Even as Gerathon thrashed, Jhi appeared behind her, her soft placid eyes staring into Meilin’s. Jhi was begging her to stop. I can’t! Meilin wanted to cry out. Gerathon is attacking me!
Jhi’s compassion came over her in waves, and Meilin’s hands involuntarily relaxed, her grip loosening.
Gerathon struggled to make words. When the sound came out, it was a strangled rasp: When Nectar bonds a human and animal, neither is in charge. Bile is stronger than Nectar, because it allows one will to dominate. You have always striven for mastery, Meilin. You should allow yourself to dominate Jhi, and the rest of your companions. Your caring lessens you.
Meilin’s hands itched to squeeze again, to kill Gerathon while the serpent was at this small size, and under her hands. She tightened her fingers, when suddenly Jhi attacked — not Gerathon, but Meilin! Her paws batted at Meilin’s hands, trying to force her to release. The panda bellowed once, a sad and forceful wail.
The shock of it made Meilin release and fall back … and come to consciousness on a cold stone floor.
Meilin was in a turret room. A heavy trapdoor was set in the floor, and a single window cut through the thick stone walls, narrowing to an arrow slit. Jhi was right beside her, her paw on Meilin’s arm. Meilin scrambled away, and then saw the panda was relaxed, staring at her in concern. It really had been a dream. Meilin took the panda’s paw in her own and exhaled slowly, trying to breathe the nightmare away.
That’s when she saw Abeke.
The Niloan girl was laid out on the floor. She’d been savagely beaten. Deep scratches lined her jaw, and her arms were covered in defensive scrapes. Her throat was the worst, though: Wide bruises spread from her windpipe, ending in finger marks that fanned out like violet moth wings.
The fingers were the size of Meilin’s.
A wet sob escaped Meilin’s lips. She crawled over to Abeke, crouching and nudging her on the shoulders. “Oh, no,” Meilin cried. “Please, no. Please wake up, Abeke … I’m so sorry!”
Abeke’s eyes fluttered open. She saw Jhi and smiled groggily, wincing in pain.
Then Abeke saw Meilin, and her eyes widened in fear. She tried to stagger to her feet, but fell. Abeke pressed her back to the wall, holding her hands up protectively.
“No, Abeke, it’s okay!” Meilin said. “It’s me, just me. I won’t hurt you. I swear.”
Abeke slowly lowered her hands. Her body stayed rigid, though, her eyes wary. Meilin watched her friend fight to calm herself. “Meilin,” Abeke said, her voice croaking and hoarse. “You were possessed again. You attacked me.”
Meilin nodded gravely, wringing her hands. “I dreamed I was fighting Gerathon. I talked to her. I couldn’t see you, but I … thought it was her I was strangling. Jhi tried to warn me, but I was so confused. I’m sorry, Abeke. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Abeke said quietly. “I understand that. But I only barely fought you off. I called your name, but you weren’t reacting. It was like you couldn’t hear me.”
“I couldn’t,” Meilin said. She placed a hand on Jhi and the panda grunted in sympathy, looking at the two girls with her usual placid expression. “It was only because of Jhi that I was able to stop at all. How long was I … not myself?”
“I don’t know,” Abeke said. She dabbed experimentally at her neck wounds. “I woke up to you attacking me.”
Meilin put her face in her hands. “That’s so terrible.”
“I almost summoned Uraza,” Abeke said. “But I didn’t know what she would do. I was afraid she would attack you.”
“You should have,” Meilin said, looking at Abeke’s wounds. “I can’t believe I did that to you. I’d have deserved whatever Uraza did to me.”
Studiously avoiding Meilin’s gaze, Abeke eased to her feet, then padded gingerly to the window. “It’s too bad this faces the outside, not the courtyard. All I can see are a dense mangrove forest and the edge of some buildings leading to docks. Judging from the sandstone walls and the trimmed mangroves, Shane was telling the truth: We’re in a wealthy Niloan manor.”
Not knowing what to say, Meilin ran her fingers through Jhi’s fur. The panda grunted with pleasure.
They’d been in their cell two days, with nothing to eat or drink but one bucket of watery oats Shane had brought. Meilin wished she knew what the Devourer had in mind. Maybe it was simply to keep them out of the way while the Conquerors tracked down the remaining talismans. But from what she was learning about Gerathon, imprisonment wasn’t really her style. If all she wanted was to get them out of the way, they wouldn’t be in a cell. They’d be dead.
“We know Kovo was the mastermind behind the first great war,” Meilin said. “But I think it’s Gerathon’s talisman that actually creates the Bile. I saw it.”
“This could be useful information,” Abeke said. “I didn’t consider that you might be learning about Gerathon, that your possession might work two ways.”
“I didn’t either,” Meilin said, shrugging. “But Jhi kept showing up in my dream. My connection with her might be what allows me to reverse the direction, to empathize with Gerathon, in some strange way.” Meilin didn’t sense the serpent in her mind now, which meant the possession probably wasn’t permanent — Gerathon must have to intentionally enter her mind, not live there always.
“What we have to do,” Meilin continued, “is get the Conquerors to let you near Shane. He’s got a weak spot for you. We can use him to get us close to Gar.”
“Close to the Devourer? That’s what you want?”
“Yes. Close enough to kill him.”
Abeke looked at Meilin curiously. “I don’t think we stand a chance, Meilin. This place has to be crawling with Conquerors. Our best hope is to escape and find the others.”
Meilin stared at her fists. “That’s your best hope, Abeke, and I plan on making sure it happens. But I can’t run away. I’m a danger to you — it’s my fault you’re even in this mess. All I can hope is to strike quickly and provide enough of a distraction for you to escape.”
Abeke opened her mouth to protest, but paused.
She knows I’m right, Meilin thought.
They settled into an uncomfortable silence. For a few minutes Jhi licked the wounds on Abeke’s neck, and Meilin was heartened to hear Abeke sigh in relief. Then, once she’d healed Abeke as much as she could, Jhi sprawled out between the girls like a rug, looking from one to the other and back again.
Sometime later, when the sun was high in the sky, they heard a sound from the trapdoor. It opened an inch, and a familiar voice called out.
Shane.
“I’m coming up. But you should know that there are a half dozen guards with me. So don’t try anything.”
The girls exchanged a look, and Meilin nodded her assent.
“Okay,” Abeke said. “We won’t.”
“And no spirit animals,” Shane said. “If I see them out, I lock the trapdoor and leave.”
Meilin nodded again at Abeke. “Uraza is already dormant,” Abeke called. “Meilin’s taking Jhi into her passive form now.”
Meilin held out her arm and nodded to Jhi. The panda stared back at her, her jaw moving back and forth, like she was chewing bamboo. Meilin shook her arm. “Jhi! I’m not kidding around!”
Jhi kept staring. Meilin knew she could force the panda to go dormant, but she had never seen Jhi resist like this. A horrible thought struck her: Maybe Jhi didn’t trust her anymore.
“Please, Jhi,” Meilin pleaded. “Don’t make me do it.”
Jhi stayed motionless, but the silver eyes that met Meilin’s were full of accusation. The message was clear: Only one of them could make the other do anything.
Meilin took a deep breath, summoned all her will, and compelled Jhi to go dormant. It felt strange and awful, like she was jamming her best friend into a box two sizes too small. There was a burning sensation on Meilin’s arm and Jhi was gone, replaced by a tattoo. Meilin imagined that even the tattoo panda was looking at her reproachfully.
Shane poked his head in. All Meilin could see of him were two eyes and a fringe of blond hair. “Against the wall,” he ordered. “Um, please.”
The trapdoor opened farther, and Shane hopped off the ladder and into the cell, his tall frame reaching from the floor almost to the ceiling. Abeke and Meilin stared at him. Meilin could sense Abeke’s softness, and it worried her. Even if Shane was the kindest of their captors, Abeke needed to be using him, not falling for him.
Shane stood there, arms crossed over his powerful chest, his saber prominent at his hip. “So …” he said, trailing off awkwardly. He coughed. “My uncle has summoned you to an audience. I’ve been asked to bring you to him.”
“And if we refuse?” Abeke asked.
Shane cast his eyes to the floor, as if in pain. “Please don’t refuse. The moment you refuse to do something Uncle Gar asks, I’ve been ordered to kill you.”
THROUGHOUT HIS CHILDHOOD, CONOR HAD TO GET UP IN the dark to tend to his family’s sheep. Over the years his body had learned to spring alive the moment the night bleached even a bit, waking him during the bruised half hour before dawn.
Now he and his friends traveled by night and slept during the day: Dawn was the very moment he was supposed to go to bed. Conor was finding it difficult.
After several sleepless days in the open, they’d finally managed to find shelter in a deserted village. Conor didn’t need to imagine why it had been abandoned — they’d already passed squads of Conquerors transporting captured Niloans. They carted village animals too: Some growled and screeched from inside their reinforced cages, enlarged and slathering, corrupted by Bile.
It would have been hard enough for Conor to fall asleep at the very time of the day his body usually woke up. But after all he’d seen in the last days, it was nearly impossible. Long trails of human beings, starving and suffering. Fields aflame, set on fire by the Conquerors to force the people who had worked them for generations to flee.
Conor lay in a partially charred hut, with a big section of the thatched roof burned away to reveal the gray-black sky. Rollan and Tarik were already snoring, Lumeo snuggled down in the space between them. Irtike lay quietly on her back, eyes closed, Snake Eyes dozing at her collar. Conor didn’t know her well enough to be able to tell whether she was really asleep or just hoping for it.
Essix was tracing wheels in the sky, only occasionally coming into view through the gaping roof. The falcon, as ever, was essential for keeping them safe while they rested.
Conor wished for sleep. With one hand in Briggan’s fur, he lost himself in the wispy, pinking clouds, a few pinpoints of stars still visible behind them. He relaxed.
Until the birds came.
At first Conor didn’t know what he was hearing. The sky filled with a dull buzzing, and then the animals began to rush past, heading south. Conor thought it was a flock of swallows — he’d seen them fly past his village in Eura twice a year, blackening the sky for a few minutes on their way to distant places. But these weren’t swallows. They were too small, almost the size of insects.
Then he realized what he was seeing: hummingbirds. Thousands of hummingbirds in glittering blues, greens, and reds, flocking through the sky.
Parrots followed, bright green except for the occasional orange blur, all single-mindedly flying south toward Cabaro’s oasis, one nearly on top of the next.
Conor considered waking up the others, but they were sleeping so soundly, and needed their rest. So he watched the unfurling fabric of greens and oranges, listened to its squawking roar.
He must have fallen asleep, because sometime in the middle of the afternoon Conor was awakened by a strange tearing noise, like someone was ripping apart a shirt. Conor shot bolt upright and came face-to-face with Essix. The falcon was sitting in the scrap of bare earth that was still available in the small hut, making a meal of a parrot. Conor turned his face away and closed his eyes. “Essix, come on, can’t you do that outside?”
When he looked back, the parrot was eaten, bones and all, and Essix was peering at Conor with quizzical eyes, head tilted. What’s the big problem?
Conor wondered why Essix was no longer in the sky, but he didn’t have the kind of shorthand with the falcon that Rollan did. So he was relieved when Essix woke Rollan up by giving him a swift peck.
“Hey!” Rollan said, sitting up and rubbing his cheek. He looked at Essix’s expression, watching as the falcon cast her gaze outside. Rollan’s own face went from furious to intrigued. “Wake up Irtike and Tarik,” he said. “It seems Essix has found something we should see.”
They were mobilized and on the move within minutes. In the daylight, Conor and Irtike took the middle, with Tarik leading and Rollan at the rear, long dagger in hand. There were enough stands of baobab trees dotting the landscape that they could take shelter as they went, hiding in the shade and waiting for Essix’s piercing cry to let them know it was safe to make the trek to the next hiding spot.
Essix leading the way, the companions began to ascend, following a rocky dry streambed through yellow nettles until they were on a rise. After hiding themselves in a tuft of tall, dry sawtooth grass, they eyed a narrow pass through the cliffs.
“Oh,” Rollan whispered. “That’s … How awful.”
The pass was the only way through the cliffs for miles around, and it showed. There had clearly been many recent bloodbaths. Carcasses lined the sides, the bodies of everything from warthogs to hyenas to monitor lizards. Even humans. The narrow path that remained was rust-colored, the sand and stones soaked in blood.
“How did all those creatures die?” Conor asked.
“I think we’re about to find out,” Tarik said, pointing to the entrance of the narrow pass.
A herd of wildebeests was approaching, kicking up a cloud of heavy brown dust in the dry savannah. As they neared, a group of mounted Conquerors, clad in their black oiled leather uniforms and sewn-on breastplates, emerged from a hiding spot in the cliff side and began to ride along with them. They expertly navigated the sprinting mass, seamlessly joining the wildebeests.
As the herd neared the pass, it didn’t slow at the bottleneck. Wildebeests were crushed against the side of the canyon or lost under stampeding hooves. “That’s why all those animals died,” whispered Conor. “They’ve gone mindless. It’s terrible.”
“I don’t think that’s all that’s killing them,” Irtike said, pointing at the far end of the pass.
Ostriches emerged from their own hiding places at the far cliffs, standing in a straight line before the stampeding wildebeests and the Conquerors among them. Once the first animals neared, the ostriches turned so their backs were to them. They peered over their tail feathers and each lifted a leg, as if taking aim. Conor cringed, waiting for the powerful birds to strike out at the witless wildebeests.
“Really?” Rollan asked. “Attack ostriches? Is that a thing?”
“Ostriches are some of the deadliest animals in all of Nilo,” Tarik said grimly. “Watch and learn.”
The first wildebeest arrived at the ostrich line. The birds didn’t attack it, though — they let the animal pass right between them.
When the first Conqueror on horseback arrived, however, the nearest ostrich used one burst from its wings to rise into the air. Its leg lashed out, thick muscles evident even from a distance. The clawed foot struck the Conqueror squarely in his helmet and he went flying, impacting the cliff wall with a thud audible even over the stampede. The helmet was dented all the way in; the Conqueror must have been killed instantly.
His steed, though, was allowed to pass right through. The horse joined the herd of wildebeests, at least those that had survived trampling, and streamed out to the south.
The next Conqueror to reach the ostrich line tried to veer away, but the wildebeest herd was tight around her. She was
drawn forward and met a similar end, kicked in the head by an ostrich. Even Tarik had to look away.
Eventually the Conquerors were all felled, their horses liberated, and the surviving wildebeests were a cloud in the far distance. The ostriches retreated to either side of the canyon.
“Now,” Rollan said, “anyone want to tell me what for the love of Mulop just happened?”
“I have a theory,” Conor said.
“So do I,” Tarik said, nodding approvingly. “Go on, tell yours first.”
“Clearly the Conquerors joined that herd intentionally. They thought they could pass by the ostriches if they were intermingled with wild animals. Only it didn’t work. The ostriches picked them off.”
“Yes,” Tarik said excitedly. “Exactly. Only animals are being allowed to pass. But no Conquerors.”
“No humans in general,” Irtike said, pointing at the bodies at the side of the canyon. “There’s tribal clothing down there. Not just Conqueror gear.”
“That fits what we know of Cabaro,” Tarik said. “He hates humans. Perhaps he wishes for a kingdom in which there are only animals.”
“He appears to be getting his wish,” Irtike said grimly.
“This cliff goes for miles,” Rollan said. “The Granite Ram might get us across, if Essix ferried it between us. Or she could carry us over one by one if we used the Slate Elephant to enlarge her.”
“But these ostriches are likely only an advance guard,” Tarik said. “Cabaro has made his purpose clear. Humans are not welcome. We will be attacked on sight.”
“Not all of us,” Conor mused. “Briggan and Lumeo would pass by fine.”
“And Snake Eyes,” Irtike said defensively, brandishing the mole rat.
“Agh, warn me before you pull that thing out!” said Rollan.
“Right, and Snake Eyes,” Conor said, averting his eyes from the hideous creature. “In any case, it’s just people who have trouble getting through. Like us.”
Tarik nodded wearily, peering down at the carnage, his lips a grim line. Conor knew how much the loss of Abeke and Meilin weighed on him, though Tarik never said as much. Conor just wished he had some way of convincing Tarik that he wasn’t personally responsible for everything that happened to them.
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