Hunters Unlucky

by Abigail Hilton

  No answer. Valla panicked. She swept the surface of the water, but could not see Sauny, and the light was very dim. In desperation, she plunged her head beneath the surface, opened her eyes, and saw…

  Acriss. A perfect trail—like glowing green bubbles—all the way from the surface near Valla to the bottom of the cave. They disappeared into the mouth of a smaller cave or tunnel that must have been at the bottom of the pool when it was at normal levels.

  Sauny was following the acriss—swimming down through illuminated water, past what would have been the surface of the pool, deeper and deeper towards the opening at the bottom. Valla stuck her head up, got two more gulps of air, and then followed Sauny into the glowing sea.

  * * * *

  Storm tried to dismiss his experiences on the trail and the bridge as he hurried into the Great Cave. Hide. He did not know what creasia would do if they encountered him, but he did not wish to test the limits of their Volontaro peace treaty.

  The Great Cave is large, he reasoned. Plenty of places to get lost.

  This might have been true, but the ferryshaft side was strewn with sleeping bodies—thickest in the sandy area in the front of the cave, where the ground was most comfortable. Storm picked his way quickly among them, hoping to go unrecognized in the darkness.

  His progress seemed to evoke more muttering and growls than he would have expected. Finally, after hearing a snarl in the wake of his passage, Storm glanced back and saw, to his surprise and disgust, that the cub was following him. I spared your life; isn’t that enough? Now please get out of my sight and allow me to forget you ever existed.

  The cub’s presence was drawing more attention than Storm would have liked. With a rising temper, he picked his way to a patch of boulders. He settled into a crevice and waited for the cub. He saw its silhouette approaching a moment later, walking quickly on its short legs—jerky and anxious and sometimes stumbling. Its head craned around in a panicky manner.

  “Why are you following me?” Storm hissed from the shadows.

  The cub stopped, peering into the crevice of rock. It sniffed the air. “You,” it began timidly. Storm thought that it was male. “You carried me off the bridge.”

  “You may express your gratitude by leaving me alone,” snapped Storm.

  The cub hunkered down, tucked its tail, and lowered its ears—gestures almost pitifully conciliatory. “Thank you,” it stammered. “Only, since you were behind me…I wondered if you might have seen my mother.” He swallowed, almost overcome with anxiety. “She fell right at the beginning. Everyone was shoving, and they pushed her off the edge, but we weren’t very high, and I saw her land. I think she was alright. I thought she would…would come at the end.”

  Storm felt as though he’d dropped from a warm, sunny cliff into a dark, icy pool. “Your…mother.”

  “Yes, did you see her on the trail?”

  “No.” No, no, no, no, no…

  The cub deflated against the ground. He looked very small. “She made me promise to keep going,” he whispered. “No matter what happened.”

  Storm darted out of the crevice around the crumpled cub. He dashed through the sea of ferryshaft, not caring if he stepped on legs or tails. He ran until he reached the comforting tangle of boulders at the back of the cave. He located a high shelf of rock along the back wall and jumped up. Storm tucked himself out of sight, flipped his tail over his face, and tried to forget the world.

  * * * *

  Valla’s lungs were already starting to burn when she reached the mouth of the tunnel where Sauny had disappeared. We’re going to die in here. We’re going to die in here… But at least they would not die in the dark. Valla pushed her head into the tunnel and saw the line of acriss illuminating it clearly for three or four lengths before the tunnel took a sharp upward turn, and the trail of tiny jellyfish veered out of sight. Sauny was nowhere to be seen.

  Even in her fear and air-hunger, Valla could not help marveling at the acriss. She’d never seen or heard of acriss behaving in such a way. Valla suspected that Sauny had intended to explore the tunnel and return with news of whatever she found. But if it goes much farther without reaching air, this is a one-way trip.

  The tunnel might reach air, of course. Their current cave obviously had a leak, which was why it had filled with water. If they found an airtight cave, they would not have this problem. Valla clambered inside the tunnel. Acriss swirled around her as she disturbed them with her passage. She thought that Sauny must have done the same, yet they had reformed behind her. Odd.

  Valla reached the curve in the tunnel and looked up. She let out an involuntary gasp of bubbles as she saw the high column of water overhead, and, at the top, the unmistakable flat mirror of a surface. Sauny was treading water up there, and the acriss swarmed in bright clouds, driven by the movement of her legs. Even as Valla struggled upward, she saw Sauny’s front half disappear and realized that there was a way to get out of the water.

  We’re going to live!

  Valla’s head broke the surface. She gulped in a dizzy breath of air, her head spinning. Small cave. Not flooded. A few telshees. Sauny panting beside her, half out of the water.

  “Well, that—” began Valla, but Sauny made a choking noise, and she stopped.

  Valla looked at her friend. Sauny had frozen on the edge of the pool. She was staring at the telshees. Valla followed her gaze. She noticed an odd smell in the room—almost like death. One of the telshees was coming towards them. It looked fish-belly pale, its fur almost transparent. Its eyes were not blue, but green. Green as the acriss…with the same kind of luminescence.

  Valla’s mouth went dry. She was just drawing a frantic breath to dive back into the water, when the lishty spoke. “Hello,” it said. “I have been Kos.”

  Chapter 9. Boundaries

  Storm woke to a low, sustained growl. His eyes snapped open, and his brain did a scrambling assessment. Don’t move, he reminded himself. You’re on a narrow ledge. Storm looked out over the Great Cave in the weak morning light. It was still raining outside, but lazily. A stiff wind whipped the rain in misty droplets around the cave and moaned in the rock chinks, but it was nothing like the predatory howl of the Volontaro the night before.

  Storm heard the growl again, followed by a hiss. He looked directly down from his perch and saw the cub. It had backed into a corner of rock just beneath him. It was bristling hugely, tiny ears flat to its head, lips peeled back in a snarl. Five young ferryshaft foals had cornered it and were circling cautiously, muttering and giggling to each other.

  “Is it really a creasia?” Storm heard one foal say.

  “I haven’t heard it talk.”

  “It can’t be a creasia! They’re never so small. It’s an oory, right? It must be an oory. Can you eat an oory?”

  “I think so.”

  “Leave it alone,” said Storm from on high.

  The clique glanced about, startled, until one looked up and saw him. “It’s Vearil!” breathed the foal. “The ghost spawn!”

  Is that what they’re calling me now? “Leave it alone,” repeated Storm.

  “I’m not an oory,” said the cub in a voice so tiny that Storm felt certain he’d made his position more precarious rather than less.

  The clique’s attention shifted back to the cub. “It talks! Oories don’t talk. But it can’t be a creasia; it’s too small.”

  The youngest of the foals, surely not even a year old, piped up. “My dad says milk-fed cubs are delicious.” Everyone looked at him, and he looked suddenly anxious. “But I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

  The clique’s apparent leader, probably a two-year-old, whirled on the cub, eyes bright. “Are you a milk-fed cub?” he wheedled, inching nearer.

  The cub responded by bristling and giving a hiss that sounded more terrified than aggressive. Storm dropped from the ledge, scattering the clique. “I said leave it!” he barked.

  They were already gone, racing into the boulders that jumbled the back of the cave. Storm tur
ned to the cub. “Why are you still here?” he demanded.

  The cub lowered its eyes and licked its lips. “I still can’t find my mother.”

  And you never will. “Don’t you have a father?” No, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. “Any other relatives?”

  The cub looked at the ground. Its voice came in a hesitant mumble. “We were low-ranking in our den. I don’t think… I don’t know if they would want me…”

  “Well, try,” said Storm impatiently. “There must be cats over there who would know how to help you. I don’t. Now get out of here before some other ferryshaft decides that ‘milk-fed cubs are delicious.’ This is our side of the cave.”

  The cub looked at him, uncomprehending, and Storm realized that he couldn’t possibly be a year old. Do creasia have cubs in spring? He can’t be any older than that. Which meant that this cub had never been through a Volontaro before, never visited the Great Cave. He’d probably never seen a ferryshaft until last night.

  Last night… The scene on the trail played over and over in Storm’s head with cringe-inducing clarity. Had the creasia been male? Female? He had no idea. His memory of the voice was genderless. It wasn’t his mother, Storm told himself stubbornly. She probably died when she fell the first time…or was injured and drowned in the mazes. But he kept seeing the creasia’s desperate eyes, illuminated by flashes of lightning. Was it his imagination, or did the cub’s eyes look the same?

  No. This is not my fault. This is not my problem. Wasn’t Valla orphaned in the last Volontaro? It must happen to creasia, too. Somehow, they deal with it.

  The cub’s timid voice broke into his thoughts. “You saved me.”

  No, that is not what happened. I should just tell him. Then he’ll leave. “I—”

  “Storm!”

  Storm turned in exasperation. Kelsy had come trotting out of the tangle of boulders. “I thought I saw you come in last night.”

  Storm drew a deep breath. But if not for the stupid cub, you’d never have found me. “What do you want?”

  Kelsy’s eyes had shifted to the cub. He looked confused. “We’re not supposed to hunt creasia in the Great Cave, although if you found it on our side…”

  “I’m not hunting it,” snapped Storm. “Just ignore it, please.” Ignore it, and maybe it will go away.

  To his relief, Kelsy did. “There’s a meeting this morning. I was hoping you would come.”

  Storm felt cross and reckless. He opened his mouth to say no. Instead, he heard himself say, “Certainly. I have thought of some questions I would like to ask.” Like how to get rid of cubs that I may have orphaned by accident.

  Kelsy peered at him. “Was it difficult, getting across the bridge? It looked impassable.”

  “Oh, you know me,” said Storm blithely. “I walk on air. Where is this conference of yours?”

  Kelsy was silent a moment. Storm could tell that Kelsy did not like his tone. “You’re not planning on attacking anyone, are you?”

  “Not unless they attack me first.”

  “Are you bringing that cub to threaten it? Because I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “What cub?” said Storm.

  Kelsy sighed. “This way.”

  Storm did not look back to see whether the cub was following. He decided that completely ignoring it would be the best tactic. I can’t really ask anyone about it. The obvious solution was to snap its back with one shake. How could he admit that Vearil, ghost spawn, doom of cats, could not bring himself to do this? I will do it if he keeps following me. But this conference will be near the boundary line, I expect, and that will give him a chance to see his side of the cave. He probably just doesn’t know where to go.

  The conference did, indeed, appear to be near the boundary line—not the current line, but the old one, directly under the large stone with the telshee character. Storm could read it now: Boundary. How convenient. We meet on what is now creasia territory, but it used to be neutral ground.

  No one challenged them as they splashed through the little stream, stopping briefly to drink. The ground was uneven, with boulders strewn everywhere. Storm could see that they were headed towards the boundary stone, but he didn’t see the animals underneath it until they were almost on top of them. Arcove was sitting at the base of the great outcropping of rock, looking out towards the swirling mist of rain at the cave’s mouth. Roup lay beside him, and Halvery was pacing a few lengths away. Sharmel and Ariand sat a little further off towards the creasia side, chatting to each other. There were five other creasia that Storm did not recognize. Charder was there, along with Pathar, and four elder ferryshaft—two female and two male. Storm could not remember their names. They were all talking in low voices, but stopped abruptly when they saw Storm and Kelsy.

  Kelsy smiled madly, addressing himself to Arcove. “Well, you said you wanted to see him.”

  Arcove half stood. Everyone looked some shade of startled or horrified. Storm realized that this particular venue had not been Arcove’s idea.

  Storm shot a sidelong glance at Kelsy. Well, you’ve still got nerve.

  Kelsy pretended not to see their expressions and continued addressing himself to Arcove. “He’s not that easy to corner. If you don’t want to see him, I’m sure he’ll be happy to go away.”

  Arcove sat slowly back down, his eyes fixed on Storm—unreadable. “Stay,” he said. The talking slowly resumed. Storm realized that the animals he did not know were weather experts like Pathar—a rare gift, allowing them to sense minute changes before others sensed them. They were discussing why the storm had come up so suddenly and why they’d failed to identify the danger until such a late stage.

  Kelsy went forward to join the group. Storm did not, although he stayed near enough to catch snippets of the conversation. Arcove was saying nothing, just listening. Roup looked asleep, but Storm saw the slit of one golden eye open, watching.

  “What I’d like to know,” said Storm loudly, “is why this rock in the middle of the cave says ‘Boundary,’ but we ferryshaft are kept on the far side of the stream, in an area that is considerably smaller. Why, I wonder, is that?”

  The group went dead quiet again. Storm wasn’t sure which they found more shocking—his words or the revelation that he could read. “You stay over there because that’s where we put you,” snapped Halvery. Storm glanced at him. Halvery’s hackles had risen, and his dark eyes looked dangerous.

  Storm thought that it would be easy to bait him into a chase, but he wanted to say something more. He turned his full attention to Arcove. “My sister is alive; thank you for asking. She is learning all kinds of things in Syriot. Keesha is also well. He has not forgotten you. In fact, he seems to think of little else.”

  In the stillness, Storm could hear the wind keening among the rocks outside and the distant gurgle of the stream. Arcove’s voice came at last, a murmur lower than the wind. “Are you warning me or threatening me?”

  Storm matched his tone. “What do you think?”

  “Because,” said Arcove, as though Storm had not spoken, “I do not respond well to threats.”

  “Really? I was hoping you would.”

  Kelsy looked ready to eviscerate him. “Storm!” he hissed.

  “I was thinking,” continued Storm. “This cave makes good shelter, but it would be a terrible place to get trapped. That bridge could blow away at any moment. One day it will surely just crumble. There’s no approach from the cliff. Trapped up here… After we had all finished fighting and eating each other, we’d die. Did our ancestors never think of that?”

  Arcove had risen and paced slowly forward. Storm did not back away.

  “I think they did,” he continued. “I think there’s another way into and out of the Great Cave—a tunnel somewhere among the rocks. But you’ll never use it, will you? Not unless you’re desperate. Because it goes through Syriot. Who wrote that word on the stone, I wonder? I think it was a telshee—maybe one of those enormous males, sleeping now in the Dreaming Se
a.”

  Arcove was looking directly down at him. Storm stared into his implacable, green eyes. “How badly do you want to die, Storm?”

  “You won’t kill me,” said Storm with confidence. “You keep your word, don’t you? And besides, you’re in a telshee cave, and you know it, and it scares you—at least, it should.”

  Halvery was growling, and now he shot forward.

  “Don’t,” said Arcove and Halvery checked, almost on top of Storm.

  Storm kept his eyes on Arcove. “When you’re ready to talk to me like an equal, I’ll be ready to listen. Maybe. If Syra-lay hasn’t killed you by then.”

  He turned and forced himself to walk, without hurrying, away from the boundary stone.

  Chapter 10. Follow

  Storm headed for the bridge. There might be flooding outside, but he could deal with it. He’d rather deal with it than with anything in here. He’d just crossed the stream that marked the current boundary and started up the rise towards the sandy portion of the cave, when a furious snarling and hissing broke out behind him.

  Storm turned to see an older adult ferryshaft grabbing at, and narrowly missing, the cub. The tiny cat had instinctively flipped onto its back and flailed with all four clawed feet. It was a ridiculous defense, but it had the desired effect of making his antagonist withdraw for a moment. However, the ferryshaft was only deterred for an instant. He circled quickly, the cub on its back, flipping awkwardly this way and that to keep the predator in sight. The contest would be over in a matter of heartbeats.

  All of the pent up energy of his showdown with Arcove came boiling to the surface and Storm gave a snarl that was more like a roar. “Leave—it—alone!”

  The adult ferryshaft was so surprised that he sat down. He looked at Storm. A dozen other heads turned in their direction.

  Storm came forward, seized the unresisting cub, and hurled it along his intended path towards the bridge. “That is mine! I am saving it for later! If anyone else touches it, I will rip out their guts and feed them to telshees. Do you understand?”