Heart of the Cat

by S. E. Smith

  He jumped up on a log and sprang onto a low branch. Working his way up higher into the canopy, he hopped from one branch to another as his mind processed the last bit of information that he knew existed. The discovery of a scroll hidden deep in the archives had pieced together gaps between the facts and the myths.

  It was said that a survivor of the Great War wrote it. This scroll documented the events of the attack. It told of a Princess, heavily pregnant with her first child, who was brutally betrayed by the one she loved. In desperation, Princess Mia had sacrificed her life and the life of her newborn child to keep her people safe. According to the scroll, Princess Mia used the powers of the Heart of the Cat and then vanished. The problem was—no one knew what happened to the Princess and the Heart of the Cat. The scroll only said that Princess Mia was helped—by a Goddess.

  And now I am following a golden orb through a thick mist to a mythical kingdom that hasn’t been seen in centuries, he thought with a silent snort.

  Better than running in circles and lost, his cat chuckled in response as it closed the distance between Walkyr and the orb.

  Chapter Four

  Several hours later, the hair along Walkyr’s back bristled and his cat hissed as it sensed an unknown threat coming up from behind and below him. He perched on the thick branch of a tree he had climbed a few moments ago and held perfectly still. The tree shook. Whatever was coming, it was large.

  His eyes narrowed when he finally saw what his cat had sensed—Pactors! How in the hell those beasts were on Sarafin he had no idea. They were mean, disagreeable creatures who ate just about anything—including people. The Antrox, a slender insectoid species known for their mercenary greed, were the only ones he knew that used them for their asteroid mining operations. Keeping them well fed and harnessed was a top priority in those operations, for the safety of everyone—but he did personally know two crazy people who cared about the beasts: Lady Ariel Reykill and the Twin Dragons’ mate, Melina.

  He closely observed the leader of the herd. There was something—or he should say someone—else down there. Partially hidden by the trunk of the lead Pactor, Walkyr could see the end of a walking stick.

  Walkyr crouched, turned, and followed the creatures. He silently jumped from branch to branch until the tree line ended near a wide river. The group of Pactors stepped onto the rocky embankment and down into the river. Only when every beast had waded into the river did Walkyr turn his attention to the lone figure carrying the walking stick.

  Disappointment washed through him when he saw it was a young, hesitant Pactor with a slender branch held in his trunk. Walkyr watched as the largest Pactor turned and released a series of soft grunts. The young Pactor reluctantly walked toward the river and tentatively entered the water. Walkyr’s cat snickered when the juvenile Pactor batted the stick at the Pactor in charge before turning its back to it.

  I’m glad you think they’re amusing. You do realize that they wouldn’t think twice about eating us, don’t you? Walkyr dryly mentioned.

  His cat snorted, as if it were insulted. Walkyr was about to stress his point—but a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The golden orb floated several yards away from where he was crouched. Walkyr released an exasperated groan when he felt his cat’s response.

  The damn thing thought this was a game! Rising to his feet, he shook his head a little to dislodge a few markers before running along the branch. He tensed and leaped through the air, landing on a branch in the next tree. His back legs slipped a bit on the branch and he flicked his tail back and forth to adjust his balance. He dug his claws into the stiff bark.

  Ahead of him, the orb continued to float just out of his reach. He had been following the thing for hours now. He jumped from one limb to another until he came to an area farther up river where he would have to leave the safety of the high ground so that he could cross to the opposite river bank.

  At least no Pactor here, his cat reasoned.

  Thank the Goddess for small favors, Walkyr growled.

  He scanned the river bank before he hopped from branch to lower branch until he was close enough to safely jump the rest of the way to the ground. His massive paws sank into the moist, leaf-covered soil.

  The orb paused as Walkyr hesitated to move out into the open. After making sure there was no immediate threat, Walkyr padded across the uneven rocky ground to the edge of the river, and waded in. It wasn’t long until the chilly water was deep enough that Walkyr needed to swim. With his back legs he pushed off the last bit of river bed he could reach and began paddling across the wide river.

  The current was swift, pulling and pushing him downstream. He pumped his powerful front and back legs like pistons, cutting a path through the current. He kept his gaze on the floating orb that hovered above the far bank.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a group of boulders rising out of the water. His cat hissed, knowing that he was in danger of colliding with them. Walkyr swam faster.

  A curse exploded through his mind when he realized that he wouldn’t make it to an area shallow enough to brace his feet. A hole in the riverbed caused the water to swirl fiercely, and Walkyr was caught in the whirlpool. The strong current spun his cat in a dizzying whirl of wet fur and extended claws. He went under, and the churning of the water pushed his cat down to the riverbed.

  His cat pushed off the rocky bottom and struggled toward the surface. Walkyr hissed out a warning when he saw that they were going to collide with the group of boulders. His cat twisted so that he was facing the danger and managed to impact with all four paws against the rocks. Unfortunately, one of his back feet slipped on the algae-covered rocky surface and became caught between two boulders. Pain shot through his leg when the current tried to pull him around.

  His cat struggled to lift his head above the water and barely broke the surface. Opening his mouth, he dropped the small bag of markers he was carrying. The cat made a desperate grab for it with his nearest front paw, but it was too late. The small black sack bobbed along the surface before disappearing from sight.

  Stuck, his cat snarled, struggling to break free.

  His front paws slid off the rocks and his head dipped under the water again. Walkyr scrambled for a hold, but the algae made it impossible to get a good grip while in this form. In desperation, he ordered his cat to shift back into his two-legged form.

  With dexterous hands, Walkyr braced against the two rocks that formed the crevice where his foot was caught. It was a much more painful fit than when he was a cat. Holding on, he tilted his head back to draw in a deep breath of air before he sank back down beneath the surface.

  He placed his other booted foot against the rock and pushed. The sole of his boot slipped on the rock again and again, which caused his caught foot to become more solidly wedged. His lungs burned with the need for oxygen. Frustration poured through him as he fruitlessly struggled to pull his foot free. He clawed at the rocks, trying to pull them apart, but between the angle and the constant tugging of the current, he couldn’t get a good grip.

  He began to convulse, his lungs demanding oxygen. His arms trembled as he fought to tilt his head back far enough to break the surface again, but unfortunately, he had slipped lower during his struggles.

  Dark spots began to dance before his eyes and then he suddenly felt something soft wrap around his waist. The extra support against his back held him steady against the strong current. The boulders parted, and he yanked his leg free.

  Walkyr’s head cleared the surface and he took deep, gasping breaths of air. Then he was suddenly lifted clear of the water. He lowered his hands and touched the soft hide-covered flesh wrapped around his waist. Turning his head, his choked gasps froze in his chest, when he saw who—or should he say what—had come to his rescue.

  He dangled like a child’s doll from the trunk of a large Pactor as it carried him to the shore. He glanced over at the other Pactors who were rolling the boulders as if they were marbles instead of massive
rocks. A squeal drew his attention to the shore, and his mouth dropped open when he saw the baby Pactor coming toward him with its trunk up, gaily waving the walking stick like an excited drum major.

  It think you is dinner, his cat hissed. It scratched at him to break free.

  With a sense of growing apprehension, Walkyr watched the juvenile’s mouth open to show large flat teeth made for grinding. Up close he could see the jagged points on the inside that were made for cutting and shredding.

  He gripped the gray trunk around his waist and fought to loosen the creature’s hold on him. He opened his mouth to snarl in warning but immediately clamped his mouth shut when he was licked from chin to forehead.

  Walkyr closed his eyes when he felt a glob of sticky slobber coat his face. He snapped his head back when the juvenile tried to give him the slender branch held in its trunk. Lifting a hand, Walkyr cleared the slime from his eyes before he reached out and grabbed the end of the stick.

  He blinked in confusion when the Pactor scrambled back several steps and looked at him with an expectant expression. Unsure of what the beast wanted, he tossed the stick away. The juvenile immediately went after the branch, picked it up, and brought it back to him.

  “I think I’ve seen everything now,” he muttered in disbelief when the juvenile backed up once again.

  It want to play, his cat chuckled.

  “Obviously,” Walkyr responded with a shake of his head.

  He took the branch and tossed it again. The Pactor holding him must have been happy with what he was doing because instead of tearing him apart and eating him, the beast set him down on the sandy, rock-covered bank. He took several steps back and faced the group of Pactors that had come to his rescue.

  He studied the outcropping of boulders where he had nearly died. The two boulders that had trapped his foot were now several feet apart. There was no denying that the creatures were strong. So, why hadn’t they ripped him apart?

  He turned his gaze back to the juvenile Pactor. His eyes widened when he saw that it had a new distraction—the golden orb. The smaller Pactor was squeaking and reaching out its short trunk to the orb that danced slightly out of reach.

  The orb floated in a semi-circle, pausing briefly by each Pactor before it floated purposefully toward the trees. The Pactors parted. Walkyr slowly walked by each of them.

  He stopped when the juvenile Pactor picked up the branch and held it out to him again. He automatically reached out and accepted the gift. With bemusement, he watched the small herd mosey away along the bank of the river.

  Shaking his head, he watched them disappear around the bend before he turned to look back at the orb where it hovered just inside the tree line. He lifted his arm and wiped his face with a wet shirtsleeve. He tightly gripped the branch in his hand and strode forward. The orb moved deeper and deeper into the forest.

  The mist changed the farther he traveled away from the rebel camp. When he had first set out, he could barely see his hand in front of his face. Even with the contact lenses, he’d had to move with caution. The mist thinned out even more the deeper he went into the forest. Now, the veil rose to the top of the trees as if it were creating a protective shield over the forest.

  Walkyr followed the orb for several more hours. His cat hissed out to him several times that it sensed danger. In his peripheral vision, he caught glimpses of something moving, but whatever was there always remained hidden.

  As he covered more ground, Walkyr became concerned about being able to find his way back. Without the markers, he had nothing to guide him but his innate sense of direction. In the mist, that was almost impossible to trust—but there was also… something different about the forest. It felt—alive.

  Several times he had turned to study the path he had traversed, only to find thick trees covering the path he was sure he had just followed. His unease grew the farther he went. At one point, he had tried to mark the path by slicing deep gouges into a tree. No sooner had he sliced through the bark than a loud moan filled the air and the ground trembled beneath his feet.

  Cursed, his cat hissed.

  Walkyr agreed. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise, and a shiver ran through him. This was not normal. Trees were alive, but they did not move or feel emotions.

  Stay alert, Walkyr ordered.

  An hour later, he looked down at the last remains of the broken branch in his hands. He dropped the piece to the ground. He had picked up anything he could find, sometimes even drawing an arrow in the soil to mark the path.

  He was about to pick up another branch when he looked up. The roots of the trees nearby were elevated and twined together into an archway. Walkyr brushed his hands together and walked forward. The opening glowed with the orb’s golden light, and he could see that the tunnel passed completely through the trunk of a massive tree that rose well over a hundred feet into the air.

  Walkyr cautiously moved forward. He reached out and touched the knotted vines that ran along the opening. He was shocked when warmth pulsed from the vines in the otherwise cool interior. Looking down at the ground, he noticed that the path had changed from moist dirt to smooth rock. The sound of his boots on the stone paving echoed in the dark corridor.

  Wonder filled him when he saw the intricate carvings along the interior walls. He stepped closer and paused. Lifting his hand, he was about to trace his fingers along the raised designs when his cat hissed a warning.

  Not alone.

  I saw it, he replied.

  There had been a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. The movement swept past the far opening at the end of the corridor. Turning, he began to stride to the exit but paused to scan the area ahead. He didn’t sense any danger, so he continued forward.

  Walkyr cautiously stepped out of the tunnel and stared in awe at the scene before him. A large village lay nestled among the thick trees. He swept an astonished gaze from the base of the tree upward to the towering canopy above. The incredible architecture of each home was breathtaking. Some hung from the thick tree branches like huge hives, linked together by bridges made of woven vines. Behind colorful window curtains, he could see the soft glow of lights shining from the huts.

  Looking down again, Walkyr studied the structures in front of him. Storefronts had been built in a semi-circle contouring the base of the trees. He frowned when he saw a curtain move in the window of the nearest shop. He took a step toward the building when he heard the soft sound of movement behind.

  He swiftly turned and instinctively moved his hand to the blade at his waist. He observed the shadows for a moment. There was no doubt in his mind that he wasn’t alone, but, for some reason, whoever lived here did not want to be seen.

  The golden orb that was still hovering nearby brightened, drawing his attention. He began walking again. In the trees above and below, shadows followed him. The path ahead of him opened, and he could see lush ferns shimmering in the moonlight.

  Walkyr paused at the edge and stared at the largest tree he had ever seen in his life. The scroll that Viper had found described a magnificent tree and stone palace, but Walkyr had never imagined that he would find anything like this. This structure—in fact the entire village—was unlike any other on the planet. There was no doubt in his mind that he had found the home of the Forest Kingdom. The description in the scroll had not done justice to what he had found.

  A soft snarl pulled his attention away from the central palace. He narrowed his eyes when he saw several large cats emerge from the darkness. He could hear others behind him.

  There are too many to fight, his cat warned.

  Then I suggest we don’t, Walkyr warily replied.

  He turned in a tight circle, gazing at the large array of cats that emerged from the shadows, then he glanced up. For as far as he could see, there were cats’ eyes staring at him. Each set was intensely suspicious, eerily reflecting the light.

  “I am Prince Walkyr d’Rojah of the Royal House of Sarafin,” he announced in a loud, commandi
ng voice as he turned and looked at the two large gray leopards that were taking the lead.

  The leopards paused in their tracks. The cat on the right lifted his head, shimmered, and changed into a man. Walkyr found himself staring into the eyes of an old, scarred warrior. He raised an eyebrow when the warrior didn’t say anything.

  A movement by the scarred warrior’s shoulder caught his attention, and Walkyr watched as the orb hovered between them. He narrowed his eyes when it began to expand, and a golden mist spread outward from it, slowly becoming a person. The warrior sank to one knee and bowed his head. Walkyr watched as all the cats did the same. A moment later he understood why.

  In front of him, a beautiful Goddess stood serenely watching him. Her body was slender, and she looked like the golden symbiots that the Valdier had by their sides. With a wave of her hand, her appearance changed to that of a Sarafin maiden—only her eyes remained an intense gold color.

  He unconsciously took a step forward, drawn by the swirling colors in the golden depths. Mesmerized, he stopped a mere foot in front of her. He swore he could see a reflection of the universe in the depths of her eyes.

  “Walk with me, Walkyr,” the Goddess quietly commanded.

  Walkyr glanced at the cats as they rose to their feet. The old warrior stepped to the side. The Goddess bowed her head to the warrior as she glided past him.

  “You are…,” Walkyr started to say before he swallowed.

  The woman smiled at him. “Yes. I am Aikaterina,” she replied.

  Walkyr walked beside her, taking in every detail of his surroundings and his companion as they entered the interior of the magnificent tree. In the center was a stone staircase that wound upward. Narrow bridges forked off from the staircase at intervals leading to other sections of the tree. Rivers of green veins that he suspected were the lifeblood of the tree lined the interior. He frowned when he saw the evidence of black scars as if there had once been a massive fire.