Volcrian's Hunt (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) (24 page)

Sora glanced at Laina. The girl stood next to the cave wall, her hand slightly raised, hovering over its gleaming surface. The brightness of the rock illuminated her skin, causing her pale cheeks to glow, as though a hidden light had ignited inside of her. Sora frowned, staring at the young thief. Her eyes had turned from soft gray to lavender, an unusually vibrant color.

“Amazing, isn't it?” Sora asked, stepping up behind her.

Laina started and turned, as though shaken from a trance. She gave Sora a large, wan smile. “I can hear it humming,” she whispered.

“Humming?” Sora asked.

“Yes....” Laina looked distant again, distracted. “In my bones. Like music.”

Sora frowned, looking over Laina again. She wasn't sure what to make of that. She felt the power of the caves as well, but through her Cat's Eye, her mind. Not her body. And music? She listened, but there was only the very slight vibration of the rocks. Certainly nothing melodious.

“Sora!” Crash's voice reached her, echoing down the narrow tunnel. “It opens up. Come through!”

She turned back toward the hole, eyeing its width and height. She still worried that Burn might not be able to fit, but they had no other choice. This was the only way.

Getting down on her hands and knees, Sora started through the strip of rock, carefully edging her way forward. More than once her clothes snagged on the ceiling, and at one point she had to slither on her belly. The tunnel made a slight turn to the right, then continued a short ways before opening up at the other end. Crash's hand appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, assisting her to her feet.

She stood up and dusted herself off, the white sand clinging to her clothes in a fine powder. When she looked up, her eyes widened.

A sheer cliff dropped off at her feet. The ledge she stood on was only about two yards wide; she edged toward the side, glancing down. The cliff seemed to stretch into oblivion, an endless drop of pure white stone. The light was too intense, obscuring the bottom. She couldn't imagine how deep it was. She felt infinitesimally small in comparison—minuscule, irrelevant.

Then she gazed upward and her mouth dropped open. The crevice reached far above her, jagged white walls of towering stone, far higher than the tallest of buildings. In the vague distance, she saw the glint of massive stalactites. They appeared like shining white fangs, the great teeth of the earth.

Directly in front of her, a narrow bridge of rock spanned the chasm. The tunnel continued on its opposite side, turning out of sight. She stared. If they were to continue forward, they would have to cross over it.

Suddenly, a harsh wind blew past them, so powerful that Sora had to brace her feet against it. She put one hand to the wall, waiting for the fierce gale to pass, wondering at its source.
We're underground, aren't we?
She squinted up the ravine. It didn't feel like a natural draft, but like a large vibration passing through the rocks, building and building as it rolled through the caves. Finally, after a long minute, the wind died down and the air became calm again.

She let out a small sound of discomfort. The vibration had a way of lingering in her body, making her skin tingle. Her eyes returned to the narrow rock bridge and she could imagine centuries of wind wearing through the stone, until only this small strip remained.

Laina exited the hole behind her, then Burn, who had a few more snags in his clothes. Two scrapes showed on his back where he had forced himself through the rocks. The four travelers stared at the ravine, speechless, each assessing the path forward.

“Is it too late to turn back?” Laina asked in a small voice.

Sora grimaced. She had been thinking much the same.

“We're not actually going to cross that?” Laina continued. “It's impossible. We'll fly right off!”

“If we stay close to the ground and grip the rock, we should be able to make it,” Burn's voice rumbled. “We don't have much of a choice, do we?” He turned to look at Sora, raising an eyebrow, and she realized that he intended the question for her. “Do we?” he asked again.

She touched her Cat's Eye and shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “This is the way.”

They fell into an uneasy silence again. Sora took a deep breath to steady her nerves. The drop was far enough to make her head spin. Burn leaned over the edge of the cliff and her heart gave a thud of alarm, certain that he would fall. But the giant Wolfy remained unmoving as he gauged the distance. Then he glanced across the rock bridge to the tunnel on the other side.

Finally he turned around with a wide grin. "So, who's first?"

“This is madness,” Laina muttered.

“No volunteers?” the Wolfy continued, unperturbed. “Great. Then I'll go.”

Sora stared at him, surprised. “No!” she burst out.

Burn looked at her solemnly. He seemed resolved. “If the bridge can hold my weight, then it will hold all of us.”

“No,” Sora repeated. She shook her head. “I can't let you do that. If the bridge collapses, then we're all stranded on this side and you'll be dead.” Her eyes focused past him on the windy ravine. “I'll go first.”

“No,” Crash interrupted her. “We need your Cat's Eye. I'll go.”

Sora opened her mouth, wanting to argue, but his tone carried a certain finality; there was a heaviness to his words. He was staring at the bridge, his eyes narrow and calculating. Then he turned to face them. His confidence was palpable. “I can make it across.”

“You're sure?” Sora asked.

He nodded wordlessly. Then, before anyone else could speak up, he approached the bridge. He knelt before crossing it, pressing his body against the rock, as sheltered from the wind as possible. He gripped the bridge with his hands, digging his fingers into small nooks and crannies.

The wind had carved the rock into a smooth surface, like rounded marble. It would be a challenge to find any handholds. After a moment, Crash slipped a knife from his boot and wedged it into the rock, giving his fingers a place to hold. He drew another knife with his right hand and did the same thing.

He made his way forward in this fashion, foot by foot, gripping with his knees and digging his knives into each side of the rock, slowly chiseling out handholds. A smart tactic, Sora realized. They would all be able to use them. Still, watching the wind whip over his back, blowing his hair wildly—she grew worried. Her heart lodged in her throat. One wrong move and he would plummet to his death.

Sora clenched her fists to stop them from shaking.
Stop worrying,
she told herself firmly. If anyone could cross, it was Crash. Still, she couldn't tame her imagination—the vision of him being torn from the surface of the bridge, the wind sweeping him into the ravine.

Finally, he reached the opposite side. Crash stood up, sheltered by the stone ridge of the second tunnel.

“Sora!” he called. “You're next!”

She gulped visibly. The last time she had crossed a rickety bridge, it had collapsed beneath her. That had been two years ago while crossing the Crown's Rush before entering Fennbog swamp. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet the memory was still fresh and intimate. It was not an experience she wanted to relive—and this crossing was far more treacherous.

“Okay,” she said, more to herself than her companions. She glanced at Laina. The girl stared at her with large lavender eyes, glistening with unshed tears. Sora had to look away. The girl's expression only made her more frightened.

Burn rested a hand on her shoulder. “I can go,” he offered.

“No,” Sora repeated, shaking her head firmly. “No...I can do this.” She checked her staff and daggers, ensuring that the weapons were strapped firmly to her body and wouldn't fall. Then she crouched by the edge of the bridge, determined to cross before she could have any second thoughts. She inched her way forward, gripping with her knees as she had seen Crash do. Her fingers found the small creases in the rock, indents from his knives. The wind was fierce over the ravine, pressing her flat to the stone. She gritted her teeth in concentration.
Don't look down,
she told herself, and kept her eyes trained on the rock beneath her.
Don't look down!

Once she was in the middle of the bridge, Sora felt the Cat's Eye stir in the back of her mind. She paused, unsure of what it meant, waiting breathlessly for the feeling to pass.

Then, as though rising from the very rock itself, a long, moaning howl carried through the ravine. It was purely animal—something between a wolf and a mountain lion—fierce and primal, impossibly loud.

Sora's entire body jolted. All of the hairs on her arms and neck stood on end. Without intending to, she looked down.

Her head spun at the drop. Sickening fear lurched through her, making her arms weak and her body quake. Then, at that moment, another gale-force wind blasted down the ravine. The rock vibrated beneath her hands, shaking her grip loose. She felt her body slide sideways.

Sora screamed. Someone shouted her name, but she was too panicked to know who. The gale plucked her easily from the rock bridge, like a hawk grabbing a mouse. She scrabbled for a hold, but her hands were useless against the smooth stone. With a shriek of pure terror, she was swept into the air—into empty space.

Her heart stopped.

She plummeted downward. The scream was ripped from her mouth, stolen by the wind. She clamped her eyes shut as the bridge flew away from her, her body as heavy and solid as stone. Her stomach went up to her throat, past that, to her head. She was diving, consumed by vertigo, spinning, her arms flailing, reaching instinctively for a handhold—there was only emptiness.

Her mind raced in panic, consumed by pure instinct, overriding all coherent thought.

Then something grabbed her from behind.

* * *

* * *

Krait lingered in the sitting room of a large stone house. Outside, rain lashed down on the flagtone streets. It was mid-afternoon, but felt more like late evening. Everything was cold, wet and subdued.

A week had passed since her narrow escape with
The Book of the Named
. She had expected Cerastes to meet her on the other side of the portal, but had arrived at an old tavern on Tourmaline Street. The heavy smell of the Crown's Rush was easily recognizable through the windows. In the City of Crowns, everything found its way into the Rush: heirlooms, old furniture, human waste and—at times—dead bodies.

A letter had been delivered to her room upon her arrival, telling her that Cerastes would summon her. That summons had arrived just two hours ago, while she sat in the tavern proper, listening to an old minstrel play. One minute, she had looked out the window. The next, a note had been slipped under her drink. One of the Named, she suspected, though she hadn't seen any of her brethren in the tavern.

She followed the letter's instructions, traveling down Tourmaline Street to a series of alleys that eventually led into the sewers. Small tunnels wove through the City of Crowns, ancient dungeons long since flooded by the Rush. She traveled to the center of the city, bypassing slums and heavily populated streets. Then she found her way under the great barrier wall into the Regency, a private sector of the city, exclusively home to the First and Second Tier.

When she climbed to the surface again, she found herself on a manicured street of large, gated houses, immaculate lawns and decadent statues.

Cerastes had given her an address. When she approached the large stone house, an old man opened the door. Without a word, he escorted her into a small sitting room and left her there, locking the door behind him.

The chamber was small and circular, with no windows and a single oak door. A large flagstone fireplace stood in front of her, an ornate golden clock upon its mantle. Two easy-chairs sat in front of the fireplace and a thick red rug spread across the floor. A small feast had been set on a large, polished table; she ate a roll of bread and cheese while she waited.

She wasn't sure if this was Cerastes' house; she could only assume that the Grandmaster would come for her here. In the meantime, she wondered why they weren't in the Hive. Why the City of Crowns? She watched the minute hand on the clock move in a slow circle. Its quiet ticking was the only sound to reach her ears. Eventually, she sat in one of the chairs, trying to relax. Her hand traveled to the book shoved in her belt.

Her mind strayed back to the
Aurora
. She dwelled on the memory of the pirate's stash—an entire room full of history. She had recognized only two relics from her own kind—an old, rusty sword that may have once been a Named weapon, though now eroded beyond repair, perhaps found beneath the ocean. Another was a piece of jewelry, to be worn during a joining festival, marking a woman's desire to mate. She had touched nothing in the room, but looked upon it all with eager eyes. She had never seen such a collection before. It was all that races had left: souvenirs, trinkets, the remnants of great civilizations that would never be restored.

She had searched for
The Book of the Named
, but among so many tomes it had proven difficult to locate. She had never seen it before and there were well over a thousand books packed onto the shelves.

Then the Dracian Captain had entered with his guests and pointed her right to it. She couldn't let the book be taken by someone else. She had acted fast...and she had left the savant behind.