Hunters Unlucky

by Abigail Hilton

  They all started along the path, walking just a little more quickly than was necessary. They were halfway down when they found the first body.

  Chapter 3. Run

  A young male creasia lay sprawled across the path, eyes glazed, chest soaked with blood. Deep scratches cut into the muscle and meat of his flanks. Roup bounded forward. “Nevin?”

  The cat did not answer. Roup was bristling all over as he bent to sniff him.

  Arcove growled and started running. “Roup!” he bellowed over his shoulder. “With me! Now!”

  Roup was still crouching beside his subordinate’s body. Charder had frozen in the middle of the path. Storm and Kelsy pushed around him. Arcove whirled farther down the trail and shouted back at Roup. “They’re fighting; you can’t help that one. Come! Now!”

  Roup broke away from the corpse with a visible effort and flashed down the trail after Arcove. Charder, Kelsy, and Storm were all running now. “This is bad,” panted Charder. “Creasia fighting at the winter conference…? It’s never happened before. That’s probably why the herd went into the trees—anxious to get away from the fighting.” He turned to Kelsy with a snarl. “If this has anything to do with your lot—”

  “It doesn’t!” Kelsy exclaimed. “I didn’t hear so much as a whisper about fighting from any of the young cliques.”

  “A ferryshaft didn’t kill that cat,” said Storm. “Only creasia leave scratches like that.”

  Arcove and Roup had disappeared around a switchback. Storm felt numb. What about Teek? Did he run into the middle of it?

  They’d almost reached the bottom, when they had to jump over the bodies of two more creasia. Storm didn’t recognize any of them, but they’d clearly died of cat-inflicted wounds, and their blood slicked the rock beneath his hooves.

  Storm pushed ahead of the other two and burst out of the enclosed portion of the trail a little before they did. Finally, he had an unobstructed view of the plain from about ten lengths above the ground, and the sight hit him like a physical blow—bodies everywhere, the red rock glistening redder. In the grassy area between the boulders and the riverside trees, he spotted ferryshaft bodies—the shapes that he and Charder had seen from the ledge. Nothing was moving.

  At least, that’s what Storm thought until he actually reached the foot of the trail and spotted Ariand. Arcove was crouching in front of him. Roup paced around them with the desperation of one who seeks to help and can do nothing. Storm could see blood, and he could tell that Ariand was badly hurt, but he’d almost reached the creasia before he realized what he was looking at.

  Ariand had been disemboweled and his entrails tangled in a thorny bush. He could not pull away without ripping out more of his own insides. Blood-loss and the shock of his injuries had done the rest. Storm thought that he was dead, but as he watched, Ariand blinked his filmy eyes. He tried to speak and only sprayed Arcove’s whiskers with blood.

  Storm heard Kelsy’s sharp intake of breath at his side. “What—happened?”

  Charder came up beside them. He hesitated for a moment, then went right up to the group of creasia. Arcove didn’t stir. He was almost nose-to-nose with Ariand, who was trying desperately to say something.

  “Treace,” managed Ariand at last.

  Roup gave a snarl so savage that Storm flinched.

  Arcove didn’t move. “How?”

  “Attacked just after you left,” croaked Ariand.

  “While we were passing the waterfall,” murmured Charder. “It would have drowned out sounds from below.”

  “Halvery and Sharmel?” asked Arcove.

  “Don’t know,” whispered Ariand. “Didn’t see.” He drew a breath that sounded wet. “Treace said to tell you he’d be waiting in the Great Clearing…to fight.”

  Roup stopped pacing. “You mean he left you like this on purpose?”

  Ariand didn’t respond. He was trembling with effort and, Storm suspected, with pain.

  Charder’s eyes flicked around the rocks as though expecting an ambush. Storm had to agree that this seemed like the perfect set-up.

  “He took the ferryshaft herd,” continued Ariand softly. “Drove them across the river.”

  Storm felt cold.

  Kelsy had gone perfectly still.

  “Where?” demanded Charder.

  “Don’t know,” said Ariand. “Some of them fought. I wouldn’t…wouldn’t take the most direct route to the clearing if…if I were you.” He screwed his eyes shut as though each breath required concentration.

  Arcove spoke almost against his ear. “Do you want me to end this?”

  “Please.” He gulped in air. “Roup, will you…take me…to the ghost wood…when this is over?”

  Roup stopped pacing. “Of course.”

  Arcove whispered, “We will miss you, councilor.” His broad, pink tongue ran from Ariand’s nose to the top of his head, as a mother cat might wash a cub. Then his jaws closed behind the other cat’s skull. Storm looked away at the last moment. There was an audible crunch. When Storm turned back, Ariand’s trembling had ceased.

  Arcove stood up. He had been the picture of unshakeable calm during the ordeal. Now, he looked vacant.

  “We have to go after the herd,” whispered Kelsy in a voice that sounded far from certain.

  Charder said nothing. He was watching the creasia.

  Storm shouted, “Teek!” And he thought, Tollee, Myla, Mother…

  “They can’t all be dead,” muttered Roup, staring at Ariand.

  “Dead or turned,” said Arcove, his expression still flat.

  “My clutter would not turn,” spat Roup. “Neither would Halvery’s, and Sharmel—”

  “Well, they’re not here.”

  “No, but we are.”

  Storm looked up and saw a curb perched on a nearby boulder. He snarled. “Quinyl.”

  “Ah, you remember me!” she murmured. “Good. I have certainly not forgotten you.”

  Three more curbs joined Quinyl. Out of the corners of his eyes, Storm saw a dozen more emerging from the scrub and rocks. Then two dozen, then more…and more…

  Storm felt as though he couldn’t breathe. When did the lowland curbs grow so numerous?

  Arcove was growling low in his throat.

  Quinyl glanced at him. “We’ve no quarrel with you, rulers of Leeshwood-that-was. Your fate is waiting for you in the Great Clearing. And you, Charder and Kelsy, rulers of a conquered people. Your herd is on its way into the deep forest. You should go and find it. But you, Storm Ela-ferry. We’ve a blood-debt to settle with you.”

  One of the curbs behind Storm set up an ululating howl that made him dance in a nervous circle. Quinyl laughed. “Yes, run. You’re good at that. I think I would like to watch. Run away, little ferryshaft. Run as hard as you can. You’ll go down kicking and screaming soon enough.”

  Arcove’s rumble cut across her. “You are interrupting my council meeting, curb.”

  Storm glanced at him. Arcove’s eyes seemed to be focusing again, and he looked like he wanted to kill something.

  Quinyl looked at Arcove with a neutral expression. “Your council is over, cat. Many things are ending today.”

  “Such as my tolerance for lowland curbs,” grated Arcove. “You are walking very close to war, little hunter.”

  Quinyl cocked her head, and now her expression was undisguised contempt. In the distance, Storm heard the faint sound of a creasia rally cry. From the way Arcove and Roup’s ears flicked, he knew they heard it, too.

  Quinyl sneered, “Now, who do you think that could be? Your cats…or Treace’s? Think quickly, creasia king. You can have a fight in the clearing with witnesses, or you can have a fight out here…with us…and whatever is coming.”

  Arcove’s lips peeled back in a terrible, gleaming snarl, and the fur along his spine rose, making him look even bigger. Roup was bristling, too, but his eyes kept skipping around the rocks. Storm guessed there were over a hundred curbs, and Roup probably didn’t like the odds…especially since t
hose rally cries were coming nearer.

  A part of Storm wanted to flee—to take his chances with the curbs and look for Teek. But Teek is either dead or safely hidden. And Arcove could have left me to die. He didn’t. Storm fought down his own instincts and backed up beside Arcove. “Do you remember what you told me in front of Groth?”

  Arcove took a moment to respond. His whole attention was fixed on Quinyl. He’s really thinking about jumping up there and taking on the whole pack. He might even win…if there weren’t other creasia coming.

  Storm guessed that the shock of what had just happened was affecting Arcove’s judgment. He just killed his own officer of…what? Twenty years? Thirty? That would rattle anyone. And besides, the sun is directly overhead. Teek was always a little fuzzy at noon, even when Storm had him on a daylight schedule. For him, it’s the middle of the night.

  “I asked you what you’d do with your back against a wall,” continued Storm, “and you said you’d fight and die before you’d run away.”

  “I remember,” snapped Arcove.

  “I think you should reconsider,” said Storm, and he couldn’t help but add, “because I think you’re about to really not get your way.”

  “If you have an idea, Storm,” murmured Roup, “say it.”

  “I know a place to hide.” Storm spoke softly and quickly. “Not a telshee cave; a different place. But we have to go now. Before those cats get any closer. I think the curbs will try to follow us, but they’re not all that anxious to fight you. If they were, they’d already have attacked. They’re waiting for Treace’s cats.”

  Arcove was still looking up at Quinyl, Ariand’s body cooling at his feet. “Arcove,” said Roup softly, “I think we should do what he says.”

  Arcove didn’t move.

  “You’re not thinking clearly,” said Storm. “I know. It’s daytime. You need to sleep.”

  Arcove shifted his attention from Quinyl to glare at Storm. What am I doing? thought Storm. He was suddenly conscious of how closely they were standing. If he loses his temper… One swipe…

  “Arcove,” said Charder. He took a deep breath. “I’ll… I’ll tell you…” He couldn’t seem to get the words out.

  Arcove’s hackles settled a little. He glanced at Charder. “Tell me what?”

  Charder took another breath. “I’ll tell you how Storm is related to Coden…if you come now.”

  There was a pause. Finally, Arcove made a little snort. “Charder…”

  “You’ll come? Good,” said Storm, and he darted away. He’d already planned the route in his mind. He knew the others were following when the circle of curbs moved with him instead of closing in.

  Then Arcove sailed over his head and landed on a curb who hadn’t moved fast enough. The animal didn’t even have time to scream. The next one did, though, as Arcove’s claws caught him and flipped him into the air in a spray of blood. Roup thumped down beside Arcove, slapping at scampering animals, and then the circle of curbs broke apart.

  Storm ran all-out towards the headwaters of the Igby. It was the easiest place to cross, where all the tributaries had not yet converged, and large boulders from the cliffs provided staging points.

  Behind and around him, he could hear the curbs yipping and howling. They’ll follow us and try to guide pursuing creasia. But it won’t matter if we reach our destination.

  In the trees, when they’d gained enough distance to avoid being overheard, Roup called, “Storm, are we going to that fiord?”

  “Yes.”

  “The one where you lost me when I chased you?”

  “Yes.” I told Teek about it, so there’s no point in keeping it from you. He’d tell you eventually…unless Treace’s cats... Unless Teek…

  Storm shook his head. Run, he told himself. Just run.

  Chapter 4. The Fiord

  Their run took them along the foot of the cliffs into creasia territory, through mazes that Storm did not know well. Roup said that this was technically Sharmel’s territory, though it was riddled with telshee caves, so close to the Garu Vell. No cats denned here.

  Arcove said almost nothing, but he obviously knew his way, and he took the lead through the boulders. He led them to a trail that ascended the cliff in dizzy switchbacks, and they spent the rest of the afternoon climbing. Three quarters of the way up, they got a good look at their pursuers—a mixture of cats and curbs, bounding along the lower trail. Arcove and Roup stopped for one hard look.

  “I see at least three cats from Ariand’s clutter,” said Roup quietly.

  Arcove grunted.

  So it’s not just the cats you sent away with Treace, thought Storm. Other cats have gone over to them. That can’t be good.

  Or can it? What would be best for the ferryshaft? Could we use this to somehow get free of the creasia forever? Storm didn’t know, but he knew that a Leeshwood ruled by Treace would certainly not be better for anyone.

  When they reached the top of the cliff, Roup struck out in a straight line for the fiord. Storm could hear the ocean now and smell the sharp tang of brine. They burst out of the trees above the Sea Cliffs, and Storm caught a glimpse of the jagged line of the fiord up ahead. He could not help but feel smug. “Been wondering about this, have you?”

  Roup just lashed his tail.

  “You shouldn’t feel too stupid. It’s all-but-impossible to see—”

  “Just tell us how it works,” snapped Arcove.

  Storm scowled. After a moment, he said, “There’s a cave in the opposite cliff wall. You can’t see the opening from the top, but you can just make out the lip. That’s where you aim when you jump. The cave is a tunnel that comes out in a thicket north of here. Without a scent trail leading there, it’s nearly impossible to find.”

  Kelsy’s head came up sharply. “I showed you this! A couple of years ago. Itsa and me…and Faralee.”

  “Yes,” grinned Storm. “You did.”

  “I’d never have tried jumping to it from the cliff, though,” said Kelsy. “If you miss, you’re dead.”

  “Well, Roup was about to catch me the first time I tried it,” said Storm, “so it seemed like the better option.”

  The fiord opened suddenly in front of them. “I almost went over the edge here,” muttered Roup. “Lyndi was—” He stopped and shook his head.

  “It’s actually easy once you know where you’re aiming,” said Storm. “You see that line? It looks like a tiny shelf of rock not even wide enough for standing, but that’s the lip of the cave mouth. You just can’t see the opening from this angle.”

  Arcove studied the cliff. “Clever,” he muttered.

  “Yes, I shouldn’t be showing it to you,” said Storm.

  “Well, I did just save you from a pack of curbs,” said Arcove.

  “So we’re even.” Storm backed up, took a running start, and jumped. He could not suppress an instant of fear as the cliff wall rushed up to meet him. Then a dark opening yawned abruptly, and he landed, with a clatter of hooves, in the hidden cave.

  The others soon followed. Storm had been a little worried about Charder. He was the oldest and not in fighting shape, or so Storm had thought. However, Charder made the jump so neatly that Storm wondered whether he’d done it before. Kelsy, by contrast, nearly fell. He landed, scrambling, on the edge, and then bolted into the cave, bristling with anxiety. Roup came next, sniffing and looking at everything, and finally Arcove, who, for all his size, landed silently.

  “Oh,” murmured Roup, when he saw the odd figures on the walls. “This is an old ferryshaft cave.” Sunset light streaked the ancient images of ferryshaft with odd creatures on their backs.

  Arcove grunted.

  Roup was examining the images minutely. “Very old. From the time of the humans.”

  Arcove padded past him down the passage. Storm doubted that he would rest until he’d seen every bit of the cave. Just as well. I haven’t been here in more than a season. I hope the exit hasn’t collapsed.

  Storm wished that the cave had wate
r or anything to eat. They’d passed a stream earlier in the afternoon, and everyone had taken a few gulps, but Storm was thirsty again. Still, the cave had the essential thing—safety. Arcove was still gone when there came a rustle of activity on the ledge above—creasia voices and calls, the yip of curbs.

  Sounds carried easily in the fiord. Everyone sat very still. Arcove came stalking back, and waited, saying nothing, while the clamber continued above. After a while, the sounds died away. However, the fugitives took the precaution of moving farther back along the tunnel before speaking or settling down. Arcove and Roup curled up back-to-back. They were talking in voices too low to understand, but their tone sounded grim.

  “I’ll take first watch,” said Kelsy suddenly.

  “Second,” said Storm.

  “Wake me when you get tired,” said Charder. He glanced at the creasia. “You two, sleep. We’ll wake you if there’s anything to kill.”

  Neither of the creasia responded.

  It’s not so easy—staying awake all night and running all day, is it? Storm shut his eyes and tried to sleep. However, all the fears that he’d managed to suppress during the day came flooding into his brain. What would Tollee do if creasia tried to drive her into Leeshwood? She’s a fighter. Was her body out there on the plain? Would Myla survive the river crossing? It’s a long swim for a spring foal. How many drowned?

  More than anything, Teek’s expression of pain and betrayal hung like a ghost before his mind’s eye. Were those his last moments?

  “Storm?”

  Storm’s head jerked up. Roup was looking down at him. “I thought you might like to know—I did a quick run around the trailhead before the rest of you reached the ground. I was trying to identify all the creasia bodies. I didn’t see Teek or smell his blood.”

  Storm swallowed. “The curbs might have chased him before they killed him.”

  “They might have,” agreed Roup. “But they seemed focused on us. I think he got away.”

  Storm felt his insides unclench a little. “Maybe.”

  Roup hesitated. “That cub loves you, Storm.”