Indra’s gaze caught Kerry’s. “Get back to shore!”
Paco swung his heavy sword, sending it crunching through the carapace of the last crab monster blocking their way. The thing twitched, then lay still.
It looked like the battle was over. All the crab-creatures seemed to have been killed.
Then three more lumbered out of the ocean.
Paco grabbed her wrist. “Come on. I don’t think they’ll follow us off the beach.”
The ocean surged up in a giant wave, too huge to dodge. Kerry only had time to hold her breath before it smashed into her and Paco, knocking her off her feet. She tried to clutch at him, but her hands closed on water. Freezing brine filled her mouth and nose. The wave rolled on, leaving her sprawled on the sand. She staggered to her feet, wiping salt water out of her stinging eyes. Paco was scrambling up beside her.
A crab-creature the size of a house rose from the waves.
“Run!” Paco shouted.
As a claw the size of Nugget lunged toward them, they clutched each other’s hands and bolted off the peninsula. Arrows flew in a rain toward the great crab-creature, bouncing off its shell with a rattle like hail. When they reached the patrol, Sujata grabbed Paco and Indra grabbed Kerry, and everyone on the beach ran for dry land. Kerry glanced over her shoulder, nearly falling, and saw one last immense tentacle slap down a few inches behind her foot.
They stopped, panting, at the palisade where Nugget stood. The beach was littered with dead crab-creatures. A few live ones scuttled back into the sea. The huge crab-creature was still in the water. Its eye stalks extended several feet, then swiveled to glare at the patrol. Then, with a loud hiss, it slowly sank beneath the waves.
The entire patrol let out a breath of relief. The blue water stayed calm and peaceful—deceptively peaceful, Kerry thought as she stroked Nugget in apology, wondering again why she’d abandoned him. It was so unlike her.
Paco approached her, his fox-like features taut with annoyance. “What was wrong with you? Why did you jump off your horse and try to run into the ocean? We were all yelling at you to get back on the beach.”
“You were? I didn’t hear it.” Kerry confessed, and turned away from his angry face, so unsettlingly like their father’s. She addressed the rest of the patrol. “I don’t know what got into me. I never panic like that. And I didn’t see any of you until Paco grabbed me.”
Anna-Lucia wiped sweat and tentacle slime off her forehead with a shaking hand. “I know what that thing was. It was a queen lobster.”
“I thought those were just stories to scare little kids out of swimming without supervision,” Sujata said.
Anna-Lucia shook her head. “You know how rabbits cast illusions?”
“Small illusions,” Sujata remarked, slinging her bow over her shoulder.
It was true. Rabbit illusions were fuzzy and vague, sometimes so much so that it was hard to tell what they were trying to make you see.
“Well, queen lobsters cast strong ones,” Anna-Lucia said. “We’re lucky that one went after Kerry instead of the fishers. They can make people leap out of their boats in a panic. Then they’re easy pickings. I don’t think we’ve had one in Las Anclas for fifteen years,” she finished. “They usually like deeper water. But I remember one thing from fifteen years ago: they’re good eating.”
Another patrol member, Dominica Preciado, took a step toward the beach. “Do you think the big one’s gone? Let’s take them to Jack’s for a feast!”
Indra and Sujata made identical faces of disgust. They were vegetarians, Kerry remembered.
A little doubtfully, Kerry said, “Well . . . I like Dr. Lee’s crab dumplings.”
“You almost turned into a queen lobster’s human dumpling,” Paco said. His slanted eyebrows quirked as he grinned, transforming his face.
Kerry didn’t think she’d ever seen his smile before. She’d have remembered. It didn’t look at all like Father’s.
Then he turned his back to clean his sword, and the moment was gone.
Chapter Five: Ross
Ross, Mia, and Jennie walked down the hill overlooking the ruined city . . . and the crystal forest that surrounded it.
Since they’d shared a quick breakfast at dawn, they’d walked in a comfortable silence. Ross enjoyed their steady rhythm, his steps matching Jennie’s, with Mia taking one and a half quick steps to every one of theirs, plus an occasional hop that set her tools jingling.
As their feet hit the sand, his heart was full of . . .
Even inside his own mind, Ross couldn’t bring himself to give more than a cautious poke at the word “love.” The more he heard it spoken, the less he felt like he knew what it really meant.
The Old Town Band was always singing about love—wanting it, getting it, losing it, dying for it. And people in Las Anclas used the word so easily: “I love Luc’s tacos!” “I love that song!” When Mia had unwrapped Kerry’s Christmas gift, a pretty dress that Kerry had called a hanbok, she’d said, “Oh, Kerry, I love it!”
Mia had obviously been sincere, but could you really love clothes? Ross’s leather jacket was comfortable and had seen him through thunderstorms, swarms of stinging insects, and battles. Jennie had told him how good he looked in it, prompting him to wear it every time he knew he’d see her. He’d never give it away, but he wouldn’t say he loved it.
People liked clothes. They liked songs. And they used the word “love” to mean “like,” just as they sometimes said, “Do you like her?” when they obviously meant “Do you love her?” But understanding that brought him no closer to understanding what love—real love, between people—truly meant.
Ross glanced down at his hands. Mia’s clever little fingers curled around his left, adjusting to his limited range of motion. Jennie’s strong hand, exactly the same size as his own, enfolded his right. A warm feeling swelled in his chest as he looked at those two hands holding his. No one but Jennie and Mia had ever made him feel that way. That had to be love . . .
Right?
But if it was love, shouldn’t he feel the same way about them both? The way he felt about Jennie wasn’t the same way he felt about Mia, except where it sort of was. Maybe he thought about them differently, but loved them in the same way. Or wanted to love them in the same way . . .
And that brought his thoughts straight to sex. At completely the wrong time, when he was about to risk his life. But when was the right time? Whenever he kissed either of them, it felt like the right time. But Mia would get nervous and jittery, and that would unnerve him, and they’d both back off in confusion. And Jennie would keep going, as if she were walking down a road she knew by heart, but for some reason her confidence made him panic.
He’d told them once that he loved them, but he’d never been able to say it since. Every time he thought of admitting it, even to himself, he tensed up, sure that someone would come and take them away. Like the way his family had vanished, going to bed one night and gone forever by the next morning.
Ross raised his head, preferring to face the possibility of his own death than keep thinking about his past. The forest of singing trees glittered coldly in the rain-washed morning light. A wind blew strong and cool, but the leaves stirred of their own accord or not at all, occasionally chiming in the distance. The rainbow patterns of light they cast across the yellow-brown sands reminded him of the hills above Gold Point, when Voske had forced him to prospect in the ruined city.
A sweet tinkle was followed by a soft pop, then a squeal. All three of them jumped.
The squeal became a scream as surprise turned to pain, and then trailed off. Ross caught himself clutching at his left arm, and made his hand drop.
“Rabbit,” said Jennie. She breathed out, slow and controlled, revealing that she was nearly as tense as Ross. “Or maybe a wild rat.”
He had assumed that since he’d gotten through the singing trees near Gold Point, he could get through the ones near Las Anclas. But now that they’d reached the forest, he found the idea
much more intimidating. This forest was more than twice the size of Gold Point’s, and many of the trees were far, far bigger. While the Gold Point trees had been born from the deaths of desert animals, and bore the dull colors of their fur, most of the trees here had obviously been created from the deaths of humans. They glowed with the brilliant colors of clothing dye.
The brightest trees grew out of the ancient road, splitting it with emerald or sapphire or topaz roots. Those were the remains of the prospectors and other travelers who had tried to walk this way before him.
It had been easy enough to push aside the death memories of rats and coyotes and mountain lions. Animal emotions were so different from those of humans that their memories didn’t sink hooks into his mind. Though animals felt pain, they didn’t burn with the desire for revenge or grieve for the children they’d left behind. Now that he saw hundreds of human-born trees lined up like an army, he wondered if he was about to get all three of them killed.
Mia huddled inside her shirt as if the cool wind had turned to ice. “You think we could still talk to each other if we become trees?”
“That’s not funny.” Jennie hefted her pack higher. “Let’s review, guys.”
“I go ahead. You watch me. I’ll give you a signal if it’s safe.” Ross raised his hand high. “You’ll know if it’s not.”
Mia gave him a shove. “That’s really not funny.”
“When you get to me, take my hands,” Ross went on. “I might not be able to see or hear you, but I should still be able to feel you. Whatever happens, don’t let go. I have to convince the trees that you’re with me.”
“And then we explore!” Mia said happily. “There could be rooms and rooms of perfectly preserved artifacts! On neatly labeled shelves.”
He knew she was joking, but maybe only barely. “You know, even though humans won’t have picked it over, animals nearly always get in and knock things around.”
“But animals haven’t been able to get in, either.” Mia pointed to an amethyst branch swaying in a way that had nothing to do with the wind, sending up a barely audible melody. “No one has. That’s why I’m so excited!” Then she sobered and turned to Ross earnestly. “If you’re okay with it. Don’t do this just because I want to get in. I hope you want to get in. You shouldn’t risk your life for me. Not that it’s risky for you! But—”
Jennie shook her gently. “Mia. It’s okay. First sign that it’s not working, we turn around and go home. Right, Ross?”
He flexed his fingers. “I’m going now.”
Mia flung herself on Ross, nearly bowling him over. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, but he didn’t care about that because that . . . feeling, whatever it was . . . flared up inside him. He bent down and kissed her hard. She was so warm and so brave, and she believed in him in a way he didn’t believe in himself.
Both she and Jennie. When Mia let him go at last, he instinctively reached for Jennie. She stepped into his arms and lowered her head to kiss him just as hard, but before he could panic—just as his muscles began to stiffen—she let go and stepped back.
He had to walk away right now, before he lost his nerve. He hefted his pack.
“Watch for the signal.” His voice came out a croak, but neither girl laughed.
“Okay.” Mia’s voice trembled.
He squeezed her warm little hand, then walked down the rise.
Fifty feet from the nearest tree, he stopped, closed his eyes, and stood before his mental wall. His blood-red tree and the obsidian grove were faint with distance, but he could hear the forest singing. The trees were always singing. The sounds made by the leaves were merely a part of their voices, a single instrument in the melody.
Ross could hear their music, but he couldn’t understand it. Cautiously, he listened harder—listened deeper. He brushed against the earliest memories of the trees, of the deaths of the people and animals they had grown from, but his mental walls kept those at a safe distance.
He opened the door a crack. The trees seemed . . . curious. They were used to only speaking to each other. He saw himself as the trees saw him, a figure of red heat standing on an expanse of white-hot earth. Casting his mental net wider, he saw that image multiply by the perceptions of hundreds of trees.
Ross tried to make the trees see as he did: not as many beings sharing thoughts, but as one. The figures merged back into a single image. He sent out a picture of himself as the trees saw him, but walking forward, hand in hand with a tall girl made of heat on one side, and a small one on the other.
The trees waited.
Ross tried to approach, but he couldn’t get his feet to move. For a frightening moment, he didn’t even know where his feet where, or how to find his own body again. Then he found a double awareness, of himself in the mental landscape and himself in his own body.
His legs seemed to be a mile away, but he made them move. One step. Two.
The trees waited.
He could feel when he was within range of their deadly shards, because the trees knew as well. But none attacked. As he neared, images drifted past, not of their own origins but of their neighbors’; not of deaths, but of the moments before . . .
A man with a yellow beard, leading a mule. They had become the dusty gray tree and the pale one beside it. A woman in bright steel armor. That was the silvery tree up ahead. Two tall figures and three small ones, stumbling through a moonless night. That was the cluster of five trees off to the side, their branches intertwined.
Ross pushed his own vision at the forest: Mia and Jennie walking up to him and taking his hands, and then the three of them walking safely past the trees.
The trees seemed to consider this. Ross waited for them to send a picture back at him, of crystal branches sprouting from three bodies. As soon as he thought of it, that image echoed through the forest, raising a shimmering chorus of chimes. Ross held his breath. The image faded, replaced by his own picture, repeated a hundred times from tree to tree: three heat-figures, walking safely, hand-in-hand.
Hoping he was interpreting that correctly, he sent a slow message down the many miles to his hand. It felt heavy as an ox, but he dragged it upward.
Then they waited, Ross and the trees.
Chapter Six: Mia
Mia had watched Ross approach singing trees before. She and Jennie had stood by while he’d spoken with the black grove that had taken over the cornfield. Like many true Change powers, his unique symbiosis was obviously getting stronger and easier to control with time and practice . . .
. . . and telling herself all that didn’t make Mia any less scared. She turned to Jennie, hoping that Jennie’s confidence would rub off on her.
But Jennie looked worried. “He’s got to be in range now.”
Mia answered automatically, “Range is twenty feet. He’s at ten.”
Jennie’s fists clenched. Mia made what she hoped was a reassuring noise.
Ross took another shuffling step, then swayed. Mia wanted to rush out there and grab him, except that would probably get them both killed. She patted her crossbow, not that a bow would be of any use. Mia wished she had her flamethrower, even though the range was so short. What she needed was a long-range weapon that could stop the shards. A hose that sprayed glue? If it was thinned enough to flow easily, would it be sticky enough to trap the shards . . . ?
Her heartbeat galloped as Ross walked right up to a tall moonstone tree and touched its trunk. A slim branch dipped down to brush against his hair, crystals chiming with shivering sweetness. Jennie’s body tensed beside Mia.
Then Ross turned toward them. His hand rose slowly, fingers spread.
Mia’s mouth dried. “Let’s go.”
The rasp of steel shivered on the bone-dry air as Jennie drew her beautiful new sword. Mia admired how heroic she looked brandishing it. And the grip fit her hand perfectly.
I made that, Mia thought with pride. Well, me and Mr. Garcia.
Jennie stepped in Ross’s footprints, clear in the dust. Mia followed
, counting mentally. Thirty feet. Twenty-five. Mia hesitated, but Jennie didn’t, so Mia scrambled to catch up. Twenty. If any of the fragile-looking globes hanging from the faceted boughs exploded now, they’d all be dead.
They passed a huge gray tree, its mighty branches glimmering in the sunlight. Leaves chimed sharply. Mia wanted to close her eyes, like a kid hiding from monsters under the bed. No one had ever come this close to these trees before and lived . . .
. . . No one had ever come this close to any singing trees and gotten a good look at them, either. Mia had gone near some before, but every single time she’d been too scared or too worried about Ross to examine them, or it had been the middle of a battle. This time, she wouldn’t miss her chance.
An amber seedpod the size of a cantaloupe hung above her shoulder, so close that Mia could see the individual shards crammed inside. They were thin as needles, sharp at both ends. The shell looked fragile as a soap bubble. She edged away. Other pods were smaller, probably immature. The shards inside those seemed stuck together, blunt, not fully formed.
Jennie touched her arm. Mia flinched.
Jennie beckoned. Mia had drifted off the path. She sidled hastily behind Jennie. When they reached Ross, Mia took Ross’s left hand as Jennie closed her fingers around his right, leaving her sword-arm free. His eyes were closed but his long lashes fluttered as if he were dreaming.
Mia didn’t dare speak. Loud noises could shatter glass. Maybe even soft noises could break those glassy pods. She gave Ross’s hand a gentle squeeze. His weight shifted, one foot sliding forward. Mia and Jennie stepped with him, and together they walked through the forest.
No birds sang. The sunlight filtered through the jewel-colored leaves, and the air felt oddly cool. Mia was tempted to brush her fingers against a trunk to see if the trees were cold, but decided not to risk it. She’d tell Dad. He’d be interested, even if no one else would be. Kerry might be, too. She liked knowing how things worked.
Rebel Page 8