The Book of Shane Page 6

  At the same time, the creature’s face came into stark relief. He could see the droplets of drool glistening from its razor-sharp teeth as it laughed again, as if genuinely mocking him.

  And then the creature lunged.

  Shane dodged it, and it wheeled around to keep its eyes on him from the center of the hut. He was completely cut off from his sword, the talismans were a hopeless tangle on the floor, and the space was far too small for Grahv. But now he had a clear path to the doorway. He held his fists out in front of him, trying to appear menacing, and inched sideways toward the exit.

  He was still yards away when a second creature stepped through the doorway.

  Shane’s heart sank as the animals hooted and cackled. He could smell death again, even without the aid of Briggan’s talisman. These creatures reeked of it.

  He lifted his fists higher and growled. He didn’t need the Golden Lion to be fearsome. And he was ready to go down fighting.

  There was a sudden motion across the hut and a sharp crack, and the creature that had just stepped over the threshold yelped and crumpled to the ground. If not for the Copper Falcon around his neck, Shane would have entirely missed the small iron ball, about the size of a walnut, that had come hurtling through the open doorway and now rolled away from the animal it had knocked unconscious.

  The other creature turned toward the commotion, but that was all the time it had to react before a heavy staff swung down in an arc and smashed it in the head, hammering it to the ground in a single blow.

  Shane was slow to process what had happened. His eyes followed the staff back to the hands that held it — the hands of a young boy who stood in the doorway.

  “Are you all right?” the boy asked.

  Shane brought his fists down in relief — and then he saw the boy’s eyes go wide as he got a good look at the crocodile tattoo on Shane’s chest.

  The boy led Shane out of the village as the first hint of dawn lightened the sky.

  “Follow me,” he said quietly. “It’s not safe here.”

  “No kidding,” whispered Shane. “What were those things?” He shuddered at the memory of the creatures that had attacked him — and, somehow worse, had seemed to mock him.

  “Hyenas. Scavengers. I buried the people who died here, but I …” The boy’s voice faltered. “I didn’t bury them deep enough, and the hyenas found them.”

  Shane remembered the horrible smell, the sounds of chewing in the night. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “That’s awful.”

  “And you?” the boy said after a moment’s heavy silence. He didn’t look back, but Shane saw his fingers tighten on his staff. “Are you a scavenger? Come to steal from the dead?”

  “No,” Shane said, feigning innocence before he remembered that he was in fact innocent. “No, I was only seeking shelter from the rain. What happened here?”

  “Conquerors,” the boy said gravely.

  Shane found he didn’t have anything to say to that.

  They left the clearing and walked among the trees. Shane saw evidence that the rain he’d slept through had been a heavy one. The leaves still dripped with it, and the tall grasses were so wet that his boots were soaked within moments.

  The village, he decided, must have been protecting Greencloaks. It was the only explanation for the savagery with which the Conquerors had descended. Resistance in Nilo had been sporadic — in general his army was having an easier time of it than they had in Zhong. But there were those who fought back. Those who sided with the Greencloaks, even sheltered them. And those villages were dealt with harshly.

  Once they’d gone a fair distance, the boy turned to face him. He was several years younger than Shane and several inches shorter than his own quarterstaff. But he handled the weapon confidently, and raised it between them now in what Shane recognized as a fighting stance.

  “You’re Marked,” he said. “Tell me what your spirit animal is. It looked like —”

  “An Amayan alligator,” Shane answered flatly. He hoped the boy couldn’t tell the difference between a crocodile and an alligator from a tattoo alone. Shane held his hands out at his sides, trying to look unthreatening. “I’m from Concorba,” he said, remembering the name of the Amayan city where Zerif had sought out Essix.

  “Every Marked person I’ve seen is either a Conqueror or a Greencloak.” He waved his staff. “So which side are you on?”

  Shane knew what the boy wanted to hear, but he couldn’t bring himself to pose as a Greencloak. He decided a half-truth would serve him best. “I’m trying to stop the war,” he said. “Listen … What’s your name?”

  The boy watched him suspiciously. “Achi.”

  “Listen, Achi. My name is Shane. Do you know why the Conquerors are here, in Nilo?”

  Achi seemed uncertain. “They follow the Devourer,” he said at last. “He wants to gobble up the world. He wants to rule everything.”

  Shane shook his head. “Not exactly. He wants the world to be free — free of the Greencloaks.”

  Achi narrowed his eyes, and Shane realized he was sounding an awful lot like a Conqueror.

  “And the Greencloaks want … the Greencloaks want to protect the world, but they’ll only do it on their terms. Both sides are so stubborn. The Conquerors are after the Greencloaks, and the Greencloaks are fighting the Conquerors, and places like Nilo get caught in the middle. What I’m trying to do is end this war once and for all.”

  “Well, good luck with that,” Achi said, in a tone far too weary for a boy his age. He turned from Shane, hooked his staff through a loop in the back of his belt, and climbed the nearest tree with the grace of a cat.

  Shane looked up and realized they’d been standing beneath the boy’s campsite. He’d strung a hammock between two large branches, left out pots and pans to gather rainwater, and nailed a series of leather satchels around the trunk to hold the rest of his possessions.

  “You don’t … live here?” Shane asked, incredulous.

  Achi gazed somberly into the distance. “I’m the village elder now,” he said. “I have to keep watch.” He shot Shane a patronizing look. “Lucky for you.”

  Shane ran his hand through his hair, brushing the bangs out of his eyes. The kid was obviously capable, but Shane couldn’t leave him alone in the jungle. Could he?

  “Achi.” Shane sighed. “You’ve already done so much for me. I hate to ask for anything more, but … Which way to Zhong?”

  Achi clucked his tongue and pointed. “That way,” he said. “Like, all the way that way.”

  “I could use a guide,” Shane said. “I’d make it worth your while.”

  Achi frowned.

  “The village isn’t going anywhere. And I’m way more likely to get eaten without you.”

  “That’s true,” Achi said. He considered it for a moment. “I’ll take you as far as the Mumbi.”

  “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds fair. Oh, and Achi?” Shane flashed what he hoped was a winning smile. “Do you have anything to eat up there?”

  They walked throughout the morning, stopping only briefly to stretch and share a drink from Achi’s waterskin. Shane was sweating again, and he knew the heat would get worse as the day went on.

  As Shane put the waterskin to his lips, Achi’s eyes found the cut on his arm.

  “Did the hyenas do that?” he asked.

  Shane sighed. “A tree, actually.”

  Achi didn’t smile exactly, but his eyes sparked with humor, and the seriousness seemed to lift from his features. “You can’t leave a cut like that unclean. Hold on.” He went off a little ways into the brush and reappeared with a thick, broad leaf shaped a bit like the blade of a short sword.

  Achi bent the leaf until it snapped in two. A clear gel bled from the broken ends, which he slathered over the cut on Shane’s outstretched arm. Shane felt a soothing, cooling effect almost immediately.

  “See, I knew I needed your help out here,” he said. “Did you learn that trick from your father?”

&
nbsp; Achi’s entire bearing changed in an instant. His shoulders tensed, his lips thinned, and his eyes went stony.

  “What do you know about my father?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Shane said quickly. “I just assumed … You said you were the village elder, and I thought maybe you were following in his footsteps.”

  Achi resumed applying the gel, but was considerably less delicate than before.

  “I don’t believe in following in anybody’s footsteps,” he grumbled. “And for your information, the village elder doesn’t mess around with plants. He’s like … the leader.”

  “Okay,” Shane said, trying to sound neutral, watching as Achi discarded the leaf and fished a long cloth bandage from his bag.

  “Our healer was Miss Callie. She didn’t have any kids, so she taught me stuff sometimes.”

  Shane watched Achi as the boy looped the bandage around Shane’s arm. He recognized the look of loss in the boy’s eyes. It was like looking into a mirror.

  “Miss Callie sounds like a wonderful person,” Shane said, holding up his bandaged arm and admiring Achi’s handiwork. “You honor her when you use what she taught you.”

  Achi’s eyes softened, just a little.

  Hours passed, and miles, and for Shane there was no sign that they were making any progress, just the endless indistinguishable greenery. He only knew for certain that midday had passed when Achi handed him a stick of dried meat and called it lunch.

  “Why don’t you let your spirit animal out?” Achi asked after a long stretch of silence.

  “In this heat?” Shane responded, huffing as he followed the boy up a muddy incline. “He’d be awfully sluggish. And the terrain would trip him up.”

  “If I had a spirit animal, I wouldn’t ever put him away.”

  It never ceased to amaze Shane, the way people throughout Erdas talked about spirit animals as if they were a great gift. He’d spent his entire childhood terrified of summoning one. But in the absence of bonding sickness, people celebrated the bond — and coveted it.

  Most of the Marked seemed to consider their spirit animal an equal and a friend for life. Shane’s bond with his own animal was much simpler. He regarded Grahv as a tool. He didn’t call the creature into its active state unless he needed its muscle. Or its teeth.

  But he knew what question Achi was waiting to hear, and he asked it.

  “What animal do you think you’d summon?”

  Achi smiled. As Shane expected, the question thrilled him. “Maybe a monkey? I like to climb.”

  Shane grinned. “I noticed.”

  “But I fight like a boar.”

  “A boar?”

  “You saw me.”

  “I saw you throw a rock from a very safe distance.”

  “I saw you!” Achi countered. “Here’s how Shane fights.” And he flailed his arms and ran around in a tight circle, a look of mock panic on his face.

  Shane laughed, a full belly laugh. Achi’s sudden playfulness had caught him completely off guard.

  Then Shane felt the heat of the jungle quickly recede, and a chill swept through him, starting behind his eyes and creeping down into his toes. His muscles tensed, and he felt a thoroughly unpleasant sensation in his head, as if a cold, slimy tentacle were uncoiling within his skull.

  Shane’s head moved of its own volition from side to side, tilted back to look up into the canopy above, then turned to regard Achi, who had drawn his quarterstaff to reenact his victory over the hyenas.

  As quickly as it had begun, the episode ended. Shane felt momentarily hollowed out, like the discarded insect husks he’d seen on trees throughout the morning.

  “Shane,” Achi whispered.

  Shane shuddered. He knew what had just happened. Gerathon had looked out from his eyes. The snake was checking up on him.

  “Shane,” Achi repeated, more urgently.

  “Yeah,” he answered, shaking his head clear. “Yes, Achi?”

  “Don’t panic,” the boy said. “But we’re being followed.”

  Shane tensed. “By who?”

  Achi shook his head slowly, holding Shane’s eyes. “Not who. It’s a cat. A big one.”

  Shane had an impossible thought. “A cat, like … like a leopard?”

  “Maybe,” Achi answered. “I only caught a glimpse of it before it went into the trees.” He inclined his head in the direction he and Shane had come from.

  Shane turned. They’d been walking down a natural path through the trees, a space that was mostly free of vines and saplings. It looked almost like a tunnel, big enough for an elephant to pass through, dark with shadow except where dappled sunlight broke through the canopy.

  “Hello?” Shane said, but without raising his voice.

  “Shane, I don’t think —”

  “Abeke?” Shane called, louder this time. “Abeke, if you’re out there, I can explain everything.”

  “Who is Abeke?” Achi whispered.

  The wind stirred, and the sunlight filtering through the trees danced along the length of the tunnel. Suddenly Shane caught a glimpse of a great cat standing there, fifty yards away and right in the middle of the path, watching from the shadows.

  It was not a cat he recognized. From this far away, all Shane could tell was that it was big, and as black as pitch. More like the shadow of a cat.

  “Is that Abeke?” Achi whispered.

  “No,” Shane said, taking a step backward. “No, it’s not.”

  “Stay calm,” Achi said. “Don’t run. Let’s walk away nice and slowly.”

  Shane nodded in agreement, but kept both eyes on the large black cat.

  “We’re near a settlement,” Achi explained in a low voice. “I was going to take us around it, but never mind that. Once the cat gets a whiff of other people, it should leave us alone.” He picked up his pace, and Shane risked turning his back on the animal to follow. “In the meantime, be ready for an ambush. Keep your eyes up. If it rushes us, protect your neck — that’s where the killing blow will find you.”

  Shane made an involuntary gurgling sound. So far he’d kept the talismans tucked away and out of sight, but now he knew he couldn’t afford to pass up any advantage they gave him.

  “Here,” he said, holding a talisman out to Achi. “Put this on.”

  “Is that Uraza?” the boy asked, holding the amber cat reverently in his hands.

  “A good luck charm,” Shane said. If they were attacked, Achi would now find it that much easier to evade danger.

  Shane, on the other hand, would go on the offensive. He looped the golden likeness of Cabaro around his own neck and unsheathed his sword, letting the sound of metal sliding against metal reverberate through the trees. “Let’s keep moving.”

  Achi dashed ahead, his enhanced feline grace almost natural on him. The way he’d climbed the tree before, the ease with which he’d navigated the twisting maze of jungle, Shane doubted the boy would even notice the talisman’s influence.

  He had to increase his own pace to keep up, but that hardly seemed like a bad idea under the circumstances.

  Shane was exhausted by the day’s efforts. It was difficult enough to navigate the winding jungle pathways. Doubly so when keeping his guard up, never allowing his mind to wander, bracing against an attack that never came.

  The light was just starting to dim when Achi finally allowed for a rest.

  “We’re close enough to the village that no cat will follow,” he said. “We should camp here. But be quiet — we don’t want to draw any attention.”

  “From the predator? Or the people?”

  “Both,” Achi warned.

  He climbed even more nimbly now that he wore Abeke’s talisman — Uraza’s talisman, Shane corrected himself. In no time, Achi had strung his hammock in the tree, high enough that any passing patrol would miss it entirely — not to mention ants, boars, snakes, and many other creatures that could do them harm in the night.

  Shane clambered up after him.

  “I’m sorry I do
n’t have a spare,” Achi said. “But we should probably sleep in shifts anyway.”

  “What’s in that village that has you so spooked?”

  “Conquerors,” he answered. “And worse.”

  Shane startled. This was a stroke of luck. Of course, he realized, he should have been seeking out Conquerors all along. He didn’t have to travel all the way back to camp on foot. He could walk right into that village, eat and drink like … well, like a king … and ride out tomorrow on a fast horse with a full complement of soldiers at his back.

  But it would be difficult to convince Achi they were better off in the village than up a tree.

  “Conquerors and worse,” Shane echoed. “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind,” Achi said, turning away. “I’m tired.”

  “I’ll take first watch, then,” Shane offered, giving up, for the moment, thoughts of a hot meal.

  Achi crawled into his makeshift bed and Shane climbed higher, finding a branch just below the canopy that was large enough to bear his weight. Before he’d even settled in, though, he heard a whisper from below.

  “Shane. Hey, Shane.”

  Shane peered down. “Yes, Achi?”

  “Can you tell me a story?”

  “I thought you were tired,” Shane said, but when Achi made no reply, he felt a pang of guilt. “Hold on,” he said, and he made his way back down to the hammock.

  “It’s been a while since I heard a story,” Achi said. “Miss Callie used to tell me them sometimes.” He sounded far younger than the gruff, serious boy of just minutes ago.

  “I don’t really know any stories,” Shane said. “None with happy endings.”

  “They don’t have any legends where you’re from?”

  Shane thought about it. “Oh, I know,” he said. “Did you ever hear the story about how the goanna and the perentie got their coloring?”

  “The what and the who?” Achi said. Even in the gloom, Shane caught his skeptical look.

  “Right,” Shane said, remembering he was supposed to be from Amaya anyway. “Why don’t you tell me a story, then? A story about Nilo?”

  Achi lifted the amber talisman from his chest and then looked at the one Shane wore. “Uraza and Cabaro,” he said. “Did you know they’re the reason gorillas don’t have tails?”