“Chinwe is dead.”
Tarik nodded gravely. “Irtike has told us as much. We are sorry for the loss — yours and ours.”
Pojalo cut Irtike a harsh look. “You spoke to them? You didn’t bring them directly to me?”
“Oh, believe me,” Rollan said. “She didn’t exactly greet us with hugs and kisses.”
Irtike spoke, her voice quiet but her jaw jutting out defiantly. “I intervened only to tell them about my mother.”
Chinwe was Irtike’s mother! No wonder she had that numbed-over look that Rollan recognized from his fellow orphans in Concorba.
“Do you think,” Tarik said, “that you might be able to spare some able bodies? Our goals are aligned, after all; you must want to see the Conquerors defeated as much as we do.”
Rollan looked hopefully to Soama. But the girl had her arms clamped across her chest, her otherwise beautiful face twisted into a scowl.
Pojalo shook his head. “No, our goals are not aligned. Between the droughts and the turmoil in Nilo, I have lost most of the ‘able bodies’ that Okaihee had. It is only because there is nothing of value left here that the Conquerors have lately directed their energies elsewhere in the region. If they hear I have helped you, they will return and attack. We cannot survive another assault.”
“Please,” Tarik said. “This is about the fate of all Erdas. If the Conquerors get their hands on the Golden Lion of Cabaro, I can assure you that will also mean the end of Okaihee.”
“My daughter once wrote similar words to me, pleading about the fate of Erdas!” Pojalo yelled, suddenly on his feet. “That was when she told me she was not coming back. You have taken too much already. I won’t sacrifice anything else to the Greencloaks.”
Tarik looked as if he’d been struck. In the days since Meilin and Abeke were captured, the Greencloak guardian had stood a little less tall, walked a little less surely — as if he carried a burden that grew heavier with each passing day. Rollan had shrugged it off before. They were all fatigued, after all. But now, for the first time, Tarik appeared to be at a loss.
The thought scared Rollan.
“You don’t even care about what happened to Abeke,” Conor said. His voice was calm and controlled, but his eyes had narrowed. Beside him, Briggan growled. Not much of a game face, that wolf.
For a moment the hut was still, tension thick in the air. Irtike’s eyes flitted from Conor to Pojalo and back again.
Finally the chieftain spoke, straightening to his full regal bearing. “I do not. Abeke is dead to me. And do not disrespect me by speaking out of turn again. I will not stand for it.”
“She is the pride of the Greencloaks!” Conor cried. “She’s saved countless lives. You should be proud of your daughter.”
“Stop!” Pojalo barked, tears in his eyes. “I do not wish to hear of this!”
“Ow!” Rollan shouted, louder than either of them. All attention in the hut turned to him. Essix had pierced his shoulder with her talons. He rubbed the wound. “What was that for?”
Then he followed Essix’s gaze to the entrance of the hut and staggered to his feet.
A lion had slinked in, head bobbing close to the ground as it sniffed the air. Rollan had seen a pride of lions from afar while they were trekking through the savannah, but this was the first time he had seen one up close.
This particular specimen was lean, almost scrawny, its rib bones visible under its skin and its mane sticking out in irregular tufts. The lion took all of them in, then returned to searching the ground, sniffing. It took a step toward the fire pit in the center, but recoiled from the heat and stepped toward the far wall.
They were all on their feet now, weapons drawn. Rollan glanced at Conor and Tarik, trying to determine if they planned to attack. The lion was, well, a lion. But it wasn’t aggressive; it was just trying to pass south through the hut, and in its single-minded state hadn’t realized there wasn’t a second exit.
The lion seemed to have discovered it was trapped. It raised its head and flattened its ears. Displaying its teeth, it let out an angry yowl.
Rollan swallowed. Those teeth were very long.
“The lion’s not attacking. Back off from it!” Tarik shouted.
The Greencloak was pressed against the wall but had his curved sword at the ready. He clearly had the same idea that Rollan did: best to give the lost animal a chance to leave on its own.
But that lion, so near, was apparently too much for Soama to take. The girl sprinted for the doorway.
Immediately Rollan realized her error — the lion was penned in now, with no way to escape. It roared, the sound loud enough to make Soama scream out and Irtike drop to her knees. The cat charged Soama, who had gone limp in fear.
Next thing Rollan knew, Essix’s fierce wingbeats were buffeting his head. The falcon was on the lion, talons sinking into the animal’s backside. Rollan had thought it looked scrawny for a giant cat, but it was clearly extremely strong. The lion jumped into the air and twisted, its whole spine rotating. The motion of it catapulted Essix off, and the falcon hit the far wall before she could right herself, sliding to the ground. With impossible grace, the cat landed back on its feet and stalked toward Soama.
Now it was Briggan’s turn. The large wolf faced off against the lion, forelegs splayed so his head was low, flesh pulled back from his long teeth as he growled. Yowling in desperation, the lion slapped the air with its paw, claws extended.
Within a moment, the animals were on each other, tumbling in flashes of yellow and gray fur, jaws snapping in open air as they tried to reach each other’s throats. Rollan was relieved to see Essix take back to the air while Conor rushed to Briggan’s side, brandishing his wooden shepherd’s staff. Conor swung it in a wide arc, slamming the lion in the side of its head. The cat fell away from Briggan, rolling in the soil but soon recovering its feet.
It tensed its rear legs, like a crossbow being cocked.
Rollan opened his mouth to warn his friend, but it was too late. The lion launched itself at Conor.
The big cat whooshed through the air. Conor was too stunned to do anything but stumble backward, hands helplessly shielding his face. But Briggan wouldn’t let the lion near. He leaped, impacting the cat in midair. When they landed, the wolf’s jaw was clamped on the lion’s shoulders. It yowled and thrashed, Briggan struggling to keep his feet. Tarik advanced, his curved sword extended, while Rollan took a position at the lion’s flank.
Tarik brought his curved sword up. He surprised Rollan by pointing it, not at the lion, but at Soama. “Get out of the entranceway,” he bellowed. “Now!”
When Tarik yelled at her, Soama seemed to realize herself. She skirted the hut, keeping her eyes fixed on the lion until she’d reached her father and Irtike. Pojalo shielded his daughter with his body.
The lion struggled to get out from under Briggan’s jaws. Rollan realized that the wolf was just holding it by the nape, like an errant puppy; the lion wasn’t even bleeding. When Briggan experimentally loosened his grip, the lion bounded free. Hissing, the cat staggered to the exit and limped out of sight.
For a few seconds, all anyone could do was stand in a circle and breathe at one another.
Then Pojalo spoke: “I need to repair my palisade.”
“What?” Rollan muttered under his breath, “no thank-you gift?”
“We can help you,” Tarik said, pointedly raising his voice so it covered Rollan’s. “We should all go now and rig something to secure the village from attack.”
“I do not want your help,” Pojalo said. “What I want is for you to leave.”
Tarik shook his head in resignation. “You’re making a mistake. But we will respect your wishes.”
Rollan was only half listening. He had Essix in his arms, inspecting her wing bones and feathers for damage. She seemed fine, but was clearly enjoying the preening, making quiet little screeches. Only recently had the falcon seemed to appreciate being groomed and touched by him. First letting Rollan see through her
eyes, and now this. Perhaps everyone was changing.
In fact, it was Conor who began yelling at the chieftain. Conor!
The boy positioned himself in front of Pojalo, whipping his green cloak behind him in indignation. “I’m not leaving until I say what I came here to say. I stood by and watched while you denied us the help we asked. I stayed silent while you made the wrong choice for your people. But we just fought off a lion to save you, and I will not let you push us out of here before I tell you what happened to Abeke!” He paused. “Sir!”
Pojalo’s and Soama’s faces went stony. Tarik placed an arm around Conor’s shoulder, but Rollan realized with surprise that it was a gesture of support, rather than disapproval.
Conor’s face turned pleading. “Your daughter’s been captured by the Conquerors. We don’t know if she’s alive or dead. Please, tell us you care about her, so if we see her again, I can tell her that her father loves her.”
“It is clear to me that you will do whatever you want,” Pojalo said curtly. “And you will tell Abeke whatever you want to tell her. I do not need to go about explaining myself to you, and I don’t need to send coddling words to my daughter. She’s made her choices.”
Conor appeared stricken. The defiant gleam in his eye was replaced by something else, a look not dissimilar to the dull grief that Irtike wore. Rollan wondered if it had ever occurred to his friend that some parents might not love their children. He hadn’t grown up seeing what Rollan had.
“Then there’s no point in speaking further,” Conor muttered, the fight draining from his voice. “He’s right — we should leave.”
Briggan growled approvingly, nuzzling Conor’s hand.
They left the hut and went out into the night.
“It’s unbelievable,” Conor said once they were outside, gazing up at the sky. “How could he not care about his own daughter?”
“He’s in pain,” Tarik said simply. “And the future of Okaihee looks very grim. It’s hard to know what he’s thinking in such a state. Whatever it is, he clearly doesn’t see a need to explain it to us.”
Conor bit back whatever he was about to say next.
Tarik tousled Conor’s hair. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “Sometimes the most important part of leadership is knowing when to let people have a piece of your mind.”
Conor nodded thoughtfully, and for once he didn’t blush from the praise.
Leadership? Rollan wondered, rolling his eyes. Tarik never spoke to Rollan about leadership. But then again, Conor was the one wearing the green cloak. Rollan wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing. It was trouble enough staying alive and keeping an eye out for all the people who might suddenly betray him, without worrying about setting an example for everyone else.
Rollan rubbed the corner of his own slate gray cloak between thumb and forefinger. He wouldn’t be turning it in for a green one anytime soon.
“So what do we do now?” he asked, if only to remind them he was still standing there.
“We learned one valuable piece of information here tonight,” Tarik said. “Animals from across Nilo are on their way south to Cabaro.” Tarik turned to Conor. “What do you think we should do?”
Conor considered it. “Our first priority should be the talisman. If the Conquerors get ahold of that, all of Erdas is lost.”
Tarik nodded grimly.
“Sounds good to me too,” Rollan grumbled. “Not that anyone asked.”
As they crossed to the southern edge of the village, Rollan found his mind drifting again. The lion in Pojalo’s hut had been scrawny and half-starved — but it had held its own against the three of them, not to mention Briggan and Essix.
What would fighting a healthy, full-sized lion be like? What would fighting a Great Beast–sized lion be like?
Rollan knew their only choice was to find Cabaro before the Conquerors did. But all the same, he wasn’t so sure that he wanted to. Not so sure at all.
CONOR COULDN’T UNDERSTAND WHY ANY PARENT WOULD willingly forsake a child. He knew that, as chieftain, Pojalo had many responsibilities. The welfare of Okaihee was first on his mind. But still …
Lost in thought, Conor tripped on a root. Cursing, he massaged his toes for a moment and then continued forward. They were marching through the nighttime savannah, and though there was plenty of moonlight it was hard to distinguish roots from the surrounding ground. Conor took a moment to look up at the bright, scattered stars and center himself, then hustled forward.
Abeke had always talked glowingly about her family. The Soama she’d described was so elegant, her father so wise. Now he’d finally met them, and rather than being impressed, all Conor felt was bitter.
Family had a peculiar hold on people, that was for sure. Conor knew that well, having given up the Iron Boar of Rumfuss to protect his own. All the same, he wished Abeke were with them now. He’d tell her not to take her father’s disinterest personally. She’d become like a sister to him, to all of them, and anyone could see what an extraordinary person she was.
Conor’s eyes stung as he thought again of the two voices that were missing from their journey, voices that might have been stilled forever, for all he knew.
He took a moment to look into the night sky and mouth some words. Somewhere, Abeke might be seeing the same stars. Stay strong, Abeke. Keep Meilin safe. Help her forgive herself.
“Hey, dreamer boy! Pick up the pace!” Rollan said, stumbling into Conor’s back and cuffing him on the shoulder. Conor shook his head and renewed his focus, stealing forward into the night. Up at the front, Briggan was alert. His ears were perked, the better to lead the band. But that didn’t mean Conor could allow himself to be anything less than vigilant in the dangerous countryside.
Once Conor had forced his thoughts back to their immediate surroundings, his senses benefitted more fully from his affinity with Briggan. The smells of the ground varied: from the crisp smell of parched grass to the nutty flavors of exposed roots. There were the musky smells of underground creatures and the slightly blander, watery fragrance of a termite mound. Even in the near-blackness, Conor could move quickly between the scents.
Tarik had decided that they would travel only during the nighttime, to maximize their chances of avoiding Conqueror patrols. It meant losing the advantage of sight, however, making Briggan’s sense of smell essential to their safety. With Briggan right in front of him, Conor found that his footsteps were surer. Tarik and Rollan followed behind, stepping only where Briggan and Conor did.
They couldn’t be more than a few miles south of Okaihee, but already the landscape was changing. The grassy smell began to hit Conor only rarely, replaced by a pungent, acidic fragrance, like aloe. Conor suspected they were approaching the jungle. Briggan must have sensed it too, as he slowed and came to a gradual halt. The wolf was comfortable traveling the grassland at night, but the jungle was something else entirely.
“The landscape is changing,” Conor announced, beckoning his friends in near.
“Do you sense any Conquerors around?” Tarik asked, his voice so close Conor could feel his breath on this throat.
Conor sniffed the air — he could smell animals near, but no people. “No,” he said.
Tarik lit a torch, and the glow bathed the faces of the three humans, the glittering eyes of the wolf, and the warm and mischievous eyes of Lumeo. The otter was wrapped around the back of Tarik’s neck. With a whoosh, Essix appeared out of the night sky and settled on Rollan’s shoulder. Conor jumped.
“Don’t worry. I’ll never get used to that either,” Rollan said.
“By my memory of Niloan geography, if we’re near the jungle, then we’ve made good progress toward the talisman,” Tarik said. “Cabaro is thought to live in an oasis in the desert south of the jungle.”
“Thought to?” Rollan asked, raising an eyebrow. Essix tweaked his ear with her beak. “Ow! What was that for?”
“Maybe she wants you to respect your elders,” Tarik said dryly.
“Fine,” Rol
lan said, rubbing his ear. “That hurt!”
Essix gave him an affectionate nuzzle while Tarik pivoted with the torch, scanning the area. “I was hoping there’d be someplace nearby where we could hide out during the day. But this stretch of savannah is wide open. We could move forward into the jungle and camp there, but I don’t relish that idea.”
“It’s our best option,” Conor said. “We can’t safely camp out in the open like this. The Conquerors could spot us the moment dawn broke.”
Tarik shook his head. “Leopards hunt the jungle at night, and they won’t be friendly like Uraza. If we get eaten by jungle creatures, the Devourer can take his time getting the talismans he needs to free Kovo. We should stop now and find the best shelter we can, or at least some cover.”
“But there is no cover,” Rollan said. He continued grumpily: “I’ll sleep wherever you order me to, my dear generals.”
Conor shot him a what’s-got-you-so-cranky? look. But it wasn’t hard to figure out. Abeke was missing … and Meilin. They were traveling all night and sleeping fitfully during the day. Conor knew he was grumpy too, somewhere deep inside, but he’d resolved not to let his own bad mood near the surface.
“Briggan and I can scout while you two boil water for our meal,” Conor said. “There has to be a stand of trees somewhere around here.” Conor didn’t love the idea of wandering the dark savannah, even with the aid of wolf senses, but there wasn’t much choice. Could Briggan’s acute sense of smell pick up a cobra or a black mamba? He wondered what a snake even smelled like.
“Did you hear that?” Rollan hissed, unsheathing his long dagger. Trusting his friend’s instincts, Conor loosened the hand ax at his belt. Soon he heard it too — a chattering sound, coming from the north. Heading right for them.
“What is it?” Tarik said. His eyes scanned the dark. Lumeo stood on Tarik’s shoulder and arched his back, hackles raised and teeth bared.
The smell was a little musty, with undertones of fruit. “Monkeys,” Conor breathed. “I think they’re monkeys.”
Rise and Fall Page 3