by Amanda Sun
The only ones left? I don’t know how large the village was, but three survivors means many lost. They have so little left, so much of a burden to carry. And now I’m putting him back out there, on what Aliyah thinks is a hazardous trek.
“I can’t let you do it,” I decide. “Show me the way to the mountains, and I’ll go alone. Look what happened today. I can’t put you in any more danger.”
Griffin twists his shoulder so I can see the hazu’s wound across his back, the one that sits atop the crescent moon gashes. “This?” he says. “I’ve had worse. It’s brave of you to tell a monster hunter to mind his own business. And I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but you’re biting off more than you can chew. I’ll take you to the mountains. I promised, and that’s the end of it.”
He leaves the room, and I lean against the wall. The dented lantern tied at my hip presses against the blankets as I look down at the broken candle inside.
I don’t know what lies ahead on the way to the mountains, but I know if I’m not safe alone, then it will be more terrible than I can imagine.
* * *
The next several days are a pleasant change from running for my life. In the daylight, the trapdoor in the main room is open, and the fresh, sweet air floods in. Aliyah, Sayra and Griffin take me to the waterfall to replenish our supplies. It’s smaller than I’d pictured, not a raging angry current like the waterfall on Ashra, but steps of jagged rock, down which the water flows in frills of misty lace. The air is filled with the spray of cool water, and the birds call to each other through the forest. Griffin takes handfuls of the water and splashes them at us, and we run away like children, squealing, circling around to fill our basins and dump them over his head. I feel like I’m on the edge of Lake Agur with Elisha as we talk and laugh, as if the four of us have always been close friends.
But at night, the monsters claw at the top of the underground haven, snorting with their large nostrils and bellowing as they stomp around the forest. The three of them sleep through the horrible sounds, but I lie awake for hours, waiting for the ceiling to burst and the monster’s fangs to rip through the dirt and into my flesh.
One morning, Aliyah stands with me near the waterfall and hands me a bow and a quiver full of arrows. “You need to be able to defend yourself,” she says.
“You’re a monster hunter, too, aren’t you?” I ask.
She nods. “It’s the path I chose when our village was destroyed.”
“And Sayra?”
She shakes her head. “She’s got a gentle soul. Monster hunting isn’t easy. You have to grab hold of the fear that overtakes you when death itself charges. You have to take that fear and give it fangs. You have to lose everything so that you have nothing to lose. Sayra lost everything, but it made her turn inward instead. She helps in other ways.”
I imagine Ulan, empty and destroyed. I can’t even fathom what they’ve been through.
“I heard what happened to your parents,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
Aliyah smiles gently, then sits on a stone ledge beside the waterfall. The beads of water glisten on her dark skin. “I’m sure you’ve wondered about Griffin being my brother,” she says. “Of course we’re not related by blood. My parents were good people. They found Griffin wandering in the fields, crying. He was barely a baby then. I remember them bringing him home. ‘Aliyah, water!’ they said to me.” Her eyes gleam with the memory. “I went to the well by our house, and for the first time I found the strength to turn the handle myself and bring up the bucket. I was just a babe myself, really. Four years old.”
I imagine Griffin and Aliyah as children, Griffin with a tuft of curly brown hair as he ran in the field.
“He had a broken arm and kept crying for his mother. We knew she must’ve been taken down by a behemoth or griffin. There were so many surrounding the village. Poor dragonling that he was. He was such a happy little boy once he felt at home with us.” She laughs as she remembers. “He used to take my father’s harpoon and pretend he was hunting sea serpents in the field behind our house.” The smile fades from her lips, the waterfall rushing through the silence. “He changed when the griffin attacked our parents. It ripped the thatched roof clean off. Without my brother, I would’ve died that day. Sent the harpoon right between that griffin’s eyes.”
The weight of the memory presses on both of us as I try to imagine the horror of that day. But I can’t, not really. I lost my mother so young that I have no memories of her. Losing my father would break my heart, but it would never be so vicious an end as the jaws of a monster. I can’t imagine what Aliyah and Griffin have seen, what they’ve been through. “My deepest sympathies,” I say, resorting to my regal upbringing. It seems larger than anything I can say or offer in exchange.
Aliyah forces a smile and stands up, wiping the water droplets off her arms. “It was a long time ago,” she says. “And the only way to survive down here is to become stronger. And now you have some learning to do, don’t you? Let me see your arm for archery.”
She wraps a leather strip round and round my left wrist so the bowstring won’t rasp against my skin. And then she shows me how to hold the bow, how to pull back the taut string with all my strength. My wrist stopped hurting two days ago, but the effort still burns in my ribs.
“Ready?” she says. “See if you can hit that trunk.”
I nock the arrow and aim at the tree she’s pointed out. The bowstring snaps forward but the arrows drops, clattering to the ground beside my feet. My cheeks blaze.
“First try,” she says. “It takes getting used to.”
The next fifteen arrows follow suit, leaving a mortifying trail that zigzags slowly closer to the tree trunk. At last, the sixteenth arcs through the air and far past the trunk into the tangle of ferns and underbrush.
“Better.” Aliyah smiles. “Want to take a break?”
My ribs are aching, but I shake my head. “I want to get it right.”
“I told you,” Griffin says suddenly, and I look up, startled. He’s sitting beside the spray of the waterfall. How long has he been there? He was soundless, like a barn cat. I never heard him approach. I flush with embarrassment. I hope he hasn’t seen my pathetic volley of arrows.
“Told her what?” I say.
He smiles, his eyes gleaming. “That you’re a fighter. That you don’t give up.”
I flush like the Phoenix herself is blazing through me. He’s seen my effort, not my failure, just like before. I can’t stop the smile from spreading over my face, and it only brightens the smile on his.
I pull back the bowstring with renewed strength. The ache in my ribs only fuels me on.
“Looks good,” Aliyah says. “Lightly, now.”
My fingers are feather tufts on the string. I let the arrow fly, and it soars into the underbrush.
“I missed,” I say.
Aliyah nods. “But the strength behind the arrow improved.”
The quiver is empty, and I bend to gather the arrows on the ground.
“I’ll get them,” Griffin says, and before I can protest he’s vanished into the thick forest where my arrows have gone astray. I can tell from Aliyah’s raised eyebrows that he’s not always so helpful.
“Let’s try something else,” Aliyah says, handing me her crescent-tipped spear. “In case Griff blanks and you have to fight something closer range.”
I look at the jagged bone fastened to the wooden staff. “What monster is that from?”
“Behemoth fang,” she says. “Huge snarly beast from the lava lands. They roam near the village where Griffin and I grew up.”
I hold the spear and arc it slowly, the serrated tooth of the behemoth piercing the air. “It looks really sharp,” I say.
“It can cut through the flesh and bones of smaller monsters,” she says. “Nasty beasts, behemoths.”
“And you killed one?”
“Three,” she says. “Griff and I together. They’re not easy to bring down alone.”
I swipe the spear around a bit as Aliyah guides my hands. She shows me how to hook the fang through the air, where to place my hands for the best control of the weapon.
“You tease each other a lot, you and Griffin,” I say. “I’m an only child, but I always wished for a sister.” Elisha is like my sister, I think. I miss her dearly.
“Griffin has a big heart,” she says. “He saved me, but he’s never forgiven himself for not saving our mother and father. And now he wants to save you.”
The guilt floods through me like fire. “I told him I’d go alone to the mountains,” I say. “I don’t want to put him in danger.”
“Oh, I know that,” she says, and she smiles warmly, raising an eyebrow. “But I can see in your eyes and his that my speech might be a little too late.”
I don’t follow, and I tilt my head at her, confused.
“He has a big heart,” she says again. “But he lives a dangerous life hunting murderous beasts. And though he looks all right and means well, he’s very scarred, Kali, very fragile underneath all that tough monster-hunter guise. And if you’re completely set on returning to the continent and leaving him behind...well, then I suggest you start letting him down now.”
It takes me another minute to understand what she’s saying. Griffin has been so kind to me, laughing and smiling and... Oh. My eyes go wide.
“Oh, no,” I stammer. “It’s not like that. I’m engaged. To a man on the continent.”
Aliyah’s eyes widen. She wasn’t expecting that. And I can see how it must look through her eyes, that he’s fetching my arrows and putting his life at risk to take me where I want to go; that we sit side by side every night on the bench, joking warmly as we eat the hazu meat Sayra prepares; that we splash in the waterfall and feast on the berries we pick in the warm afternoon sun.
So I clarify, because I also don’t want her to think I’m leading Griffin on. “It’s an arranged match,” I explain. “I’ve only met him a couple times. I... I’m obligated.”
“Arranged? Obligated?” She purses her lips, her gold earrings swaying against her neck as she frowns. “Who are you, exactly, back on your floating mountain?”
“I...” It’s no secret, but I’ve never explained to them who I am. And suddenly I don’t want to tell her. They seem to hate the people on the continents, but I’m not sure why. And I have grown so attached to the three of them, so quickly. I don’t want them to think less of me.
Aliyah nods after a minute, allowing me my privacy. Gratefulness floods the guilty flame that flickers in my chest. “If you’re promised to another, then you should find a way to let Griffin know, before it grows into something else.”
“I don’t think he feels that way,” I say. We’ve only known each other for about a week and a half now. Aliyah merely smiles. But she’s planted the thought in my head and it’s sprouting, and when I think about how Griffin smiles warmly at me, I feel the heat creep up my neck.
Then I shake the thought away. He saved my life, and the experiences we’ve been through fighting the chimera and the hazu and the Dream Catcher would tie anyone together. That’s the source of the closeness I feel. It’s a bond of gratefulness and shared survival, nothing more.
Aliyah’s voice is low, almost beyond hearing. “Can you climb?”
It’s a strange response to my answer. “Are we done practice with the spear?” I ask. But Aliyah doesn’t laugh; in fact, she doesn’t move her eyes from the underbrush.
Something’s wrong. I start to turn, to look over my shoulder into the grass.
“Stop,” she says sharply. The wood around us buzzes with insects and birds. I can’t hear anything, but I stop, adrenaline rushing through me. “Listen carefully, all right? There’s a pack of karus, and we won’t make it back to the trapdoor in time.” Karus, like the fur cloak Griffin wears. “Do your ribs hurt too much to climb?” I take a deep breath, the pain shooting through my chest. She sees the look on my face. “Then stay close to me.” She slowly reaches for the curved bone dagger at her waist. “Practice is over.”
THIRTEEN
I GRIP THE spear tightly, my hands trembling. I don’t yet know how to wield it. Aliyah bends her legs, her wide stance low to the ground. “Come stand behind me,” she says. “Slowly.” I move around her as gradually as I can. It reminds me of the dancing we do in Ulan, and I can hardly believe this is real.
Then I realize where she’s staring into the woods.
“Griffin,” I whisper urgently. He’s in there, gathering my arrows.
“He can handle himself,” she says.
And suddenly, like the flap of the Phoenix’s wings, chaos blazes everywhere. The karu breaks free of the trees with a large crash and a howl. His mottled cream fur looks just like Griffin’s cloak, the long fangs part of his terrifying snarl. I swipe the spear down in front of me as a defense, but the karu charges at Aliyah beside me. In a blur she moves with the karu. He leaps into the air for her windpipe, and she ducks under him, thrusting hard with the crescent of bone. The squelch of weapon meeting flesh fills my ears as he arcs over her bent frame. She rolls to the side as he hits the ground hard and comes up again, all fangs and blood and fur.
I hold Aliyah’s spear tightly, the behemoth fang pointed right at the monster. But Aliyah doesn’t need help. She moves like Griffin, all speed and precision and skill. Her earrings and armlet catch the sun as she tangles with the karu. She doesn’t need my help.
“Get to the trapdoor,” she shouts above the monster’s snarling.
I hesitate for just a moment, wanting to help. But then I remember how my help ended in Griffin getting slashed by the hazu, and I turn to race toward the haven’s entrance.
My skirts scrape against the underbrush and ferns as I hurry through the forest. The staff feels reassuringly heavy in my hands. It won’t snap like the flint one I made for myself. It’s sturdy and skillfully made. But I don’t know how to wield it.
And then a figure leaps out in front of me, and I stop running.
It’s like the karu, but a little smaller. It’s certainly a dog, its fangs curved like the karu but not as pronounced. The fur is soft brown, striped with vibrant black bands that run up and down its body. Its mouth is all teeth, its back legs tensed as it growls.
“Easy,” I say, lowering my staff to put the massive fang between us. “Easy now.”
It barks, snapping its teeth at the bone crescent which I pull back in time. Should I run to Aliyah? But I can’t turn my back on this thing.
Then I spot something beige moving in the trees above. Griffin’s here, but the monster hasn’t noticed. He’s moving silently, preparing to drop on the creature. I force myself to look ahead, to not look up and give him away.
The monster growls and steps forward.
“Just keep looking here,” I say, backing up slowly. “That’s right. A tasty, easy meal right here. Hungry? Here, boy.”
The monster leaps, and Griffin drops from the trees onto its back. It howls and arches up, and the two tangle in a blur.
I thrust the spear forward, to drive it through the monster while his attention is divided.
“Kali, no!” Griffin shouts, but I’m already lunging forward, my weight shifted to my front leg.
I feel a sharp pain in my back leg as the spear clatters out of my hands. I hit the leafy ground a moment later, a headache ripping through my temple. The world is snarls and fur and the behemoth fang is gone.
There’s a second striped wolf monster on me. He lunges to bite me, and suddenly Griffin is on his knees beside me, his arms wrapped tightly around the monster’s neck. He holds the beast away as its jaws snap over and over, just in front of my face.
Griffin’s row of da
ggers glints at his waist.
I reach for a dagger and pull it free, and thrust it as hard as I can into the monster’s neck. There’s a horrible gasping sound, and the monster’s eyes go glassy. It collapses on top of me, and I cry out, the weight painful against my cracked ribs.
Griffin rolls the beast off me and onto the ground with a thud. Just then Aliyah runs out of the trees, and Sayra pops up from the trapdoor nearby, a bow in her hand.
“Is she all right?” Aliyah shouts, stooping down beside me. Griffin nods, panting as the sweat drips off his forehead.
“Karus?” Sayra asks.
“Three of them,” Aliyah answers, looking at the teeth marks around my ankle. “Not too deep, Kali, but we’ll have to clean it to stop infection.” She looks at Sayra. “Any scarlet honey left?”
Sayra nods. “I’ll get it.”
“I’m sorry,” Griffin says. “There was no time.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You warned me. And you saved me.” I gaze at the two dead monsters; they look as if they’ll suddenly come back to life, ready to bite. “What are those?”
“Karus,” Aliyah says. “The adolescents are striped to better camouflage them. Their fur changes to cream when they’re older to draw the eye.”
“That way you don’t see the rest of the pack sneaking up on you,” Griffin adds. “Quick thinking to grab my dagger.” He pulls it out of the beast, cleaning it against a fern leaf.
“You did that?” Aliyah says.
“I...I guess I did,” I say.
She smiles and ruffles my hair. “Congratulations,” she says. “You defeated your first monster.” She tucks her curved dagger into the strap at her waist and disappears into the forest.
I don’t feel proud, not at all. I feel horrible and vulnerable.
Griffin nods, even though I haven’t said anything. “It gets easier,” he says, his eyes kind as they look into mine. “We do what we have to so we can survive.” He pulls me to my feet, and toward the trapdoor, where Sayra has appeared with a jar of honey to pour on the wound.
