Tiger's Quest

by Colleen Houck

  I looked around for something to stand on, but Kishan wrapped his hands around my waist and picked me up. He snuggled me next to his chest while I strapped myself into the other part of the Scarf’s harness.

  “Er . . . thanks. Okay, so what you need to do is carry me, run, and leap off the branch. Can you manage that?”

  “I’m sure I can handle it,” he responded dryly. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  He squeezed me close.

  “One . . . two . . . three!”

  Kishan ran five steps and hurled his body into the void.

  22

  Exit

  The wind screamed around us as we plummeted freefall through the sky, spinning like Dorothy’s house in the tornado. Kishan was able to stabilize us in a face-down position. He took hold of my wrists and drew our arms out in an arc. Not a moment after we stabilized, we heard a screech overhead. An iron bird was on our tail.

  Kishan lifted my left arm in the air, and we dramatically veered to the right and picked up speed. The bird followed. He lifted our right arms, and we swung left. The bird was on top of us.

  Kishan screamed, “Hold on, Kells!”

  He pulled our arms back to our sides and tilted our heads down. We burst forward like a bullet. The bird folded its wings and plummeted with us.

  “I’m going to flip us! Try to hit it with a lightning bolt! Ready?”

  I nodded, and Kishan flipped us over in the air. Our backs were now to the ground, and I had a great view of the bird’s belly. Quickly, I shot off a succession of bolts and managed to irritate the bird enough to get rid of it. I missed its eye but hit the edge of its mouth. The bird didn’t like that and flapped off, screeching angrily.

  “Hold on!”

  Kishan flipped us back over and steadied us once more. He pulled the ripcord, and I heard the slither of material as it was fed out into the wind. With a snap, the Scarf’s parachute opened to catch the air. Kishan tightened his arms around my waist as it opened and slowed our descent. Then he let go to grip the toggles and direct the steering lines.

  I shouted, “Aim for the pass between the two mountains!”

  A terrible screech overhead meant the birds had found us. Three of them began circling, trying to grab us with talons and beaks. I tried to use my lightning power, but it was too hard to hit their eyes from this distance. Instead, I opened the backpack and retrieved my bow.

  Kishan banked left, and I drew back and let an arrow fly. It whizzed right over the head of a bird. My second arrow hit its neck and, imbued with lightning power, gave the bird a shock. It fell to the ground injured. Another bird hit us with its razor-sharp wing, sending us into a spin, but I managed to irritate it enough that it soon flew off in another direction.

  The third bird was wily. It circled out of my line of vision to stay behind us as much as possible. When it attacked, it ripped a large hole in the parachute with a talon. The collapsing chute dropped us into another freefall. Kishan tried to guide us, but the wind bucked the torn canopy wildly.

  Suddenly, the chute began to repair itself. Threads wove in and out and up and through the material until the Scarf looked as though it had never been damaged. As it filled with air again, Kishan yanked on the toggle to head us in the right direction.

  The angry bird reappeared and managed to avoid my arrows. Its loud screeches were answered by others.

  “We’ve got to land!”

  “Almost there, Kells!”

  At least a dozen birds were streaking their way toward us. We’d be lucky if we survived long enough to hit the ground. The flock circled, screaming, flapping, and snapping their beaks.

  We were almost there. If we could just hold out for a few more seconds! A bird came right at us. It was fast, and we didn’t see it until the last moment. The creature opened its beak to snap us in two. I could almost hear the crunch of my bones as I imagined the metal bird cutting me in half.

  I shot several more arrows but missed with each of them. The wind suddenly turned us, and I could do nothing from my current position. Kishan maneuvered the chute, piloting the canopy into a dangerous swoop and a hook turn. I closed my eyes and felt a jolt as our feet touched solid ground.

  Kishan ran a few steps and then pushed me flat to the grass. He lay on top of me while he frantically unhooked us from the rigging.

  “Keep your head down, Kells!”

  The bird was right on us. It grabbed a beak full of parachute and yanked, tearing it in half. I winced listening to the horrible rip of the special material. Frustrated, the bird dropped the chute and circled around for another pass. Kishan freed himself, dug his chakram from the backpack, and threw it while I crouched down and gathered the folds of the parachute.

  “Please knit back together.”

  Nothing happened. Kishan threw the chakram again.

  “Little help here, Kells!”

  I shot off a few arrows and saw the material move from the corner of my eye. It began weaving itself back together, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. It shrunk down to its original size again.

  “Hold them back for a minute, Kishan. I know what to do!”

  I picked up the material and said, “Gather the winds.”

  The patterns shifted, colors changed, and the Scarf grew. Twisting up and over itself, it swelled and stretched to create a large bag that fanned out in the breeze. A strong burst of wind hit my face and gusted into the bag. When it waned, another wind whipped around my body from behind and began filling the bag as well. Soon, winds from every direction were pummeling me. I felt buffeted from every direction and could barely contain the bagful of powerful winds.

  Finally, the gusts died so that I could feel not even a wisp of a breeze, but the bag bucked violently. Kishan was surrounded by ten birds, barely holding them at bay with the chakram.

  “Kishan! Get behind me!”

  He drew back his arm and, with a powerful thrust, let loose the chakram. As it spun through the air, he ran to me, grabbed the bag on the other side, and caught the hurtling chakram just before it took off my head.

  I raised an eyebrow while he grinned.

  I yelled, “Okay, ready? One, two, three!” We opened the bag and let loose all the winds of Shangri-la in the bird’s direction. Three of the birds were slammed against the mountain while the others spun off toward the world tree, trying desperately to escape the tumult.

  When the winds died down, the empty bag hung limp between us. Kishan stared at me incredulously.

  “Kelsey. How did you—” he trailed off.

  “Scarf, please.”

  The bag shifted and twisted, turned a soft blue and gold color, and then shrunk into a Scarf again. I wrapped it around my neck and tossed the end over my shoulder.

  “The answer is, I don’t know. When Hugin and Munin cleared our minds, I remembered stories and myths I had learned before. I recalled things the Divine Weaver told us and also things that Mr. Kadam had speculated about. He’d told me a story of a Japanese god called who controlled the winds and had a bag to carry them in. I also knew that this material was special, like the Golden Fruit.

  “Maybe everything was in my mind all along or maybe Hugin whispered it in my thoughts. I’m not sure. I do know that the Scarf can do something else, something that will help us save Ren, but we should get out of here before the birds come back. I’ll show you then.”

  “Alright, but first, there’s something I need to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This.”

  He yanked me up against his body and kissed me. Thoroughly. His mouth moved against mine passionately. The kiss was fast, turbulent, and wild. He held me tightly, one hand cradling my head while the other held me firmly at my waist. He kissed me fiercely, with an utter abandon that I could no more put a halt to than I could stop an avalanche.

  When you’re caught in an avalanche you have two choices: stand there and try to block it, or you can give in, roll with it, and hope you come out alive at the ba
se. So, I rolled with Kishan’s kiss. Finally, he lifted his head, spun me around, and let out a jubilant whoop of victory that echoed in the surrounding hills.

  When he finally set me down, I had to catch my breath. I panted and said, “What was that for?”

  “I’m just happy to be alive!”

  “Okay, fine. But keep your lips to yourself next time.”

  He sighed. “Don’t be upset, Kells.”

  “I’m not upset. I’m . . . I’m not sure what I think about it. It all happened too fast for me to even react.”

  A scoundrel’s smile lit his face. “I promise to slow it down next time.”

  “What next time?”

  He frowned slightly. “You don’t need to make a big deal out of it. It’s just a natural reaction to narrowly escaping death. It’s like when soldiers come back from war and grab a girl to kiss right after they get off the boat.”

  I retorted wryly, “Yeah, maybe so, but the difference is, this girl was on the boat with you. Feel free to grab any girl you like when we get back to the mainland, sailor, but this girl is hands off.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Really? It felt more like your hands were on if you ask me.”

  I sputtered in outrage, “If my hands were on you at all, they were there to push you away!”

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself to have a clear conscience at the end of the day. You just won’t admit that you liked it.”

  “Hmm, let me see. You’re right, Casanova. I did like it. After it was over!”

  He shook his head. “You are stubborn. No wonder Ren had so many problems.”

  “How dare you even mention your brother!”

  “When are you going to face facts, Kells? You like me.”

  “Well, I’m not liking you so much right now! Can we just head back to the spirit gate and drop this conversation?”

  “Yes. But we will continue this discussion later.”

  “Maybe when Shangri-la freezes over.”

  He took the backpack and grinned. “I can wait for that. After you, bilauta.”

  “Kissing Bandit,” I muttered.

  He smirked wickedly and lifted an eyebrow. We hiked for several hours. Kishan kept trying to talk to me, but I stubbornly refused to acknowledge his existence.

  The problem with what happened between us was . . . he wasn’t wrong. I had spent more time with him now than I had with Ren, and we’d been living under the same roof for months. We’d been hiking through Shangri-la and spent day and night together for weeks.

  Day to day contact like that creates a level of closeness, an . . . intimacy between two people. Kishan was just more willing to recognize it than I was. It was not surprising that Kishan, who already admittedly had feelings for me, was beginning to feel comfortable expressing them. The thing was, it didn’t bother me as much as it should have. Kishan kissing me was not like Artie or Jason or even Li.

  When I kissed Li, I felt in control. It wasn’t like kissing Ren either. Ren was like a fantastic jungle waterfall—sparkling and shimmering in the sunlight. He was an exotic paradise waiting to be discovered. Kishan was different. Kishan was a raging, grade six whitewater river—fast, unpredictable, and un-navigable to even the most skilled thrill-seekers. The brothers were both magnificent and fascinating and powerful, but kissing Kishan was dangerous.

  Not dangerous like the man sirens; they just felt wrong. If I was being honest with myself, kissing Kishan didn’t feel wrong. It actually felt good, like a wilder, fiercer version of Ren. With Kishan, it was like I’d literally caught a tiger by the tail, and he was ready to turn on me and drag me off. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant notion, and that was the part that disturbed me.

  Clearly, I’ve been separated from my boyfriend for too long, I tried to rationalize my feelings. Kishan’s the next best thing, and I’m just missing my tiger. I’m sure that’s all it is. I let those thoughts comfort me as we walked.

  Like Ren, Kishan had a knack for charming his way out of difficult problems. Before long, he made me completely forget that I had been upset with him.

  As dusk turned into twilight, we decided to set up camp for the night. I was exhausted.

  “You take the sleeping bag, Kells.”

  “Don’t need it. Watch this.”

  I took the Scarf from around my neck and said, “A large tent, a sleeping bag, two soft pillows, and a change of clothes for each of us, please.”

  The Scarf shifted and moved; threads began weaving in and out. They twisted together to create thick cords, which shot out in several directions and wrapped around the strong branches of nearby trees. Once the cords were tied and secure, the Scarf created a roof, walls, and a tent floor. The tent was suspended from two lines twined about the tree overhead. Instead of a zipper, the opening flaps tied together.

  I ducked my head inside, “Come on, Kishan.”

  He followed me into the spacious tent, and we watched as the colorful threads continued to weave a thick sleeping bag and two soft pillows. When it was finished, I had a green sleeping bag and two white king-sized pillows. A change of clothes for each of us rested on top of them. Kishan spread the old sleeping bag out next to me while I fluffed a pillow.

  He asked, “How does it choose the color?”

  “I think it depends on its mood or perhaps on what you ask for. The tent, sleeping bag, and pillows all look like they’re supposed to. Otherwise, the Scarf shifts colors on its own. I noticed it as I walked all day.”

  Kishan left to change in the jungle while I put on fresh clothes and hung my fairy clothes on a branch outside. By the time he came back, I was snuggled deep into my sleeping bag and had turned on my side to avoid conversation.

  He climbed into his sleeping bag, and I could feel his golden eyes staring at my back for several tense moments.

  Finally, he grunted and said, “Well, goodnight, Kells.”

  “Goodnight, Kishan.” I was exhausted and fell asleep quickly, drifting right into a new dream.

  I dreamed of Ren and Lokesh, the very same scene as in my last vision. Ren was sitting in the back corner of a cage in a dark room. His hair was filthy and matted, and I almost didn’t realize it was him until he opened his eyes and looked at me. I’d recognize those blue eyes anywhere.

  His eyes gleamed steadily in the dark like bright sapphires. I crept closer, letting them guide me, staring at them like a desperate sailor watches a lighthouse on a stormy black night.

  When I got to the cage, Ren blinked as if seeing me for the first time. His voice cracked like a man thirsty for water.

  “Kells?”

  I wrapped my fingers around the bars wishing I were strong enough to break them. “Yes. It’s me.”

  “I can’t see you.”

  For one horrible minute, I was afraid Lokesh had blinded him. I knelt in front of the cage.

  “Is that better?”

  “Yes.” Ren slid a bit closer and wrapped his hands around mine. Clouds parted and moonlight shimmered through a tiny window, casting its soft glow on his face.

  I gasped in shock and tears filled my eyes. “Oh, Ren! What did he do to you?”

  Ren’s face was swollen and purple. Blood trickled out of the sides of his mouth, and a deep gash ran from his forehead down to his cheek. I reached out a finger and touched his temple gently.

  “He didn’t get the information he wanted from you and decided to take out his anger on me.”

  “I’m so . . . so . . . sorry.” My tears splashed his hand.

  “Priyatama, don’t cry.” He pressed his hand to my cheek. I turned and kissed his palm.

  “I can’t bear to see you like this. We’re coming for you. Please, please, hold on a little longer.”

  He lowered his gaze as if ashamed. “I don’t think I can.”

  “Don’t say that! Never say that! I’m coming. I know what to do. I know how to rescue you. You have to stay alive. No matter what! Ren, promise me!”

  Ren sighed painfully. “He’s t
oo close, Kells. Every second Lokesh has me you’re at risk. You are his obsession. Every waking moment, he tries to extract information about you from my mind. He won’t stop. He won’t give up. He’s . . . he’s going to break me. Soon. If it was just the physical torture, I think I could endure it, but he’s using dark magic. He’s tricking me. Causing hallucinations. And I’m just so . . . tired.”

  My voice shook, “Then tell him. Tell him what he wants to know, and maybe he’ll leave you alone.”

  “I will never tell him, prema.”

  I sobbed, “Ren. I can’t lose you.”

  “I’m always with you. My thoughts are of you.” He captured a lock of my hair and brought it to his lips. He inhaled deeply. “All the time.”

  “Don’t give up! Not when we’re so close!”

  His eyes shifted. “There is an option I could consider.”

  “What is it? What option?”

  “Durga,” he paused, “has offered her protection, but she asks a heavy price. It’s not worth it.”

  “Anything is worth your life! Take it! Don’t think twice about it. You can trust Durga. Do it! Whatever the price is, it doesn’t matter as long as you survive.”

  “But, Kelsey.”

  “Shh.” I pressed a fingertip lightly against his swollen lips. “Do what you have to in order to survive. Okay?”

  He let out a ragged breath and looked at me with bright, desperate eyes. “You must go. He might return at any time.”

  “I don’t want to leave you.”

  “And I don’t want you to leave. But you need to.”

  Resigned, I turned to leave.

  “Wait, Kelsey. Before you go . . . will you kiss me?”

  I put my hand through the bars and lightly touched his face. “I don’t want to cause you more pain.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Please. Kiss me before you go.”

  He knelt in front of me, gasping as he put weight on his knee, and then gently put shaking hands through the bars and drew me closer. His hands slid up to cup my cheeks, and our lips met through the bars of his cage. His kiss was warm and soft and too brief. I tasted the salt of my tears. When he drew back, he gave me a sweet, crooked smile through cracked lips. He winced as he withdrew his hands. It was then that I noticed that several of his fingers were broken.