For a long moment, Storm thought he wouldn’t respond. Finally, he heard fur shift over stone. “What?”
“Aren’t you cold?”
“No.”
Storm took a step back. He felt as though someone had filled his legs with cold sea water—heavy and numb. Storm curled up against the wall. Should I go with Arcove’s cats tomorrow? Why? Should I try to find my herd? Won’t I just get killed? Storm felt a faint brush of fur against his hip. He turned in the darkness, but he could see nothing. Cautiously, he leaned over to sniff…and then recoiled as something hissed and eye-watering pain shot down his muzzle.
Storm yelped. All his muscles tensed and he suppressed the urge to jump up, to lash out, to bite, to kick. Instead, he laid his head on the ground and took slow, deep breaths through his stinging nose. He scratched me pretty good. Storm tasted blood in the back of his throat. Teek came to him then and burrowed up against his neck.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Storm.
Teek didn’t say anything. He curled up against Storm’s neck and chest. He was trembling with exhaustion and, perhaps, Storm hoped, with relief. A moment later, Teek was asleep.
* * * *
Roup was restless, but knew he mustn’t disturb the others. He allowed himself one circuit of the tunnel before settling down. On his way back, in the darkest corner, he saw the outline of Storm and Teek, sleeping. The cub was cuddled up to Storm’s chest, his head resting across the ferryshaft’s shoulders.
Roup felt a mixture of warmth and apprehension. Maybe it won’t end badly this time. Maybe.
Although things aren’t looking so good right now. Roup did not have a large clutter. He knew every one of them—every one that had died today. Mourn them later, fight for the ones still alive. That’s what Arcove would say.
He passed Lyndi, curled up near the entrance. At least you’re alright.
Arcove sat just within the cave’s mouth. The sky outside was growing lighter. “My turn,” said Roup. “You sleep.”
Arcove didn’t argue, but he didn’t go anywhere, either, just laid his head down on his crossed paws. “I should have killed Treace,” he muttered, and now Roup could hear all the doubt that never entered Arcove’s voice in council.
“I agreed with you about sending him away,” said Roup. “So did Halvery. I thought Treace would make trouble if he stayed in the wood, but I never thought he’d come back and do this. If I had seen it coming, I would have told you. I didn’t.”
“Ariand—”
“Was suffering,” said Roup.
Arcove gave a little snort. “I didn’t kill him when I broke his neck. I killed him when I didn’t kill Treace.”
“You’ll kill Treace,” said Roup.
They were silent a moment. “Roup, how long did Ketch rule?”
Roup considered “Three years, I think.”
“And Masaran?”
Roup didn’t like where this was going. “I don’t know. Maybe eight.”
“And the king before that?”
“Arcove, stop it.”
“Creasia kings don’t get old,” murmured Arcove. “Twenty-three years is a long time.”
“You’re not old,” said Roup. “Do you know how many cats will die if you don’t win this? Ferryshaft, too.”
Arcove’s eyes flicked up and he gave a little smile. “Charder suggested they could help us…in exchange for ending the raids.”
Roup laughed. “I think that’s a good idea.”
“The day I need ferryshaft to fight my battles for me is the day I’m done ruling Leeshwood.”
Roup didn’t agree, but he was relieved to hear the spark return to Arcove’s voice. “And, besides, they wouldn’t,” continued Arcove.
“Don’t be so sure.”
“I’m sure.” Arcove stopped suddenly and cocked his head. “Roup, do you…hear something?”
“Something?” Arcove did not seem inclined to elaborate. Roup listened. “A few morning birds.” He shut his eyes and concentrated. “Nothing else.”
Arcove was bristling. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.” Roup peered at him. “What did it sound like?”
Arcove laid his head back down on his paws. “Nothing.”
Roup frowned. You know exactly what you think you heard. You just don’t want to say. Roup listened again, but he heard nothing.
Chapter 7. Into the Dark
Midmorning found them all trotting groggily back to the cliff trail. There had, indeed, been searchers out last night. Fresh creasia and curb tracks crisscrossed their own. “I heard voices on the ledge again at dawn,” said Charder.
“That cave is a good hiding place,” muttered Halvery. “I think I remember losing Coden there once, but it’s been years since I came that way.”
“Well, they don’t call me his ghost for nothing,” said Storm with a hint of insolence.
Halvery glanced at him. He had completely ignored Storm since he’d arrived. “They don’t call you his ghost at all,” he snapped. “They call you Vearil.”
“That, too.” Storm knew he was more cheerful than he had any right to be. Teek was trotting along at his heels, darting shy looks at the adult creasia.
They were about halfway down the cliff when Halvery asked, grudgingly, “Whose cub?”
“Not sure,” said Storm. “He came from Treace’s territory, and that’s about all he knows.”
Halvery peered at Teek more closely. “Might be Treace’s cub. They’re about the same color.”
“I’m Storm’s cub,” said Teek with a defiant lift of his chin.
“You are an unnatural abomination,” said Halvery, but with no real malice.
Storm was surprised. Was that almost a smile, Halvery?
Teek trotted up beside the adult cat. Please don’t ask him about the river, thought Storm.
“Do you remember when you chased Storm and he—”
“Teek, why don’t you ask Halvery about his own cubs.” Storm wasn’t sure why he said it, only that it might divert Teek from an unpleasant conversation.
Halvery’s head jerked around at Storm, and he almost stopped walking. He turned back to the trail with a huff.
Storm felt taken aback. “Well, I assume you have some.”
“He has a lot,” called Roup from the front of the group.
“But I don’t talk about them to ferryshaft,” said Halvery.
Storm was about to say that he would only be talking about them to Teek, when he heard a soft sound—as though the cliff itself gave a sigh. Storm’s heart dropped into his stomach.
He turned around and looked up. Far above them, a plume of dust billowed over a wave of sliding rock that grew wider and louder as it rushed downward. Along the lip of the cliff, Storm saw the silhouettes of dozens of curbs. He could almost hear Quinyl’s smug voice. Try to run on a sheep trail now, Vearil.
Arcove shouted something that Storm could not understand over the building roar. Then Arcove turned and leapt over the edge of the path. They couldn’t hope to get beyond the radius of the avalanche by running. Their only hope was to get down the cliff first.
Halvery whipped around and grabbed Teek by the scruff before he jumped. Storm could have licked his nose for it. Then they were all bounding and sliding down the cliff in a controlled fall. Choking red dust rose around them. Storm coughed as he slid knee-deep in loose rock, falling occasionally where the cliff went sheer. He could see Arcove at the head of the group, tail lashing in an attempt to balance. Kelsy and Charder were keeping up. They were already more than three quarters of the way down. We’ll make it. Little rocks started to clatter around them, then bigger ones.
The ground was coming up fast. Then the roar grew deafening as boulders started to crash past. Arcove, Roup, and Kelsy reached the bottom, but then the sliding rocks caught up, and Storm lost sight of them. Charder lost his balance, slid sideways, and flipped over in a maelstrom of dust. Halvery hit the ground, Teek flopping helplessly in his mouth, and then they disappeared amid th
e choking red cloud. Something hit Storm from behind, and he lost his footing. The earth reeled, and dust stung his nose where Teek had scratched him. Then he fell into blackness.
* * * *
Arcove woke in a ghost-world. The air was thick with dust, and he coughed until he gagged. He could not remember where he was or what he was supposed to be doing. He thought he must have water in his ears. He thought, for a moment, that he must be underwater. He needed to swim to the surface. He needed to breathe. He needed to find…something…someone….
He stumbled along, boulders looming out of the haze. “Roup?” he whispered. Please wake me up. Please. I’m in my nightmare.
He could finally hear something—a song. A terrible, beautiful, merciless song. It set its claws in his gut and pulled. Arcove whimpered.
He was going into a cave. Into the darkness. The world washed around him like a dream—a dream from which he could not wake.
* * * *
Storm dragged himself to his feet. The dust was so thick that, for a moment, he thought it was evening. “Teek!” he balled and then remembered the curbs. Well, they won’t be coming down that trail anytime soon. Storm threw back his head and howled.
To his surprise, someone answered. Storm moved towards the sound as quickly as his shaky legs would carry him. He was bruised, but nothing felt broken. We were almost at the bottom. So close.
Charder found him a moment later. He was limping. Kelsy was with him.
“Curbs?” gasped Storm.
Charder shook his head. Storm took this to mean that Charder hadn’t seen any curbs hunting them through the rubble. It was difficult to talk with so much dust. Storm heard the sound of frantic digging and hurried towards it, grumbling as he weaved and tripped. Through the haze, he caught sight of Halvery, gray and red with dust, digging through the loose shale. Storm gave a sigh of relief when he saw Teek, struggling ineffectively to help.
The three ferryshaft came forward and helped dig. A moment later, Storm caught a glimpse of dark, matted fur—very still. He thought, for a moment, that it was Arcove. Then Halvery got a grip on the body and dragged it free. It was Sharmel, his dark gray fur made darker by dust. He lay unmoving, with bloody froth around his lips.
Halvery backed away, cursing. He gave a wailing rally cry. Somewhere off to their left, someone answered, and Halvery ran in that direction. Charder crouched by Sharmel’s head. “He’s still breathing,” he murmured. “Storm, go help Halvery. We’ll stay here.”
Kelsy glanced at Charder, but he didn’t argue. Teek trotted after Storm. They caught up with Halvery a moment later, running towards the base of the cliff. They were angling a little north, away from the main path of the avalanche, and the dust began to clear. Storm was about to ask where they were going, when Halvery pushed through a stand of gnarled trees, and Storm saw Roup and Lyndi. They were peering into a rocky crevice.
Halvery called to them as he approached. Roup whipped around, bristling all over. His nose was bloody, but he seemed otherwise unhurt. “Arcove went in here. I followed his scent trail. But…it doesn’t make sense.”
Storm reached Roup and peered into the narrow cave. He sniffed at the cool, still air. This one goes deep.
Halvery snuffled around in front of the cave. “Well, you’re right; he went in here.”
“Of course I’m right!” snapped Roup, his voice taut.
Halvery stuck his head into the cave. “Arcove!” he bellowed.
“I already tried that,” said Roup. “I went quite a ways in, and then the tunnel goes straight down. I’m not sure I could get back up. I’m not sure—” He bit off whatever he’d been going to say.
“Did you see him?” Halvery sounded confused.
“No,” said Roup. “I woke up, and he’d already gone.”
“Without you?” Halvery sounded incredulous.
Roup said nothing.
“He must have hit his head,” said Halvery
“Arcove wouldn’t go into a cave,” whispered Roup. “Not if it might be a telshee cave. He—he wouldn’t.”
“Well, obviously he did!” said Halvery.
Roup shook his head, still bristling.
“You think he was dragged in there?” asked Halvery. “Did you smell any telshees?”
“No,” said Roup.
“Then he walked in for…for some reason.” Halvery craned his neck as though that would help him see into the blackness.
“I’m going after him,” said Roup, “but I don’t think you should wait for me. Get everyone to the den site and we’ll meet you there if—”
Halvery gave a frustrated snort. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Greetings, rulers of Leeshwood-that-was.”
Everyone whirled to see half a dozen creasia advancing towards them out of the trees. Storm didn’t recognize any of them, but Halvery bristled to his tail tip. His lips peeled back in a bone-rattling snarl. The other creasia halted. “We come as messengers,” said the lead animal, tail and chin high. “We come in peace.”
Storm was surprised to hear Teek’s much smaller growl beside him. The cub arched his back and hissed. At the same time, he pressed himself against Storm’s flank. Roup and Lyndi didn’t make a sound. They waited, watching the other creasia.
“We have come to bring a challenge to Arcove Ela-creasia. Where is he?”
“We’ll take your message,” said Roup. “Speak.”
The other cat seemed to consider. Finally, he said, “Treace waited for you all night in the Great Clearing with over a hundred witnesses. You did not appear. It would seem that our king is afraid.”
He waited for some response, but no one spoke.
“Or,” continued the messenger slyly, “perhaps he is just enjoying his time in the company of the ferryshaft known as Vearil—an animal who has challenged creasia authority on more than one occasion. Perhaps Arcove is too busy meeting Vearil’s demands to answer a challenge from another cat.”
“We answer to no one,” grated Halvery.
The younger cat looked at him coolly. “If Arcove is no longer among us, Treace will meet the challenge of any who wish to fight him this evening. He will also graciously accept your surrender and your recognition of his dominance if you wish to live.”
“Oh, he’ll get a fight,” said Halvery. “I promise you that.”
“Very well.” The messenger’s lip curled. “If we spend another night waiting for you to appear, we will take it as evidence of your cowardice. Our king does not have endless evenings to spend chasing his tail. Cowards who refuse to surrender will be hunted down by all of Leeshwood. Like rats.”
“Well, I’m glad you haven’t been hunting us like rats yet,” said Roup, his voice bright and brittle. “Tell Treace to go chase his tail while he still has it. You are dismissed.” He turned deliberately away from them.
The words of an alpha, thought Storm. He glanced at Halvery. He could sense that there was a confusion in the hierarchy here. Who is really in charge if Arcove is gone?
Before either Roup or Halvery could say anything, Storm spoke. “I’ll find Arcove,” he said.
In the surprised silence, he turned to Teek. “You stay with the creasia.”
Teek opened his mouth, but Storm talked over him. “No arguments. It’s not safe for you; it’s safe for me.” I think. Unless Shaw really hasn’t forgiven me.
He turned to see Halvery glaring down at him. “If you have anything to do with this… If you know what’s happened—!”
“I don’t,” said Storm. “But I can go in there, even if there are telshees. I’m the only one here who might be able to get Arcove back if they’ve caught him.” Storm thought of offering terms, but he could tell by the fury on Halvery’s face and the anxiety on Roup’s that now was not the time. First see whether I can do it. Worry about gratitude later.
“I’m going with you,” said Roup.
“No, you’re not,” said Storm. “Your presence will make it harder to get what we want. Every moment I delay
makes it less likely that Arcove will be alive when I find him. Don’t argue with me.”
Roup’s mouth snapped shut.
“Sharmel isn’t dead,” continued Storm, “at least he wasn’t a moment ago. Charder and Kelsy stayed with him. He’ll need help getting out of here, though.”
Without waiting to see what they would say, Storm plunged into the blackness of the cave. He was relieved when nobody followed.
Chapter 8. Song and Storm
Storm followed Arcove’s scent easily along the winding floor of the cave. Roup was right. No other animals’ scents crossed the trail. Why did you come in here, Arcove?
After looping downward for several moments, the trail came to a vertical drop. Storm strained his eyes and ears in the blackness. Somewhere far below, he could hear the rush of water. This is not the sort of place one would go if one were trying to avoid telshees.
Storm danced nervously back and forth along the lip of the hole. He found one spot that seemed to offer a bit of an incline, rather than a sheer drop. He took a deep breath and slithered down…and down…and down…
Storm splashed into a stream with a gasp. The water was icy and as high as his chest. He took a cautious lap and found it brackish. Somewhere ahead, he saw a faint greenish glow. Syriot. Arcove can’t have been pleased about landing here.
Storm sniffed around the wall, looking for evidence that Arcove had tried to climb back up. He found nothing. So far, so strange.
In one direction, the underground stream dove beneath the airless rock. In the other direction, he could see the acriss light. Well, I’ll guess that he didn’t go underwater. Although it would make as much sense as anything else he’s done since the avalanche.
Storm walked upstream, following the light. When he finally found a spot to climb out, the acriss was swarming brightly in the water, and Storm could see Arcove’s enormous, wet tracks on the bank. Storm had never visited telshee caves south of the Garu Vell, closest to creasia territory. He knew, in theory, that they existed, and he remembered that Roup had noted an abundance in this area.
However, it wasn’t until he’d gone well into the deep cave that he finally caught the scent of a telshee crossing Arcove’s path. Storm followed with trepidation. He could tell that Arcove was running now. The trail became confused. Arcove circled several times. He took branching paths, but always returned to the main tunnel, always going deeper into the cave. Why?
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