by Laurence Yep
As she tried to gallop to his aid, four enemy griffins charged full tilt into her left side. It was like being hit by a truck and she toppled over onto her side. She grunted when her many wounds smacked against the stones.
And then lyaks, guardsmen, thugs, and griffins were piling onto her.
59
Scirye
The temple floor had collapsed into piles of rubble so she lay on her back on the still trembling ground. As a thug held his dagger against her throat, she felt the grief rise in her like a dark, choking tide. First Nishke and now her parents and her friends. Poor Kles was awake again, but a lyak knife was pressed against his neck too. Her own dagger was gone.
When she saw thugs and guardsmen dragging Māka and Tute over to Roland, she shouted, “Let them go!” The lyak snarled something and pressed the blade closer against her skin and she stopped.
Nanaia, where are you? Scirye called in despair.
Another lyak pried the arrow from her hand and trotted over to present it to Roland. He was wearing his stolen treasures. Strapped to his back was Yi’s bow, which Uncle Resak had used as a staff. Around his neck was the bowstring that had been part of Pele’s necklace, and on his finger was the pointed archer’s ring.
When the lyak barked something in his own tongue, a guard officer acted as an interpreter. “This thing says he saw the entire marble column change into this.”
Roland slapped his forehead with a laugh. “That’s why these arrows were called monster slayers. They grew larger as they traveled through the air.” He gazed at Scirye and then the “3” glowing through her glove as if the leather was transparent. “So the stories about you are true. You really were picked by the goddess. If you’ll change the arrows for me, I’ll forget about all the trouble you’ve caused me and let you and your friends go.”
Scirye’s natural instinct was to refuse, but then she thought, Bayang got her revenge. Now it’s time for me to do the same … if I can just get close enough to that pig.
So instead she said, “Only if you promise to let us go afterward.”
“Of course, my dear.” Roland smiled with all the fake sincerity he could muster.
“No, lady,” Kles protested.
“We have no choice, Kles,” Scirye said.
“Release her,” Roland said and when a Wolf colonel translated, the lyak lifted his knife away.
Getting up, she marched straight toward the column on the left, the thug keeping pace with her. A guardsman backed out of her way. Her fingers should have been numb without the glove, but the glow seemed to be keeping them warm.
She had no trouble slapping her hand against the column, closing her eyes against the flare of blinding scarlet light. With her eyes still closed, she whirled around and then opened her eyes again as she ran toward Roland.
As she’d hoped, he and his men were dazed momentarily by the light.
She was five paces away, but it was hard to get traction in the snow and frozen dirt.
Then three yards.
She swung the arm with the arrow back for a thrust, gripping it just behind the bronze head. It was finned on all four sides and with a tip as sharp as the day it was made. She couldn’t use it as an arrow but she just might use it like a dagger.
At two yards, Roland began to shake his head as if trying to clear it.
One yard.
Even as she began to stab the arrow at Roland’s neck, the ground began to tremble again and she heard a rumbling sound as if a locomotive were charging straight at her. Then the ground tilted sharply underneath her and she fell to her knees.
The earlier tremor had been over in a few seconds. This one went on and on, shaking more and more violently with each passing moment so she stayed on all fours. The whole mountain pulsed with a strange red light that washed over them in waves.
She only dared to breathe when the shaking stopped and the red light faded away.
Suddenly a guardsman swore. “What kind of witchcraft is this?”
He took several steps back from Māka. A golden light burned within her as if her body were a paper lantern holding an immense candle, a candle that grew brighter by the moment until flames burst from her shoulders and began a flickering dance, the fiery tips taking the shapes of swords and arrows that waved about before collapsing back and then shot out again. Snowflakes did not melt when they touched the strange fire but spun away instead. It was the armor that Nanaia the Avenger wore.
When Māka-Nanaia sat up, her eyes blazed as if from an inner sun, and wherever she glanced men and griffins sank to their knees in fear and awe. Only Roland remained on his feet. “Shoot her,” Roland yelled to his men as he pulled his own pistol from its holster.
“Fool, haven’t you done enough harm?” Māka-Nanaia’s words rasped like steel on a whetstone. She flung up an arm and flame leaped from her fingertips.
With a cry, Roland dropped the pistol. The red-hot metal hissed against the frozen earth. A moment later, he got down on his knees in sullen submission.
Māka-Nanaia’s fiery eyes searched the cringing mob until she found Scirye. “Child of Destiny, you called to me when you were hurt and in need. And I’ve come at last.”
So Nanaia hadn’t deserted her after all. In fact, she’d been with Scirye this whole time. Kles landed on her shoulder and squeezed it with his hind paws so that she remembered to kneel. “But why did you disguise yourself as Māka?” she asked.
When Māka-Nanaia smiled, she still looked like her friend, the bumbling magician.
“I was as frustrated as you were whenever we tried to communicate. The dream and vision seemed to confuse you more than explain things, so I thought if I became human, it would be easier to talk to you.” Māka-Nanaia gestured at her forehead. “But I went from working in many dimensions to just three, and the brain of my human form couldn’t hold all of my thoughts.”
If it hadn’t been so irreverent, Scirye would have said it was like squeezing a size-ten foot into a size-two shoe. But the goddess seemed to be able to read her thoughts.
When Māka-Nanaia laughed, Scirye heard faint echoes of hammers on steel. Even when she was happy, Nanaia never stopped being the Avenger. “It’s a more graphic way of putting it, but yes. I lost most of my memory, including that of my true identity, so I mistook my disguise for my real self.” As She kissed Scirye, a warmth wrapped around the girl like a mother wrapping her baby in a quilt. “But that let me find a friend as well as a champion.”
“Well, I’m never doing this again,” Tute rumbled. “People were always trying to pet me.” Since he had now grown to the size and shape of a giant lion, Scirye doubted he would have that trouble anymore.
The both of them must have been vulnerable in these forms, and yet they had been taking risks right beside her. Scirye felt her spirits lift. If Māka-Nanaia was willing to do what it took, so would she.
“So your magical spells—?” Scirye began.
“Were my power trying to find a way out, but my human form was too clumsy to use it well,” Māka-Nanaia finished. She became sad. “I shall miss you.”
“You’re leaving?” Scirye asked in dismay. “But I need you.”
“Alas, my full magic is too powerful for flesh. It’s dissolving this body even now,” Māka-Nanaia said. Her light had grown so bright that it was becoming difficult to make out her features. “So I must hurry and tell you what you need to know. When Roland sent the dragon, Badik, to steal the ring, I could see that it would set a certain chain of events in motion, so I needed my own champion to save the world.”
Scirye squinted at the intense light reflecting from the goddess. “But why me?” she asked. “Kat and Wali and Oko were there too.”
Māka-Nanaia’s light was almost painful now, like the flame of a candle that was too large for the lantern. “You were the only one who opened your mind and heart to me. And you were the only one who was willing to chase the thief.” Scirye remembered that the survivors of the attack at the museum had been pretty dazed.
“Sometimes a champion is the one who is ready to act, not the strongest or the bravest. You instinctively knew what had to be done. And you have taught me lessons about heart and courage, so I love and honor you all the more for that.”
“So what do you want me to do now?” Scirye asked.
“Once there was a monster born of the very earth so the ground continually renews its vitality,” Māka-Nanaia replied. “As it roamed the world destroying whole nations, terrified people gave it many names, but the Kushan’s ancestors called it Kemshap. Finally, the emperor of China sent his champion, Yi the Archer, to stop it and he tracked it all the way here.
“The only way to kill Kemshap is by piercing its heart. Though Yi the Archer was the greatest bowman who ever lived, he could not send arrows deep enough through all the thick layers of mud and dirt that make up Kemshap’s hide. But he did manage to wound it so badly that it fell unconscious. So the monster has slept through the ages since then, becoming undistinguishable from the hills and mountains about it. And Yi’s arrows became the columns and the surviving humans built a temple to honor them—though over the centuries and in the great cataclysm that followed, humans forgot the original purpose of the arrows or that this mountain was ever more than earth and rock.”
“So by transforming the arrows and taking them out of this thing, Kemshap, I let the monster wake up?” Scirye asked in horror.
“And the goddess and me as well,” Tute said. His voice resonated like a gong. “We must’ve gotten caught by residual effect when Kemshap awakened. So I thank you for that.”
“And now, my champion,” Māka-Nanaia said, “it’s time for you to complete Yi’s task.”
“How do I kill a monster who’s almost immortal?” Scirye asked.
Māka-Nanaia’s shape disappeared in a sphere of cold, pure light—as if the candle flame had finally burned through the paper walls trying to contain it. Brilliant, untouchable, ageless, She seemed more like a star. “The arrow still in its side saps much of Kemshap’s strength and makes him sluggish. So you must…” And then the bodies of the goddess and Tute dissolved into a thousand motes that swirled about.
Scirye stretched out a hand. “No, wait!” She felt cold and alone again.
“Too late. She’s left the human plane,” Kles said in awe.
Suddenly a jumble of images flooded urgently through Scirye’s mind—so many that she felt as if she were trying to piece a picture together out of swirling snowflakes. But she thought she heard a single word, “Outside.” What did that mean though? They already were outside. Did the goddess want Scirye to lure the monster inside something? But what? The monster was the size of a mountain.
“Lady, lady.” Scirye became aware of Kles upon her shoulder. His paw gently patting her cheek. The last thing they needed was for her to go into a coma like she had when the goddess had sent a vision to her in the Arctic.
The whole world might end because Scirye was too stupid to understand Her instructions. Desperately, Scirye turned this way and that, calling to the motes of light that were already beginning to wink out. “What do I do?”
Suddenly, the slope began to tilt, swinging from a thirty-degree angle to sixty degrees or more. The temple ruins disintegrated into chunks of marble, and with a roar, a chasm opened at the base of the mountain. Dirt and snow and boulders cascaded into it.
Scirye tried to jab her fingers and kick her heels through the snow, but she could not break into the frozen earth to get a good grip. So she began to slide downward toward the yawning canyon.
60
Leech
Leech slid down the slanting slope as the ground shook beneath him, flinging off humans and lyaks like a wet dog ridding itself of drops of water.
The last thing he remembered was the lyaks trying to yank the discs from his feet, but the magical devices had seemed glued to his soles. When he tried to hit the thieves with the weapon ring, someone had swung a spear shaft against his head and he’d blacked out.
When he heard the familiar hum of the discs, he kicked against the earth and bounced into the air. The weapon ring was still in his hand. But the lyaks were scampering in panic.
A boulder rumbled by, catching an enemy griffin as it struggled to rise into the air. He soared higher as the rock and the shrieking griffin sped underneath him.
“I hate roller coasters,” screamed Koko.
Leech wheeled about and darted toward him, saw his friend scrabbling desperately in the snow and dirt for some kind of paw-hold.
Crouching, he gripped the weapon ring in both hands as he swept in. “Grab hold, buddy.”
“You’re worse than a roller coaster,” the badger said, but he stretched up both paws to grasp the ring.
Leech strained to lift Koko. “I wish you’d skipped a few meals at the citadel,” he panted.
“If I could have seen the future, I would’ve stayed in the Chamber of Truth,” the badger snapped.
It took all of Leech’s skill to keep his balance while his friend switched his grasp to the boy’s legs and then clambered up onto his back.
“Need a hand?” a familiar voice asked.
“N-no thanks. I don’t hitchhike with ghosts.” Koko kicked his heels against Leech’s sides. “Let’s get out of here.”
Leech looked up at Primo’s grinning face. Leech blinked. It couldn’t be. Badik had killed him at the museum when the dragon had stolen the ring.
But he couldn’t deny that it looked like Primo. The man above him was of medium height but with a solid build that made him seem bigger. He was dressed in a khaki jacket and trousers with cloth strips wound around his ankles and calves. He was standing on a lavender cloud, fluffy enough to be cotton. Despite the strong winds, the cloud remained as stationary, as if it had been nailed to the sky.
Big brother? the Voice asked softly, sounding even younger than usual. Leech felt the Voice’s amazement surge through him.
Who? Leech asked the Voice.
He’s my— I mean, our older brother, the Voice said.
How come you didn’t recognize him before? Leech asked.
I wasn’t awake yet, the Voice replied. That only happened when you started to use the magical armbands.
“Don’t worry, Koko. I’m not a ghost, just a human with a few dents,” Primo assured him. “Before the monster fell on top of me at the museum, I managed to work a spell that let me whisk away into the next gallery,” he said. “But it took awhile to recover from my injuries. I’ve been looking for you everywhere, but then this morning a voice whispered to me to come here.”
Leech wondered if the voice had been Dionysus, trying to repay Scirye’s kindness.
“You never told me you could work magic,” Koko said.
“I thought I was giving Leech enough to handle already without adding that,” Primo said.
Leech could feel the Voice’s sullen anger smoldering in him like a red-hot coal, and it affected his own mood. Or was it the Voice talking through him now? “Who are you, really?” Leech asked.
Primo looked sad. “Someone with a guilty conscience. Someone who should have stood up for you when the dragons first made their demands. Why do you think I call myself Primo?”
“Because you think you’re the best,” Leech said, as mad as the Voice now.
“That may be true enough until you grow older,” Primo said with a slight grin, “but I was also our parents’ firstborn. You’re not the only one who can be re-born, you know. I’ve searched for you in many lives, but assassins always beat me to you. And then I got word about you from a friend at the citadel.” He added, “We were all sorry for what we did back at that earlier time, especially father.”
“I don’t believe all this talk about brotherly love. It took all this time to find me,” Leech said furiously, “and you think an apology’s going to make up for it?”
“No,” Primo sighed, “but let’s discuss this later. Right now we have some people to rescue.” A murmured spell and a pass of his hands and his cloud beg
an to extend. “Hop on, Koko.”
The badger gripped Leech tighter. “No thanks. That doesn’t look very strong.”
“My cloud would support an elephant.” Primo jumped up and down in demonstration. “See?”
“We haven’t got time for this, Koko,” Leech said. He was also so furious that he needed to get away from Primo. “So everybody ashore.” Pivoting, he leaned backward and let go of the badger’s legs, spilling the badger onto the cloud.
Koko sat up, spluttering and spitting out wisps of purple mist. The protest died on his lips. “Hey, this would make a pretty good bed at night. How many of these could you make?”
Even as he crossed his ankles and pirouetted in the air, Leech could hear the Voice weeping. Are you okay? Leech asked.
Within the shadows at the back of his mind, Leech heard the Voice sob, and he felt the tears sting the corners of his eyes. Were they the Voice’s or his—or both? He was sorry. He came looking for me. Gone was all the bloodthirstiness. More than ever, he sounded like a small boy.
For all your power and all your skills, sometimes you’re still a little kid, Leech said wonderingly, and then he saw Scirye, skidding down the slope, her heels kicking up sprays of snow as she tried in vain to stop. Kles was flapping just above her, straining to pull her up with all four paws, but even his great will could not compensate for his lack of size.
As Primo said, they would have to talk things over later. Right now there were people to rescue.
Crouching, he sped toward her. Twenty yards ahead of Scirye, Badik’s body tumbled into the yawning chasm.
“Scirye!” he shouted and, squatting, held a hand out, felt her clasp his wrist as he gripped hers. She kicked herself from the ground even as he lifted his arm. When she set her feet on top of his right foot, he lost his balance and they wobbled so much that she was almost tossed off. Desperately, she flung her other arm around his neck and he saw the arrow she was still holding in that hand. And then she was clambering onto his back and they were rising safely into the air.