She heard a thud as Rollan sighed and dropped his dagger. From high above, Essix shrieked indignantly. Giving in easily wasn’t her or Rollan’s style.
“Thank you,” said the same voice. A woman knelt into Abeke’s vision. She had a sun-wrinkled face, a striking mixture of tans and ruddy reds, and surprisingly kind eyes. An infant was wrapped tightly to her chest with a length of yak hide, only the top of its head poking out.
Uraza struck out at the woman with her paw. Her claws were retracted, but it served as a warning from getting too near. Though the woman didn’t appear scared, she crept backward so she was a safe distance away.
“My name is Aynar,” she said. “My son is the healer for our people. But he’s back at camp, so I’m the best we have for now. Your wound will not heal on its own. Rot can easily set into mountain lion bites. If you allow me, I would tend the wound on your neck, Abeke of Okaihee.”
Abeke startled. “You know my name!”
“I wasn’t sure until you said Rollan’s name,” the woman said, giving Abeke an apologetic smile. “I hope you will forgive the spears pointed in your direction. Word has reached us that Erdas has again entered a troubled time. Greetings, too, Rollan of Concorba. You are both legends here. We suspected who you were immediately—it’s not every day, after all, that one comes across a leopard prowling here.”
“No autographs, please,” Rollan said wryly.
“You should move as little as possible,” Aynar continued to Abeke. “Our horses are on the other side of this grove. With your blessing, we’ll fetch them and rig a litter to carry you to our camp. It’s only a few miles off.”
Rollan knelt beside the woman, taking in Abeke’s injury and giving her a worried smile. His expression was enough to tell Abeke he was willing to go along with Aynar’s plan.
“Thank you for helping us,” Abeke said.
Aynar nodded and started giving orders in the tribal language. Once the hunters were out of view, Rollan plopped down beside Abeke. “Huh. Not two days into our Amayan journey and we already need rescuing.”
“Sorry,” Abeke said, gingerly prodding the wound on her neck. “It’s not like I meant for that mountain lion to maul me.”
At the mention of Abeke’s attacker, Uraza gave an angry growl. Abeke affectionately tousled the fluff of hair sticking up on the back of Uraza’s neck, and the leopard relaxed.
“What we need most is information,” Rollan said. “Maybe this tribe knows about the summoned Great Beast. When you think about it, your injury might have been a brilliant move.”
“Hard to see it that way at the moment,” Abeke said, wincing.
The tribespeople returned with a litter rigged behind one of their horses. They’d taken a birch canoe, tied one end to the saddle, and attached two wooden discs to the low end so that it could roll. “Come,” Aynar said to Abeke. “Lie inside.”
The world bloomed white as Rollan helped Abeke to her feet, but her friend’s arm under her shoulders was strong and firm as he got her to the litter and gently arranged her inside. Aynar removed the blood-soaked fabric binding Abeke’s neck and used a flat, smooth stick to apply a poultice that stung at first but soon suffused Abeke with a cool, fresh feeling. Aynar lightly draped a soft rabbit’s hide over the wound.
Now that her pain had lessened, all Abeke wanted was to fall asleep. With the last of her energy, she called Uraza into passive state for the journey. Though the leopard was swift, she wouldn’t be able to keep up with horses over a long distance. Abeke sleepily watched Rollan mount Aynar’s steed behind her, and then passed out. Even though the litter bumped and dragged, she didn’t wake up until they came to a stop.
That poultice must have had something powerful in it; when she opened her eyes, Abeke felt like herself again. She untied the rawhide strands attaching her to the litter and rolled over the side, easily getting to her feet. She could hear no one around: They must have decided to let her sleep late into the day.
The tribe’s camp was a scattering of large tents, each crafted from slender logs with animal hide stretched over. The grass around each tent was fresh and untrampled, which made Abeke think they hadn’t been set up for long. Maybe the tribe moved every day, or every couple of days. The nomad tribes in the north of Nilo were much the same. They avoided a lot of the problems that plagued those who lived in villages—lice, parasites, scavengers—by bedding somewhere new every night.
The sky was so large up here. When Abeke squinted her eyes, it was almost like she was below the same wide blue sky that stretched above Okaihee. Just seeing its expansiveness invigorated her. She hoped that after she and Rollan had tracked down this Great Beast, Lenori would augur the next one in Nilo. Abeke longed to see her father and sister again.
“I see you’re feeling better,” came a quiet voice. Abeke turned to see a boy of about eleven emerge from the smallest tent. His skin was dark, nearly as dark as Abeke’s, though his cheeks were a pink red, almost the color of salmon. His hair was tied back in a single braid that went down his back, and his eyes were a startling color—light orange-brown, like the rind of a cheese.
“You’re Aynar’s son, the tribe’s healer,” Abeke said. Something about the gentleness in the boy’s eyes had made it clear.
“I am,” he said, with an uneasy tilt to his head.
“Forgive me,” Abeke said, “but aren’t you a little young for that responsibility?”
“You were not that much older than me when you went to fight with the Greencloaks,” the boy said, smiling. “But you are correct. I was named healer only recently. There were special circumstances. In any case, our word for ‘healer’ has a much broader set of meanings than it does in the Common language.”
“It does?”
At Abeke’s interest, the boy’s previous shyness melted away. “Our healers are also moral guides. We conduct listening ceremonies to help our people find their hearts. The other boys hunt, but that doesn’t interest me much at all.”
Abeke experimented with her neck, angling her head from side to side. Miraculously, she was able to do so without pain. The clean scent of pine rose from her fresh bandages. “I’m glad it doesn’t,” Abeke said. “You have real talent—what’s your name?”
The boy beamed with pride. “Anda. My mother gave you a poultice I made. I always send the hunters out with it, and it appears to have done its work. While you were sleeping, I added another. This new one should speed the healing even more, and prevent scarring.”
“Where is Rollan?” Abeke asked.
“Hunting with the men. They would have loved for you to join them—it’s a rare opportunity to learn from such a famous hunter—but you were asleep. So Rollan went instead. He … did not seem comfortable riding. I’ve never seen a horse take such an instant disliking to someone.”
“He has that effect on horses,” Abeke said with a smile. “And walruses. And some people. Is there anything to eat?”
“Of course,” Anda said, blushing. “I should have offered earlier.”
Abeke chewed strips of salty yak jerky while Anda walked her around the camp. It was small—only five large tents circling a fire. Two horses, so scrawny they were probably used for carrying supplies and not riders, grazed nearby.
After warning Anda, Abeke summoned Uraza. The leopard nuzzled Abeke affectionately, then sniffed worriedly at her wounded neck. She was clearly relieved by what she found. Uraza bounded and pranced, undoubtedly hunting for more butterflies—until she noticed Anda.
Uraza stood stock-still, staring at the boy with her large lavender eyes. Then she did something Abeke had never seen Uraza do before: The leopard lay down in the earth, head resting on her paws, and stared up at him.
“She likes you,” Abeke said. But her voice trailed off, because she could see that it was more than that. The expression in Uraza’s eyes was closer to submission.
“Should we show her?” Anda asked the open air. Abeke whirled around, but couldn’t see what or who Anda was talking to.
Uraza purred loudly, at full attention as she stared into the nearby tree line.
Abeke followed the leopard’s gaze and saw, camouflaged in a copse of pine trees, an elk.
A very large elk. It stood motionless, noble head held high, antlers as broad as a man’s arms. Its fur was tinged with white and gold, the same mix of colors as Anda’s striking eyes.
The elk’s eyes locked on Anda, then it stepped out toward them, its gait stately and unhurried.
“You summoned Tellun,” Abeke said in awe.
“You make him sound so serious.” Anda laughed. “I just think of him as my elk. And I’m his boy.”
As the noble elk drew near, there was no shred of doubt in Abeke’s mind that she was in the presence of Tellun, the leader of all the Great Beasts. Uraza looked at him with wide, awestruck eyes, confirming Abeke’s thoughts.
Without quite knowing why, Abeke got to her knees.
“Please get up! There’s no need to do that!” Anda said. “My elk is silly most of the time; I’m not sure why he’s being so serious today …” Anda’s voice trailed off, and his lips moved silently instead. It looked like he was communicating with the elk. Anda’s light brown eyes widened, and his jaw set tight.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you were that important?” he asked.
When the hunters returned, Abeke, Anda, Uraza, and Tellun himself were quietly waiting at the edge of the camp. They watched the dust cloud gradually settle as the hunters brought their horses to a halt.
“Abeke!” Rollan said as he struggled to dismount from his horse, then struggled even harder to extract his foot from the stirrup. “I wish you had been with us. Apparently I’ve already lost all my saddle callouses—ouch—but I used a bow! And I wasn’t half bad. I mean I wasn’t Abeke-level or anything, but …”
Rollan’s eyes widened, and he went pale. Just like Abeke, he, too, dropped to his knees when he realized he was in the presence of Tellun.
The noble elk maintained his serene gaze, but Abeke suspected she saw a wink in his eyes.
Aynar dismounted and approached, arm in arm with a tall, severe-looking man. He had his hair in a long braid, like Anda’s, but his was striped with gray. If his face had ever had any of Anda’s gentleness, it had lost it long ago. Abeke sensed she was seeing the boy’s father.
“I see our guests have met Tellun,” Aynar said. Beside her, Anda’s father watched the elk warily.
“The Great Beasts have returned to Erdas,” Abeke said. “Your son has had a tremendous honor come to him.”
“The type of honor that also destroys all of our tribe’s privacy,” Anda’s father muttered.
Abeke frowned. She remembered her own bonding ceremony, when she’d summoned Uraza—the leopard had brought a deluge of life-giving rain to her parched village. At the time, Abeke had thought she’d become her village’s new Rain Dancer. Her father had responded to that news with surprising skepticism. Though she and her family had worked through their differences, Abeke watched a similar defensiveness settle into Anda’s father’s features. Because of what she’d been through with her own family, though, she understood it: He wanted to believe all of this was impossible, so the tribe’s life could remain the way it had always been.
While the other hunters dismounted, silent with reverence, Aynar inspected Abeke’s wound. “I never would have thought that you’d be standing, much less walking around, by the time we came back. Anda, your skills have improved so much, my son.”
Abeke ran a hand over the bandage on the back of her neck. “I can barely feel any pain. It’s amazing. I hope Anda gets to meet Jhi someday. They could learn a lot from each other.”
“They could gossip in the women’s tent and sip herbal teas together,” Anda’s father said.
Rollan cut him a severe look. “A talented healer can turn the tide of a military campaign far more effectively than even the strongest warrior. I’ve seen it happen.”
Anda’s father shook his head curtly and tightened the strap of his quiver with a savage jerk. “Do not pretend to educate me on battle. You should know your place—maybe children rule in Greenhaven, but not here.”
“There are more important concerns for us to talk about,” Abeke said, stepping between the two. “A man named Zerif is on the loose, hunting down the Great Beasts as they return to the world.” She cast a worried look at Anda. “Severing them from their human partners.”
“I knew we should not trust these outsiders,” said Anda’s gruff father. “Don’t you see, Aynar—they have come to take our son away.”
Aynar looked deep into Anda’s eyes. “Is that true? You will have to leave?”
Anda couldn’t meet his mother’s gaze. “It won’t be safe for any of us if I stay here. Abeke tells me that Zerif is very powerful, and getting stronger with every Great Beast he claims.”
“I’m sorry, Aynar,” Abeke said. “I know that your tribe named Anda as its healer precisely because of the good omen when he summoned Tellun. I, too, left my family after I summoned Uraza. I know how painful this is, but believe me when I tell you that I’m closer to my family now than I ever was before I left Okaihee. I’ve learned so much about myself, and them, while I was away. Anda will return to you even more talented—and even wiser.”
“Zerif is undoubtedly on his way,” Rollan said. “Even with the help of Uraza and Essix and all your hunters, we’d be stupid to fight him. Your son’s best hope—and the best hope for Erdas—is for him to come with us to Greenhaven.”
Aynar’s eyes filled with tears as she looked at her son. “You’ve made up your mind. I can see it.”
Anda grimaced. “The whole tribe is in danger while Tellun and I stay.”
Aynar let out a long sigh and took a step backward. She gathered herself, love and anguish beaming from her eyes as she fought to hold herself together. “I only ask two things of you, my precious son: Do everything you can to keep yourself safe, and return to us once you are able. I’ll think of you every time the first star comes out at night.”
“And I’ll think of you, Mother,” Anda said, tears streaming down his face.
At the sight of his son’s crying, Anda’s father’s face tightened into a frown. But he stepped to Anda and clasped him to his chest. “Please don’t forget our people’s ways when you’re on the outside. You will always have a place in our tribe.”
“I won’t, Father,” Anda said. “I’ll make you and the rest of the village proud.”
“Keep working on your spear arm,” his father said.
Anda nodded, struggling to meet his father’s eyes.
“Come, let’s go,” Abeke said sorrowfully. “We have no way of knowing when Zerif will close in.”
As Anda shuffled over to join them, Rollan threw his arm around Anda’s shoulders. “Wait until you see the healing poultices the Greencloaks have come up with,” he whispered. “You’re going to be amazed. You can spend your time in Greenhaven practicing whatever you want.”
With one bound, Tellun was at Anda’s side. Abeke watched in astonishment as the leader of the Great Beasts gave Anda an affectionate lick along the side of his face. He then pressed his side against Anda’s, as if to shoulder some of the boy’s weight.
CONOR AND HIS COMPANIONS MOVED SWIFTLY THROUGH winding stone tunnels. The type of rock varied as they traveled—sometimes they were surrounded by speckled granite, sometimes soft, pockmarked limestone, sometimes slippery obsidian. Their footfalls—and the footfalls of other unknown creatures creeping in the dark—reverberated through the tight spaces.
Without the noise of the world above to fill the air, the quiet music of the earth sighed in Conor’s ears. The creaking of rock was constant, but there were also rivulets of water trickling somewhere deep inside the stone, beneath the muttering breezes of damp, cool air.
Conor kept his torch lit, but somehow Xanthe was able to see clearly even when she scouted ahead of its light. She’d call out directions to them from much farther along. By the tim
e the companions managed to reach her, Conor would be amazed to see that Xanthe had already clambered up slick passageways and scaled cave walls in the darkness.
Whenever Xanthe pulled far ahead, she sang an ethereal, tuneless song so the others could locate her. The song grew louder and louder until eventually Conor would turn a corner and find the pale girl waiting, perched on a rock or a giant toadstool, her head cocked at a quizzical angle. Then she’d wordlessly continue on her way.
Seen from behind, Xanthe looked even more like the strange beings that had attacked them—the ones she’d called the Many. In Conor’s spooked imaginings, her short white hair resembled their bald heads, and her narrow frame was ghastly instead of elegant. But then whenever she’d turn to face them, he’d see the goodwill in her eyes as she beckoned them forward.
“You’re all doing very well,” Xanthe said cheerfully as she led them splashing through an underground stream. “Before the trouble with the Wyrm, we sent occasional patrols upside to scout. They always came back telling stories of how oafish the upsiders were. You three—well, you’re not at the level of Sadreans, but you’re still good climbers.”
“Thank you?” Meilin said dryly as she heaved herself over a boulder, landing in a few inches of slimy water.
To Conor’s surprise, Meilin allowed Xanthe to help her to her feet. “We’re almost halfway there now,” Xanthe said. “We’ll be at Phos Astos before too long.”
“What’s Phos Astos?” Takoda asked.
“That is a joke, right?” Xanthe called over her shoulder.
“Um, no,” Takoda said.
Xanthe stopped short in the tunnel, and the other three nearly piled into her. “Are you telling me you know that little about this land? We have guarded Erdas for centuries.”
It did sound pretty bad when she put it that way.
Conor looked to Meilin. If any of them would have been taught about this place, it was her. But even she reluctantly nodded her head.
Xanthe shook her head when she saw their bewildered reactions. “There used to be many of us, but the last few months …” She trailed off. “Let me start closer to the beginning. Phos Astos is one of many underground cities settled by my people. These tunnels pass under Erdas, all the way to its farthest corners. Our cities are connected by paths carved out over millennia by ancient rivers and the roots of the Evertree, and we once traded resources along those routes. Until recently.” She let out a long sigh. “The Many are our people, twisted by an infection that turns into something more like … occupation once it reaches their foreheads.”
Spirit Animals: Fall of the Beasts #1: Immortal Guardians Page 8