by Jeff Rosen
“Oops,” said Kip with a sheepish look. “I was putting my sword away, and it went off in my hand. Guess I concentrated too much.”
Stable hands raced to put out the fire, and Pike ordered everyone out of the arena. Class was done for the day.
KIP caught up to Caley and Neive as they emerged from the Equidium tunnel into the academy courtyard.
“What’s going on? Why can’t you ride orocs?”
Caley and Neive traded looks but said nothing.
“I think I deserve to know why I just risked getting thrown out of the Equidium,” Kip persisted.
Caley let a few students pass and glanced around to make sure no one could hear them.
“Kip, do you remember what happened in the Wandering Woods?”
“I was following the acorns.”
“Acorns?” Neive repeated.
“You smell like acorns to Kip,” Caley explained.
Kip blushed a bit. “Then we saw that factory … the mechanical wolves attacked me … and a bomb went off. That’s all I remember.”
“I was the bomb.”
Kip stared at Caley perplexedly.
“It’s my baest. I didn’t ask for it or anything …”
“You don’t choose your baest. It’s the animal part of your nature. So, this baest of yours …”
“It’s called an athrucruth.”
Kip gaped at Caley like she had just grown an extra head.
“Athrucruth? AWESOME!”
He slapped Caley on her back so hard she almost fell over.
“Kip … shush!” Neive eyed a few students heading across the courtyard.
“An athrucruth!” Kip lowered his voice. “I never even heard of anyone getting an athrucruth! It feeds off the darkness of its host. The legends say they can get so powerful they can swallow a planet. No wonder orocs freak out around you … you’re the most dreaded predator ever!”
“Which means I’ll never get to ride an oroc,” Caley said. The thought of this materialized as a painful lump in her throat.
“Wait a minute …” Kip was slowly realizing something. “The athrucruth is only supposed to be Olpheist’s baest. So, this may not be exactly … awesome … because if you have an athrucruth … does that mean you’re … no offense … Olpheist?”
Neive glared at him. “You’re really unbelievable.”
Kip scratched his long nose thoughtfully and regarded Neive. “And another thing. You were in the woods. What’s your baest? Are you an athrucruth too?”
“None of your business,” snapped Neive.
She stalked off, and Kip instantly bolted after her. Neive wheeled around, stopping him in his tracks.
“Why are you following me, weirdo?”
Kip stared at her, his head cocked and his hair bristling. Neive’s nose twitched; then she set off again.
“Cat.” Kip stared after Neive and made a low growling sound. “Bet that’s her baest.”
Caley wasn’t listening. She was thinking that if athrucruths fed off darkness, she had more than enough of that to go around. It was bad enough making zombies. Now, whatever terrible thought entered her head might end up snacking on planets. The Gunch always called her a demon.
Well, maybe she was right.
CALEY spent the rest of the day in her bedroom. And the next.
And the days that followed. Neive brought her meals, but they didn’t talk much about anything. What was there to say?
As for Kip, whenever he came by all he wanted to do was talk about athrucruths. He always had some new fact he’d dug up on the Web. Kip burst into her rooms one afternoon and announced, “Athrucruths may have a substance like sulfuric acid in their blood but way more powerful. It can ignite hydrogen molecules and turn air into fire. Never try to stab one … not that you could see it coming!” Another time, he had sketched a picture of what he thought an athrucruth looked like (a giant blob of burning tar with teeth everywhere that was eating Erinath). Finally, Caley told Kip not to visit her anymore because she might be molting.
One morning, there was a knock on her door.
“Kip, stay away!” Caley shouted. “I’m going to burn a hole right through the castle!”
“I certainly hope not, Your Highness.” It was Duchess Odeli. “The castle has feelings too. I can’t imagine it would appreciate being scalded.”
Caley let the duchess in.
“Do you have a fever?”
“Not exactly,” answered Caley. “But I do feel uneasy. It may be water on the brain. Or walking corpse syndrome …”
“You’re not attending class.”
“No.”
“Or the Equidium.”
“Do I have to?”
“It is the duty of a future monarch to take part in the life of her kingdom. To better understand her realm.”
“But this isn’t my realm.” Caley scowled. “I was brought here, and I didn’t even have a choice.”
It suddenly occurred to Caley she had spent her whole life wishing for her life to change, and now that it had, she wished it hadn’t.
“May I?” the duchess asked, eyeing a tea tray.
“It’s probably cold,” Caley answered. “Neive’s bringing a fresh pot.”
The duchess poured herself a cup and took a sip. Caley noticed her hand was shaking.
“An old wound,” the duchess said, catching Caley’s look. She sat beside her and stared at her in her hawklike way. “No matter where we come from, or where we find ourselves, the only choice we often have is what to do about the choices we do not have.”
Caley stared back at the duchess, puzzled.
“I mean to say that I believe a terrible darkness is coming, and you have been brought here for a purpose. Despite the grave circumstances of your life, you have survived. I believe your true life, your … destiny … is only just beginning.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not who you think I am.”
“If I may make a suggestion, you can hide away, or you can, as I believe the saying in your world goes, ‘Suck it up, Princess.’”
The duchess curtsied and let herself out.
Caley sat there thinking about what the duchess had said. She was wrong. No matter what had happened to Caley—being orphaned, living with the Gunch, the foster homes, zombies, orocs, and now this thing with the athrucruth—she had sucked it up. She was a world champion suck-up. In multiple worlds, it turned out.
And what if the terrible darkness was her?
Neive arrived with the tea tray and set it down beside her.
“I brewed something special today.”
Caley regarded the tea tray. On it was the fearfew root Master Pim had given her.
“It’s Equidium this afternoon,” said Neive. “I thought you could use something stronger.”
She poured a cup and held it out to Caley. Caley hesitated, staring at Neive, who nodded, and then she took the cup.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fearfew
“Loosen your grip! Let your mind control the oroc, not your hands!”
Commander Pike was instructing Ithica Blight, who flew unsteadily around the Equidium on her oroc while the class waited on theirs for their turn. Ithica did her best to look bored to bits, but it was clear she was struggling to stay on.
“To control your oroc, control your thoughts,” Pike told the class. “Think only of what you want it to do. Let your energy flow from your fingers through its mane. Everything in your head should be empty.”
“In that case, Ithica should be the best rider in history.” Kip smirked.
Ithica got her oroc flying straight and even managed a little loop around the arena before she came back down. A few tiara twits clapped politely while the Pingintees hooted as if she had just landed on the moon.
“Commander Pike, I need an oroc to ride.”
Everyone turned from Ithica to Caley as she strode into the arena in her armor.
Caley felt calm yet lit up inside at the same time. That first sip of fearfew t
ea had surged through her brain like a wave, washing away her worry. Everything seemed brighter, clearer. Her thoughts—usually so many and so merciless!—were barely a whisper now, and the space between them felt free with possibility.
Pike nodded to the stable hands, who ran into the tunnel. A few moments later, the orocs flew out. They circled over Caley, but it didn’t look like any of them were even interested in attacking her this time. Caley raised her visor. No reaction from the orocs. Pike gazed up at the orocs with a frown.
“It doesn’t look like they’re in the mood to choose a rider today,” said Pike.
“Orocs hate earthlings, like I said.”
Caley heard Ithica’s taunting voice and the Pingintees snigger-snorting. A sharp look from Pike quickly silenced them.
A splitting shriek made everyone look up. A shape descended from the sky, scattering the other orocs, and the most ferocious-looking oroc Caley had ever seen appeared, brilliant white with a metallic green blaze on his nose and a fan-shaped tail.
“That’s a wild oroc. Where did it come from?” Pike turned to the stable hands, who looked as confounded as he did.
The fierce oroc swooped over the arena with another shriek, its large, multifaceted eyes flashing furiously at everyone. The class struggled to steady their panicky orocs.
Caley didn’t move. Not from fear—a different feeling flooded through her: excitement. The wild oroc dove straight at her, then hovered so close his beating wings blew her helmet off and sent her staggering backward on her heels, sending up a cloud of dust that had everyone covering their eyes. Ithica mimed having her helmet blown off, and Caley could see Kip through the dust, shaking his head at her as if to say, Don’t!
Everyone else just stared in horror.
The oroc stabbed his snout toward Caley, baring his teeth. She could feel his hot breath on her face. She was surprised to see his eyes were green, like hers. He glowered at her challengingly, mirroring back her unblinking stare. She held her hand out slowly. She wasn’t scared at all. He jerked his head back with a skittish shake. Her hand reached closer … and patted his nose. It was surprisingly soft. He tucked his head and calmed his wings, then kneeled on his forelegs as if inviting her. Without thinking, she swung up on his back, gathering his glowing mane in her hands. The instant she touched him, Caley felt a powerful current surge through her body; then she took a breath and softly spoke a word:
“Up.”
The oroc shot into the sky and began to fly around the arena. The base of his four wings rotated, allowing him to dart and drift, rise straight up, drop down, or hover like a hummingbird, and so incredibly fast it made Caley gasp. She clenched her legs around his muscled flanks as he soared with effortless power. The wind whipped her face, and she realized she hadn’t put her helmet back on. She didn’t care. As she flew up into the clouds, it felt like she could do anything.
It felt like heaven.
Kip let out a whoop and high-fived Lucas. The Pingintees pointed with awed expressions, as if they were watching fireworks.
Ithica glared around at everyone, and Caley saw a flame flash from her fire-sword, right in front of Lucas’s oroc. It shot into the air, spooked, Lucas and all. Lucas was so terrified he fell fast asleep in his saddle and turned into a lily.
“Mr. Mancini, come down here at once!” ordered Pike.
“LUCAS! WAKE UP!” shouted Lidia Vowell.
Lucas woke with a start that sent him tumbling right off his oroc. He seemed so freaked out he couldn’t decide whether to be Lucas or a lily. He kept changing back and forth from a plant to a person as he plummeted to the ground.
“He’s going to die!” cried one of the O’Toole twins.
“Someone do something!” screamed the other twin.
Stable hands came running with a net, but it was clear they would never reach Lucas in time.
“Dive!” Caley instructed, tightening her grip on her oroc’s mane. He went lunging toward Lucas, fast as a lightning strike. It was all Caley could do to hang on. The oroc swooped under Lucas, skimming so close to the ground his wings sent up a froth of dirt and dust. Caley knew she would only have one chance to catch Lucas, who was a lily again. With one hand holding onto the oroc’s mane for dear life, she reached out the other, her fingers grasping for a petal. The oroc landed in a long skid, his wings furiously back-beating to slow himself. When the dust settled, everyone saw Caley holding the lily. The lily shook itself back to being Lucas, relieved but red-faced to find Caley clutching him tightly in her arms. The class raced over. There were cheers, and Kip called Caley a hero.
“Princess Caley.”
It was Pike.
“Well done.” Pike nodded curtly.
AFTERWARD, in the stable, everyone gathered around Lucas, who seemed to be none the worse for his ordeal.
Kip turned to Caley, his face beaming. “You rode an oroc! Even though you’re an athrucr—”
“Earthling!” Neive cut him off, kicking Kip’s ankle.
“I thought your twitch was in your arm,” squawked Kip.
“Earthlings riding orocs,” Ithica drawled to the tiara twits. “I suppose it is entertaining watching aliens perform tricks.”
Kip peeled off his gloves, turning to Ithica.
“I saw what you did.”
Ithica pretended to ignore him. She shoved her helmet at her squire, who handed her her tiara.
“You spooked Lucas’s oroc,” Kip persisted.
“Why would I do that?” Ithica snapped back.
“That’s easy,” answered Kip. “You can’t stand someone else getting all the attention. Especially Caley.”
“I’d be careful making wild accusations to your superiors, Gorsebrooke. I could order you to sweep stalls the rest of your miserable mutt life.”
Kip looked like he was about to say something really nasty to Ithica when Caley came between them and stared straight into Ithica’s icy eyes.
“If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll order your little tiara melted down to make oroc shoes.”
Ithica’s mouth made a shape like Caley had just shoveled manure in it. Then she screwed her face into something resembling a couldn’t-care-less look and affected the world’s tiniest bow to Caley … then kept on bending to wipe some invisible dirt from her boot, so it wasn’t technically a bow, but Caley didn’t feel like standing up to Ithica Blight anymore. She just wanted to run outside and scream with delight.
She had ridden an oroc!
“Fearfew,” Caley said to herself with the faintest smile, and she strode into the changing room with everyone staring after her.
•
AFTER that, things seemed to settle into a more or less predictable pattern. Each morning, the wooden finches in the rafters in Caley’s bedroom woke her up with their song, and the eyelid windows blinked open. She liked to linger in bed and identify as many scents from the gardens as she could before she had to get up. This morning she smelled lemon cough drops, freshly baked bread, and a hint of skunk from a black-and-white-striped flower Master Pim had probably planted—for what reason (serious, silly, or otherwise) she couldn’t begin to guess. Then she checked Bee-Me. Her profile now included a picture of her and her oroc.
Neive would arrive and try to help her comb her hair, which always left them breathless and half-buried in broken brushes. No matter how many showers and hot oil treatments, Caley’s cataclysmic curls always had the last laugh. By then she was usually late and racing to the dining hall for breakfast. The duchess would inevitably appear from out of nowhere and remind her, “Royalty is never in a rush. It is up to the kingdom to catch up to you.”
Caley and Kip always ate at a table near the back of the dining hall with Lucas. Caley was supposed to sit at the front with Ithica and the tiara twits but (for obvious reasons) didn’t.
Classes were as crazy as ever. In science, everyone’s marble planets were growing. Kip’s looked like a chewed-up tennis ball, and the teacher was concerned he was gnawing on it (which
Kip denied, but he was part dog). Lucas’s planet was a bit flattened because he kept falling asleep on it. Tiny life-forms were beginning to appear on everyone’s worlds, and Lucas’s was full of semi-squished, fully annoyed bed bugs (which made sense if anything did). Ithica’s planet was, according to Ithica, “Already the #1 most royal.” It was blindingly gold, and its microscopic life-forms all wore little tiaras and bragged about the size of their mountains. Caley’s planet was populated by cricket-like creatures munching happily on an ocean of moss. It was really awesome, she thought, because she had never been allowed to have pets and now she had an entire world full of them (although there were not supposed to be pets in Erinath, so Caley called them ‘inhabitants’).
Animals and Botanicals class was canceled. Apparently, Doctor Lemenecky was ill. On her schedule for Know Your Baest, Caley had written, “AVOID!!” (*see athrucruths).
The last class Wednesdays and Fridays was Equidium, and Caley couldn’t wait for that. She had never really looked forward to anything in her life before (*see Caley’s life), but as soon as she began the long walk down the tunnel to the stable and smelled the intoxicating barn blend of musty hay and old wood, her heart beat faster. She would climb quickly into her armor with help from Neive, take a sip of the fearfew root tea she kept in a jar in her locker, and hurry to the stalls. Each stall now had a plate inscribed with the name the students had given to their oroc. Kip had chosen “Arrow” because his oroc flew fast and true. Lucas’s was “Dream” (what else?). Lidia refused to name her oroc because she said orocs should not have to conform to human behavior. The identical O’Toole twins named their orocs (also, fittingly enough, identical) “Torrent” and “Tornado,” and not even the O’Tooles seemed to know which was which.
Ithica named her big black oroc “Shadow.” Her parents (supposedly the richest royals in the kingdom) gave her a fancy throne-like saddle to put over the oroc’s back, even though orocs didn’t normally wear saddles. The saddle was gold with her obnoxious family crest (a giant crown held by two fire-breathing bazkûls) plastered on it.
