Hunters Unlucky Part 45

Storm jumped the last few lengths from the trail and landed in hock-deep water. Ghosts and little fishes. The mazes were already flooding. It would be like running through mud. In desperation, Storm leapt atop a boulder, then to another, then another. He was not far from the trail to the bridge, but it seemed like an immense distance as he measured the s.p.a.ce between boulders in the flashes of lightning and felt the solid rock s.h.i.+ft beneath his weight as the water rose higher. He heard another rumble from the cliffs. Another rockslide? How close? Off to his left, something enormous was thras.h.i.+ng in the water. A shark? A lishty? Something larger?

Storm almost missed the trail to the bridge, in spite of his desperate scanning of the cliff face. In the darkness and flood, nothing looked as he remembered. He would not have recognized the trail if he hadn't caught the silhouette of a dead foal, lying half in and half out of the water. He splashed down and swam the last few lengths to the foot of the cliff. The trampled foal was clear evidence of the panic here earlier, but nothing was stirring now.

Storm raced up the path. He noticed things that he had not considered in his youth. The path was set into the cliff. It had been worn so by countless animals, and the overhang sheltered climbers from wind and falling rock.

Storm had never traveled this trail during his explorations. It led only to the bridge, and he'd considered it a potential trap. He wished now that he'd made its acquaintance on sunnier days. He was forced to slow as the path narrowed, growing steeper and taking turns with which he was not familiar. He came up one such switchback and spotted another animal bounding along ahead of him, higher up, caught for a moment in a flash of lightning. A creasia.

Storm felt a jolt of...something. It was the first time he'd come near a creasia since the battle by the lake. He found that he was not afraid.

Storm focused on running. The path was growing narrower, the switchbacks steeper. He caught intermittent flashes of the creasia up ahead. He was gaining on it. He was certain that it had not seen him.

Storm was flying over the stone now. He felt almost as though he were floating-the terror of the storm distilled into white-hot speed. He had not run so hard in...how long? Since Arcove chased me? For the first time since leaving Tollee beside Mylo's ravaged corpse, Storm felt truly alive.

He mounted the last steep switchback and saw the narrow straight-away that lead to the bridge. The creasia was there, squarely ahead of him, running as fast as it could, but not fast enough.

Storm closed with a burst of a speed that should have cost him, but he was too excited to feel the strain. He jumped-just a little to the cliffward side of the cat-and lashed out with a back hoof. He caught the creasia with what must have been a numbing blow to the shoulder, and the animal went head over heels. Storm thought that it was going over the edge, but then the cat managed to catch itself on the lip of the precipice.

Storm darted forward before the cat could regain the trail. It was clearly having trouble with the shoulder he'd damaged. It scrabbled desperately without managing to pull itself over the edge. The cat looked up at him, wild-eyed. "Truce...during...the storm," it managed.

"Is there?" asked Storm. He leaned forward, and the cat gave another desperate surge, almost as though it expected him to help pull it onto the path. Storm remembered the seal. His jaws closed around the creasia's throat. He set his back legs and jerked.

The animal's scream, so close to his ears, nearly deafened him. It broke off with a wet crunch, and then Storm stumbled backwards against the cliff face with a ma.s.s of fur and meat between his teeth. The creasia hung on for a moment longer. It opened its mouth, but only a spray of red droplets came out. Its eyes, still fixed on him, lost their focus. Then it fell.

The rain ran red over the edge of the cliff in front of Storm. He stood there a moment, staring. Then he dropped the evidence of his first creasia kill without looking at it. He turned and ran for the bridge.

Sauny tried to run for the tunnels that lead to the Dreaming Sea. She tried, but Valla could tell that Sauny's uneven gait would soon exhaust her. To make matters worse, the drop in water levels had created an unfamiliar landscape of deep chasms and steep climbs over wet stone slick with cave mud. Most of the acriss had vanished when the water levels dropped. In the darkness, with the pools all confused, Valla wasn't certain they were even going in the right direction.

"Sauny, maybe we should just climb to the highest spot and wait. There doesn't seem to be any immediate danger."

Sauny's voice in the darkness sounded winded. "Keesha said that when the water levels drop like this, sometimes they come back-"

There was a sudden loud gush and grinding noise. Water swirled around Valla's legs.

"Fast," finished Sauny in a whisper. "Valla, just swim. Try to find something to climb on and wait and...and thank you for being my friend."

The water was rising with terrifying speed. In desperation, Valla sloshed towards Sauny's voice in the darkness. "Shaw!" She shouted. "Ulya! Keesha! Anyone!" Her voice echoed weirdly in the tunnels, but n.o.body answered. "We are not going to drown," she informed Sauny as the floor dropped away beneath them. "You're a strong swimmer. I'm a strong swimmer. We're smart."

"Then save your breath and look for high ground," flashed Sauny.

Storm hesitated when he reached the bridge. The night had grown, if possible, even blacker. Waiting won't make it any easier. One look. Just one, and then I'll go. One look was almost too much. Lightning lit the sky from rim to rim, and he saw what he remembered-a thread of stone, impossibly narrow, slick with rain and without shelter from the wind. Now, he commanded himself. Go now before you lose your nerve.

Storm staggered when he moved from the lee of the cliff. He paused, readjusted his balance, and then stepped onto the bridge.

This is where you don't hurry.

There were no animals shoving behind him this time, no ferryshaft backside inching along in front of him. Take your time.

He did-careful step after careful step over the wet stone in the dark, leaning just a little into the wind, and making himself as flat as possible against the stone bridge. Storm was well over halfway and congratulating himself, when the pitch of the wind changed. The howl rose an octave. Oh, no.

Another flash of lightning, and he risked a glance away from his feet towards the sea. Something was coming up the Garu Vell-a wall of wind and water.

Storm abandoned caution. One, two, three desperate leaps. And then it was on him. Storm plastered himself instinctively to the stone. No good. He was slipping. I did not survive Arcove to be killed by my own namesake!

Storm scrabbled for purchase, anything. Still slipping. Something Pathar had said long ago flashed through his mind. Don't fight the wind. Use it.

Storm slipped over the side of the bridge...the windward side...on purpose. Instantly, the force of the gale pressed him against the bridge. He was able to stop struggling and catch his breath. He was half-off the bridge. If the wind stopped now, he'd fall. However, he was, for the moment, not slipping. Storm inched forward again. He knew he had to be near the cave. He might be mere lengths away in the darkness. Just a little farther.

An irregular shape came into view on the path ahead, perhaps half a length in front of him. Storm squinted. He thought he saw wet fur. A body? That couldn't be. Anything lying on this slick rock would be instantly swept away. But the shape wasn't moving. Storm was almost on top of it now.

And he saw what it was. A cub-hardly bigger than a rabbit-pressed flat to the bridge, every claw extended, hanging on, but barely. Beyond the cub, Storm glimpsed the ma.s.sive outline of the Great Cave.

The wind dropped a fraction, and Storm inched quickly back towards the center of the bridge. It gusted, and he barely managed to s.h.i.+ft his weight to the windward side. If the gale began to change its intensity, he would not be able to find a balance. Unlike the cub, he did not have claws to aid him.

Storm considered. The cub did not seem to be moving, and he could not get around it. He thought that a mere tug on its tail would probably break its fragile grip. Lightning struck again. The cub was not well-nourished. Storm saw clearly the shape of its ribs beneath its saturated fur. It was smaller than he would have expected. Ferryshaft were never born so small. Not even me.

What am I waiting for?

He found himself wondering what happened to creasia orphans-whether they had cliques, how they found food, whether adults helped them or hindered them.

No matter. This cub will grow up to kill ferryshaft just like all the others. I just killed a creasia. This is no different.

"No different," Storm reminded himself softly. "No different at all." He took a deep breath and inched forward.

Chapter 8. Out of the Storm and into the Surf.

Kelsy lay beside Itsa, feeling miserable as the Volontaro howled outside the Great Cave. He wondered if Storm would have come for shelter if he had not approached him. Probably. I made him angry. Common wisdom said that mortality for animals who remained outside the Great Cave during a Volontaro was around fifty percent.

Storm has survived worse odds. Still, Kelsy felt responsible, and this particular storm looked bad. He'd lain down within sight of the bridge, hoping to see Storm come in along with the rest of the stragglers. But the last light had died, the wind had grown fiercer, and Kelsy hadn't seen any stragglers in a while. He couldn't even see the bridge anymore. I hope you're safe in your cave, Storm.

Kelsy's eyes had started to drift shut when a silhouette materialized at the spot where the bridge met the cave. Kelsy started up. For a moment, he could not make sense of the shape, although he caught the gleam of pale fur. Lightning streaked across the sky, and Kelsy glimpsed the startling image of Storm flinging away a creasia cub...as though he had been carrying it by the scruff. Kelsy blinked in the new darkness. Storm's silhouette staggered, shook itself, and then bounded away into the shadows. An instant later, Kelsy thought he saw a smaller silhouette following after.

Valla wondered, as her nose brushed the ceiling of the cave, whether any other ferryshaft bones rested in Syriot. Surely not many. Will Ulya carve a few characters for us in the Cave of Histories? 'They were Valla and Sauny, ferryshaft who lived among Telshees.' Is that too long? Valla tried to work out how the characters should fit together. It was easier than thinking about how she would soon not be able to breathe.

Light! Valla blinked. A faint glow had begun in the water. "Sauny! Sauny, do you see that? The acriss have come back. Maybe we can find... Sauny?"

No answer. Valla panicked. She swept the surface of the water, but could not see Sauny, and the light was very dim. In desperation, she plunged her head beneath the surface, opened her eyes, and saw...

Acriss. A perfect trail-like glowing green bubbles-all the way from the surface near Valla to the bottom of the cave. They disappeared into the mouth of a smaller cave or tunnel that must have been at the bottom of the pool when it was at normal levels.

Sauny was following the acriss-swimming down through illuminated water, past what would have been the surface of the pool, deeper and deeper towards the opening at the bottom. Valla stuck her head up, got two more gulps of air, and then followed Sauny into the glowing sea.

Storm tried to dismiss his experiences on the trail and the bridge as he hurried into the Great Cave. Hide. He did not know what creasia would do if they encountered him, but he did not wish to test the limits of their Volontaro peace treaty.

The Great Cave is large, he reasoned. Plenty of places to get lost.

This might have been true, but the ferryshaft side was strewn with sleeping bodies-thickest in the sandy area in the front of the cave, where the ground was most comfortable. Storm picked his way quickly among them, hoping to go unrecognized in the darkness.

His progress seemed to evoke more muttering and growls than he would have expected. Finally, after hearing a snarl in the wake of his pa.s.sage, Storm glanced back and saw, to his surprise and disgust, that the cub was following him. I spared your life; isn't that enough? Now please get out of my sight and allow me to forget you ever existed.

The cub's presence was drawing more attention than Storm would have liked. With a rising temper, he picked his way to a patch of boulders. He settled into a crevice and waited for the cub. He saw its silhouette approaching a moment later, walking quickly on its short legs-jerky and anxious and sometimes stumbling. Its head craned around in a panicky manner.

"Why are you following me?" Storm hissed from the shadows.

The cub stopped, peering into the crevice of rock. It sniffed the air. "You," it began timidly. Storm thought that it was male. "You carried me off the bridge."

"You may express your grat.i.tude by leaving me alone," snapped Storm.

The cub hunkered down, tucked its tail, and lowered its ears-gestures almost pitifully conciliatory. "Thank you," it stammered. "Only, since you were behind me...I wondered if you might have seen my mother." He swallowed, almost overcome with anxiety. "She fell right at the beginning. Everyone was shoving, and they pushed her off the edge, but we weren't very high, and I saw her land. I think she was alright. I thought she would...would come at the end."

Storm felt as though he'd dropped from a warm, sunny cliff into a dark, icy pool. "Your...mother."

"Yes, did you see her on the trail?"

"No." No, no, no, no, no...

The cub deflated against the ground. He looked very small. "She made me promise to keep going," he whispered. "No matter what happened."

Storm darted out of the crevice around the crumpled cub. He dashed through the sea of ferryshaft, not caring if he stepped on legs or tails. He ran until he reached the comforting tangle of boulders at the back of the cave. He located a high shelf of rock along the back wall and jumped up. Storm tucked himself out of sight, flipped his tail over his face, and tried to forget the world.

Valla's lungs were already starting to burn when she reached the mouth of the tunnel where Sauny had disappeared. We're going to die in here. We're going to die in here... But at least they would not die in the dark. Valla pushed her head into the tunnel and saw the line of acriss illuminating it clearly for three or four lengths before the tunnel took a sharp upward turn, and the trail of tiny jellyfish veered out of sight. Sauny was nowhere to be seen.

Even in her fear and air-hunger, Valla could not help marveling at the acriss. She'd never seen or heard of acriss behaving in such a way. Valla suspected that Sauny had intended to explore the tunnel and return with news of whatever she found. But if it goes much farther without reaching air, this is a one-way trip.

The tunnel might reach air, of course. Their current cave obviously had a leak, which was why it had filled with water. If they found an airtight cave, they would not have this problem. Valla clambered inside the tunnel. Acriss swirled around her as she disturbed them with her pa.s.sage. She thought that Sauny must have done the same, yet they had reformed behind her. Odd.

Valla reached the curve in the tunnel and looked up. She let out an involuntary gasp of bubbles as she saw the high column of water overhead, and, at the top, the unmistakable flat mirror of a surface. Sauny was treading water up there, and the acriss swarmed in bright clouds, driven by the movement of her legs. Even as Valla struggled upward, she saw Sauny's front half disappear and realized that there was a way to get out of the water.

We're going to live!

Valla's head broke the surface. She gulped in a dizzy breath of air, her head spinning. Small cave. Not flooded. A few telshees. Sauny panting beside her, half out of the water.

"Well, that-" began Valla, but Sauny made a choking noise, and she stopped.

Valla looked at her friend. Sauny had frozen on the edge of the pool. She was staring at the telshees. Valla followed her gaze. She noticed an odd smell in the room-almost like death. One of the telshees was coming towards them. It looked fish-belly pale, its fur almost transparent. Its eyes were not blue, but green. Green as the acriss...with the same kind of luminescence.

Valla's mouth went dry. She was just drawing a frantic breath to dive back into the water, when the lishty spoke. "h.e.l.lo," it said. "I have been Kos."

Chapter 9. Boundaries.

Storm woke to a low, sustained growl. His eyes snapped open, and his brain did a scrambling a.s.sessment. Don't move, he reminded himself. You're on a narrow ledge. Storm looked out over the Great Cave in the weak morning light. It was still raining outside, but lazily. A stiff wind whipped the rain in misty droplets around the cave and moaned in the rock c.h.i.n.ks, but it was nothing like the predatory howl of the Volontaro the night before.

Storm heard the growl again, followed by a hiss. He looked directly down from his perch and saw the cub. It had backed into a corner of rock just beneath him. It was bristling hugely, tiny ears flat to its head, lips peeled back in a snarl. Five young ferryshaft foals had cornered it and were circling cautiously, muttering and giggling to each other.

"Is it really a creasia?" Storm heard one foal say.

"I haven't heard it talk."

"It can't be a creasia! They're never so small. It's an oory, right? It must be an oory. Can you eat an oory?"

"I think so."

"Leave it alone," said Storm from on high.

The clique glanced about, startled, until one looked up and saw him. "It's Vearil!" breathed the foal. "The ghost sp.a.w.n!"

Is that what they're calling me now? "Leave it alone," repeated Storm.

"I'm not an oory," said the cub in a voice so tiny that Storm felt certain he'd made his position more precarious rather than less.

The clique's attention s.h.i.+fted back to the cub. "It talks! Oories don't talk. But it can't be a creasia; it's too small."