“Lots and lots of monkeys,” Rollan said.
“Oh,” Tarik said as the first animal appeared at the edge of the torchlight. “Those are baboons. Not usually dangerous. Everyone hold still.”
The first baboon, a swollen pregnant female with another infant on her back, passed right between them, ignoring the travelers as fully as if they’d been trees. Then the next baboons came, a pair of juveniles no higher than Conor’s knee. One paused for a moment to stare up at him with its pinched brown eyes, before continuing south.
“More animals on a mission,” Rollan said. “And heading south, like the rest, if I’m judging the direction right.”
Tarik’s face went stony as he peered into the torchlight. “Many, many animals heading south.”
Four baboons soon became ten, then dozens and hundreds. It was a large troop of them, sweeping across the grassland in one unbroken mass. They shrieked loudly, squabbling with one another as they moved.
Then the full horde was suddenly upon them. They were on all sides, so there was nowhere to run; all Conor could do was drop to his knees and cover his head as the flood crawled over him. Tiny fingernails poked his scalp and neck and picked at his shirt. Conor waved his hand ax in the air, hoping it would frighten them off, but it did little good.
Fingers reached into his pockets and under his shirt. Probably searching for food, Conor realized. He held his satchel tightly to his chest. Inside it was the Granite Ram of Arax. That was a treasure he would lose his life defending, if need be. He dropped his hand ax and used his shepherd’s crook instead to ward off any baboons that got too close. At least the monkeys saw him as an obstacle, rather than a target — if they decided to attack, this horde could rip them all to shreds.
Rollan cried out. Conor looked up, his vision nearly obstructed by the mass of baboons. First he saw Briggan, shaking every once in a while like he was drying from a swim, each ferocious quiver sending any baboons that had crawled onto him flying off. Tarik and Lumeo were faring better. Tarik was picking the monkeys off like ticks and throwing them away from him. Lumeo was latched onto his head, swiping his claws at any baboons that came too near.
Rollan, though, must have lost his footing — he was sprawled on his back, covered in the baboons that were tromping over him. He held something aloft, desperate to keep it out of the monkeys’ reach — the Coral Octopus of Mulop.
Conor edged toward him, but every place he tried to put his foot seemed to already have a monkey underneath. All he needed was to fall over too. Then the baboons could steal the Granite Ram and the Slate Elephant along with the Coral Octopus.
A cry broke the night sky, and suddenly Conor’s view was full of falcon feathers. Essix soared in and plucked a baboon from Rollan, flew a few feet away, and dropped it into the frenzied mass before heading back for another. There were plenty of baboons to replace each one she removed, though, and Rollan was having more and more trouble keeping the talisman away from the swarm. An elderly baboon, with ragged ears and drooping lips, lunged for it.
“Essix!” Conor called. “The talisman! Grab the talisman instead!”
On her next pass, the falcon went straight for Rollan’s hand. Her talons clenched the Coral Octopus’s rawhide cord, and then she was aloft. She hung a dozen feet up in the air, wings beating furiously. Conor sensed her indecision; surely what she wanted most was to save Rollan — but the Coral Octopus was even more important. The baboons, lustful at the sight of the shiny treasure, made running leaps and tried to catch it, but they came far short each time.
None of the baboons wanted the treasure enough to break off their southerly journey, though. They’d make a few lunges, then move on. The horde began to thin out, and Conor was able to pick his way along the ground to Rollan’s side.
The last baboons were the youngest, small juveniles that scampered to catch up to their parents. One tiny baboon ran up Tarik’s back, only to be rewarded with a swipe across the face from Lumeo’s paw. It squeaked in surprise, then scampered off into the night to catch up to its troop.
“That,” Rollan said, panting, “was insane.” With a cry of agreement, Essix dropped the talisman, then landed on a nearby branch and began preening her baboon-ruffled feathers back into order.
Conor handed the Coral Octopus back to Rollan, then secured the Slate Elephant in his satchel, alongside the Granite Ram. He then checked himself and Briggan for wounds. They had plenty of scratches, and Briggan’s eye was half-lidded where it must have been poked, but there were no serious injuries.
“We need to find some shelter,” Conor finally said to Tarik.
“Perhaps I can help,” came a small voice out of the darkness.
Tarik jerked in surprise and Rollan leaped into the air, Essix right beside him, screeching and beating her wings. Barely having caught his breath, Conor struggled to get his hand ax out and at the ready. “Who’s there?”
Conor thought he recognized the voice, but it wasn’t until she emerged into the torchlight that he realized who it was for sure. “Irtike?”
The skinny Okaihee girl looked worn and tired, hobbling forward on scratched bare feet. “Yes,” she said simply, clasping her hands at her waist.
“Did you follow us all the way from your village?” asked Conor.
She nodded. “The chieftain ordered me to stay. But my mother was … If you’re going into Conqueror territory, I want to go with you. My heart lives outside of Okaihee now.”
Tarik’s face was unreadable, but Rollan vigorously shook his head.
“Absolutely not,” he said. “You can’t come with us. We’ve been going slowly enough.” He looked at Tarik, who seemed to still be considering. “She’s not even wearing any shoes, Tarik!”
Irtike spoke evenly and calmly. “I followed you easily enough, didn’t I? In fact, I left hours after you did, and picked up your trail with no problem. Yours especially, Rollan. To find you, all I had to do was listen for someone howling in fear under a pile of monkeys. So who here is the liability?”
At first Rollan’s face turned red, but then he broke out laughing. “Well played, Irtike.”
Irtike continued. “You’ve been moving at night. I can understand why you would, since you don’t want to be detected by the Conquerors. But you’ve been very fortunate to have survived so far. The Conquerors have been doing more than destroying villages — they’ve been force-feeding their Bile to animals, making them into powerful monsters that will attack anyone on sight. And I shouldn’t have to tell you that some of the most dangerous animals in southern Nilo are nocturnal. Leopards, lions, spiders, and snakes.”
“Briggan’s sense of smell keeps us safe,” Conor said proudly.
“A sense of smell won’t keep you from stumbling into quicksand. In Nilo, quicksand can drown a steer in seconds.”
“And what, you can sense quicksand in the nighttime?” Rollan asked incredulously.
“Yes, I can,” Irtike said simply. “You definitely need me.”
“What is with the people from Okaihee?” Rollan asked, shaking his head. “So pushy.”
“Irtike,” Tarik said. “How exactly can you sense quicksand?”
The girl lowered her eyes shyly. “The year before she died, my mother presided over my eleventh nameday. She had me drink the Nectar of Ninani, and I summoned a spirit animal. I am the first since Abeke to do so.” She turned to Tarik and bowed her head. “I hoped the Greencloaks might come for me one day.”
“I suspect we would have, if we’d known,” Tarik said. “But I wonder: You summoned a spirit animal, and yet Pojalo didn’t consider you a candidate for the village Rain Dancer. He didn’t even mention your animal. What did you summon?”
Irtike reached into a fur-lined leather bag slung across her chest and came out with cupped hands. She moved into the torchlight before she opened them. The companions slowly peered in.
Rollan yelled in disgust. “Ahh! What is that?!”
Conor had to force himself to keep his eyes on the creat
ure. It had to be the ugliest living thing he’d ever seen. It was the size of a rat — maybe it even was a rat — but it was totally hairless. Its skin was a gooey pink color that transitioned into jaundiced yellow wherever it folded. The eyes were covered by pale membranes that made them look like ticks burrowed under the skin. The monstrous little creature had two long yellow teeth sticking out of its lower jaw. They gnashed as it sniffed the air.
“I guess you roll the dice when you summon a spirit animal, and take what you get,” Rollan said. “Sometimes you roll snake eyes. Or, whatever kind of eyes those are.”
“Enough!” Irtike said, her brows knitted tight. “He’s the reason I’ve been able to follow you so easily. Not that I’d have had trouble following you, He-Who-Shrieks-At-Baboons.”
Conor forced himself to look at the creature again. “He helps you follow? But he’s … blind,” he said.
“Exactly,” Irtike said proudly. “Naked mole rats usually spend their lives underground. Sensing vibrations is how they know the world, because there’s no light down there.”
“Sensing vibrations is no better than Briggan’s sense of smell,” Conor said defensively.
Irtike stroked the mole rat’s back. He lifted his wet nose into the air in pleasure, managing to get even uglier in the process. “That’s not true,” Irtike said. “Did Briggan allow you to smell that there’s a sheer cliff face fifty yards ahead? I don’t think so. My spirit animal is a leader among the mole rats. Like ants or bees, they live as a hive. He can call on other nearby mole rats to aid him. He also grants me the power to move the earth itself.”
Rollan went so pale it was visible even in the torchlight. “There’s a cliff face fifty yards ahead?”
Irtike smiled with satisfaction. “Who’s ugly now?”
“Oh, I’ll admit that your little monster is useful,” Rollan said. “But I’ll never admit that he’s anything less than one hundred percent ugly.” He glanced at it again, and shuddered. “Gah!”
“Which direction do you suggest we go?” Tarik asked.
“So I may go with you?” Irtike said shrewdly.
Conor found himself nodding before he even considered the question. Tarik paused, then also gave a quick nod. Rollan crossed his arms over his chest.
“Very good,” Irtike said. “I’ll tell you. I understand why you wanted to go into the jungle. The Conquerors can’t patrol it well, and you’d be under cover. But even Essix wouldn’t be able to see from above that the jungle floor is full of muddy cliffs and quicksand. It’s impassable. You’d die trying to cross it.”
“What do you suggest instead?” Conor asked.
“The baboons can go due south,” Irtike said, “because they travel in the treetops. Through my mole rat I sensed hoofbeats earlier. They veered left along here, then continued south a mile farther. That seems to be where all the land-bound creatures are heading. There must be some passable route that way.”
“And thus, we should follow their path,” Tarik said. “Do you agree, boys?”
Conor nodded. Rollan gave an almost imperceptible nod, shifting his dagger at his belt.
“And so it will be,” Tarik said softly.
Irtike leaned her ear next to the mole rat, then looked back up. “I can sense a softness in the soil a half mile east of here. Usually that means a fallen tree. We can probably shelter beneath it safely.”
“A wise plan,” Tarik said. But then he clasped Irtike’s shoulder and looked at her seriously. “You’ve made a courageous choice, to leave the only place you’ve known and follow us. But you should know that this quest could put you in grave danger. We’ve lost good friends to this war, Irtike. People much too young have been taken from us, perhaps forever. No one would fault you for changing your mind.”
“Thank you,” Irtike murmured. “But I’m sure of my choice. The war is everywhere here in Nilo, and I’ve lost my mother to it as well. I will travel with you and do what little I can to help.”
Tarik nodded, his expression solemn. He seemed reluctant to let go of Irtike’s shoulder, but eventually he pulled away, giving Lumeo a scratch under the chin with a sad smile.
“Say,” Rollan said, finally plucking up the courage to look at the mole rat again. “What name did you come up with for your little monster?”
Irtike shrugged. “Pojalo said he would be the one to choose a name. But he never got around to it. How did you come up with your animals’ names?”
“Briggan and Essix were named long before any of us were born,” Tarik said. “Lumeo is the brightest thing in my life, so his name was obvious to me, from the root word for light.” The otter curled tighter around the back of Tarik’s neck, nuzzling the underside of his chin. “Most spirit animals like to have some say in their own naming. They are not pets. They’re partners.”
“I don’t know,” Irtike said, looking at her mole rat. He bobbed his head in the torchlight. “I’m not that good at coming up with names. And I can’t exactly ask him.”
“Snake Eyes it is, then,” Rollan said. “Hi there, Snake Eyes.” The mole rat bobbed his head in Rollan’s direction, his blind eyes pointing toward the boy. His blotchy, naked flesh went stiff, wrinkling and folding whenever the mole rat moved.
Rollan gagged. “Wow,” he said, heaving in air. “It’s worse than a walrus. I never thought I’d say it, but the thing looks even worse than a walrus.”
“Come on,” Tarik said, snuffing out the torch. “Let’s move toward the fallen tree Irtike located. I’d like us to be safely hidden away before dawn comes.”
Conor tapped his lips. “I think Irtike and … Snake Eyes should be with me in the front. The breeze is at our backs, so Briggan and I can only smell what’s behind us. We’ll know if there are any more animals streaming from the north, but that’s about it.”
Tarik nodded. “Let it be so.”
“There’s really no need to worry, everybody,” Rollan said. “If we meet any wild beasts on the way, we’ll sic Irtike’s mole rat on them.”
They started forward again. Letting his senses merge with Briggan’s, Conor felt the night come alive. He smelled nestlings in the treetops and seeds blown from the grasses in the night winds, and earthworms burrowing up toward the starry sky.
All the while, he and his friends moved quietly over the savannah, toward Cabaro.
Toward the lion’s lair.
MEILIN’S DREAM BEGAN WITH JHI. HERE WAS THE WIDE, furry body, and two soft round ears. Arms open, ready to embrace her.
She floated to the panda. Once she was near enough, Meilin reached out and fell deep into Jhi’s pillowy warmth. At once tender and strong, the bear’s arms reached around her, cradling her like a child, claws tight against Meilin’s back.
Words passed from Meilin’s mind to Jhi’s: Don’t you hate me now, for my betrayal? She’d never asked that before. Why hadn’t she asked Jhi something so important?
The panda stared at Meilin with her wide, expressive eyes, full of compassion. Jhi didn’t hate her. She must have been the last being in Erdas that didn’t — Meilin included.
She wanted to sink deeper into the comfort of Jhi’s soft embrace. I am weak and powerless, she wanted to say. I need you to protect me. But Meilin was a warrior, and even now couldn’t bring herself to say that. She didn’t need to, though: Jhi knew what she needed. The panda’s arms tightened around her even more, and for a moment Meilin relaxed. But then she saw a new feeling enter Jhi’s ordinarily placid eyes: fear.
A foul wind picked up. It pulled on her hair, then ripped Meilin from her spirit animal’s grasp. Her fingers desperately raked Jhi’s ribs as she was wrested away. Jhi’s wide silver eyes stared at her unblinkingly, the last thing Meilin saw in the darkness until they too faded from view.
Meilin slowed and stilled. Shapes formed at the murky edges of her dream and came together to reveal a man in a horned helmet, his thick arms crossed. The Devourer.
Instantly Meilin fell into her fighting stance. A quarterstaff appeared in her h
ands — the training bo that she hadn’t seen since her youth, with grips of white cotton, stained brown in places by blood leaked from calloused knuckles — and immediately she went on the offensive. She began a combo sequence she’d once used to best her father himself in a sparring test. Jab jab roundhouse slash, jab jab roundhouse ankle.
The Devourer had a quarterstaff in his own hands now, and blocked each move with the very ones her father had once used, until Meilin dropped low, ready to uppercut. If this went like before, this was when she’d win.
But now the Devourer didn’t do what her father had once done. He crouched low, like her, so that suddenly Meilin found herself staring right into the gaping black eyeholes of his mask.
They froze there, motionless, the Devourer tilting his head left and right, staring into Meilin’s soul. She wanted to raise her arms to attack, but was powerless. A glow entered her vision, and she saw something shining green at the Devourer’s throat. The light was chilly and beautiful. A totem shaped like a coiling beast faced her, carved from bright stone. The Jade Serpent of Gerathon.
Meilin watched in horror as talisman’s face turned to stare at her. As its mouth opened.
Those blank serpentine eyes filled Meilin’s vision, and then the beast was Gerathon herself, only smaller, the same size as Meilin. The cobra unhinged her mouth, and giant fangs filled the dreamspace when the serpent lunged. Meilin managed to get her hands around its neck before the fangs reached her, and was sprayed instead by a yellow-green fluid.
Bile.
It was all over her face and throat. She retched at the reek of it, and the Bile burned wherever it had contacted her skin. But she managed to keep her hands around Gerathon, right below her fanged mouth.
Meilin squeezed. Even as she did, she put a thought together: The Jade Serpent of Gerathon. That’s where the Bile comes from.
Enraged, Gerathon opened her mouth to bite, and Meilin saw only red and bone. But she managed to keep her grasp on the thrashing beast. Sweat dotted Meilin’s brow as the scaly cords of muscle under her hands shivered and struggled.
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