She didn’t like it much, either, but there was no way the Oathbound could track them underground. This was their best chance to escape.
“It’s really dark in here,” came Worthy’s complaining voice. Then Meilin heard him mutter, “Shut up, Worthy.”
She had been about to say the same thing. Instead she reached forward in the dark until she felt Worthy’s ankle. She gave it a reassuring pat. “It’s all right,” she said softly. “We’re all scared.”
“Even you?” he whispered.
“Even me,” she said.
“Oh,” she heard him say. And then, even more quietly, “Thanks, Meilin.”
Her knees were starting to get sore, and she knew she was covered with dirt. She had dirt in her hair and under her fingernails. She really hated being dirty.
Something long and soft—a furry rope?—brushed her face, and she flinched back. The tunnel fell in behind her, forcing her to go on.
The furry rope touched her cheek again, and she reached up quickly, grabbed it, and pulled hard.
“Owww!” Worthy yowled, from just ahead of her.
Quickly she let go of the furry rope. Wait. Was it a—? Did Worthy have a—?
There was a sudden muffled shout from ahead, and a burst of light blinded her.
WITH A HEAVE, THE GROUND SPAT THEM ALL OUT. ALL six of them—the four Greencloak kids, Anka, and Worthy—lay on the forest floor, panting. The tunnel had disappeared. There was no sound of fighting. There was no path.
Worthy knew he should get up, but he felt so comfortable, just lying there. Above, pine branches swayed quietly in a light breeze. So peaceful. His eyes dropped closed.
Around him, the others were sitting up.
“I think we’re clear,” he heard Meilin’s voice say.
“I’ll ask Uraza to check our tail,” Abeke said. “Our trail, I mean.”
Worthy heard other sounds, and then he felt prickly, as if he was being watched. He opened his eyes to see Meilin standing at his feet, looking down at him. The panda loomed behind her.
Nearby stood Abeke, holding her bow, and Rollan, with Essix on his shoulder. Next to them was Conor, Briggan panting at his side. Anka was there, too, a blur of forest green.
For some reason the four Greencloaks and Anka were all smiling at him.
Worthy sat up, then climbed wearily to his feet. He was so tired—even his bones hurt. He glanced down at his arm.
There was a slash in his sleeve. A wound! “Gah!” he exclaimed. “Blood!” There was blood on his pants, too, and on his shirt. A second later, he felt the pain from four different wounds hit him at once.
With a yowl, he flopped back onto the ground. “I’m dying!” he moaned. “Farewell. Think kindly of me when I’m gone.”
Meilin crouched beside him. “Worthy.”
He gazed pitifully up at her. “What?” he said weakly.
“These are flesh wounds,” Meilin said.
He blinked. “So I’m not dying?”
“No, you’re not dying.” He started to sit up, but she put a gentle hand on his shoulder and held him down. “You are hurt, though. Stay there.”
“What you need,” Rollan said, “is some panda spit.”
“Yes,” Meilin agreed. “Jhi can help.”
Worthy lay still as the big panda lumbered over to him. Her pink tongue licked the slash on his arm, then the cut over his ribs, and then the two other wounds. A feeling of peace settled over him. The stinging pain from his injuries faded away. “Panda spit,” he murmured. “I see what you mean.”
Now he really didn’t feel like getting up.
“Just rest,” he heard Meilin say.
No problem. Worthy lay there listening to the Greencloaks tell Anka what had happened up on the Heart of the Land island while he and the chameleon woman had fought together on the sand bridge. Something about a spirit and a warning, and a gila monster.
“It’s quite a … um … tale,” he heard Rollan say.
Wearily, Worthy let their words wash over him. In a minute he would tell them what he knew about the second gift to the Greencloaks. Or, rather, what he’d guessed. His own family had once possessed an ancestral sword. It had been modeled after a famous sword from Euran history.
Something about a claw.
Eurans had always told stories about a legendary black wildcat. Long ago, such a wildcat had roamed the country with his human partner. The tales told of a great sword that the two used to defend their home.
The Wildcat’s Claw.
This gift probably had great powers, just like the Heart of the Land, but it had been hidden, too. And nobody knew exactly what its powers had been.
Devin Trunswick’s family sword had just been a replica of that great sword, but if there was a record of the real gift, it was likely somewhere in Trunswick.
He, Worthy, would lead them to it.
The Greencloaks were still talking.
“You know,” Conor was saying, “Princess Song was on our side before. I think we should try getting a message to her.”
“Telling her what?” Worthy heard Meilin ask.
“We might be able to convince her about the Fakecloaks,” Conor answered.
Typical, Worthy thought to himself. Conor always thought the best of people. He wondered if Conor thought the best of him now. Had he proven himself enough? Would the Greencloaks let him stay with them?
“No,” he heard Anka say. “We can’t risk contacting anyone. We have to keep going. We have to find the other gifts.”
“And we don’t even know where to start,” Meilin said.
Worthy smiled, knowing they would trust him even more, once he’d helped them with that. “So … ” he interrupted, opening his eyes. “Was I a hero? During the fight with the Oathbound?”
The five of them broke off their conversation and glanced over at him.
He sat up.
Did the Greencloaks approve of him? Did they truly accept him? He knew his expression was giving away how desperately he hoped they did, so he groped in the pocket of his cloak for the extra mask that every Redcloak carried at all times. Carefully, he tied it over his face, concealing his features.
But he couldn’t conceal what he knew, not any longer. “We’ll have to look for the sword next. The Wildcat’s Claw, wielded by a legendary hero of Eura.” He gulped. “When I … when I went over to the Conquerors, I let Zerif bond me to the black panther.” He looked up, meeting Conor’s eyes. “I’m really, really sorry about that. I wanted … ” He shrugged. “I wanted to be a hero.”
All four of the Greencloaks looked down at him. Meilin’s eyebrows were raised. A corner of Rollan’s mouth quirked up.
“You definitely were a hero in the battle against the Oathbound,” Conor answered at last. Even Briggan looked like he was smiling.
“We are very glad to have you with us,” Abeke added.
Worthy let their approval sink in for a moment. Then, with a weary sigh, he climbed stiffly to his feet.
They were all grinning widely at him.
He smiled back at them. He really was part of the team. He’d never been happier. Then, to his horror, he felt his long, furry secret uncurl from behind his red cloak.
Rollan gave a shout of laughter.
Oh no! Worthy buried his masked face in his hands.
“Wait, what?” he heard Anka’s sharp voice exclaim. “Worthy has a tail?”
Sarah Prineas is the author of The Magic Thief, Winterling, and Ash & Bramble series. She lives in Iowa with her mad-scientist husband, two kids, two dogs, two cats, chickens, and a bunch of goats.
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Book Six
The Wildcat’s Claw
B
y Varian Johnson
LENORI PACED HER CRAMPED QUARTERS—WHICH WERE little more than a small, single holding cell with meager wood furnishings. She hadn’t had contact with Olvan, or any other Greencloaks, since being imprisoned. Most of the others had been captured and returned to Greenhaven Castle, where they would be held for trial, but she and Olvan remained in the Citadel.
Olvan.
He’d been struck by a stone viper’s fangs, and most of his body was turned to stone. Thanks to her rainbow ibis, Myriam, Lenori could sense his presence. He was in pain, but alive, though she didn’t know for how long.
She didn’t know how long any of them had.
The Second Devourer War had taken a heavy toll on all of the nations, and the Wyrm’s destructive reign of terror only amplified people’s fears. The Greencloaks had saved the world, but it had come at a great price. Despite their best efforts, many people had suffered.
Zerif, under the Wyrm’s control, had used his immense powers to ravage the world. But these battles weren’t just fought in far-off lands like Stetriol or Arctica. There was bloodshed in every village. Neighbor against neighbor. Brother against brother. Mother against daughter. Father against son.
The Greencloaks themselves had inflicted some of the worst damage.
Zerif, armed with the Wyrm’s parasites, had taken control of most of their order, and had then turned them loose to wreak havoc in every corner of every land. There was no village, no militia, and no army that could prevail against a legion of Greencloaks when they partnered with their spirit animals. With their true, uninhibited powers now unleashed, the Greencloaks had shown the world just how powerful they’d become.
People were afraid of them. They were angry. They were distrustful. And Lenori couldn’t fault any of them for feeling that way.
She and Olvan thought that by coming here to meet with the leaders of the nations, they would be able to soothe any doubts and remind the world that the Greencloaks only wanted to preserve peace. They had even brought along the Four Heroes of Erdas—each from a different nation, but united in their oath to serve and protect all lands. But thanks to traitors within their midst, the Emperor of Zhong had fallen, and the real Greencloaks were left to take the blame.
Lenori pressed her ear against the door to make sure that no one was nearby, but heard only a quiet dripping from the Citadel’s leaking roof. She released Myriam from passive state. The ibis strutted around, proudly displaying her rainbow feathers and shaking her long, thin legs.
“No time for showing off, Myriam,” Lenori said. “We must find our young friends.”
She sat down on the stone floor and closed her eyes. She pushed the cold of the room, the fear of her imprisonment, and worry for her fellow Greencloaks from her mind. Her pulse slowed and her body relaxed. It was just her, Myriam, and Erdas, united as one.
A hazy image floated before her. She concentrated, trying to sharpen its edges. Trying to bring it into focus. It was a ship, cutting across the ocean. Squeezing her eyes tighter, she saw the Four Heroes huddled in a small room. No—not four. There were six of them. They had been tested recently—she could see the weariness of their faces—but they exuded a sense of accomplishment. Her mind centered itself on Rollan. Her gaze fell to the thin leather strap around his neck.
The Heart of the Land. He had revealed it!
She heard something in the distance. Echoes? Footsteps?
Was there danger on the boat? A trap waiting to be sprung?
She shook her head. Those sounds weren’t coming from the ship. Someone was approaching her room.
She blinked, and her mind returned to her cell. She looked at the ibis, sitting calmly beside her. “Myriam, back to me. I don’t want them to know that you’ve been loose.”
The rainbow ibis disappeared just as the heavy wooden door swung open. Two Oathbound warriors, both dressed in black, entered the room. She recognized the one with the short blond hair. Sure enough, the woman’s brown stone viper flashed into view, curling around her large arm. Brunhild the Merry. She was the one who’d poisoned Olvan.
The other warrior was new to Lenori. Like Brunhild, this woman wore a black uniform with brass neck and wrist collars, but the woman also sported shiny, gaudy rings on most of her fingers. Her long brown hair was twisted into an intricate braid that trailed over her shoulder, like an embroidered rope hanging from a curtain.
The unknown woman snapped her fingers, and another warrior entered the room, carrying a tray full of breads, dates, and cheeses. Lenori willed her stomach to remain silent. It was the first food she’d seen in two days.
The warrior placed the tray before Lenori, then left the room. The woman with the long braid took a step forward. “Don’t you want to eat?”
Lenori pretended that the food wasn’t there. “No, I want to be set free.”
The braided woman shook her head. “Don’t ask for the impossible,” she said. “Go on, take a bite. Eat it all. Gorge yourself.” She grinned. “I promise it isn’t laced with stone viper venom.”
Lenori instead curled her hands into her lap. “What do you want from me?”
“We know why your young friends were in Amaya,” the Oathbound woman said, whipping her ponytail over her shoulder and behind her back. She began to pace, her boots echoing on the scarred stone bricks. “For such a small amulet, it carries quite a punch. The children were lucky to escape with it.” She pulled a red-tinged sword from her side. It sparkled as light hit its blade. “We’ve heard reports that they’re on a ship headed for Eura,” she said. “What’s there? Another of these so-called gifts?”
Lenori stared ahead, saying nothing.
The woman kneeled so that she and Lenori were face to face. Her hazel eyes were as cold as the floor. Then she placed her sword on the ground, well within Lenori’s reach. It was almost as if the woman were daring Lenori to try to grab it.
“I understand that you don’t want to betray your friends,” the woman said. “But they’re just children. They shouldn’t be fighting these battles. Take pity on them. Spare them any further pain and hardship.”
“They’ve saved the world twice,” Lenori said. “You should not underestimate them.”
The woman inspected her own hands, tracing her fingertips across her numerous rings. The ring on her middle finger was adorned with three small, cone-shaped spikes. She twisted the ring so that the spikes faced the inside of her hand. Then, with a wry smile creeping across her face, the woman slapped Lenori, causing her to cry out more from the shock than the pain. She struck Lenori again, even harder. Lenori’s face burned. The woman’s ring had left its mark.
“And you should not underestimate me,” the woman replied as she twisted her blood-tipped ring back into place.
Lenori let her gaze flicker to the sword lying on the floor. She considered lunging for it, but stopped herself. She was sure that was exactly what the woman wanted. Lenori refused to give her the satisfaction.
Leaving the sword on the floor, the woman picked up a loaf of bread. She tore off a small piece, then popped it into her mouth. “Delicious.” Then she held the bread under Lenori’s nose. “I know you want a bite. You must be delirious with hunger.”
Lenori shook her head.
The woman sighed, then ate a larger piece. “Where are they going, Lenori? What are they searching for? Is there another gift out there? Is it just as powerful as the Heart of the Land?” The woman dropped the remaining bread on the tray, picked up her sword, and returned to her feet. “I promise, if you help me, I will capture them safely and return them unharmed.” The woman glanced at Brunhild. “You know what happened to Olvan. I would hate for a similar fate to befall those children.”
“You’ll never find them,” Lenori said.
For the first time since entering the room, the woman stopped smiling. “Perhaps another two days without food will help you change your mind.” She snapped her fingers, and the Oathbound warrior returned. Lenori’s insides seized as he picked up the tray.<
br />
The braided woman held up her hand, signaling the warrior to stop. With her sword, she sliced off a minuscule hunk of cheese. Barely enough to fill a thimble.
“On second thought, why don’t you keep a piece,” she said, tossing the food at Lenori. It bounced off her leg and landed on the floor beside her. Specks of dirt covered the once pristine cheese.
“See how kind I am? I could have left you with nothing.” The woman stepped out of the room. “But like that food, by kindness will not last forever. Tell me what I want to know, or prepare yourself for death.”
The door slammed shut, leaving Lenori in silence. She picked up the small slice of cheese. Her mouth watered.… It smelled even better once in her hands.
Then, slowly, she ground the food between her fingers, disintegrating it.
Her faith may be tested, but she would not falter.
She was a Greencloak.
Committed to the end, no matter what.
CONOR GLANCED OUT OF THE PORTHOLE OF THE SLEEK clipper as it sliced through choppy seas and strong winds. They had boarded the boat in a small coastal town just north of Concorba. Thanks to a small collection of coins from Worthy—and Rollan’s skill with negotiations—they had been able to secure a cabin with four beds, along with two packs of meager provisions. The room wasn’t nearly big enough for all six of them to comfortably sleep at one time, but Conor and his friends weren’t in the position to be choosy.
Stepping closer to the window, Conor squinted at his reflection in the dirty, smudged glass. He reached to his forehead and ran his fingers along his skin, right where the mark of the Wyrm used to be. The black, swirling mark had faded from view, but he could still feel its power. Its weight. It was an invisible burden he feared he would carry for the rest of his life.
“See anything of interest?” a voice asked behind him.
Smiling, he turned around. Abeke was always light on her feet, even with Uraza, her leopard, in passive state on her arm. Conor flexed his own forearm, watching his muscles ripple underneath Briggan’s mark. He hated leaving the Great Wolf in passive state for so long, but their current mission required stealth, not strength.
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