Ferran's Map (7 page)

Finally, Ferran sat down on the banks, his
arms resting on his lanky legs, his head bowed. He took deep, long
breaths to settle his stomach. Lori rummaged through a pouch on her
belt, perhaps for an herb to ease his discomfort.

Sora rubbed her arms, disturbed by Ferran’s
violent reaction. She remembered curing a farmer from the plague
almost a year ago, but the nausea wasn’t nearly as intense. Was the
plague growing stronger? More difficult to dispel? Or did Ferran
simply have a weak stomach? Somehow, she doubted it—the man drank
like a fish.

Realizing Crash was standing only a few
inches from her side, Sora looked up and met his gaze. He watched
her carefully and she felt that closeness again—that bond they had
created on the Isles, when touching and talking felt so
natural.

“Your Cat’s Eye should have responded to
that,” he said quietly.

She wanted to turn away, but his eyes
wouldn’t allow it. They were a bright, poisonous green in the
sunlight, too vibrant against his dark hair.

“My necklace has been acting strangely,” she
admitted. “Since the Isles, I can’t control it as I once did.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She glared at him, suddenly irritated.
“Because you won’t talk to me for more than a half-minute.”

Crash stared at her.

Sora felt her bubble of anger grow. “I
thought we agreed to be more open with each other!” She jabbed a
finger into his firm chest. “I thought you said you would be there
for me. That we were
a team!
” She jabbed him twice more, for
emphasis.

Crash caught her wrist and glanced around.
Caprion stood only a few meters away, staring at a pile of moldy
leaves, very obviously eavesdropping. “This isn’t a good time to
talk...” Crash muttered.

“Then when?” she demanded, trying to wrench
her hand back. But he wouldn’t let go. “
When
are we going to
address this? You can’t avoid me forever. Half the crew are talking
about us!”

Crash’s face darkened momentarily, a look
that made her want to step back. “So I’ve heard.”

“Well, it can’t go on,” she pushed. “You
need to do something. Avoiding the subject makes you look like a
coward.” She nodded firmly, proud of herself for stating her
thoughts so directly. Yes, a coward.
A frightened, stupid
coward
. It felt good to say that, like untying a hard knot.

She could tell her words affected him, but
only because she knew him so well. She saw the marginal hardening
of his lips, the tightness around his eyes. Frustration.
Good.
She continued in a fierce whisper, “You told me not to
doubt you. Well, now I doubt you more than ever.”

Crash’s grip tightened a notch on her wrist.
He held her eyes with his, their faces so close she could feel the
heat of his skin. His firm glare intimidated her, just as it always
had, but she didn’t back down. If anything, it only made her more
determined.

“Hey,” Lori called suddenly. “What’s going
on?”

Sora glanced up at her mother, who stood a
few yards away with Ferran, both observing Crash with suspicion and
concern. She knew what they must look like—the assassin’s hand on
her wrist, their faces close together, scowling at one another.

“Absolutely nothing,” Sora said, and yanked
her hand back.

Crash let go this time, though he seemed
unsettled, first crossing his arms and then turning away, like he
didn’t know where to place his hands.

“Feeling better?” Sora asked Ferran. His
face looked drawn and tired, but not terribly so. He nodded
slightly to her, though he didn’t reply.

Then the sick woman stirred on the
ground.

The five travelers paused and glanced down
at her prostrate form. When she coughed, her pale, cracked lips
parted and a wheezing breath escaped. “Help…” she murmured.

Sora moved quickly to her side, relieved for
the distraction. “We’re here,” she said softly, kneeling next to
the woman’s head. “We’re here to help you.”

“No,” the woman croaked. Her eyes fluttered
and she tried to lift her head, but the effort was too great. Sora
wondered if the woman was fully conscious, or perhaps consumed by a
fever-dream, a delirium. “My village…my children…help….”

Sora looked at her mother's pale face.

“What about your children?” the Healer
demanded. “Where are they?”

“My village…help them….” The woman groaned
and flung out her hand, attempting to point in a direction. Her
eyes opened and rolled upward, searching the forest. She pointed to
the thick, tangled woods. Her arm swayed and then landed in the
dead leaves above her head, stretched to the North. “My children…
please…help Maggie, sweet Maggie…. ” The woman shuddered and her
eyes closed again, her body returning to a limp, flaccid state.

Sora stood up and turned uncertainly to
Lorianne.

“We need to go to her village and see what
happened,” her mother said immediately.

“It’s a long trek through the forest,”
Caprion offered. “We could fly there much faster.”

“What of the plague?” Sora thought to ask.
“Ferran and I have the Cat’s Eye to protect us, but the rest of
you….”

“I’ll be fine,” Crash said.

Caprion cast him a narrow look. “If the
assassin goes, then I go as well,” he said.

The two glared at each other.

Ferran shifted on his feet, shoving his
hands into his pockets. He chewed on a long yellow reed from the
river, spinning it between his straight teeth. “Troublesome,” he
murmured, and raised an eyebrow at Lori. “Sora raises a good point.
You don’t have protection against the plague, and it seems to be
growing stronger. It could be dangerous for you….”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Lori
said. “If the plague has spread this far, and grown this strong,
then the entire Kingdom could be at terrible risk. Much has changed
since we traveled overseas.”

“A small village in the woods is hardly
indicative of the entire Kingdom,” Crash replied.

Lori shot him a fiery look. “What did you
say, Viper?” she asked loudly. “If you have an opinion, speak
up.”

Crash remained solemn and stoic. “There’s
nothing we can do. Her children are already dead. If not, they’ll
die very soon.”

“And what of the missing Dracians?” Lori
demanded.

Crash shrugged. “I don’t see the point of
risking our entire crew over the fate of two men.”

Caprion shook his head. “Of course he would
say that,” he said to no one in particular. “His kind value death
over life. Cut down the weak and leave them to rot. Isn’t that the
way of the Hive?”

The Hive.
Sora remembered that
term—the name of a colony where Crash spent his childhood. Or
perhaps it wasn’t just a simple colony. Perhaps the term meant
something more. Caprion made it sound like an entire network of
places with its own history and traditions.

Crash stared at the Harpy dangerously.
Tension settled over their group, and for a moment his hand
twitched toward his dagger. But the assassin contained himself.
“No,” he said levelly. “Quite the opposite—I won’t put
Lori’s
life at risk.”

Sora saw a look of surprise pass over
Caprion’s face.

Crash turned to Lori. “You’re a Healer and a
valued asset to our team. I won’t allow you to risk your life.”

Lori gazed at him for a long time. Then,
finally, she nodded.

“But we can’t leave the Dracians behind,”
Sora said softly. She looked at Caprion. “There’s a chance they’re
still alive?”

Caprion looked uncomfortable. “I honestly
don’t know if they’re still alive, and I’m not immune to the
plague. I took a risk returning to the ship. I feel fine, but
perhaps the sickness is slower to work on me. I could be
infected.”

“He’s not,” Ferran interjected. “I would see
it with my Cat’s Eye. But he brings up a good point. Perhaps he
should stay behind.”

A brief silence fell as the five companions
regarded each other.

At that moment, the skiff from the
Dawn
Seeker
arrived. Silas stood at the bow and jumped ashore before
his crewman could secure the boat. “Well?” he barked. “Where are my
missing men?”

Sora felt the situation coming to a head.
She could see the temper flare on Silas’ face and went to meet the
advancing Dracian. “They were infected by the plague,” she
started.

“I had to leave them behind,” Caprion
interjected.

Silas hesitated mid-step. He didn’t seem
sure where to unleash his fury—upon Caprion, Sora, or the whole
lot. He looked like he wanted to strike someone in the jaw.

Then he pointed at Ferran. “Go get them,” he
growled.

Ferran raised an eyebrow. “Your men are
probably dead,” he said. “The risk involved—”

“You have a Cat’s Eye, don’t you?” Silas
snapped. “You can take the risk. I don’t abandon my crew. Fix this,
or find your own way to the City of Crowns.”

The treasure hunter chewed his reed
stubbornly and said nothing.

Lori finally indicated the woman on the
ground. “She needs my care,” she said. “And she might have
information about what happened in the village. Permission to bring
her on board, captain?”

Silas studied the prone figure. “Does she
have the plague?” he asked.

“Cured it,” Ferran grunted.

Silas beckoned impatiently. “Then bring her
aboard. The rest of you,” he scowled, “find my men and bring them
back. You have until nightfall. You hear me, Ferran? No wandering
about! If you don’t return by tonight, consider yourselves
stranded.” Then he whirled back to his boat and flounced away.

“A fat lot of help he is,” Sora
muttered.

“Hypocrite,” Ferran agreed.

Crash looked skyward, and Sora followed his
gaze. It was close to noon. The sun set early this time of year and
they only had a few hours at best. “How soon can we get to this
village?” he asked no one in particular.

Caprion answered, “It’s about two miles
away. I can’t transport all of you. I’ll have to make several
trips.”

“I think we should make our way on foot,”
Ferran said.

Sora gave him a questioning look. “Is it
truly necessary to walk? It would be much faster to fly….”

“Better to search the forest,” he explained.
“See what we can find on the ground.”

Crash nodded agreement. “Caprion can fly
above us, since he’s susceptible to the plague.” The assassin
stared at the Harpy as though intentionally pointing out his
weakness.

Caprion looked uncomfortable. Sora didn’t
think he was used to being at a disadvantage.

Then Ferran chimed in. “I have to agree with
the assassin,” he said. “I’m curious to see what we might uncover
in the woods. The state of the forest could tell us a lot more
about the plague than an abandoned village. And let’s not forget
the stench.” He wrinkled his nose to emphasize his words.

Caprion shrugged. “As you wish,” he said
shortly.

It seemed they had reached an agreement.
Ferran helped Lori carry the sick woman to Silas’ skiff. She looked
reluctant to go, and cast Sora a concerned look, mouthing the words
“Be careful.”
Sora felt a sudden stab of uncertainty as she
watched her mother walk away. Lori was just as much a warrior as
the rest of them. She obviously wanted to join the hunt, but she
didn’t have a Cat’s Eye to protect her from the plague. Since Crash
was one of the Sixth Race—a child of the Dark God—he didn’t seem
concerned about catching it. He was probably immune. Sora
considered returning with her to the boat, but she couldn’t stand
the thought of waiting for Crash and Ferran on the ship, surrounded
by clowning Dracians and the irascible Captain Silas.

For a moment, she and Crash were alone. The
assassin paused by her side. “Will your Cat’s Eye protect you?” he
asked directly.

Sora’s mouth felt dry. “It should,” she
finally said, though she wasn’t all that certain. The bond with her
necklace wasn’t broken, just clogged, somehow dormant. But she knew
the Cat’s Eye would protect her in a real emergency, if anything,
for its own self-preservation. That was simply the nature of the
stone.

Crash nodded sharply, then turned away.
Without another word, he started silently into the forest,
following the woman’s trail through the underbrush toward the
village. Sora started after him, fingering her necklace in thought,
her brow furrowed. She felt a strange chill on the back of her
neck. Who knew what they would encounter in the village?

But it was too late to argue. Caprion
summoned his white magic and lifted smoothly into the air, soaring
above the trees. She, Ferran and Crash continued through the woods
toward the plague-ridden village.

CHAPTER 3

It took them almost an hour to reach the
village. Crash followed the woman’s trail swiftly through the
woods. It was easy to pick out. Even Sora could see the
half-footprints in the damp soil, torn leaves, broken branches and
strands of snagged clothing. She knew how to walk softly in the
wilderness, but Crash’s steps were completely silent, as though she
followed a ghost and not a man. Ferran brought up the rear. The
tall, lanky treasure hunter chewed idly on his reed from the
riverbank, making little attempt at stealth.

As they walked through the forest, the smell
of decomposing vegetation grew stronger, and Sora began to see
evidence of its source. Small berry bushes close to the ground were
bare of leaves, their fruit rotting from emaciated branches.
Countless blighted tree trunks sprinkled the forest, covered in
black splotches. They leaned haphazardly against each other, a sign
of slow decay. The deeper into the forest they traveled, the worse
the trees became, until they entered a grove of toppled oaks with
deteriorated roots twisting into the sky.

None of her companions spoke, but continued
through the devastated grove, climbing over the ancient trees. At
this point, the ground was soft and spongy and the stench was
almost intolerable. It looked as though the forest were being
choked of life, dying from the ground up.