Though Conor’s aim was true, the blade made only a superficial wound on the giant beast. Still, the great cat howled in pain. Cabaro released his stranglehold on Briggan and leaped from the wolf, his claws raking Briggan’s flesh as he launched. Cabaro twisted in the air and landed in the midst of his lionesses. Conor was rocketed off, tumbling through the air.
Cabaro roared, powerful and deafening. The lazy, smiling cat was gone. This was a savage opponent, the strongest they’d yet seen, made even more fearsome by his swirling lionesses, snapping and snarling.
“At my side!” Tarik called, waving his companions to him. “Back to back!”
Irtike was already there, and Rollan joined her, shoulder to shoulder. Conor wouldn’t leave Briggan’s side, though. The Great Wolf was breathing but seemed stunned — he tried to get to his feet and failed. “It’s okay,” Conor whispered, stroking Briggan’s paw. “You’re going to be okay.”
Tarik brought Irtike and Rollan over to Conor, and together they took positions around Briggan, weapons at the ready to protect their friend. Essix hovered above, talons out, wings whipping up dust.
Cabaro and his lionesses circled them, lunging and feinting, long teeth gleaming. Each time a lioness came close, Tarik or Rollan lashed out with his weapon. Conor would have joined them, but his ax was gone, lost in the tumult. For the moment, their mock attacks seemed to be keeping the lions at bay — just. But Conor started hearing something that alarmed him: Wild dogs were yipping at their backs.
“Dogs too? This is impossible!” Rollan said, just loudly enough for his companions to hear. “We don’t stand a chance!”
“Retreating is not an option,” Tarik said. “None of us could outrun any of the lionesses.”
His companions covering him, Conor inspected the deep gashes on Briggan’s neck. Tears of worry and anger dotted his eyes. “Briggan’s hurt badly.”
Conor’s vision swam as he looked at his hands. They were soaked in bright red blood. Briggan’s blood.
“He must go into his dormant form,” Tarik ordered. “Now. Before he bleeds out here.”
Conor nodded. He focused his energy and stared deep in to Briggan’s panicked eyes, begging him to go. Then, with a familiar searing snap, Briggan was gone, back to a tattoo on Conor’s arm.
One of the lionesses whirled, looked at the jungle’s edge, and gave a startled cry. Irtike followed her gaze and, Snake Eyes in hand, closed her eyes. “Gentlemen,” Irtike said softly, her focus in the trees, “our situation is about to get much worse.”
MEILIN WAS SURROUNDED BY DEPRESSED RATS.
She didn’t know how many hours she’d sat motionless in the corner of the dank abandoned customs house, hidden away against a wall of slimy rotten wood, the rats skittering near. Once they’d gotten close to Meilin and Jhi, though, each one seemed to give up on moving, and lay flat on the floor. Meilin knew this was probably Jhi protecting her by pacifying them, but it seemed as if the rats felt the sadness coming from the girl, and were struck motionless by the weight of it.
On the other side of the thin walls, Meilin could hear running feet, urgent conversations, and the creaks and groans of ships being manned for sea. But no one had come inside and found her yet. She was still alive.
The customs house stayed silent. The floor was damp and smelled faintly of past cargoes, of oily fish and quicklime and spilled ale. There were lines of grime on the floor around the crates, and the sawdust on the ground was dotted with mold.
Jhi sat on the floor with her back to Meilin, who was picking absently through the panda’s coarse hair, removing any bits of dirt she came across. Meilin wished she could do something to help Abeke — but only the speed of their ship would determine Abeke and Shane’s fate now. There was nothing Meilin could do about that.
But it wasn’t truly Abeke who Meilin was thinking about now. Meilin had seen plenty of people fall in recent months, but strangely, Drina’s death tormented her most of all.
First was the terrible swiftness of it. Drina had gone from living to dead in the space of seconds. Meilin also found it hard not to replay the moment of the bite over and over — those fangs had sliced the thin skin of Drina’s wrist like a knife. The girl might have died from the blood loss even if the poison hadn’t been so lethal.
As if sensing Meilin’s dark thoughts, Jhi swung her head around and caught her gaze. The panda’s silver eyes drooped at the corners. Meilin avoided Jhi’s melancholy stare.
Because what struck her most was the fact that Drina had been killed by her own spirit animal. Meilin had no idea what went on in a spider’s mind, but the animal had been bonded to Drina. Gerathon’s influence had been enough to subvert the spirit animal bond — something deep and primal and sacred. If Gerathon could force a spirit animal against its owner, then the serpent could make someone who was poisoned by the Bile do anything.
Someone like Meilin.
Could Gerathon turn her against Jhi? She wouldn’t know until she woke up from a dream and found out after the fact, discovered the panda wounded or dying by her side. Meilin realized with a start that it was only a matter of time before Gerathon used her mental link to track her down; that meant she had only a short time before she’d be caught.
She had to act now.
“Jhi,” Meilin whispered. “We passed an armory when we were fleeing. We’re going back there.”
When Meilin got to her feet, the rats stood as well, shook their heads groggily, and limped away into nearby crates. Then Jhi got up to all fours. There was excitement in the panda’s eyes — finally, they were fighting back.
Breath held, Meilin cracked open the door to the docks, then let it close again. She had no intention of getting herself captured the moment she walked out of the customs house. A trio of guards was right at the waterfront, staring out to sea with a spyglass. Meilin figured it was a good sign if they needed a spyglass to see Abeke and Shane.
“Jhi, I need you to go dormant. You’re too big. You’ll attract attention.”
The panda looked at her placidly, her only motion one long blink.
“Jhi,” Meilin said warningly, “go dormant this instant.”
Jhi flicked one ear at her, and her head rocked to one side.
“Did you just shake your head? At the daughter of General Teng of Zhong?”
Jhi only stared.
“Fine!” Meilin said. She pressed her will around Jhi. The panda took on an even more mournful look, her essence squeezed tight, and then she disappeared into her tattoo.
“I’m sorry, Jhi,” Meilin said, shaking her head, keenly aware of the trespass she had just made. “It’s for the best.” Her father used to say those words to her, when work was going to take him away for weeks. Always with love. Meilin gritted her teeth.
She knew those soldiers would only keep their attention trained on the sea for so long — she had to move. Meilin opened the rickety door again, wincing when the corroded joints squeaked. The men still had their backs to her. She slipped along the side of the building, away from the docks.
Just like in the outposts of Zhong, the manor’s armory was within its walls, so guards could easily arm themselves while they defended their leaders. That meant Meilin would have to pass back up the alleys of the city’s derelict shops and houses and find a way through the portcullis gate. She took a deep breath, then stole forward.
She did as Rollan had once instructed her, following the technique he’d learned during his Amayan street rat days: run along a wall, slow at the corner, peer around, then run along the next wall. It was the split seconds between walls that were dangerous. Most thieves got nabbed in the open space between corners. As she sprinted and paused, sprinted and paused, Meilin imagined Rollan was with her, his pace matching hers. She might have received more formal training than he had, might have more breeding and etiquette, but right here, right now, he would have outclassed her. Meilin desperately wished he could be alongside her.
It wasn’t hard to tell when a Conqueror was
coming near — they moved heedlessly through their stronghold, heeled boots clomping. With plenty of advance warning, Meilin was able to make her way back to the manor wall without much difficulty. She hid in the shade of a stable and peered at the main entrance, debating what to do.
Everyone else must have been down at the port, readying ships to go after Abeke and Shane (and, they must have assumed, Meilin). Only one soldier remained at the entry, standing worriedly in the open space, his spear resting against a wall. He looked young to Meilin — a recent recruit, all nerves and insecurity.
He would do perfectly.
After making sure no one was nearby, Meilin summoned Jhi. When the panda appeared, she stared at Meilin balefully. “I’m sorry I forced you away,” Meilin said curtly, “but you don’t sneak well. You just don’t. It’s a fact.”
While Jhi continued her accusing stare, Meilin pointed at the guard and whispered, “Can you calm him? Just so he doesn’t attack me right away. Please do that for me.”
Jhi looked at her with what Meilin thought was distrust, and it made her heart quake. Then the panda sighed and noiselessly padded out of the shadows. The guard saw her, opened his mouth to yell, then went strangely limp. His knees bent and his arms hung at his side, hands open, the sword clattering to the ground. He looked like a kid who had come across a fluffy bunny and melted at the cuteness of it.
Steadying her breath, Meilin stepped out of the shadows and joined Jhi.
At first the guard stayed relaxed. Then his face contorted and he picked up his sword, advancing on Meilin and Jhi. Meilin let him come, her hands at her sides.
She felt Jhi’s eyes on her and knew the panda was relaxed; this soldier was nothing Meilin couldn’t handle. But when the girl continued to hold still, Jhi’s usually serene eyes flickered with fear. When the boy was almost within striking distance and Meilin hadn’t yet crouched into a fighting stance, Jhi cast her gaze back to the Conqueror, probably working her hardest to calm him again.
The guard stepped closer, sword outstretched.
Meilin knew she had to fight him if she wanted to get to the armory. But suddenly, faced with this nervous boy not much older than herself, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. How could she kill someone who was doing his duty? After her own betrayal, nothing was as clear as it once was, and without that clarity, her resolve wouldn’t tighten into the will to fight.
The soldier raised his sword.
Jhi roared. Meilin startled. She’d never heard the sound from the panda before. Then Jhi was on her back legs, mouth open, teeth bared. The roar became louder, then Jhi slammed down on the soldier, swiping with her paw. Her claw caught him in the middle of his chest, and he sprawled back, skidding across the sandstone floor. He was out cold.
The panda got back to all fours, breathing heavily. Her breathing slowed, and she regained her usual composure.
“Jhi,” Meilin said, staring at Jhi with her mouth wide open. “What just happened?”
She gave Meilin a long look, as if to say, Well, you weren’t going to do anything.
Meilin looked at her companion with newfound wonder, then tilted her head. Footsteps approached — she was running out of time. Meilin ducked through the entranceway and into the shaded edges of the courtyard, Jhi tailing close beside her.
Pressed against the inside of the manor’s wall was a narrow stone structure with an angled thatch roof. The iron-banded door was ajar, and through the portal Meilin could see a halberd. Its curved blade caught a glint of the midday sun.
She and Jhi skirted the wall and ducked inside, Jhi’s wide backside only just managing to fit through. Meilin pressed the door nearly closed, leaving it ajar only enough so that a stray beam of sunlight illuminated the interior.
Jhi looked enormous in the narrow armory. The panda sat in the middle of the room and gazed around wonderingly, holding her forelimbs tight to her chest so they didn’t knock over the racks of weapons. Meilin too scanned over the contents. The quality wasn’t nearly as high as Zhongese weapons — even in the dim light she could see rust along the blades — but there was a broad range to choose from. Some Niloan spears, probably seized from conquered villages, and plenty of weapons the Conquerors must have brought from Stetriol. Polearms lined one wall, crossbows another, and swords the last. Dangling above it all were the secondary tools of war: shields and caltrops, scabbards and sharpening stones. Jhi followed Meilin’s eyes as they wandered around the armory, taking in all the options along with her companion.
Meilin paced the walls, fingertips trailing the shaft of a poleax, the trigger of a crossbow. Then she found something that would suit her purpose. Gracefully boosting herself atop a weapon rack, she reached high along the wall. The item she wanted was almost out of reach, and straining for it made a quiver clatter to the ground. Meilin flinched, going still, but a moment later she stretched again and just managed to snag it.
As Meilin pounced back to the floor, Jhi squinted at her. Then she saw what Meilin was holding and lumbered forward, growling again. Meilin wondered at the panda’s new assertive side, but figured her own unusual behavior was probably bringing it out.
“Stop, Jhi,” Meilin said softly. “I have to do this. You understand why.”
Jhi hesitated, then took another step forward. “Jhi,” Meilin said warningly, “don’t try to block me.”
Baffled and sad, Jhi reached out toward the heavy object in Meilin’s hands and pawed at the air. Her growl began to sound more like a whine.
Meilin turned her back on Jhi and kneeled on the floor. She dropped the heavy metal device into her lap. Manacles.
Jhi tugged on Meilin’s shoulder with her paw, trying to spin her around. But Meilin shrugged her off. She opened one of the manacles and placed her wrist inside, then closed it and turned the key. Jhi crying all the while, Meilin did the same to her other wrist.
She stared at her manacled wrists in her lap, almost too heavy to lift. These handcuffs were strong, and would be very difficult to remove. She dropped the key into a quiver, chosen at random. It tinkled against the wooden shafts as it fell to the bottom of the leather case. It would be nearly impossible to free her, even if Gerathon possessed her. Then, sighing heavily, Meilin slumped to the ground and closed her eyes.
No matter if Gerathon entered her mind now. There was no way to betray her companions here in the Conqueror base, and if she was in manacles, there was no way to use her against Jhi. Mind control didn’t matter if the body was useless.
Meilin was still facing away from Jhi, but she could sense the panda behind her. “Now we just wait to be discovered.”
She could hear Jhi’s labored breathing. “I’m sorry,” Meilin said, scrunching her eyes shut, her voice hitching. “I’m … sorry.”
The sound got closer. She could feel the panda’s breath hot on the back of her neck.
“I’m ashamed, Jhi,” Meilin whispered. “I’m so ashamed.”
Jhi’s body was warm. “I need you to go back to a tattoo,” Meilin said. “So you can be safe.”
But Jhi didn’t budge. If Meilin wanted her to go dormant, she’d have to force her. “Even you don’t trust me,” Meilin said. “And I don’t blame you. I’ve lost everyone and everything.”
Suddenly there was something heavy, rough, and warm on Meilin’s shoulders. It pressed, too strong to resist, and Meilin was on her back. She looked up through teary vision to see Jhi staring down at her. The giant panda’s face wasn’t usually expressive, but Meilin knew what was shining out of Jhi.
Love.
Meilin put her hands over her eyes, the manacle’s chain heavy against her throat.
Jhi shifted so she too was laid out on the floor beside Meilin. There was barely room for the two of them, and as Jhi moved she sent a rack of knives clattering to the ground. Guards would be upon them soon.
But for right now, it was just the two of them. Some of the guilt binding Meilin’s heart loosened. It wasn’t that Jhi distrusted her. Jhi loved her, and didn’t want he
r to be alone.
Meilin turned toward Jhi, clutched the panda’s long coarse fur in her fists, and pressed her face into her belly. Jhi leaned over and gave Meilin’s forehead small licks, over and over, like she was a panda cub that needed cleaning. At first Meilin hated the sensation of being so helpless, but soon found herself enjoying it.
“Thank you, Jhi,” Meilin said softly, even as she heard booted footsteps approaching the armory door.
It struck her that she couldn’t have asked for a better spirit animal to get her through this guilt — a weight that she’d been carrying since the Hundred Isles. Since before that, maybe. Meilin never forgave anything — least of all herself.
Jhi forgave everything.
“I’m lucky, Jhi,” Meilin said as the door creaked open and the first Conquerors barged in. “I’m so lucky that you came to me.”
Jhi gave her a long lick down her cheek and snuggled in closer, putting her arms around Meilin protectively.
“WAIT,” ROLLAN SAID. “YOU MEAN WE HAVE MORE COMPANY? Cabaro and four lionesses weren’t enough?”
“And wild dogs,” Conor said, looking around nervously. “I heard wild dogs too.”
“I can sense something very heavy,” Irtike said, eyes closed, “approaching through the jungle.”
Then Rollan heard the crashing sounds too. A distant treetop trembled and fell, then another. The next one to drop was even nearer. Cabaro and his lionesses heard it too, and froze in mid-step.
Cabaro whirled in a tight circle, his hackles raised to make him look even more enormous. Conor shuddered. Without Meilin or Abeke, and Briggan too wounded to fight, they were at the Great Lion’s mercy once he returned to the attack.
As more and more treetops fell, Cabaro whirled on them and snarled. “Are these more of your Greencloaks, come to help you? Your allies are destroying this fragile oasis. Hard to trumpet your goodness now, isn’t it?”
Tarik shook his head. “I warned you, Cabaro. Those are not Greencloaks. They are Conquerors, allies of the Devourer. And they are not here to talk reason.”
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