Ferran's Map

by T. L. Shreffler

  Ferran lifted the bloody shirt off the wound. He sat across her legs, holding her body down to the best of his ability. “Usually this is a two-man job,” he explained. “Try not to move.”

  Lori bit down on the stick and braced herself.

  Burning hot metal pressed into her flesh.

  She screamed. The sound tore from her throat like the cry of a banshee. She forgot the room, the cot, the rain outside and Ferran’s voice as he tried to talk her through it. Her ears rang, and her vision blurred. Every muscle in her body clenched in pain; if Ferran hadn’t been holding her down, she would have shot straight off the cot.

  He pressed the searing hot blade against the bloody puncture wound for a few seconds, then withdrew it. He waited a moment, inspecting his work to ensure he hadn’t damaged unnecessary tissue, then repeated the procedure.

  To Lori, each touch of the hot blade felt like hours. Her muscles bunched and twisted like a fish hurled onto a riverbank. Ferran waited as each fit of pain passed, cautious not to accidentally reopen the wound with the knife.

  Finally Lori's senses dimmed, her vision went black, and she stopped feeling anything at all.

  CHAPTER 12

  Crash led Sora, Burn and Caprion through a network of alleys to the eastern wall of the city, which separated The City of Crowns from miles and miles of foothills. They traveled inland, away from the King’s river and The Bath toward the distant peaks of The Scepter. Eventually, they reached the rear wall of the city. It stood tall and foreboding before them, perhaps fifty feet high, impassible on foot. Sora didn’t see any soldiers in this particular area. They were probably guarding the wall closer to the Wind Temple.

  Luckily, they had Caprion’s aid. The Harpy lifted them easily over the wall using his magic, and settled them gently on the other side—except for Crash, whom he dropped indecorously to the ground. The assassin managed to land on his feet, then turned and glared at Caprion.

  They followed the wall until they caught a glimpse of the east gate, which led directly to the courtyards of the Wind Temple. Sora was once again dismayed. It looked like a small battalion of peasants were besieging the east gate of the temple. She saw ox-drawn wagons, tents, campfires and latrines. She could smell the taint of the plague on the wind.

  Countless peasants had taken up vigil on the eastern hills outside the temple gates. Sora wondered why they were waiting. The priestesses couldn’t cure the plague—but the lower classes were superstitious. Perhaps they came to find solace in prayer, hoping they could be healed by the grace of the Goddess alone. She wondered how Lori and Ferran had fared at the Healers' seminary, and imagined her mother running into a similar scenario. Surely the peasants had gone to the Healers' seminary first, then found their way here to the temple.

  “Too many soldiers, too many people,” Burn said slowly. His ears sank in disappointment.

  “We can’t enter with so many soldiers on watch,” Caprion agreed.

  Crash remained silent, studying the temple.

  “Perhaps if we climbed the hill, we would get a better view of the temple grounds,” Sora suggested. “We might find a way to skirt around the soldiers.” She waited for everyone’s agreement, but no one spoke. Instead, they turned warily to the rolling hills.

  Nobody had thought of a better plan, so they started walking up the long stretch of grass. The foothills were surprisingly steep, almost vertical; the lowest was almost a hundred feet high. Sparse patches of woodland grew in the trenches between the hills, fed by trickling streams of water from further up the mountain. No peasants camped this high up, where the wind easily blew away tents and fires.

  It was an arduous climb. Sora kept her eyes fastened on the hill’s crest, where a series of white windmills of varying sizes stood. Once they reached the peak of the first hill, Sora immediately left Burn’s side and walked among the unusual structures. Some were tall, practically the size of lighthouses, with old gray wood protruding through chipped white paint and wooden arms so long, they almost touched the ground. Smaller windmills stood only twice the size of a man, and appeared far less weathered.

  Sora surmised that the larger windmills had been used for grinding wheat, though they must have fallen into disuse a long time ago. The newer ones were more decorative, with blades fashioned from brightly painted wood or tin sheets.

  “It’s quite ingenious, really,” Burn called to her above a gust of fierce wind. He trailed not far behind. Crash and Caprion remained on the face of the hill, observing the city. “The windmills are tapped into underground wells. Using the force of the wind and a pulley system, they propel fresh water down to the city.”

  Sora nodded, now impressed. “So it all works naturally, like a snow runoff.”

  Burn grinned. “King Royce drew out the plans in his youth, and had the whole system established by the time he was thirty. A right genius, that one.”

  Sora looked at the windmills with a bit more interest. They weren’t just decorative monuments—they controlled the water supply of The City of Crowns, perhaps the King’s own palace as well, and continued along the foothills as far as the eye could see.

  Her eyes traveled to the northern end of the city, where she could see the white towers and bright flags of the King’s palace. The royal castle towered over the rest of the city. Even in the dim, overcast light it looked breathtaking. A river of snowmelt flowed down from the hills to the castle, and continued through the city in a wide channel until it reached the Crown’s Rush. She remembered crossing the river earlier on their way to the Wind Temple. The tributary ran parallel to the Royal Road, the main street connecting the palace to the West Gate.

  She turned to ask Burn about it, but the Wolfy was lying in the grass a few feet away. She frowned. Was he tired? He looked asleep. Confusion knitted her brow.

  Suddenly she sensed someone standing at her shoulder. She gasped, turned, and was confronted by a pair of acidic green eyes. At first she thought it was Crash, but the man was shorter, his face covered by a ragged brown cowl. He seemed to have materialized from nowhere.

  “Who-?” she started, but the stranger grabbed her arm. His fingers naturally found the pressure point above her elbow and he gripped her brutally.

  Sora staggered when he swept her legs out from under her with a deft kick. Suddenly she found herself on her knees, debilitated by the agonizing pressure on her elbow. She felt like her tendons were splitting. What…?

  The man cocked his head to one side and stared at her with the curious intensity of a cat. He wore dark, frayed clothing. Metal gauntlets covered his hands, and a brown hood hid his oily black hair. A cowl obscured the lower half of his face, but a gruesome scar that looked like a burn mark was visible across his forehead and left eye.

  One of the Sixth Race, she thought, reeling. He must belong to the Shade.

  “Pretty,” he said, as though inspecting an overpriced vase. His voice sounded strangely thin and stifled. “But a bit typical, don’t you think, Viper? I thought you preferred the older, more experienced types—or perhaps a fiery redhead?”

  Sora became aware of Crash standing a few yards away, his gaze trained on the unknown assassin. He held his dagger tightly, a venomous look on his face.

  Caprion knelt nearby over Burn’s prostrate body. Then the Harpy stood and glared. “Release her,” he called, his voice resonating in a tone of command. Sora knew his words were laced with magic, but the assassin didn’t seem affected, only amused.

  “No!” he barked, then laughed. He shook her by the arm, his grip like iron. Sora choked in pain. “Fair trade, Viper. The Dark God’s weapons for the girl.”

  “Stick to the plan, Cobra,” said an unexpected voice in the confrontation. A second assassin joined Cobra’s side. She was taller, her form lithe and lean, her eyes narrowed menacingly. A similar half-mask obscured her lower face. Her black hair trailed to her waist in a long braid. A coiled bullwhip hung from her belt. “Give the girl to me,” she said. “Our master awaits.”

 
Sora’s gaze traveled past the woman. She noticed several other assassins lurking in the shadow of the windmills.

  Cobra didn’t take his eyes off Crash. “Forget the plan,” he called sinisterly, “I prefer spontaneity.” He twisted Sora’s arm further behind her back—and she gasped as her shoulder strained. Cobra put his foot on her back and dug his heel into her lower spine. Crippling pain streaked through her body. He seemed to know exactly where to touch her to set her nerves on fire.

  Sora couldn’t break free without snapping her arm. “You may come with us if you like, Viper,” he hissed. “Accompany your lover back to Cerastes. Or would you rather our master deal with her alone? Which do you value more—her life, or those precious weapons of the Dark God?” His voice darkened. “You have a place in my master’s plan, if you want it.”

  Sora’s eyes widened. The Shade must not realize that she carried the sacred weapons; in fact, she could feel the weapons digging into her back beneath her cloak. What if the Shade took her captive?

  “No!” she gasped. She couldn’t allow them to take her. If she struggled, she would dislocate her shoulder, but she could bear the pain—she had done so before.

  With a surge of willpower, she rolled to one side, out from under the Cobra’s foot. Her shoulder popped as the bone slid out of place, but she clenched her teeth and used the pain to fuel her strength.

  Sora scrambled to her feet and took off through the windmills, then plunged into a nearby patch of woodland. She ran down the backside of a hill as fast as she could, skidding through thick ferns and muddy slopes. She couldn’t fight these assassins, but she could at least get out of their way.

  “Careful, little girl!” she heard Cobra call after her. “Watch out for snakes in the brush!”

  She knew they were following her and flew down the forested slope, ducking branches and tearing through wild thickets of thorns. Sora drew her dagger from her belt. Her left arm might be useless, but she could still defend herself. She would not be taken by the Shade.

  * * *

  Crash didn’t hesitate. The moment Sora rolled out of the way, he tackled Cobra, grabbed the man and tried to twist him to the ground. Cobra slipped through his grasp like water, but Crash kept him distracted long enough for Sora to escape into the forest.

  Cobra danced away to the base of a tree, released a wheezing laugh, then signaled to the female assassin. The woman darted into the underbrush, quick and nimble as a shadow. Two other assassins peeled away from the windmill and followed.

  Crash pointed after Sora. “Go!” he yelled to Caprion. “Help her!”

  The Harpy glanced at Cobra briefly, then leapt off the ground and flew swiftly down the back of the hill into the forest, moving faster than human legs could run. Still, the trees and thick underbrush slowed his descent. Crash could only hope he arrived in time—before the Shade could get their hands on Sora for good.

  Crash kept his eyes trained on his opponent. With a simple thought, he released the second gate and allowed his demon’s strength to flex through his body. His vision flickered, adopting the demon’s eyes. Now he could see Cobra’s thick black aura trailing off his skin. He opened his senses, tasting the air on his tongue. Mad as a wasp, his demon murmured.

  “I underestimated her tolerance for pain,” Cobra said conversationally. “Did you teach her that little trick yourself? Are you training her? Is that your dear student, Viper?”

  “What do you want with her?” Crash hissed.

  “Just following orders,” Cobra said, then his voice lowered insidiously. “Nothing personal.”

  “She’s useless to you,” Crash said. Cobra obviously didn’t know Sora carried the weapons on her belt. Then why had the Shade ambushed them? What did they want?

  “My master disagrees,” Cobra murmured. “Are you sure you won’t meet with him, Viper? He’s still most interested in speaking to you. He’s disappointed to discover your little tryst.”

  Crash’s hand tightened on the dagger’s hilt. He grinned darkly. “A deal, then,” he offered. “I’ll speak to him after I cut out your tongue.”

  Cobra’s eyes widened. Then Crash lunged. Usually he waited for his opponent to attack first, but Cobra didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Crash aimed low for the ribs, and when Cobra went to block, he turned and jammed his elbow into Cobra’s face, knocking the assassin back several steps.

  But Cobra recovered quickly. He darted forward, striking with his iron gauntlets, moving fast as a whip despite the heavy weights on his wrists. Crash blocked the punch with his forearm, but the jagged edge of Cobra’s gauntlet cut into his flesh, easily drawing blood.

  Crash ignored the wound and grappled with the enemy assassin, locked together in a furious contest of strength. He dragged Cobra to the ground. Crash didn’t care who won the fight, so long as Sora escaped.

  Cobra finally broke away and leapt to his feet, trying to run into the woods. Crash swept out Cobra's leg from under him and tripped him to the ground, dragging his opponent’s body beneath him, fully prepared to plunge a knife through his neck.

  Then, with a puff of black smoke, Cobra disappeared.

  Crash’s eyes widened. His dagger sank into the frosty ground.

  The fifth gate? The hairs prickled on the back of his neck. He sensed Cobra above him, ready to smash his iron fist into the back of Crash's skull.

  Crash braced himself, unable to dodge in time.

  Suddenly, a loud bellow shook the air. Burn charged through the windmills, swinging his massive longsword.

  Cobra turned, raised his gauntlet just in time and caught the full might of Burn’s blow on his forearm. His gauntlet shattered like porcelain under the Wolfy’s heavy blade. Jagged chunks of metal flew off into the trees. Cobra gasped and stumbled back, holding his wrist tightly. Crash knew the wrist must be broken; no bone could withstand that amount of force.

  He regained his balance and faced the enemy assassin, with Burn beside him.

  Cobra stared at them, seething, his body hunched over his injured limb.

  “You’re outnumbered,” Crash said darkly.

  Cobra’s eyes traveled from the giant Wolfy to Crash’s solemn facade. “We’ll meet again soon, Viper,” he hissed. “Then we’ll sort this out one-on-one…as it should be done.” The air wavered behind him, the shadows growing darker and thicker. Crash realized how Cobra intended to escape.

  Burn, however, was a step ahead. He rammed full-force into Cobra’s body, sending them both tumbling backward. As he tried to tackle the assassin to the ground, the black portal opened behind them.

  “No!” Crash yelled.

  Burn and Cobra passed through the portal.

  Instantly, it snapped shut.

  Crash leapt after them, but was too late. He landed amidst the spinning windmills; the wind gusting furiously across the hill. With a roar of frustration, he rammed his fist into the ground, over and over again, pounding a hole into the earth.

  “Burn!” he yelled. He stood up and scanned the empty hilltop. “Burn! Answer me, dammit!”

  But the Wolfy was gone.

  * * *

  Sora dragged herself through the woods. She stumbled through a small stream and followed it down the steep hill. Her steps became heavy as the pain in her shoulder got worse. She couldn’t run much farther.

  Fight! she thought desperately. I can’t run any more. I must fight. She ducked into a thick bush and raised her dagger in front of her, listening intently for sounds of approach.

  Although she didn’t hear the first assassin, she spotted his shadow flitting among the trees as he passed by. Lashing out swiftly with her knife, she caught the assassin in his upper thigh. The man grunted in surprise and went down. Sora yanked her dagger free and plunged it into the man’s throat before he could twist away.

  Then she sat next to the bush again, shaking with adrenaline, wondering what to do with his body. Should she try to keep running?

  Then the female assassin came charging down the slope, whip in hand. Sh
e unleashed a lightning- fast strike. Sora raised her arm out of pure reflex, catching the end of the whip. It coiled around her good arm like a snake biting through flesh, and she was forced to drop her dagger.

  With a firm yank, the assassin dragged Sora away from her hiding place. She hadn't expected that. Her foot caught on a root and she fell to the ground, the female assassin continuing to drag her through the dirt. She sensed a smirk under the woman’s mask.

  Sora tried to reach for her second dagger with her dislocated arm, but the pain weakened her. Finally, she sprawled at the female assassin’s feet, staring up at the woman with grim determination, her jaw clamped shut. She didn’t know what to do, but she wouldn’t be taken without a fight.

  Then, suddenly, a bright light flared in her vision. Caprion hurtled through the trees, flying full tilt. Fierce vibrations filled the forest, pouring from his body in endless waves.

  The female assassin turned, whip in hand.

  Caprion barreled directly into her and pushed the woman to the ground. They rolled through the tree roots into a small forest glade, where vines and weeds littered the ground. The air vibrated with the power of his wings, sending chills over Sora. Her Cat’s Eye jangled loudly at the strong presence of magic. A green shield fell around her, protecting her from the force of the Harpy’s power.

  A brief, fierce struggle ensued. Sora expected a cacophony of sound to fill the forest, but the Harpy and the assassin faced off in complete silence. The woman abandoned her whip and drew a knife. She managed to slash the blade down Caprion’s arm, landing a wild blow, but then Caprion grabbed her by the wrists and shoved her to the ground beneath him. He wrestled her arms behind her, trying to hold the woman down, but the assassin moved like oil, twisting smoothly out of his grasp.

  She briefly broke away, scrambled to her feet and tried to run across the grassy clearing.

  Then Caprion pulled a small, round object from his pocket, and it flared up brightly. A sunstone!