Sora's Quest

by T. L. Shreffler

  The wood lit immediately with the unnatural white flames, and Sora sent another silent prayer of thanks to the Goddess. She then laid Crash out and pulled off his wet boots, gloves, cloak and shirt, leaving only his pants, for the sake of decency. With the last of her strength, she pulled the wooden door shut, closing them in the small space.

  The fire heated up the room in a matter of minutes. It was warmer than a normal fire, and it had a light, metallic scent, irritating her Cat’s Eye senses. The smokeless flames unnerved her.

  Sora tried to remember if there was anything else she was supposed to do—secure the raft, bank the fire, anything to that effect—but her eyes were already closing. Exhaustion crashed down on her like a lead quilt. Darkness claimed her, and she fell into a deep slumber.

  * * *

  Sora awoke to the sound of movement nearby.

  She reached for the dagger at her belt, but it was gone. She berated herself silently—how many times had Dorian warned her about forgetting her knife? It was an amateur mistake!

  Why is the air so musty? she thought groggily.

  With a shock, Sora was brought back to the present. All of her aches and pains rushed back to life. She sat up, immediately alert, and looked around the small room.

  Crash stood with his back to her, adjusting his belt, his shirt slung over one shoulder. She stared at him, breathing deeply until she was able to calm her heart. No need to panic. He was the only living thing in the room—unless one counted dust mites.

  Firelight flickered across his back. It was impossible not to notice his broad, powerful shoulders, his sleek muscles and tanned skin. His back, like the rest of him, was covered in small nicks and scars, imperfections made obvious by the white light.

  Realizing her thoughts were more than a little odd—this was Crash, after all, the man I hate—she averted her eyes and poked at the fire with a piece of wood. The white flames burned steadily, with no need for assistance. Strangely enough, there was no ash. The wood pyre didn't seem burned at all, despite countless hours having passed. She wasn't sure what to make of that.

  Crash turned around at the sound, a strange expression on his face. He looked down at her.

  Sora met his gaze, but her eyes caught on his jaw and her breath lodged in her throat. A long, gruesome scar traveled down the length of his torso, starting at his collarbone and trailing to his navel. It must have been a gruesome wound—she wondered how he had survived it.

  "A lesson learned," Crash murmured.

  She looked up, startled, to see that his eyes had followed hers. "What happened?" she asked, wondering if he would answer the question.

  "Bad timing," he said coldly. Then he turned away and pulled on his shirt.

  Sora was somewhat stung by his words. She wasn't sure if he was referring to the accident or to her question. But she recovered quickly.

  “So what are we going to do?" she asked instead.

  "About what?" he grunted.

  "The Wolfies."

  "Rescue them." Crash finished dressing and turned to her, his eyes shadowed. He bowed his head in thought, then started pacing. "Do you know where those stairs lead?"

  Sora frowned. Stairs? She glanced around the room, then noticed them. They were almost invisible, far back from the door, shrouded in darkness, covered in dust. The stairway appeared to have been carved out of the tree, just like the room itself. It disappeared upwards, into the trunk.

  She shook her head wordlessly.

  “Then we need to find out.” He started toward the staircase.

  Sora watched him, surprised. That was it? No comment on how they had arrived inside the tree in the first place? The icy lake or his inability to swim? She frowned. “We should rest for a while longer,” she ventured. “That was quite a fall.”

  “We don't have time. The Catlins will kill Burn and Dorian soon. We have a day left, at most.” His eyes were trained on the dark staircase.

  Sora followed his gaze. She wondered where the stairs led. Perhaps a dead end? Exploring could be a greater waste of time, but Crash wasn't the kind of person to argue with.

  She let out a long, strained sigh, then started to stand up. A sharp pain made her stop. She winced and sucked in a breath. Her side began to throb just below the ribcage. She hadn't felt it before because of all the adrenaline and ice water, but now that things were calm, she could remember the Panthera's claws digging into her.

  Crash paused at the base of the stairs. His eyes flicked to her shirt. He hesitated, staring, then started towards her.

  “W-what are you doing?” Sora asked, backing up. He wasn’t looking at her face, but at her torso. She wanted to look down too, but her eyes were glued to his intense expression.

  He stooped before her, his broad shoulders blocking out the light of the fire. His hand went to her waist where the pain ate at her side—he touched the spot with surprising gentleness. Sora stared down at the top of his head, too shocked to do anything else. She watched as he inspected the wound. She could see now that there was a bloodstain on her shirt, left over from yesterday. But she didn't think the wound was still bleeding.

  “The Panthera did this to you?” Crash asked quietly.

  Sora swallowed, “Yeah.”

  Crash grabbed the base of his shirt and ripped a long strip from it. “It's not too deep,” he said. “All we need to do is bind it.” Then he tied the cloth securely around the wound. He met her eyes. “You cleaned it out when we went for that swim earlier."

  The words hung between them, silent, a shade awkward. He frowned, still staring at her, as though she was not quite what he had expected. He cleared his throat. “I...well, thank you.”

  She was speechless. Gratitude? From this assassin? Not bloody likely, she thought, and yet there it was. Loud and clear.

  “Of course,” she said solemnly. Then she couldn't help it. She cracked a smile.

  To her surprise, Crash let out a quiet chuckle. He stood and gave her a hand up, helping her to her feet. He picked up her cloak and threw it around her shoulders. "Come on."

  With that he started up the steps, not waiting for her to follow. Sora blinked after him, still surprised, momentarily frozen in place. Then she hurried to catch up. Some things never change.

  Chapter 13

  It wasn't long before Sora could feel the strain on her legs, despite the fact that they were fit from traveling. The staircase seemed to stretch on forever. It was barely the width of a broom closet, and the stairs were not evenly cut. Each step was either shorter or higher than the step they were on. She tripped several times.

  Every couple of turns, a white torch was mounted on the wall to light the way. Being magic, it was able to light quite a distance. Crash had to move sideways to get past them, and more than once Sora almost knocked one over. One torch actually fell on top of her, but as soon as it touched her, the Cat's Eye let out a fierce chime. The fire was snuffed out like a candle, no sign of ashes or sparks.

  As she climbed, she wondered what kind of power had created such a passage. Nature magic, some part of her whispered, and she quickened her step.

  The two kept silent, neither in the mood to converse. Sora pushed herself mindlessly forward. She forced her way up the stairs, her legs moving without conscious effort. She didn't even look where she was going, keeping her eyes on her feet so she didn't trip. Her breath grew heavy in her lungs. These stairs go on forever, she thought. When will they end? It's been an eternity since we were at the bottom.

  Her question was answered abruptly by her head hitting the ceiling. Thunk! She yelped and sat down, rubbing her bruised crown, looking up in surprise.

  The stairs leveled off abruptly. She was at a dead end: no doors, no windows, no corridors, no ladders to climb, just a solid wooden ceiling. She had to sit down so she didn't bump her head again.

  Crash already knelt in the small crawlspace, not making a sound. Sora shuddered, trying to keep some space between them. His presence lent her a newfound security—as long as he
was at her back, she would be safe. But something about him still deeply frightened her. His uncanny stealth. His unusual aura.

  "Dead end," she whispered.

  Then she heard the sound of footsteps, not directly above her but a few feet in front. Crash put a finger to his lips. He slowly reached up and placed his hands on the roof, where Sora noticed something odd flickering in the firelight. A latch. A trapdoor.

  She stared at it, watching in fascination. Stretching upward, Crash placed his ear to the door and listened, then opened it up a few inches. Sora could hear voices, but they were speaking in another language. Catlins. Anxiety curled in her stomach. What if, at this very moment, they were discussing the best way to trap them? Perhaps they had heard her head thunk against the wood? Her eyes flickered to the assassin nervously. Then she was hit by a realization.

  He knew what they were saying!

  She wanted to ask him what was going on, but she bit her lip instead, waiting. The minutes stretched on and her knees began to ache from her cramped position. Finally the footsteps left, and she heard the familiar crinkle of leaves—vines opening and closing.

  He set down the door, carefully latching it again, then turned to look at her. He actually appeared pleased. "Seems like the whole colony is talking about us. They seem to think we died in the fall,” he told her. “They've sent a search party to scan the area, but Catlins are horribly afraid of water. That's why they put lakes beneath their colonies, to protect them from other tribes. I doubt they'll look very hard.” Crash smiled faintly, but that expression quickly melted. “They've already taken the Wolfies to the Grandmother Tree.”

  Sora's mouth went dry. Her heart raced once again. “What do we do?” she asked.

  Crash nodded to the trap door. “We need to recover our weapons,” he whispered. “It's still early in the morning; the colony won't be too crowded.”

  Sora gave him a pointed look. “That's a terrible idea! Let's just steal a few spears.”

  “I need my sword,” Crash murmured. “And my dagger.”

  Sora frowned. His eyes grew cold, and she knew he had made his decision.

  “Fine,” she said. “What's your plan?”

  Crash turned back to the trapdoor, lifting it once again, this time slightly higher. He peered outside, scanning whatever room lay beyond. “Don't get caught,” he said.

  “That's it?” Sora replied, incredulous.

  He was already climbing through the opening into the world beyond. She let out a long, slow sigh. Perhaps it would be in her best interest to go back downstairs, return to the raft, sail to shore and disappear....

  But she followed the assassin anyway.

  They were in a mid-sized room. Boxes upon boxes of goods were stacked alongside each wall: tubers, dried flowers, a myriad of vegetables that she didn't recognize, buckets of mushrooms and strips of dried meat. A small table stretched to one side. It held an old, dusty book, made from dried leaves. Sora took it all in with interest. A ledger, perhaps? They must be inside a store.

  She could see a doorway leading outside, blocked by familiar magic vines. Several portholes decorated the far wall, flooded by ample morning light. Crash slunk up to one and peered through, then gave her a sharp nod. He motioned to the doorway. It took her a moment to realize what he wanted. Apparently, she was the master key.

  Sora crept up to the door, standing slightly to one side so she wouldn't be caught in the open. Then she touched the vines, sending a silent command to her Cat's Eye. Zzzzt! With a jolt of energy, the necklace absorbed the magic and the vines fell to the ground.

  Outside, the colony was strangely silent. Sora glanced around from left to right. Morning light filtered through the mist. She wasn't sure what time it was, but she guessed it was too early for the Catlins to be up and about. They must still be asleep. Far off in the distance, she saw a feline shape dash across a bridge, but that was all.

  “This way,” Crash murmured, his voice hushed.

  They ran out of the building, crouching low to the ground. They were on the second level, the marketplace. It was easy to find cover between the stalls, ducking from empty tables to low benches, overshadowed by grassy canopies and cloth banners. They only ran across two Catlins, who were carrying heavy crates to some unknown destination. Sora and Crash paused behind a series of stacked barrels as the merchants passed. One of them sniffed the air, turned its head and glanced back and forth...but after a brief hesitation, continued on its way.

  Sora let out a silent breath of relief. They waited several minutes after the Catlins had disappeared, then started off again, moving as fast as possible.

  Although she was thoroughly lost, Crash seemed to recognize where they were. More than once he turned in a full circle, gauging their position, then continued across the giant branch. They turned onto a smaller bridge to the next thoroughfare. There, he ushered her onto an elevator and grabbed the levers, tugging experimentally at the ropes until the platform budged upwards. The mechanisms turned and grated as they rocked into the air.

  “How do you know where we are?” Sora asked in a hushed voice. They sat low on the elevator, obscured by shallow walls.

  He pointed to one side, over her shoulder. “Landmarks. The pattern of that bark looks like an arrow. And the stamen of that flower is bent.”

  Sora shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. She stared at the dark patches of the tree, turning her head slightly. I suppose it looks like an arrow. A bit. “You're observant,” she muttered. Once again, she felt inadequate. She had been busy running for her life—she hadn't thought to pay attention to her surroundings.

  They reached the prison tree without further complications. Sora had the sense that the colony was slowly waking up. Sounds could be heard from below—voices calling to each other, though she didn't know what was being said. The elevator arrived on the prison floor, rocking gently into place. Thankfully, no one was there to meet them. A pair of guards lingered at the doorway where the vines were still limp and lifeless, as they had left them.

  Crash slunk up behind them. Sora averted her eyes, knowing what he was about to do. The assassin slipped a knife from one guard's belt and quietly slit its neck, toppling the body backwards behind a large flower. He dealt with the other guard just as silently. Soon, the passage was all clear.

  They passed through the doorway unnoticed. Sora wondered how long it would take for the Catlins to resurrect a door.

  Once inside the tree, they slunk down a narrow corridor, listening intently for footsteps. All was silent. The jail didn't have any other prisoners that she could see—there were not many travelers through the swamp. Then she paused, recognizing the hallway they were in, and pointed to an alcove to their left. “That's the room,” she murmured, keeping her voice as soft as possible. “They put our weapons in there.”

  They dashed to the cobweb door. Crash stood to one side and motioned for her to get to work. She felt horribly exposed in the hallway, and moved as fast as possible, tapping the thin spiderwebs with her finger. This time, she almost didn't need to think. Ching. With a slight chime, the webs fell away, and the Cat's Eye drank in the energy. She wondered if it was wise to use the necklace so much. It felt much stronger than before. Almost alive.

  They entered the room. Their weapons and bags were piled in the middle of the floor, just as Sora had first seen them. At least this part is easy. She shouldered her staff and buckled on her daggers, letting out a slow breath of relief. She might not be the most skilled fighter, but it certainly felt better than being unarmed.

  Crash grabbed the rest of their bags. Sora took what she could, slipping their knapsacks onto her back. She would have to drop them fast if they got into a fight.

  When they entered the hall again, Crash turned to their left—deeper into the tree—and started walking.

  “Wait! Wrong way!” Sora hissed.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her, then motioned with his hand. For some people, this might have been enough, but Sora wasn't convinced. �
��Have you lost your wits?” she growled. “The exit is behind us!”

  Crash glared at her. It was enough to shut her mouth. “We can't go back through the colony,” the assassin murmured, his voice as soft as a shadow. “There is another stairway in this tree. I think I know where it is.”

  Sora wanted to protest. It might be dangerous to tromp through the colony again, but going deeper into the prison tree was even more ludicrous. They would have no chance at escaping if everything went wrong.

  But Crash was moving down the hallway again, and she couldn't go back without him. She would be lost and defenseless. Damn it all, she thought. If I get out of this alive, I'm going to learn to fight on my own.

  They walked quickly and quietly down the hallway, barely pausing to check a corridor before dashing down it. Twice Crash turned and changed direction, going back to use a different hallway, or jumping down a few stairs. They passed two rooms that were occupied by Catlins. Sora recognized the sound of snoring. She glanced inside and saw rows of hammocks swaying softly, full of sleeping guards. Sora and Crash continued on swiftly.

  Then suddenly they were passing by the Wolfies' old cells, from which they had escaped the day before. Sora looked at the empty alcove in horror. It was true, then. The Wolfies had been taken to the Grandmother Tree. Perhaps they were dead already.

  The thought almost made her cry. Somewhere along the journey, Burn and Dorian had become close to her, people she could trust. She couldn't imagine leaving the swamp without them. She was consumed with dread.

  They passed the final hallway of cells and reached an open doorway. It led into a storage room much like the one they had originally arrived in. Sora was shocked, to say the least. She stared at Crash, wondering how he had known this was here. Perhaps he “observed” it. The assassin scrutinized the floor, searching for the trapdoor that would lead them outside.