The Book of Shane 2

by Nick Eliopulos

  As quickly as it had begun, the episode ended. Shane felt momentarily hollowed out, like the discarded insect husks he’d seen on trees throughout the morning.

  “Shane,” Achi whispered.

  Shane shuddered. He knew what had just happened. Gerathon had looked out from his eyes. The snake was checking up on him.

  “Shane,” Achi repeated, more urgently.

  “Yeah,” he answered, shaking his head clear. “Yes, Achi?”

  “Don’t panic,” the boy said. “But we’re being followed.”

  Shane tensed. “By who?”

  Achi shook his head slowly, holding Shane’s eyes. “Not who. It’s a cat. A big one.”

  Shane had an impossible thought. “A cat, like … like a leopard?”

  “Maybe,” Achi answered. “I only caught a glimpse of it before it went into the trees.” He inclined his head in the direction he and Shane had come from.

  Shane turned. They’d been walking down a natural path through the trees, a space that was mostly free of vines and saplings. It looked almost like a tunnel, big enough for an elephant to pass through, dark with shadow except where dappled sunlight broke through the canopy.

  “Hello?” Shane said, but without raising his voice.

  “Shane, I don’t think —”

  “Abeke?” Shane called, louder this time. “Abeke, if you’re out there, I can explain everything.”

  “Who is Abeke?” Achi whispered.

  The wind stirred, and the sunlight filtering through the trees danced along the length of the tunnel. Suddenly Shane caught a glimpse of a great cat standing there, fifty yards away and right in the middle of the path, watching from the shadows.

  It was not a cat he recognized. From this far away, all Shane could tell was that it was big, and as black as pitch. More like the shadow of a cat.

  “Is that Abeke?” Achi whispered.

  “No,” Shane said, taking a step backward. “No, it’s not.”

  “Stay calm,” Achi said. “Don’t run. Let’s walk away nice and slowly.”

  Shane nodded in agreement, but kept both eyes on the large black cat.

  “We’re near a settlement,” Achi explained in a low voice. “I was going to take us around it, but never mind that. Once the cat gets a whiff of other people, it should leave us alone.” He picked up his pace, and Shane risked turning his back on the animal to follow. “In the meantime, be ready for an ambush. Keep your eyes up. If it rushes us, protect your neck — that’s where the killing blow will find you.”

  Shane made an involuntary gurgling sound. So far he’d kept the talismans tucked away and out of sight, but now he knew he couldn’t afford to pass up any advantage they gave him.

  “Here,” he said, holding a talisman out to Achi. “Put this on.”

  “Is that Uraza?” the boy asked, holding the amber cat reverently in his hands.

  “A good luck charm,” Shane said. If they were attacked, Achi would now find it that much easier to evade danger.

  Shane, on the other hand, would go on the offensive. He looped the golden likeness of Cabaro around his own neck and unsheathed his sword, letting the sound of metal sliding against metal reverberate through the trees. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Achi dashed ahead, his enhanced feline grace almost natural on him. The way he’d climbed the tree before, the ease with which he’d navigated the twisting maze of jungle, Shane doubted the boy would even notice the talisman’s influence.

  He had to increase his own pace to keep up, but that hardly seemed like a bad idea under the circumstances.

  Shane was exhausted by the day’s efforts. It was difficult enough to navigate the winding jungle pathways. Doubly so when keeping his guard up, never allowing his mind to wander, bracing against an attack that never came.

  The light was just starting to dim when Achi finally allowed for a rest.

  “We’re close enough to the village that no cat will follow,” he said. “We should camp here. But be quiet — we don’t want to draw any attention.”

  “From the predator? Or the people?”

  “Both,” Achi warned.

  He climbed even more nimbly now that he wore Abeke’s talisman — Uraza’s talisman, Shane corrected himself. In no time, Achi had strung his hammock in the tree, high enough that any passing patrol would miss it entirely — not to mention ants, boars, snakes, and many other creatures that could do them harm in the night.

  Shane clambered up after him.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have a spare,” Achi said. “But we should probably sleep in shifts anyway.”

  “What’s in that village that has you so spooked?”

  “Conquerors,” he answered. “And worse.”

  Shane startled. This was a stroke of luck. Of course, he realized, he should have been seeking out Conquerors all along. He didn’t have to travel all the way back to camp on foot. He could walk right into that village, eat and drink like … well, like a king … and ride out tomorrow on a fast horse with a full complement of soldiers at his back.

  But it would be difficult to convince Achi they were better off in the village than up a tree.

  “Conquerors and worse,” Shane echoed. “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind,” Achi said, turning away. “I’m tired.”

  “I’ll take first watch, then,” Shane offered, giving up, for the moment, thoughts of a hot meal.

  Achi crawled into his makeshift bed and Shane climbed higher, finding a branch just below the canopy that was large enough to bear his weight. Before he’d even settled in, though, he heard a whisper from below.

  “Shane. Hey, Shane.”

  Shane peered down. “Yes, Achi?”

  “Can you tell me a story?”

  “I thought you were tired,” Shane said, but when Achi made no reply, he felt a pang of guilt. “Hold on,” he said, and he made his way back down to the hammock.

  “It’s been a while since I heard a story,” Achi said. “Miss Callie used to tell me them sometimes.” He sounded far younger than the gruff, serious boy of just minutes ago.

  “I don’t really know any stories,” Shane said. “None with happy endings.”

  “They don’t have any legends where you’re from?”

  Shane thought about it. “Oh, I know,” he said. “Did you ever hear the story about how the goanna and the perentie got their coloring?”

  “The what and the who?” Achi said. Even in the gloom, Shane caught his skeptical look.

  “Right,” Shane said, remembering he was supposed to be from Amaya anyway. “Why don’t you tell me a story, then? A story about Nilo?”

  Achi lifted the amber talisman from his chest and then looked at the one Shane wore. “Uraza and Cabaro,” he said. “Did you know they’re the reason gorillas don’t have tails?”

  “I didn’t know that,” said Shane. “Tell me about it.”

  Long ago, when Erdas was young, the Great Beasts had not yet grown into their greatness. Uraza was little more than a kitten, and Cabaro had no mane. Yet they both had claws, and they bared them over Nilo.

  Nilo, you see, was the most beautiful of all the lands, rich in game and lush in climate. Each of the cats wished to claim it as their own.

  They bickered for many days, yowling and hissing and clawing at the ground, and the land around them suffered. For even in their youth, the cats were powerful, and wherever their mighty claws tore up the grass, nothing new would grow. Thus were the Niloan deserts formed.

  Kovo saw this, and he was worried, for he also called Nilo his home. He knew he would not thrive in the desert, and so he sought a way to end their fighting.

  First he went to Cabaro. He flattered the cat’s vanity. “You are stronger than Uraza,” Kovo cooed. “But true strength is in numbers. You must gather others of your kind, and work together to claim Nilo.”

  Then Kovo went to Uraza. He appealed to the cat’s pride. “You are faster and more agile than Cabaro,” he said. “You will control Nilo
if you remain a solitary hunter and strike from the trees.”

  And then there was a time of peace. Cabaro and his lionesses stayed on the savannah, in plain sight, relying on their strength and on teamwork. But there were too many of them to move freely through the jungles. Uraza, by contrast, ruled the trees, relying on stealth and skill and staying well clear of the savannah.

  Each had their own place, and so there was no longer any reason to fight over Nilo. Yet the cats came to realize that they had been tricked into their truce, and they did not take kindly to this. They chased Kovo up into the mountains, and finally caught him by his long and beautiful tail. Kovo escaped, but he lost the tail to the cats.

  “That is what you get for sticking your tail into a cat’s business,” they said.

  And from that day forth, Cabaro and Uraza lived in harmony. The leopard called the forests and jungles of Nilo her home, for she was a great climber, and the trees became her hunting ground. The lion ruled over the savannah, for his might was such that he feared no enemy, and he had no need for stealth or hiding.

  Shane chuckled softly. “And to this day, I’d bet Kovo holds a grudge,” he added. He tried to imagine what the great gorilla would think of such a legend. He doubted he’d be flattered — but then, at least his cunning had been immortalized.

  Within a minute, Achi’s breathing slowed, and Shane crept quietly back to a higher branch. He swapped out the talisman he wore, surveying their surroundings with Essix’s sight, but as the night grew darker the talisman grew less useful.

  He tried Kovo’s again, spurred on by the legend he’d just heard. As he remembered, it sharpened his vision. But the effect was not at all like that of the Copper Falcon. Again his eyes were drawn to the stress points of the branches — the one he sat upon seemed to glow right at its base, where his weight caused it to strain against the tree. He looked down at Achi, and even in the dark he could see details of the boy: the delicate bones of his fingers, his eyes in their sockets, a cluster of nerves at the base of his skull.

  Shane felt suddenly sick. He knew exactly what the talisman allowed him to see: weakness.

  It was showing him how best to hurt Achi.

  Shane removed the pendant. It was darker than the night itself. No moonlight caught its curved surface. He put it away, and opted for Briggan’s heightened hearing instead.

  The jungle came alive at night, but if anything stalked them, he could not find any sign of it. They did get one visitor, however. Several hours into his vigil, Shane caught a musky scent and heard something small and agile moving in the branches of an adjacent tree. Eventually a monkey peered curiously at him through a curtain of leaves. Its face was black, and the fur of its body appeared almost green. It made a chittering sound, which Shane imagined was a greeting.

  “Shh,” he hushed, then pointed to Achi. “He’s sleeping.”

  The monkey cocked its head quizzically. Shane thought it would make a perfect spirit animal for Achi. He suddenly remembered the Bile in his pocket. He drew the vial and considered the amber liquid within.

  This, he realized, could be perfect. Achi could have the spirit animal he wanted. Shane could win him over to the Conquerors’ cause, giving the boy a home and a purpose. He might hesitate at first — might resist accepting that the soldiers had done what had to be done in his village. But that was the beauty of the Bile, wasn’t it? No one could resist it in the end.

  Not even stubborn, foolhardy Drina.

  Shane frowned, a chill spreading up his back. Before he could reconsider, he quickly unstopped the vial and poured out its contents.

  He was a king. A commander of armies. He didn’t need to bribe Achi, and he didn’t need to bully him either.

  As if the boy knew Shane was weighing his fate, he began to toss and turn in his sleep. He cried out into the night, and swayed so much that Shane feared he might launch himself right out of the hammock.

  Shane climbed back down to Achi and shook him gently on the shoulder.

  “Achi,” he said. “It’s only a dream.”

  Achi opened his eyes. They glistened with wetness.

  “What is it?” Shane asked.

  Achi shook his head. All his flintiness was gone. It had been gone since they’d set up camp.

  “It has to do with the village, doesn’t it? The one nearby.”

  Achi was silent a moment, then let out a shuddering sigh. “It’s not just Conquerors down there,” Achi said. “My dad’s with them.”

  “They took him?” Shane asked. “Is he a prisoner? I can get him —”

  “No,” Achi said. “He’s with them. He … he was the elder of our village, like you guessed. He was in charge. Everybody did whatever he said. Everybody trusted him.

  “When the Conquerors came, my dad went out to meet them. I snuck out and followed him and listened. They wanted him to turn over our Greencloak. The one who provides Nectar at our ceremonies, they said. But we didn’t have a Greencloak in our village. There was a woman who brought the Nectar once a year, but we never saw her at other times.”

  Achi took a deep breath. “They didn’t believe him. They thought he was protecting someone. They got violent. And then he … he told them he was sorry. That he had lied, and that there was a Greencloak in our village. He offered to lead them right to her.”

  Shane felt a sourness in the pit of his stomach.

  “He brought them to the village and walked them right up to Miss Callie’s hut. She was no Greencloak. She wasn’t even Marked. But the Conquerors pulled her from her home. Everyone got upset. They came out to help her. They threw rocks and shouted. But the Conquerors …” His voice broke. “The Conquerors had armor and real weapons. In the end, they got what they wanted. And my dad went right along with them.”

  Shane was struck dumb by the senseless horror of Achi’s story. Before he could think of a single thing to say, the boy burst into tears. Sobs racked his small body, swaying the hammock from side to side.

  With some effort, Shane crawled in alongside him. He held Achi until his tears ran dry, murmuring that it was okay, that everything would work out, and wondering whether this was his biggest lie yet.

  Shane dreamed of a jackal.

  It sat upon an iron throne.

  In its jaws was a bloody golden crown, forged in the shape of a snake devouring its own tail.

  Shane awoke with surprise at the first hint of dawn. He was wedged into the hammock. Achi was crouched on a branch above him.

  “I fell asleep,” Shane said groggily.

  Achi shrugged. “I kept watch.” There was no sign of sorrow on the boy’s face, as if he’d left his worries in the dark.

  Shane slid to the ground and stretched while Achi gathered the hammock. He still wore Uraza’s talisman. Shane could have believed it gave the boy claws — he clung to the side of the tree so effortlessly.

  Achi leaped to the ground from a height that Shane wouldn’t have dared. He landed on his feet, of course.

  “Ready to go?” he asked, so much enthusiasm in his voice that it broke Shane’s heart a little.

  “Listen, Achi …”

  “I gathered some grubs while you slept. For breakfast!” Achi held out a closed fist, and Shane had no desire to see what it contained.

  “I’m going to the village, Achi,” he said soberly. “And I think you should come with me.”

  Achi’s smile snapped closed like a bear trap.

  “I know you’re angry with your father,” Shane said. “And you have every right to be. What he did was wrong. But listen …” He squatted down and put a hand on Achi’s shoulder. “It’s like the story you told me about Kovo. Remember? Kovo lied, but he did it for a good reason. He got the cats to stop fighting. He saved the day!”

  Achi gave him a withering look. “Kovo was not the hero of that story.”

  “Wasn’t he?” Shane said. “Achi, the thing you have to understand is this: Sometimes good people do bad things. It doesn’t mean they’re bad people.”

&n
bsp; “That’s exactly what it means!” Achi hollered.

  “You need to forgive your father,” Shane said forcefully. “He was doing what he thought was right for the village and for —”

  Achi shoved Shane, hard, and he skidded into the dirt.

  Shane could hardly believe it had happened. He was torn between shock, hurt, and anger — and then he saw the shaft of an arrow sticking out from a tree.

  Right where his head had been.

  “Shane, run!” Achi shouted.

  They dashed into the trees, and Shane struggled to swap talismans while keeping his head down. He didn’t need Briggan’s hearing to catch the dramatic crashing behind him as something large and fast moved toward them through the brush.

  He needed the lion.

  Shane skidded to a stop, twirled on his heel, and roared.

  The sound was so great it was a physical force, pushing at the trees like a hurricane so that they bent low to the ground. One of them snapped in half, its thick trunk reduced to splinters. Despite the countless leaves and twigs that flew into the air, blocking Shane’s vision, he easily saw the huge cat that had been charging them. It hurtled backward in the gale, sliding through the mud. Even as it tumbled away, the fierceness in its eyes and the savage points of its teeth gave Shane chills.

  He turned to find Achi had stopped to look at him. “What was —?”

  “Run!” Shane said.

  He didn’t mean to.

  He just didn’t think.

  But his shouted warning came out as another great wave of crushing force.

  Achi flew.

  All that mattered now was speed.

  When Shane retrieved the talisman from Achi’s unconscious body, the boy’s head lolled back and his arms hung limply. He’d flown high, come down hard, and was now out cold, his shallow breathing the only evidence that he was still alive.

  Shane took the boy in his arms, donned the Amber Leopard, and ran. He fought the urge to look behind him, to see if the black cat had recovered and resumed its pursuit.

  He felt a calmness overtake him. To be running through the jungle suddenly felt like the most natural thing in the world. He no longer had to even think about where he was placing his feet, or which way to turn to avoid the low branches and hanging curtains of vines. He was a wild thing, running free. He was Uraza, and he was home.