”

  I stretched my legs and was relieved. The pain was bad, but an infection was worse. I had been sort of counting on Kishan’s amulet to fix me, but it wasn’t working like Mr. Kadam had said. Maybe Kishan’s piece did something different. I’d gotten lucky.

  “I’m starving. What’s for breakfast?” I asked.

  “What would you like?”

  “Hmm . . . how about some chocolate chip pancakes with a tall glass of milk.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll have the same thing.”

  Kishan asked the Golden Fruit to make our meal, and he hunkered down next to me to eat. I was still feeling weak and when he pulled me closer so I could lean against him, I didn’t protest. Instead, I dug happily into my pancakes.

  “So, Kishan, where are we?”

  “Not sure. About a mile past the spirit gate.”

  “You carried me through?”

  “Yes.” He set down his plate and put his arm around me. “I was afraid you would die.”

  “Apparently my coming back from the dead is a common theme in these mythical cities.”

  “I hope this is the last time you come close.”

  “Me too. Thanks. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. By the way, it seems I can maintain human form here like Ren did in Kishkindha.”

  “Really? How does it feel?”

  “Strange. I’m not used to it. I keep waiting for the tiger to take over. I can still become a tiger if I wish, but I don’t have to take that form.”

  “The same thing happened to Ren. Well, enjoy it while it lasts. Ren changed back the minute we left Kishkindha.”

  He mumbled something and started going through the backpack.

  “Can you hand me the prophecy and Mr. Kadam’s notes?” I asked. “The first order of business is to find the omphalos stone, the navel stone, the stone of prophecy. We look into it, and it shows us where to find the tree. It looks like a football standing on end with a hole in the top.”

  “And what does a football look like?”

  “Hmm, I guess you’d say it’s oblong shaped, but more pointy on the ends.” I stood up on shaky legs.

  “Don’t you think you should rest a little bit longer?”

  “I feel pretty well rested, besides, the faster we can find the stone, the sooner we can rescue Ren.”

  “Alright, but we’ll go slowly. It’s pretty warm here. Wouldn’t you like to change out of your snow gear first?”

  I looked down at my ripped pants. “Right.”

  Kishan had removed my coat, but I was sweating in my insulated pants. He’d already changed and was now wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a black T-shirt.

  “Don’t you get sick of black?”

  He shrugged. “It just feels right.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I’ll scope out the area and see if I can find a trail for us to follow while you change.” He grinned. “And don’t worry. I won’t be peeking.”

  “You’d better not.”

  He laughed and walked off through the grass toward the tree line. As I changed, I marveled at my torn pants. That bear really did a number on me. I checked my leg and calf. There was no wound. Not even a scar. The skin was healthy and pink, as if it had never been damaged.

  By the time Kishan came back, I’d washed using the best thing I could come up with—a pot of warm rose tea courtesy of the Golden Fruit and a T-shirt. I poured the rest of the rose tea through my hair, brushed it out, and braided it into a long tail that hung down my back. I’d just changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans, and hiking boots to match Kishan, when he hollered out a warning and strode into the camp. He looked me up and down with masculine approval, and smiled.

  “What are you grinning at?”

  “You. You look much better.”

  “Ha. What I wouldn’t give for a shower, but I do feel better.”

  “I found a creek that runs near the tree line with a game trail. I think that might be a good place to start. Shall we?”

  I nodded while he shouldered the backpack and headed for the trees. When we got to the creek, I marveled at how beautiful it was. Gorgeous flowers sprung up near rocks and tree trunks. I recognized narcissus growing by the creek and told Kishan the story of the handsome man from Greek mythology who fell in love with his own reflection.

  He listened with rapt attention, and we were both so involved with the story that we didn’t notice the animals. We were being followed by forest creatures. We stopped, and a pair of rabbits hopped up to look at us curiously. Squirrels leapt from tree to tree to get nearer, as if to listen to the story. They jumped to a branch that bent with their weight and brought them just a few feet from us. The woods were full of creatures. I saw foxes, deer, and birds of all kinds. I held out my hand, and a beautiful red cardinal flew down and perched delicately on my finger.

  Kishan held out an arm and a golden eyed hawk flew from the top of the tree to balance on his forearm. I walked up to a fox that fearlessly watched my approach. Stretching out a hand, I stroked its s
oft, furry head.

  “I feel like Snow White! This is amazing! What is this place?”

  He laughed. “Paradise. Remember?”

  We walked all day, escorted at times by a variety of animal companions. In the afternoon, we emerged from the forest to find horses grazing in a meadow full of wildflowers. I plucked stems to make a bouquet as we walked. The horses trotted over to investigate.

  Kishan fed them apples from a nearby tree while I braided flowers in the mane of a beautiful white mare. They walked alongside us for a while as we continued.

  In the early evening, we saw a structure of some kind at the base of a large hill. Kishan wanted to make camp for the night and explore it the next day.

  That night, I lay on my side in the sleeping bag with a hand tucked under my cheek and said to Kishan, “It’s like the Garden of Eden. I never imagined such a place existed.”

  “Ah, but if I recall, there was a snake in the garden.”

  “Well, if there wasn’t one here before, there’s one here now.”

  I peeked at Fanindra. Her golden coils were still hard and unmoving where she rested near my head. I looked at Kishan who was poking the fire with a stick.

  “Hey, aren’t you tired? We walked pretty far today. Don’t you want to sleep?”

  He glanced over at me. “I’ll sleep soon.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll save you some room.”

  “Kelsey, I think it would be wise for me to sleep on the other side of the fire. You should be warm enough here by yourself.”

  I looked at him curiously. “That’s true, but there’s plenty of room, and I promise not to snore.”

  He laughed nervously. “It’s not that. I’m a man all the time now, and it would be hard for me to sleep with you and not . . . hold you. Sleeping near you as a tiger is fine, but sleeping near you as a man is different.”

  “Ah, I once said the same thing to Ren. You’re right. I should’ve thought of that and not put you in an uncomfortable position.”

  He snorted wryly. “I wasn’t worried about being uncomfortable. I was worried about getting a little too comfortable.”

  “Right.” Now I was nervous. “So, umm . . . do you want to take the sleeping bag then? I can use my quilt.”

  “No. I’ll be fine, bilauta.”

  After a few minutes, Kishan settled himself on the other side of the fire. He cushioned his hands behind his head and said, “Tell me another Greek story.”

  “Okay.” I thought for a moment. “There was once a beautiful nymph named Chloris who cared for flowers and nurtured the spring by willing the buds of trees to blossom. Her long blonde hair smelled like roses and was always adorned with a halo of flowers. Her skin was as soft as flower petals. Her lips were puckered and pink like peonies and her cheeks—soft blushing orchids. She was beloved by all who knew her, yet she longed for a companion, a man that could appreciate her passion for flowers and who would give her life deeper meaning.

  “One afternoon, she was working with the calla lilies and felt a warm breeze blow through her hair. A man stepped into her meadow and stood admiring her garden. He was handsome with dark, windswept hair and wore a purple cloak. He didn’t see her at first; she watched him from a leafy bower as he walked among the flowers. The daffodils raised their heads at his approach. He cupped a rosebud between his hands to inhale its fragrance, and it unfurled its petals and bloomed in his palms. The lilies quivered delicately at his touch, and the tulips bent toward him on their long stems.

  “Chloris was surprised. Her flowers usually responded only to her. The spears of lavender tried to twine themselves about his legs as he passed by. She folded her arms and frowned at them. The gladiolas all opened at once instead of taking turns like they were supposed to, and the sweet peas danced back and forth, trying to get his attention. She gasped softly when she saw the creeping phlox try to uproot itself.

  “‘That’s enough!’ she said. ‘You all behave yourselves!’

  “The man turned and spied her hiding among the leaves. ‘Come out,’ he beckoned. ‘I will not harm you.’

  “She sighed, pushed aside the gardenia plants, and stepped barefooted into the sunshine, pressing her toes into the grass.

  “A small breeze blew through the garden as the man sucked in a soft breath. Chloris was more beautiful than any of the flowers he’d come to admire. He immediately fell in love with her and dropped to his knees before her. She beseeched him to stand. He did, and the warm wind shuffled his cloak, lifted it, and enfolded both of them in its purple billows. She laughed and offered him a silver rose blossom. Smiling he twisted off the petals, tossing them into the air.

  “She was upset at first, but then he twirled his finger and the rose petals swirled around them in a tunnel of wind. She clapped her hands in delight as she watched the petals dance. ‘Who are you?’ she asked.

  “‘My name is Zephryus,’ he said. ‘I am the west wind.’ He offered her his hand. When she placed her hand in his, he pulled her close and kissed her. Stroking her soft cheek with his fingertips, he said, ‘I have traveled the world for centuries, yet you are the loveliest maiden I have ever seen. Please, tell me. What is your name?’

  “Blushing, she answered, ‘Chloris.’

  “He folded her small hands in his and made a vow. ‘I will return next spring. I wish to take you for my bride. If you’ll have me.’

  “Chloris nodded shyly. He kissed her again, and the purple cloak swirled around him. ‘Until we meet next year then, my Flora.’ The wind blew him quickly away.

  “She prepared for his arrival all year. Her garden was more beautiful than it had ever been, the flowers happier. Whenever she thought of him, she felt the kiss of his breeze brush her cheek. The next spring, he returned to find his beautiful bride waiting for him, and they wed surrounded by thousands of blossoms. They had a happy marriage. She tended the gardens while her husband’s west wind gently scattered the pollen every spring.

  “Their gardens were the most beautiful, the most renowned, and people came from all over the world to admire them. They delighted in each other, and their love was bounteous. They had a child together named Carpus, which means ‘fruit.’”

  I paused. “Kishan?” I heard a light snore come from the other side of the fire. I wondered when he’d fallen asleep. I whispered softly, “Goodnight, Kishan.”

  The next morning, I woke to a munching sound above my head. I looked up at a tall, yellow body with black circles and hissed, “Kishan. Wake up!”

  “I’m already awake and watching, Kells. Don’t be afraid. It won’t hurt you.”

  “It’s a giraffe!”

  “Yes. And there are some gorillas moving in the trees over there.”

  I quietly shifted and saw a family of gorillas pulling fruit off a tree. “Will they attack?”

  “They aren’t responding like normal gorillas, but there’s one way to find out. Stay here.”

  He disappeared in the trees and emerged a moment later in tiger form. He walked up to the giraffe. It blinked long-lashed eyes at him then calmly went back to plucking leaves off the tree tops with its tongue. When he moved toward the gorillas, the same thing happened. They watched him lazily and chattered among themselves. Then they went back to their breakfast, even when he approached one of their babies.

  Kishan shifted back to a man, staring thoughtfully at the animals. “Hmm. Very interesting. They’re not afraid of me at all.”

  I started breaking camp. “You lost your hiking clothes, Mister. You’re back in black.”

  “No, I didn’t. I left them back there in the trees. I’ll be back.”

  After breakfast, we hiked to the large structure we’d seen the day before. It was huge, made of wood, and obviously very old. A large rotting incline led up into it. As we got nearer, I exclaimed, “It’s a boat!”

  “I don’t think so, Kells. It’s too big to be a boat.”

  “It is, Kishan. I think it’s the ark!”

  “The what?”

&nbs
p; “The ark—as in Noah’s ark. Remember when Mr. Kadam talked about all the flood myths? Well, if this really is the mountain where Noah landed, then that must be what’s left of his boat! Come on!”

  We made our way up to the massive wooden structure and peeked inside. I wanted to climb in and look around, but Kishan cautioned me.

  “Wait, Kells. The wood’s rotting. Let me go first and test it out.” He disappeared into the gaping maw of the edifice and emerged a few minutes later. “I think it will be safe enough if you stay right behind me.”

  I followed him in. It was dark, but where the wood had fallen out of the ceiling, jagged gaps let the sunshine through. I had expected to see stalls of some kind to keep the animals contained, but there were none to be found. It did have a few levels with wooden steps, but Kishan thought the stairs would be too dangerous. I pulled out a camera and snapped a few pictures for Mr. Kadam.

  Later, as we left the wooden relic, I said, “Kishan . . . I have a theory. I think that Noah’s ark did land here and the animals we’ve seen are descendents from those original animals. Maybe that’s why they act differently. They haven’t lived anywhere but here.”

  “Just because an animal lives in paradise doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have any instincts. Instincts are very powerful. The instinct to protect your territory, to hunt for food, and to . . .” he looked at me pointedly, “find a mate can be overwhelming.”

  I cleared my throat. “Right. But, food’s abundant here, and I’m sure there are plenty of,” I waved my hand in the air, “mates to go around.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. But how do you know it’s always like this? Maybe the winter comes at a different time here.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so. I’ve seen flowers growing that bloom in the spring, but I’ve also seen flowers that bloom in the fall. It’s strange. It’s almost like the best of everything. The animals are all perfect and well fed.”

  “Yes, but we haven’t seen any predators yet.”