He wished Irtike were there with them — he’d come to rely on her quiet, confident presence. But though she promised to come to Greenhaven eventually, she’d decided to stay in Nilo for the time being. When they’d said good-bye at the shore, Irtike had headed north toward Okaihee. It was for the best — Pojalo would have need of her powers if he hoped to keep his people safe.
Thinking of Irtike, though, brought back all the dark times in Nilo as well. Conor couldn’t prevent his mind from summoning the terrifying sight of Gerathon bearing down, fangs glistening. Or Gar’s corpse, and the sad final image of Tarik and Lumeo sinking into the earth. The sarcophagus at the front of the great hall was partially open, to show that it was empty. It was only a symbol.
The great hall had been Tarik’s favorite spot in all of Greenhaven. Conor had often found him here daydreaming, about what, he never thought to ask. It was appropriate that this was where they held the ceremony that would celebrate his life. Greencloak after Greencloak went up to the front dais to speak.
Monte, who’d renewed his oaths after Barlow’s death during the Arax mission, told the story of when Tarik had cornered him in his shop at Boulder City, acting out each part. He did an excellent Tarik impression, bringing his voice low and softly accenting the ends of his sentences. Scrubber, his raccoon, flailed and squirmed on the ground, pretending to be Monte himself. It was a light moment in the funeral, and set the whole audience laughing.
Lishay was laughing long after the rest of the assembled had stopped. She’d made the long trip from Pharsit Nang to be present, despite the danger of escaping Conqueror-occupied Zhong. When she spoke, the room quieted, and she told her own story of their time together as Greencloak recruits, when Tarik had once left their jerky behind at camp, accidentally grabbing a piece of old tree bark instead. He was so stubborn, she said, he chewed the thing for a whole day. Despite his fatigue, Conor found himself laughing and crying at the same time, great tears of mourning rolling down his smiling face.
Rollan, though, held silent throughout the ceremony. Conor cut nervous glances at his friend, who watched, glassy-eyed, while the various Greencloaks spoke. Conor nudged him from time to time, just to make sure he’d react. Rollan batted his friend away and hunched down, staring forward with his chin cupped in his hands.
Finally it was Olvan’s turn to speak. The burly leader of the Greencloaks stood before them all, dwarfed only by his enormous moose spirit animal, which clomped behind him on the dais. He paused for a long moment before his bellowing voice began to reverberate in the great hall, all the way up to the cloudless sky. “When we lost Tarik,” he orated, “we nearly lost our hearts. His quiet dignity and wise leadership exemplified the foundations upon which all our work rests. But let us remember that his life and Lumeo’s were given to an end. For now, thanks to his efforts — and those of Conor and Rollan and our new friends Irtike and her mole rat, Mikak — another talisman is safely out of the Conqueror’s hands. And thanks to Lumeo’s heroic sacrifice, General Gar lays slain. Erdas still has a hope of remaining safe.”
Olvan stepped to the head of the sarcophagus, where engraved stone laurels jutted out, and hung the Golden Lion of Cabaro from one of the leaves. Then Lishay passed him more and more talismans to hang in Tarik’s honor. Olvan announced the names of each as he placed them. “The Golden Lion joins the other talismans we have fought so hard to keep safe. The Slate Elephant of Dinesh. The Bronze Eagle of Halawir. The Silver Wolf of Briggan. The Amber Leopard of Uraza. The Bamboo Panda of Jhi. The Copper Falcon of Essix. The Obsidian Ape of Kovo. The Marble Swan of Ninani.”
Olvan gestured to the assembled talismans, dangling in the morning sunlight. “These represent the sum of our work. Though Tarik will live on in our memories, he also lives on in the legacy of the talismans. Without these, Kovo cannot escape his prison. I know Tarik would want us to celebrate those among us today who helped gather the talismans: Conor, Rollan, and the Keeper.”
Conor felt his face flush as the Greencloaks got to their feet and applauded. He hated being the center of attention. It didn’t seem right, anyway, being applauded while Meilin and Abeke were still missing.
Evidently Rollan was thinking the same thing. He rubbed the bandaged wound on his leg. When the applause continued, he seemed unable to take it anymore. He got to his feet and made a silencing motion.
The room became quiet. Rollan looked around for a long moment, taking in the crowd. Conor sensed Meilin would be proud of Rollan’s newfound seriousness, and wished she could see him now. “I understand that there’s reason to celebrate,” Rollan said. “But Tarik would want us to remain vigilant. This fight is far from over, and two of our friends still remain in the hands of the Conquerors.”
He stepped down the aisle, the slippers the healers had given him making hushed scuffing sounds on the marble floor. He approached Olvan and kneeled, pulling two items from a pocket inside his green cloak. “I present the remaining two talismans. The Granite Ram of Arax and the Coral Octopus of Mulop. The talisman that brought us all together and … and the last one that Tarik was alive to see. The one that saved my life.”
Rollan lowered his two talismans into the crack between the empty sarcophagus and its lid. “Until we need them, I’d like to keep these two right inside here. Because without Tarik and Lumeo, the Greencloaks … we … never would have gotten them.”
“You wear Tarik’s cloak with honor, Rollan,” Olvan said. “He would be proud to see you among us today.”
Conor got to his feet, hand over his chest. Something about that empty space filled with two of the talismans they had sacrificed so much to protect made Conor’s heart clench so tightly it hurt.
A hand tugged on his sleeve.
Conor whirled to see Lenori, her face pale. “Please come with me,” she said.
“No, really, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Conor said.
“That’s not it,” Lenori said. “Please come.”
Already overwhelmed, Conor was secretly glad to leave the great hall early. He shot a guilty look to Rollan, who was still kneeling at the front with his eyes closed, then let Lenori guide him out the back exit.
“What is it?” Conor asked as they sped along the hallway. They passed almost no one in the hallways — all the Greencloaks were at the ceremony. Conor could barely keep up, breaking into a jog as Lenori glided along as elegantly as her rainbow ibis. The feathers she’d weaved into her hair fluttered behind her.
Finally they were at the entrance to the courtyard. “There,” Lenori said, pointing forward. “See who’s here for you!”
Conor blinked in the bright sun while his eyes adjusted. Then he saw a familiar figure in the center of the courtyard, arms crossed nervously across her chest. Abeke.
Conor dashed across the courtyard, barely able to slow himself down enough to avoid knocking her down. They spun in a tight circle, both laughing at the sudden pleasure of being reunited. “You’re safe!” Conor said, pressing away. “Oh, let me look at you!”
“Yes!” Abeke said. “And you’re safe too. Lenori told me about your time in Nilo. I wish so much I had been there, Conor. Meilin and I were imprisoned not far away.”
Conor hugged Abeke again. There was so much to talk about — including, eventually, Abeke’s father and sister … and Tarik. He didn’t know how much Lenori had told her already. But first, something else weighed much heavier in Conor’s mind. “Meilin … ?”
“Is still captured,” Abeke said. “Alive — at least she was when I left. I was able to escape, but she’s still there.”
“Is she hurt? Is she still under Gerathon’s control? How did you get away?”
Abeke smiled. “There will be plenty of time to catch up on everything. Lenori said you’ve only just returned.”
“Yeah,” Conor said, nodding gravely. “Rollan … He’s not himself right now. I hope he’ll be better soon, but Tarik … There’s so much to tell you, Abeke.”
“And I have a lot to tell you. I didn’t make
it out alone — I had someone helping me.”
“What do you mean?”
Abeke let out a long breath. “Sometimes we can be wrong about people, right? Sometimes our hearts are screaming something at us, but we refuse to listen.”
“Abeke,” Conor said. “What are you saying?”
She turned her head to one side and looked into the woods at the edge of the courtyard. “Shane,” she called. “You can come out!”
Conor could scarcely believe his eyes when Shane walked out of the trees. He looked even taller and broader than he had before, but there was plenty of worry in his expression. With good reason.
Conor’s hand went to the hilt of his hand ax. “Abeke. What is he doing here?”
Abeke laid a hand on Conor’s arm, stilling him. “He brought me here. It’s because of Shane that I’m alive.”
“Stop,” Lenori said from where she was standing by the castle entrance, shocked at the sight of Shane. “Stop right there!”
Shane stood still, arms at his sides, palms upturned. “Please, arrest me if you need to. I understand why you wouldn’t trust me.” He grimaced. “I have no loyalty to the Conquerors anymore. Please, let me help you. I just ask you not to attack me right away.”
“Abeke,” Conor said, hand on the ax hilt, his eyes never leaving Shane, “move away from him.”
She shook her head. “Conor. Listen to me. You don’t understand!”
“No, you don’t understand!” came an unexpected voice from the castle entrance. Rollan limped out of the gate, brushing past Lenori.
“Rollan!” Abeke called.
“Ask him about his wolverine!” Rollan cried, his dagger out. Essix lashed in from above, shrieking in anger.
“What are you talking about?” Abeke asked.
Shane looked up, eyes wide. “What did you just say?”
“Your spirit animal is a wolverine, right?” Rollan said. “We fought it before. And yet we saw one that looked just like it in Nilo. Dead. Guess who we found it with?”
Shane crossed his arms, his features stony. “I don’t know what you mean. You saw Renneg and me together during the Arax battle.”
Rollan limped across the courtyard toward Shane, his dagger at the ready. “It’s no fun being separated from your spirit animal for long periods of time. Conor and I know that very well, after what we had to do to reach Cabaro. It must have been hard for Gar to send his wolverine with you in the past. So hard he decided to skip that step in Nilo. But, see, that’s where you messed up. Because Gar died, and we found your wolverine with him. And his crocodile was nowhere in sight.” Rollan stopped a few feet shy of Shane, his dagger pointed at the boy’s chest. “Come over to us, Abeke, so we can deal with Shane.”
Conor held out his hands to block Rollan in case he lunged. “I think there’s an easy way to resolve this. Shane, bring forth your spirit animal, and that will settle it.”
Shane shook his head. “If you’re not going to trust me now, you never will. I thought Abeke was your friend. Why doesn’t her word matter to you?”
Conor watched Abeke’s expression go from defiance to confusion. She turned to Shane and placed a hand lightly on his forearm. “Just do it, please. Summon Renneg. Then Rollan will see there’s nothing to worry about.”
Shane bit his lip. “Are you saying that you don’t trust me either, Abeke, after all that we’ve been through?”
Abeke’s gaze hardened. “Do it for me.”
Rollan stepped to one side so he flanked Shane. “Summon Briggan,” he called to Conor.
Heart racing with indefinable danger, Conor brought the wolf forward. Briggan sat on his haunches beside him, nose in the air and eyes alert. His wounds were healed over, gray fur patchy wherever there were scabs beneath.
“I will summon Uraza now,” Abeke said defiantly. “Unless you give us a reason not to fight, Shane.”
“Fine,” Shane said. “I’ll give you a reason not to fight.” Hands trembling, Shane slowly undid the two lengths of leather that kept his tunic closed. The fabric parted at the top. He tugged the leather free and ran a hand under his shirt. The tunic parted farther, exposing the breadth of his chest.
And an animal tattoo.
ABEKE STEPPED BACK, ASTONISHED. THE TATTOO OF A giant beast stretched across Shane’s chest, riding the hollow of his rib cage. Its tail whipped around his flat belly, the beast’s open jaw in an embrace around the nape of Shane’s neck.
A giant crocodile.
It didn’t make any sense. Why would Shane have a crocodile tattooed on his chest? His spirit animal was a wolverine. The crocodile was the spirit animal of the Devourer.
The Devourer …
Rollan advanced on Shane, his long dagger outstretched.
Shane turned to face Abeke, his expression unreadable. Then he thrust his bare chest toward the sky.
The giant crocodile burst into the small space, shooting forward from Shane’s body. In two quick strides Shane was atop it. His strong legs clenched the sides of the giant reptile easily, like he’d been doing it all his life. A memory flashed into Abeke’s mind, of an armored man, spiked helmet over his features, astride a giant crocodile at the battle of Dinesh’s temple. She’d assumed it was Gar. But was that … Shane?
“It was you,” Abeke said, even though Shane was already halfway across the courtyard. “You are the Devourer, not Gar!”
Shane didn’t waste time answering. He and the crocodile were racing toward the gate of Greenhaven. With no reason to expect an attack, the Greencloaks had left it wide open.
“Stop him!” Conor cried out.
They’d all been caught unawares. Briggan started sprinting, but the crocodile had too much of a head start.
Only Lenori stood in its way.
She struggled to fit a dart into her blowgun. Her rainbow ibis stood beside her, but it was a creature suited to divination, not combat. Lenori shouted for help as she fumbled with her weapon, only to fall to one side as the sprinting crocodile bowled her over.
The Greencloaks in the great hall must have heard the clamor. The first few had just begun to arrive when Shane reached the open gate. He turned the crocodile agilely, the beast whipping its great tail in an arc. Four Greencloaks slammed into the wall and crumpled to the ground. Shane charged in, and within a moment he and the reptile had disappeared inside. The last thing Abeke saw was the tip of its armored tail sliding through the door.
She was stunned. “I’m so sorry,” she cried to Conor and Rollan.
“Don’t be sorry!” Rollan yelled. “Just run!” He and Essix took off after Shane, soon followed by Conor and Briggan. Snapping into action, Abeke peeled after them.
There was no time to let their eyes adjust to the dim corridors of Greenhaven, and the moment she was inside Abeke was tripping over fallen Greencloaks and spirit animals. She got to her feet and staggered through the darkness, following the shouts of her companions. She could hear a vast commotion from the great hall, screams and loud crashes that she assumed were from the crocodile’s tail striking the wall.
“The talismans!” she heard Conor shout from around a bend in the hallway. “Shane’s after the talismans!”
Of course. Shane — the Devourer — needed the talismans to free Kovo. And Abeke had brought him right to them, slipping him in past Greenhaven’s defenses. Her shattering guilt nearly brought her to her knees. But she wouldn’t let herself collapse — the best thing she could do now was stop the plot she’d helped put in motion.
As she neared the daylit great hall, Abeke began to make out more details in the hallway. The walls were strewn with the Greencloaks Shane had knocked over during his charge. They slumped, dazed. A brown bear spirit animal was hunched over, cradling what looked like a broken foreleg. Abeke snatched a discarded bow and clenched it in her grasp. Farther along she came across a quiver of crossbow quarrels — not ideal, but they’d fire.
The great hall was in disarray. The charging crocodile had smashed benches in its path and shatt
ered the dais. Tarik’s ceremonial sarcophagus had pitched forward from its altar, the lid half-off. Crying out from astride the crocodile, Shane faced off against Olvan. The elder Greencloak was feinting with his heavy quarterstaff, but the snapping jaws of the crocodile kept him from connecting with Shane. His moose stood defiantly behind him, but the beast’s massive antlers blocked it from getting around the sarcophagus to Olvan’s aid.
“Uraza, help me!” Abeke screamed, and in a flash the leopard was at her side. Abeke took heart at the sight of her companion, who, after only a moment’s hesitation to take in the scene, slinked forward across the hall. Tail low and ears flattened against her head, Uraza silently maneuvered so she was behind the crocodile.
Olvan threw his body in front of the talismans decorating Tarik’s sarcophagus. Taking advantage of the distraction, Rollan managed to reach the crocodile’s powerful, whipping tail. With Essix on his shoulder, beating her wings to give the boy extra lift, he lunged forward with his dagger and sank it between two scales on the reptile. When the crocodile whirled to see what had happened, Essix blocked its vision, flapping and pecking.
Rollan jumped higher on the beast’s back and sank his dagger in again. He wasn’t doing much damage, but he was slowly making his way up the thrashing body, toward Shane.
Briggan, meanwhile, had reached Olvan and his moose. Soon joined by Conor, the four faced off against the crocodile. Essix’s distraction was just enough to keep them alive — the crocodile’s snapping jaws missed them each time it lunged.
With Rollan nearing Shane from behind, and three capable warriors facing him from the front, Abeke began to take hope. Every second that went by, Shane was benefitting less from the initial surprise of his attack. Abeke could see some of the Greencloaks and spirit animals that had been cast against the walls now staggering to their feet. Reinforcements were coming.
Abeke nocked a quarrel to her bowstring and took aim. Tears of fury clouded her vision, threatening the shot. Shane was bouncing so quickly astride the attacking crocodile, she’d be lucky to get the bolt to connect.
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