Ferran's Map (23 page)

Sora looked at the windmills with a bit more
interest. They weren’t just decorative monuments—they controlled
the water supply of The City of Crowns, perhaps the King’s own
palace as well, and continued along the foothills as far as the eye
could see.

Her eyes traveled to the northern end of the
city, where she could see the white towers and bright flags of the
King’s palace. The royal castle towered over the rest of the city.
Even in the dim, overcast light it looked breathtaking. A river of
snowmelt flowed down from the hills to the castle, and continued
through the city in a wide channel until it reached the Crown’s
Rush. She remembered crossing the river earlier on their way to the
Wind Temple. The tributary ran parallel to the Royal Road, the main
street connecting the palace to the West Gate.

She turned to ask Burn about it, but the
Wolfy was lying in the grass a few feet away. She frowned. Was he
tired? He looked asleep. Confusion knitted her brow.

Suddenly she sensed someone standing at her
shoulder. She gasped, turned, and was confronted by a pair of
acidic green eyes. At first she thought it was Crash, but the man
was shorter, his face covered by a ragged brown cowl. He seemed to
have materialized from nowhere.

“Who-?” she started, but the stranger
grabbed her arm. His fingers naturally found the pressure point
above her elbow and he gripped her brutally.

Sora staggered when he swept her legs out
from under her with a deft kick. Suddenly she found herself on her
knees, debilitated by the agonizing pressure on her elbow. She felt
like her tendons were splitting.
What…?

The man cocked his head to one side and
stared at her with the curious intensity of a cat. He wore dark,
frayed clothing. Metal gauntlets covered his hands, and a brown
hood hid his oily black hair. A cowl obscured the lower half of his
face, but a gruesome scar that looked like a burn mark was visible
across his forehead and left eye.

One of the Sixth Race,
she thought,
reeling. He must belong to the Shade.

“Pretty,” he said, as though inspecting an
overpriced vase. His voice sounded strangely thin and stifled. “But
a bit typical, don’t you think, Viper? I thought you preferred the
older, more experienced types—or perhaps a fiery redhead?”

Sora became aware of Crash standing a few
yards away, his gaze trained on the unknown assassin. He held his
dagger tightly, a venomous look on his face.

Caprion knelt nearby over Burn’s prostrate
body. Then the Harpy stood and glared. “Release her,” he called,
his voice resonating in a tone of command. Sora knew his words were
laced with magic, but the assassin didn’t seem affected, only
amused.

“No!” he barked, then laughed. He shook her
by the arm, his grip like iron. Sora choked in pain. “Fair trade,
Viper. The Dark God’s weapons for the girl.”

“Stick to the plan, Cobra,” said an
unexpected voice in the confrontation. A second assassin joined
Cobra’s side. She was taller, her form lithe and lean, her eyes
narrowed menacingly. A similar half-mask obscured her lower face.
Her black hair trailed to her waist in a long braid. A coiled
bullwhip hung from her belt. “Give the girl to me,” she said. “Our
master awaits.”

Sora’s gaze traveled past the woman. She
noticed several other assassins lurking in the shadow of the
windmills.

Cobra didn’t take his eyes off Crash.
“Forget the plan,” he called sinisterly, “I prefer spontaneity.” He
twisted Sora’s arm further behind her back—and she gasped as her
shoulder strained. Cobra put his foot on her back and dug his heel
into her lower spine. Crippling pain streaked through her body. He
seemed to know exactly where to touch her to set her nerves on
fire.

Sora couldn’t break free without snapping
her arm. “You may come with us if you like, Viper,” he hissed.
“Accompany your lover back to Cerastes. Or would you rather our
master deal with her alone? Which do you value more—her life, or
those precious weapons of the Dark God?” His voice darkened. “You
have a place in my master’s plan, if you want it.”

Sora’s eyes widened. The Shade must not
realize that she carried the sacred weapons; in fact, she could
feel the weapons digging into her back beneath her cloak. What if
the Shade took her captive?

“No!” she gasped. She couldn’t allow them to
take her. If she struggled, she would dislocate her shoulder, but
she could bear the pain—she had done so before.

With a surge of willpower, she rolled to one
side, out from under the Cobra’s foot. Her shoulder popped as the
bone slid out of place, but she clenched her teeth and used the
pain to fuel her strength.

Sora scrambled to her feet and took off
through the windmills, then plunged into a nearby patch of
woodland. She ran down the backside of a hill as fast as she could,
skidding through thick ferns and muddy slopes. She couldn’t fight
these assassins, but she could at least get out of their way.

“Careful, little girl!” she heard Cobra call
after her. “Watch out for snakes in the brush!”

She knew they were following her and flew
down the forested slope, ducking branches and tearing through wild
thickets of thorns. Sora drew her dagger from her belt. Her left
arm might be useless, but she could still defend herself. She would
not be taken by the Shade.

* * *

Crash didn’t hesitate. The moment Sora
rolled out of the way, he tackled Cobra, grabbed the man and tried
to twist him to the ground. Cobra slipped through his grasp like
water, but Crash kept him distracted long enough for Sora to escape
into the forest.

Cobra danced away to the base of a tree,
released a wheezing laugh, then signaled to the female assassin.
The woman darted into the underbrush, quick and nimble as a shadow.
Two other assassins peeled away from the windmill and followed.

Crash pointed after Sora. “Go!” he yelled to
Caprion. “Help her!”

The Harpy glanced at Cobra briefly, then
leapt off the ground and flew swiftly down the back of the hill
into the forest, moving faster than human legs could run. Still,
the trees and thick underbrush slowed his descent. Crash could only
hope he arrived in time—before the Shade could get their hands on
Sora for good.

Crash kept his eyes trained on his opponent.
With a simple thought, he released the second gate and allowed his
demon’s strength to flex through his body. His vision flickered,
adopting the demon’s eyes. Now he could see Cobra’s thick black
aura trailing off his skin. He opened his senses, tasting the air
on his tongue.
Mad as a wasp
, his demon murmured.

“I underestimated her tolerance for pain,”
Cobra said conversationally. “Did you teach her that little trick
yourself? Are you
training
her? Is that your dear student,
Viper?”

“What do you want with her?” Crash
hissed.

“Just following orders,” Cobra said, then
his voice lowered insidiously. “Nothing personal.”

“She’s useless to you,” Crash said. Cobra
obviously didn’t know Sora carried the weapons on her belt. Then
why had the Shade ambushed them? What did they want?

“My master disagrees,” Cobra murmured. “Are
you sure you won’t meet with him, Viper? He’s still most interested
in speaking to you. He’s disappointed to discover your little
tryst.”

Crash’s hand tightened on the dagger’s hilt.
He grinned darkly. “A deal, then,” he offered. “I’ll speak to him
after I cut out your tongue.”

Cobra’s eyes widened. Then Crash lunged.
Usually he waited for his opponent to attack first, but Cobra
didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Crash aimed low for the ribs, and
when Cobra went to block, he turned and jammed his elbow into
Cobra’s face, knocking the assassin back several steps.

But Cobra recovered quickly. He darted
forward, striking with his iron gauntlets, moving fast as a whip
despite the heavy weights on his wrists. Crash blocked the punch
with his forearm, but the jagged edge of Cobra’s gauntlet cut into
his flesh, easily drawing blood.

Crash ignored the wound and grappled with
the enemy assassin, locked together in a furious contest of
strength. He dragged Cobra to the ground. Crash didn’t care who won
the fight, so long as Sora escaped.

Cobra finally broke away and leapt to his
feet, trying to run into the woods. Crash swept out Cobra's leg
from under him and tripped him to the ground, dragging his
opponent’s body beneath him, fully prepared to plunge a knife
through his neck.

Then, with a puff of black smoke, Cobra
disappeared.

Crash’s eyes widened. His dagger sank into
the frosty ground.

The fifth gate? The hairs prickled on the
back of his neck. He sensed Cobra above him, ready to smash his
iron fist into the back of Crash's skull.

Crash braced himself, unable to dodge in
time.

Suddenly, a loud bellow shook the air. Burn
charged through the windmills, swinging his massive longsword.

Cobra turned, raised his gauntlet just in
time and caught the full might of Burn’s blow on his forearm. His
gauntlet shattered like porcelain under the Wolfy’s heavy blade.
Jagged chunks of metal flew off into the trees. Cobra gasped and
stumbled back, holding his wrist tightly. Crash knew the wrist must
be broken; no bone could withstand that amount of force.

He regained his balance and faced the enemy
assassin, with Burn beside him.

Cobra stared at them, seething, his body
hunched over his injured limb.

“You’re outnumbered,” Crash said darkly.

Cobra’s eyes traveled from the giant Wolfy
to Crash’s solemn facade. “We’ll meet again soon, Viper,” he
hissed. “Then we’ll sort this out one-on-one…as it
should
be
done.” The air wavered behind him, the shadows growing darker and
thicker. Crash realized how Cobra intended to escape.

Burn, however, was a step ahead. He rammed
full-force into Cobra’s body, sending them both tumbling backward.
As he tried to tackle the assassin to the ground, the black portal
opened behind them.

“No!” Crash yelled.

Burn and Cobra passed through the
portal.

Instantly, it snapped shut.

Crash leapt after them, but was too late. He
landed amidst the spinning windmills; the wind gusting furiously
across the hill. With a roar of frustration, he rammed his fist
into the ground, over and over again, pounding a hole into the
earth.

“Burn!” he yelled. He stood up and scanned
the empty hilltop. “Burn! Answer me, dammit!”

But the Wolfy was gone.

* * *

Sora dragged herself through the woods. She
stumbled through a small stream and followed it down the steep
hill. Her steps became heavy as the pain in her shoulder got worse.
She couldn’t run much farther.

Fight!
she thought desperately.
I
can’t run any more. I must fight.
She ducked into a thick bush
and raised her dagger in front of her, listening intently for
sounds of approach.

Although she didn’t hear the first assassin,
she spotted his shadow flitting among the trees as he passed by.
Lashing out swiftly with her knife, she caught the assassin in his
upper thigh. The man grunted in surprise and went down. Sora yanked
her dagger free and plunged it into the man’s throat before he
could twist away.

Then she sat next to the bush again, shaking
with adrenaline, wondering what to do with his body. Should she try
to keep running?

Then the female assassin came charging down
the slope, whip in hand. She unleashed a lightning- fast strike.
Sora raised her arm out of pure reflex, catching the end of the
whip. It coiled around her good arm like a snake biting through
flesh, and she was forced to drop her dagger.

With a firm yank, the assassin dragged Sora
away from her hiding place. She hadn't expected that. Her foot
caught on a root and she fell to the ground, the female assassin
continuing to drag her through the dirt. She sensed a smirk under
the woman’s mask.

Sora tried to reach for her second dagger
with her dislocated arm, but the pain weakened her. Finally, she
sprawled at the female assassin’s feet, staring up at the woman
with grim determination, her jaw clamped shut. She didn’t know what
to do, but she wouldn’t be taken without a fight.

Then, suddenly, a bright light flared in her
vision. Caprion hurtled through the trees, flying full tilt. Fierce
vibrations filled the forest, pouring from his body in endless
waves.

The female assassin turned, whip in
hand.

Caprion barreled directly into her and
pushed the woman to the ground. They rolled through the tree roots
into a small forest glade, where vines and weeds littered the
ground. The air vibrated with the power of his wings, sending
chills over Sora. Her Cat’s Eye jangled loudly at the strong
presence of magic. A green shield fell around her, protecting her
from the force of the Harpy’s power.

A brief, fierce struggle ensued. Sora
expected a cacophony of sound to fill the forest, but the Harpy and
the assassin faced off in complete silence. The woman abandoned her
whip and drew a knife. She managed to slash the blade down
Caprion’s arm, landing a wild blow, but then Caprion grabbed her by
the wrists and shoved her to the ground beneath him. He wrestled
her arms behind her, trying to hold the woman down, but the
assassin moved like oil, twisting smoothly out of his grasp.

She briefly broke away, scrambled to her
feet and tried to run across the grassy clearing.

Then Caprion pulled a small, round object
from his pocket, and it flared up brightly. A sunstone!

Sora’s eyes widened—she didn’t know he
carried one.

Caprion lifted off and flew across the
clearing. He tackled the woman back to the ground and pinned her
firmly beneath him, pressing the stone to her throat. The sunstone
blazed with power. Sora saw the first set of Caprion’s wings
flicker into existence. His wingspan momentarily filled the forest
glade.