“Oh,” Rollan said quietly. “I think I caused a stampede.”
“Yes,” Abeke sighed. “You definitely caused a stampede.”
Giving up on remaining camouflage, Abeke took off sprinting toward the herd. Rollan and Uraza followed, the leopard loping quickly through the grass, soon overtaking Rollan. Her spots might not blend in with this northern environment, but Uraza could still move more quietly than any other creature Abeke had ever known. Though the yaks were fast, between Uraza on the ground and Essix soaring overhead, they’d have no trouble locating the herd once it calmed down.
After half an hour of tracking, they came to a bottleneck where the forest closed in on either side, choking the plains tight. The herd had to slow as it passed through. “Let’s keep ourselves a few hundred paces behind,” Abeke called. “Don’t forget our goal is to find whoever’s hunting this herd, not to stress the animals.”
Rollan nodded and slowed. “We could use a break anyway,” he panted. Uraza stared at him—a little disdainfully, Abeke thought—and then returned her alert gaze to the herd as it pulled ahead. Abeke gave the frustrated leopard a comforting pet on the flank.
The herd slowed even more, and Abeke and Rollan fell farther and farther behind to wait it out. Once the yaks were clear of the trees, the friends could finally continue forward. The woods edged in as they passed through the bottleneck—the narrowest point was only a few paces away. Abeke peered in curiously as she passed but could see nothing moving.
The same wasn’t true for the other side, though. Abeke heard a yowl behind her and turned just in time to see a mountain lion launch out of the woods at her, claws outstretched and ready to rend her apart.
Caught by surprise, Abeke gasped and stumbled.
The tawny, muscular cat hadn’t counted on Uraza, though. The leopard was instantly on the attack, leaping so her own body impacted the mountain lion’s before it could strike Abeke. The two cats tumbled in the dirt, rolling until they crashed into the side of a boulder.
It was a close match. Uraza was longer, but this cat was more muscular. It gashed the leopard with its powerful back claws, and Uraza howled in pain.
Abeke immediately had her bow off her back and struggled to get it strung, cursing herself for not having predicted an ambush. Rollan’s dagger needed no preparations, though, Abeke saw from the corner of her eye as he ran toward the cats. Essix shrieked in the air, probably set to dive in and join the combat.
They would have had this under control. If the mountain lion had been alone.
Abeke felt a sharp pain in her spine, and suddenly her body no longer obeyed her commands. She dropped slackly to the earth, the agony in the back of her neck eclipsing all else. Though she couldn’t see what it was, there was a vise on her spine, pushing ever tighter, and she felt a hot line of blood—her blood—stream down her face as she lay still. My spine, she thought. Something is trying to crush my spine.
Then there was a rush of air, and a falcon’s scream sounded in her ear. The vise on her neck lifted, and Abeke was able to get her arms under herself enough to see Essix rolling with a second mountain lion. Brown and white feathers flurried into the air.
The element of surprise had allowed Essix to get the mountain lion off Abeke, but the falcon stood no chance in an open combat against a ferocious cat. Fortunately, Rollan was soon upon them. He struck wildly with his dagger, opening a gash along the mountain lion’s midsection. Howling, the cat disengaged from Essix and limped away. The falcon hopped into the air but flopped back to ground, one wing dragging, clearly wounded.
The first mountain lion had wriggled free of Uraza and the two faced off against each other, circling in the dirt while they made low growls, fangs bared. As the second lion limped off after the departing yak herd, though, the first one broke away and followed.
Rollan was immediately upon Essix, murmuring words of concern, his arms around the wounded bird. While Essix held her beak closed, stoically silent, Rollan gently probed her wing. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he said, relieved. “Just strained.”
Uraza came over and tenderly nudged Essix’s wingtip with her nose, making soft concerned meows. Then the leopard turned her attention to Abeke, and when Abeke saw her companion’s anxious expression, she realized that her own injuries were the more serious. She pressed her hand against her neck and grimaced when it came back red with blood.
She cautiously turned her head from side to side, and though the movement was painful, it wasn’t overly limited. She had a couple of puncture wounds; that was the extent of it. They must have been bleeding so much because they were near her head. She’d had similar injuries before, and she’d gotten over them.
“A rookie mistake,” Rollan said ruefully. “We should have realized that more than human hunters would be attracted to this herd of yaks.”
“Yes,” Abeke said, ripping off a strip from the hem of her shirt and wrapping it tight around her neck. As she did, though, she looked up and saw the mountain lions had regrouped and were going after a new target—the baby yak. It had fallen behind the rest of the herd. Its elderly caretakers stood a few yards away, groaning worriedly but too weak to confront the mountain lions directly.
Normally Abeke would let the natural order take care of itself—maybe this baby yak wasn’t meant to live. But then she remembered the jaw around the back of her neck, and Essix’s limp wing, and fury rose in her. Her fists clenched and unclenched helplessly. Before she knew it, she’d gotten to her feet. Blinking back light-headedness, she stalked toward the lions, fitting an arrow to her bow.
The panicking little yak was darting this way and that, crying out to its caretakers, begging them to come help him. But the mountain lions were relentless, keeping themselves between the yak and its protectors, edging nearer and nearer to the terrified animal.
Fresh blood was streaming down Abeke’s neck, more than she would have expected, and she found it hard to run straight. As she staggered forward, she struggled to string her bow. She wrapped the line around time and again until it held, then pulled an arrow from her quiver with shaking arms. Somewhere behind her, Rollan was calling out, but she couldn’t hear him—the whole world was sounding at once, roaring through her head.
The first lion had just made a nip at the baby yak’s rear leg when Abeke got near enough to fire. She pulled back the bowstring as quietly as she could, but in her disoriented state, she lost her balance and crushed a stick beneath her heel.
The mountain lions looked up, fully alert, and soon spotted their stalker with her bow and arrow. The little yak looked around in confusion as its would-be killers sped away. Bleating, the baby ran to its elders, and together they headed back to the safety of the herd.
Despite Rollan’s cries, Abeke sprinted after the lions. There was a flash of yellow as Uraza cut right in front of her path. What was the leopard trying to do, trip her? “Get out of the way!” Abeke yelled.
But Uraza cut in front of her again, looking up at her with those luminous purple eyes.
More blood ran down her chest, and suddenly the sky was white instead of blue. Abeke staggered forward, sensing Uraza’s soft presence at her side as she did. The world began to spin. As she stumbled forward, she became aware of people emerging from the woods all around the clearing, figures with brown skin and thick, braided black hair.
There, too, was the green of the trees, a bed of fallen needles, and that white sky, so white it was cold, a cold that took the world spinning even faster so her feet couldn’t stay level upon it, couldn’t dig in hard enough to keep her upright.
Abeke fell against warm Uraza, then tumbled onto her back. She tried to force herself upright again, but couldn’t.
Her vision turned yellow as Uraza stood directly over her, making a sound Abeke had come to recognize as her protective yowl. Tentatively, Abeke slid out from under the leopard, hand tight on the fabric binding her neck. It was wet with blood.
Abeke couldn’t get her eyes to focus. She closed t
hem for a long moment and struggled to open them again. When she did, she had a moment of clear vision and gasped.
She was surrounded by men and women. They were scowling, furs tied around their powerful shoulders. Every last one of them had a spear. And every last one of them had the tip pointed at her.
STONE WASN’T SILENT. MEILIN REALIZED THAT MUCH AS she trudged along the dark tunnel. There were the sounds she and the others made, of course—Briggan’s panting, Kovo’s grunts as he knuckle-walked over sharp shards, the syllables of Takoda’s meditations, and the soft patter of Conor’s boots under the fizzle-splatter of his sparking torch. But the heavy weight all around them made its own noises, too.
Though the stone under their feet wasn’t wet, there was water everywhere, running through distant cave systems. Meilin heard constant skittering sounds as small creatures fled, vanishing long before Conor’s torchlight reached them.
One time, the escaping creature hadn’t sounded small at all. It sounded like footfalls running away—something the size of a human. When they heard it, Meilin cut glances at Conor and Takoda, pointedly avoiding Kovo. Takoda looked back, a finger over his mouth, signaling for silence.
What option did they all have but to continue forward?
The most constant sound was sighing rock. It was a crunching, ominous rumble, like the earth was one huge creature grinding its teeth in a restless sleep. In the darkness, Meilin began to imagine that they were walking down an enormous gullet, that the beast might at any time decide to swallow them all.
So far there hadn’t been any options for where to turn, but after sloping downward for a mile, the tunnel branched into two narrow openings. They were in a small, round chamber in the rock, mushrooms along the floor and a puddle of water in the middle. A stalagmite rose from within, covered in moss that gleamed wet and purple in the torchlight.
“Left or right?” Meilin asked.
Takoda shrugged and answered in his soft, melodious voice. “Left and right are not what I’m concerned about. What worries me is that neither Briggan nor Kovo will fit in those tunnels.”
Surprising even herself, Meilin whirled on Takoda, rage making her whole body rigid, her hands tightened into fists. “I don’t care where Kovo does or does not fit! He’s lucky we don’t find the narrowest tunnel we can and leave him trapped down here forever.”
“Meilin,” Conor said in low tones. He placed a tentative hand on her back. “I’m as angry as you are. But we’re stuck down here. We’ll need one another to get out of this alive. Let’s save our fight with Kovo until once we’ve found the surface.”
The fear in Conor’s eyes said what his words didn’t—there might not be a way out.
Kovo met Meilin’s gaze challengingly and let out a long, lewd snort, flapping his lips at the end of it so they sprayed spit on her.
“Takoda,” Meilin said, her words slow and deliberate, “can you sign to Kovo that if he ever dares do that again, I will smash his brains out with my staff?”
“I don’t know those signs,” Takoda said with a worried expression.
Meilin missed Rollan all of a sudden. She could really use his sense of humor right now.
“Kovo did save Conor back at the pit,” Takoda said. “I’m not trying to defend him, but I don’t know why he would do that if his goal all along was to trap us. He made a mistake, that’s all.”
Seeing the gorilla’s glittering, ferociously intelligent eyes, Meilin wasn’t so sure Kovo was the type to make mistakes. But as her rage ebbed, she saw Conor’s point: They all needed one another if they hoped to survive. The horrible weight of the creaking stone pressing down all around them was putting her on edge. If it’s what it took to survive, she’d call a truce with Kovo until she saw the sun again. Whenever that was.
Sighing, Meilin beckoned Conor to the two tunnel entranceways so they could inspect them together. Takoda was right—it would be tricky for the three of them to fit through either one. There was absolutely no way Briggan or Kovo could make it.
“I can bring Briggan into his passive form, of course,” Conor said. “But …” His voice trailed off as he looked at Kovo.
Takoda lowered himself so he sat cross-legged in front of Kovo, staring into the beast’s eyes. For a few seconds, Kovo looked everywhere but at Takoda—down both tunnels, up into the ceiling, into the torch reflection in the puddle of dark water. Then finally, sulkily, he met Takoda’s eyes.
Meilin was surprised to see not just reluctance in the ape’s expression, but something else—a twinge of anxiety.
Takoda made a series of hand gestures, finishing by tracing the spot on Conor’s forearm where Briggan went into tattoo form. Takoda traced the same area on his own arm.
Kovo looked up at the ceiling for a long moment. Gradually his gaze shifted back to Takoda, then he bowed his head. His eyes glittered, catching even more of the torchlight. He bared his teeth and suddenly roared, beating his chest with his fists.
Meilin and Conor sprang into action. Conor had his fists clenched, and Meilin held her quarterstaff out in guard position.
“No!” Takoda said, right into Kovo’s face.
Meilin wasn’t sure if Takoda had been speaking to them or to Kovo. It didn’t matter, because it was Kovo who got the message. He lowered his chin to his massive chest and sighed a long, puttering sigh.
Kovo made one sign, tracing laurels on the top of his head. Then he delicately placed his thumb between his teeth and bit it.
“King. Worthless,” Takoda translated. He shook his head severely and made the thumb-biting gesture again. “Not worthless.”
Kovo looked at the boy for a long moment, misery etched in his face. Then, with a shimmering flash and a popping sound, the ape vanished.
He reappeared, not as a tattoo on Takoda’s forearm, but on his chin and neck. The image of a gorilla, charging forward with teeth bared, went from the tip of Takoda’s sharp jawline and down his throat, Kovo’s foot stepping on the boy’s collarbone.
Takoda stared in disbelief where Kovo had just been sitting.
“Congratulations,” Meilin said without much enthusiasm. “You and the enemy of Erdas are closer than ever.”
“In the spirit of being as honest as I can be with you,” Takoda said. “I have to tell you that I miss him.”
“Then that makes one of us,” Conor said. Wincing at his own gibe, Conor cast a guilty glance at Takoda. “But I get what you mean. It’s not your fault who you were bonded to. Come on, Briggan.”
At the sound of his name, the wolf nuzzled Conor’s hand. And then, with another shimmer and pop, Briggan disappeared into tattoo form.
Conor stood before one tunnel and then the other, shining the torch down each in turn. “They look identical to me,” he said.
Meilin stood back-to-back with Takoda. “My shoulders are the narrowest of the three of us, just barely. So let me go first and report back. I’ll try the left tunnel, because it seems to slope upward. Since we keep hearing those dripping sounds, I’d rather not end up falling into an underground lake.”
“Good thinking,” Conor said, shuddering. He handed Meilin his torch, then quickly retracted his hand. It was the one with the parasite.
Meilin could only imagine how it would feel to have something like that growing inside of her. Probably not too unlike being bonded to a villain like Kovo, actually. What a state they were all in. She squeezed Conor’s shoulder encouragingly. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”
“Good luck,” Takoda said. “We’ll be right here if you need help.”
At least their conversation had temporarily gotten Meilin’s mind off the mass of stone over them. Before her nerves could get the better of her, she started down the tunnel. She had to crouch from the start, but as the path narrowed more, it became clear she’d only be able to move forward on her elbows. She lowered herself onto the smooth rocks of the tunnel floor and began to wriggle her way along.
She smelled something burning and realized it was a piec
e of her own hair. The fumes from the torch were way too close—she’d have to extinguish it. Reluctantly, she pressed the tip against the tunnel wall until the flame went out.
She continued forward into the tight, constricting darkness.
Weight. That was all Meilin could sense as she wedged one shoulder then the other into the narrow tunnel of rock. Above her were tons of solid, heavy stone. All it would take is one shudder, one tremor in the rock, for it all to collapse on top of her. This giant stone beast would swallow her down.
Focus, Meilin. One arm eased forward, then she wriggled the rest of her body behind. She could feel her body pucker and bruise wherever she passed over even the slightest pebble.
Somewhere behind her, Conor was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him—her own body had nearly sealed the tunnel tight. All she wanted was to turn back and see the sky again. But now that the opening had collapsed, they had no other options.
Meilin paused. The rock was grinding again.
Her breath came short, and suddenly her only instinct was to struggle, to push back against the rock, to do whatever she could to fight it off. But if the weight was about to fall in on her, then fighting would only make it happen faster. She martialed all the discipline of her warrior training and forced her body to be still.
She could feel the stone shiver against her, pressing her ribs in tight. Tears welled in Meilin’s eyes, and her breath came only in rapid gasps.
Then the pressure relented, and the rock was still. Meilin thought of the stone bridges she had helped build in Zhong, how they would sway—but not fall—as their stones contracted and expanded. Maybe the same thing was happening here. Steadying her breath, she forced herself to continue wriggling forward in the darkness.
The tunnel narrowed even more—how was that possible? If she continued this way and got wedged tight, how would Conor and Takoda free her? Maybe they wouldn’t be able to. She’d starve or die of thirst. If scavenging animals didn’t get her first.
Spirit Animals: Fall of the Beasts #1: Immortal Guardians Page 6