Volcrian's Hunt (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) (27 page)

“And that was the last time you saw them?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” Ferran murmured. Then, after a moment, “I received a letter a few years back that my father had died. My brother is now Lord of the estate.”

Lori's heart twisted. His father had died, and Ferran hadn't seen him in his final days. Twenty years since the scandal and she still noted the rigid set of his shoulders, the way he lingered on the memory. She tried to put a hand on his arm again, and this time he allowed it.

He turned and gave her a half-smile, the corner of his lips turning up, entirely roguish. “I made myself a new reputation as a treasure hunter,” he said. “Guess I lost that too.”

Lori shook her head. “There's more to life than a reputation.”

“Aye,” Ferran said skeptically. “Peasants say that. But to the First Tier, it's everything.” Then he looked away again.

His remark might have stung, but Lori didn't take it personally. She bit her lip, casting around for some kind of encouragement, a reassuring word, but nothing came to mind. Ferran wasn't young anymore. The seeds of his childhood had taken root and firmly grown into a tree, complete with knotted branches and curling leaves. She couldn't comfort him as she would a young man. He knew better. Perhaps a reputation wasn't everything...but in his case, it had changed who he was, taken away his father, his House, his name. It was like telling a poor man that he didn't need gold.

“What about Dane?” Lori asked suddenly, dredging up a thought from the past. “Dane said he had worked at a noble's house....”

“He was my footman,” Ferran replied. “And a close friend. When I left, he came with me.”

Lori nodded. It made sense now. Dane had told her that he and Ferran grew up together. He had never elaborated on the details and she had never thought to push. In the whole scheme of things, she realized now that she had barely known Sora's father. He had been a boy, really. Both of them, so young, never even married. She had never tried to seek out his family. He had claimed that his mother was dead and his father...his father had left him as a child.
Goddess, I can barely remember now.
So many details were missing. She shook her head. After the fiasco she had caused with Lord Fallcrest, she had only wanted to disappear, to become a ghost herself.

She remembered her own parents, already deceased. They had died of old age on a farm close to where Lori now made her home. She never told them of their granddaughter—she had tried to forget that Sora even existed. Her daughter would grow up to be a wealthy noble, and would play no role in her life. The guilt still stuck in her throat, squeezing it shut.

She wondered, suddenly, who she had been to get caught up with two adventurous young boys. Nothing good had come of it. Nothing except Sora, perhaps. Who had that young girl been, so many years ago, when Ferran and Dane had wandered through her town? She felt as though she had changed over the years, grown from an insecure girl into a confident woman, sure of herself, capable of reading people, of healing them, embracing them or turning them away. And yet deep in her core, at the butter-soft center of her heart, that young girl still lived. The one who held onto the future, who created silent hopes and dreams, kept hidden from her matured self.

That girl wanted to tell Ferran that everything would be all right. That his life wasn't for nothing. That his mistakes were all part of some great journey, an extravagant tapestry that couldn't be fully glimpsed. She wanted to promise that someday, it would all make sense. That all of the strands would come together and that there would be a great release, some cathartic closure to this open-ended world.

But she knew better than that. He didn't need to hear those words—he needed her silence.

The sound of footsteps disrupted her thoughts. Lori looked up to see Silas striding toward them. Today, the pirate captain wore a stark white shirt with broad cuffs. Ruffled lace decorated the neckline of the shirt, which was open at the chest, exposing his defined muscles and a small patch of red fuzz. His pants were of fine black leather and his boots were tall, encasing his knees, buckled at the heel.

“Oh, good, you're here,” he said. It was an offhanded comment; he expected them to be there anyway. He took a large brass key from his belt and inserted it into the door. Lori and Ferran both got to their feet and watched the door swing open.

The room beyond was filled with sunlight. After they entered, a maid swept in with a tray of food, leaving it on the bedside table before rushing out of the room. Lori paused, staring at the massive bed. Their visitor was tangled in a mess of quilts. Silas pulled up a chair to sit next to him, and the man stirred in his sleep, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Oh,” he groaned. “The sunlight is foul!”

Silas reached out and tapped the man's arm. The gesture spoke of familiarity. “Jacques,” he said. “Jacques!”

The Dracian moaned pathetically, then finally put his arm down, staring up at the pirate captain. Lori studied the man's face. He looked slightly older than Silas, perhaps because of the thick facial hair around his chin and jaw. They had identical blue eyes and similar noses, sharp and straight, aristocratic. Jacques' hair was a slightly deeper auburn, coarser, while Silas' was pure copper, smoothed back against his head. But Lori could see the resemblance now; they had to be related.

“Silas! You scurvy dog,” Jacques muttered. His voice was hoarse. He reached for the tall glass of milk on the bedside table and took a deep swig. “Where am I?”

“Sonora, the pirate city,” Silas said. “In the
Aurora
. You don't remember?”

Jacques shook his head slowly, as though his skull was tender. Lori could imagine that he had quite a headache. He was probably dehydrated. “I flew for a week straight across the ocean. The winds lifted me....” He closed his eyes. “Damned if I ever fly again. There were storms. 'Twas terrible.”

Silas nodded and helped the man into a sitting position. “What are you doing here, brother?” he asked.

Ah.
That explained one thing. Lori waited anxiously for Jacques' reply, her interest piqued.

Jacques' eyes widened, as though the memory had just come to him. “Our ship sank,” he said. He grabbed Silas' arm in a strong grip, looking up into his brother's face. “You must come at once. Tristan and the others are stranded....”

Silas pried his brother's hand off. “Slow down!” he exclaimed. “What about Tristan?”

“'Tis a long story,” Jacques said. “A girl came to us in Delbar. Sora was her name, and she wore a Cat's-Eye stone. There were others with her, a small band of four. They needed passage overseas to the Lost Isles.”

“Wait,” Lori said, interjecting.

Jacques looked up at her, startled. He probably hadn't noticed her presence until now. The Dracian's eyes widened with a spark of recognition. She had never met the man before, but if he knew Sora, he must notice the resemblance. Many had commented on it.

“What news of my daughter?” she demanded. “Where is Sora? What happened?”

“Your daughter....?” Jacques asked. Then he sat back, the headboard thudding solidly against the wall. “Now this is strange indeed....”

“Out with it!” Lori snapped. “What happened to your ship?”

Jacques looked at Silas. “Then you know of the plague?” he asked swiftly. “Of the Dark God's weapons?”

Silas waved a hand in Lori and Ferran's direction. “Aye,” he said. “These two have filled in the details. What happened to Tristan? And...to Sora?” He glanced at Lori, unsure of the name. She nodded.

“Our ship sank,” Jacques repeated, addressing all of them. “We were stranded on a small island. It's connected to the Lost Isles, but not part of the mainland. There was no way to get back to Delbar, so I flew for help. We have need of a ship. They're still trapped there on the island. I doubt the Harpies will help them....”

“Harpies?” Silas and Lori both said at the same time.

“Aye,” Jacques nodded. “Sora and the others decided to travel through a cave, hoping to make their way to the main island, where the Harpies live. The others remained where I left them. The whole lot.”

Silas sat back in his chair, quiet for a moment. His expression was one of intense thought. Lori had the sudden urge to punch something. Here she was, dallying around in a pirate city, while Sora risked her life on an isolated, dangerous island. She clenched her hands into fists to hide the fact that they were quivering.

Ferran stepped next to her and laid his large hand on her shoulder. “We have to go,” he said. “We can't just leave them stranded.”

“And my son is with them?” Silas asked. “Tristan?”

Jacques nodded.

Silas stared at him for a moment...then lunged out of the chair and grabbed Jacques by the throat, wrestling the man down to the mattress. “You bastard!” he roared. “You dirty scumbag of a brother! If anything's happened to my boy, I swear I will slit your throat!”

Jacques choked and wheezed, trying to wrestle the pirate off him. He searched the bed and grabbed a heavy satin pillow, the only object at hand, then swung it at Silas, hitting him viciously on the head, the shoulders, wherever he could. Silas sat back, trying to protect his face. The two men yelled and screamed at each other.

There was a short, loud tearing sound, and then the pillow ripped open. Hundreds of feathers exploded out of it, permeating the air, drifting across the room.

Lori and Ferran watched the fight in bewildered amusement. Then she turned to look at her tall companion. “The book will have to wait,” she said quietly. “We need to rescue Sora.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ferran replied.

Lori was surprised by his firm tone. She blinked, wondering where this new Ferran had come from. He was hardly the man she had met a month ago, drunken and useless, lying on the floor of a filthy tavern. Now his jaw was set with determination, his voice full of purpose. She searched his eyes for a long moment. His words almost gave her hope.

It was essential that they retrieve the book, but she couldn't leave her daughter on the Lost Isles. That was out of the question.

The fight on the bed had died down. Jacques rolled Silas off onto the floor. Then he stretched out, splayed across the mattress, gasping for breath.

Silas got to his feet. His hair had come untied and fell wildly around his shoulders, a silken mess. “It's decided, then,” he said firmly. “We leave in the morning. I have already prepared a ship to the City of Crowns, but it appears we are taking a detour.” He eyed Jacques with a modicum of distaste. “A long detour.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SORA OPENED HER eyes, groggy from sleep. Crash sat next to her, alert and awake, staring down the length of the ravine. When she stirred, he moved to stand up.

“Shall we continue?” he said.

Sora sat up, wincing, and looked around. He stood a few yards away, ankle-deep in the white sand. She paused, memories rushing back to her—the ice bridge, the plummet, the demon....

She tried to smile but failed. Their fall from the rock bridge seemed like a dream, a horrible nightmare conjured in her sleep. She stared up the side of the ravine, trying to put her thoughts in order. At this distance, she couldn't even see the thin bridge of stone that connected the two sides of the chasm. They had fallen a long, long way.

“Burn and Laina,” she said suddenly. “What are we going to do about them?”

“Nothing for the moment,” Crash replied. “We have no way of reaching them now.”

Sora looked back at the ground. He was right, but it didn't sit well with her. Without the Cat's Eye, her two friends might become lost in the caves, wandering for an eternity. She had no idea how far these underground caverns stretched.
But there's nothing we can do,
she admitted to herself. There was no way back up the side of the cliff. They would have to continue forward.

She stood up and brushed the white sand from her clothes. It sparkled against her hands like stardust, sticking to her skin, impossible to wipe off. Then she turned to Crash. Despite her acceptance of him, it was still strange to think that he wasn't human. It left her slightly unnerved—uncertain. The past two years seemed oddly false.
Everything I thought I knew about him....
The trust they had built, the nights they had shared by the fire, blanketed by stars, heavy with the smell of road dust and wind....Was any of it real?

She looked away awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"We should see where this wind is blowing from," he said after a moment of silence. "Perhaps we can find a place to climb up.”

Then he turned and started walking.

Sora fell into step a few paces behind. After a short while, Crash stooped down and picked something off the ground.

“Your staff,” he said, turning and offering her the weapon. Sora took it from his hands, surprised. True to its name, the witch wood remained undamaged, not even a scratch.

“Lucky it fell this close,” she murmured. She felt much better with a weapon in her hands.

They continued down the narrow canyon. Crash strode in front of her, blocking her from the majority of the wind. Sora found herself gazing after him. She thoughtfully considered the past few hours.