Journeyman Cat

by Virginia Ripple

  “R’VELthay,” he whispered.

  He heard the ticking of a clock, but nothing else. If there was a guard, he was being quiet. He had a choice: either take a chance and open the door or lie here and wait to be discovered. He glanced back at the table. His skin broke out in a cold sweat and his chest tightened. He turned away, resting his head on the cool stone of the cave wall. He had to escape.

  He gestured toward the door, magically opening it just wide enough to peek into the hallway. No guard stood barring his way. Breathing a sigh of relief, he swung the door wider and hauled himself into a kneeling position. He stopped for a moment, panting and clutching the door frame.

  Voices approached. He closed the door until it was open a crack, readying an incantation in case they tried to enter. His hand trembled on the door. His eyes blurred for a moment. He sent a fervent prayer that he’d be able to use the spell accurately.

  The voices faded in the other direction. He took a deep breath and held it, letting his body absorb the air’s calming effects. Exhaling, he struggled to stand again, with better results. His legs felt weak, but they held him. He peeked out the door again, then squeezed past it. The hall was empty of cats or humans. Now what? He looked first to his right, then to his left. Both tunnels looked identical. I guess pick a direction.

  He took a step to his right. A sharp pain stabbed through his head, making him gasp and clutch it with both hands, squeezing hard and hoping if it exploded it would make a huge mess for someone to clean up. He stumbled backward a couple steps down the opposite hall. The pain eased enough for him to take a breath.

  He opened his eyes and blinked away the tears, staring at the hall he had attempted to walk down. It looked normal. He squinted, looking at it with his mage sight. The air shimmered with what looked like heat haze. He turned and looked down the other hallway. Nothing. He turned back to the hall with the magical barricade, smiling crookedly. If that was the way they didn’t want him to go, then that was the way he was going.

  It took him a few precious moments to find the stray ends to the magical weave. Once he did, it was child’s play to pull them just enough for the entire barricade to collapse. He took a cautious step past where it had been. When nothing happened he hurried as fast as his stumbling legs would carry him, using the wall to help keep his balance. He paused at the next intersection, checking each doorway for another barricade. When he found one, he dismantled it and continued on. Whatever they were keeping him away from, he was determined to find it. He hoped it was a way out.

  Just as he felt the last of his reserves begin to fade, he dead-ended at a door. He closed his eyes and leaned his back against it, his breath coming in gasps. Cold seeped past his clothes into his skin where he touched the door. Cold? He turned to put his forehead against the door. Yes, it was cold. He opened his eyes and watched his breath steam against the metal door. He could think of just one reason it would be that cold here. He’d found the way out.

  He readied a spell in case he encountered a guard and pushed the button to open the door. Snow swirled in with the freezing air. He stumbled out into the blinding white landscape, tears leaving frozen tracks on his cheeks. He took a deep breath of the frigid air and smiled.

  He exhaled, watching his breath swirl away. Where was he? He looked around. Trees and large rocks surrounded him. No recognizable landmarks. Through slitted eyes, he tried to judge the sun’s position. It was mid-day. The sun would be dropping, but he might be able to get far enough away to build a rude shelter before he froze. Better yet, maybe he could find an unoccupied cave or even a trapper’s shack.

  He shivered as he stood there deciding which direction to walk. He wouldn’t find anything if he didn’t get moving. Looking down at the knee deep snow, he took a moment to set the air around his legs spinning. The last thing he wanted was his captors following his tracks. He stumbled forward, choosing to put the sun at his back. Each step through the knee deep snow sapped his waning reserves as he concentrated on keeping the air spinning and trying to remain upright at the same time.

  He stopped by a large boulder, placing a numb hand on it to hold himself up and glancing back. It felt like he’d slogged across King’s City, but he’d only walked about twenty feet. He took two deep breaths, then he gritted his teeth and shoved away from the boulder. He needed to gain some distance. Five more steps. His vision began to fade. The deep snow cushioned his fall, his last thought on a moment’s rest.

  Life at the school had gotten back to normal, though Toby continued to wonder if his partner had made it to the OKG. Was help on the way? He wished he knew, but regardless, there was still a mystery to solve. They hadn’t had all the information they needed when Lorn had left. It was his responsibility to keep digging.

  To that end he had spent countless hours reviewing in his memory the tunnel map Harold had shown him, waiting for the opportunity to slip away to investigate them. Today seemed to be that day. After lunch, everyone had been given the afternoon for meditation and reflection. An odd occurrence, but Toby wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip by.

  He made his way out the side door of the temple, re-tracing the direction the guard cats had said the little girl had taken toward the stable. He both hoped and feared he might discover her frozen little body on his way to the nearest tunnel entrance. It was a chance he had to take. Snow blocked the way through the cemetery, so there was no other direction to take.

  It didn’t take long to get to the stable. Upon reaching it he saw that snow had drifted to the height of a child in front of the door. Beyond it the snow was deep enough that he would have to expend a lot of energy leaping through it. Not an impossible task, but it would take longer than he had anticipated.

  By the time he made it to the tunnel entrance, he was panting and his winter fur seemed thicker than it needed to be. He ducked down behind a large rock and watched the entrance for some time. No one came or went during that time and he didn’t see more than a few tracks. He lifted his nose, sniffing the breeze. There was the stale scent of cats and a couple humans. Apparently very few used this entrance, which made it perfect for his purpose. He said a quick incantation to alter his color from a light gray to an almost charcoal brown. It wouldn’t hold up under intense scrutiny, or if they had illusion spell trackers. It should, however, keep him from being noticed if he needed to pass by another feline, provided no one disrupted his concentration.

  He leaped up on the rock, judged the distance to the nearest tracks and leaped, landing right in the middle of them. He trotted to the big metal door as if he belonged there, noting there were no buttons to push to open it. There wasn’t even a handle, which meant whoever had been using it was able to work magic and didn’t mind doing so. Anointed Ones Below, I would presume. His whiskers splayed at the thought of pretending to be one of them.

  He twitched his tail to open the door and marched in, breathing a silent sigh of relief when no guards met him. He trotted down the hall, pausing to peer around the corner at the intersecting hallway. A large tom sat in front of another door further down the right tunnel. Toby debated whether he should try walking past the burly tom when another tom with ragged ears and a scar down his face stopped beside the guard. Toby ducked his head back around the corner and swiveled his ears in their direction.

  “We’re clearing this area now. Boss says it’s time. Check the cells down the other corridor for stragglers, then head back to quarters until the all clear is sounded.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  He heard the soft pad of paws as one of the cats headed in his direction. He curled himself into a tight ball against the stone wall on the shadowed side, thankful he’d chosen a dark color for his illusion. The sleek guard passed by without pausing. Toby peeked around the corner to see the scarred cat retreating the other direction. He slipped behind the younger tom, following him down the hall toward the cells the other had spoken of. If they h
ad brought the caged black tom to the temple, most likely they would keep him in a cell, he reasoned.

  The guard cat methodically checked each room, twitching his tail to open the door, stepping inside for a moment, then backing out and shutting the door behind himself. The charcoal tom grew frustrated. He wanted to check each room, too, but he had to wait for the guard to finish before beginning. If he knew which cell to go to, it would have been so much faster. Just then, the guard said something to someone in one of the rooms. The thick door muffled their voices. When the door opened again, he saw a ratty looking old she-cat emerge with the guard behind her. Toby ducked around a corner to watch them. The she-cat stalked down the hall in his direction, her basket of cleaning supplies floating behind her as she shook her head and mumbled.

  “Always the same. ‘Go clean the black demon’s cell, he says.’ And when I just get started, some young upstart barges in and tells me I gotta leave — now. I tell him I got orders to clean it and the little hairball gets his fur in a fluff like he’s some almighty god and his word must be obeyed without question. Pah! I oughta go back to rat catching on the wharf. Least there I could go about my business.”

  The old she-cat kept up her monologue as she continued down the hall. The young cat smiled and sent a thank you prayer to the One. That had to be the cell he was looking for. He shifted from paw to paw, waiting for the guard to move far enough down the corridor that he wouldn’t notice as Toby scurried into the room. The cat turned a corner and was out of sight. Toby flung himself toward the door, pausing just long enough to twitch it open and then squeeze through. As he slid around the door, he listened for any sound of alarm. Silence greeted his waiting ears. He nudged the heavy door shut with a bit of magic, careful not to let it make a sound as it closed, then turned to survey the room.

  There wasn’t much to see. A low table stood across the room, a tray of assorted odd looking knives and contraptions on it. To his left were small manacles with chains attached to the wall. The floor sloped downward from the manacled walls toward a hole near the wall to his right. The tom took a tentative sniff of the stale air. The scent of wet metal and pungent marigolds assaulted his nose, making him sneeze. His whiskers clamped tight and the hair along his spine rose into a ridge. Blood magic. Whoever had been held here had been subjected to the most vile of magics. The tom glanced at the knives on the low table and growled. He was sure if he had the time he could lift the magical fingerprint of the master cat responsible off any one of those implements. He knew the guard cat would be finishing his sweep soon and he had no idea why the area was being cleared. Whatever it was, it was unlikely to be to his good.

  He turned his attention toward the manacles. That was where the victim would have been held immobile. He crept toward them, ears swiveling back and forth to catch the first hint of sound should the guard decide to double check the cells. He smelled the strong cleaners the she-cat had begun using. It was evident she had been interrupted before finishing more than a small corner of the room. The smell threatened to overwhelm his sensitive nose. He held his breath until he was close enough to the chains to nose them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his mouth, inhaling the scents on the manacles, letting them wash over his scent glands. Warmth and dark fur caressed his mind. His eyes flew open and he stared down at the cruel metal circles. Caught in one of the hinges was a tiny tuft of black fur.

  The young tom’s throat closed, his eyes burned. He’d almost hoped he would be wrong, but the proof was laying there on the cold stone floor, snagged in the clutches of hard iron. The caged black cat had been his father. He backed away, his gaze turning to the low table. He snarled, shooting across the room toward the symbol of evil. He raised an armored paw to strike the wicked implements to the floor. A whisper of soft fur drifted through his raging thoughts, causing him to pause. He blinked. He looked up at his unsheathed claws.

  Sanity reasserted itself as he remembered where he was. Trashing the room might make him feel better for the moment, but it would get him caught. It wouldn’t help his father. He glanced again at the manacles, promising Victor that he wouldn’t give up. He had clues now, clues that would lead him to the cat responsible for all the atrocities committed against the humans and for the death of his mother. He just needed to keep digging them up and laying them side by side until they made a complete picture for all to see.

  He darted toward the door, wondering how much time had passed. Were the halls cleared? Had the big event happened yet? He put his ear to the thick door and listened. He heard muted voices. They were passing by. He waited a moment more for them to pass before opening the door and squeezing through. A green ball of magic floated down the hall in the direction he had come, emitting a bell-like tone. Behind it paced a couple sleek young she-cats. That must be the all clear signal. He trotted up behind them, keeping just far enough behind to seem like he was just another cat on his way to work. One of the she-cats turned to the other, her tail quivering.

  “It’s so exciting. Such an amazing break-through.”

  “I wish I’d been on the team. They say they managed it in one-quarter the time it normally takes.”

  “Not only that but the subject can be managed from a distance. Can you imagine?”

  “It’s a dream come true. No more having to watch over them day and night to be sure they stay within the safe zone.”

  “New Eden is just on the horizon.”

  “It couldn’t get here fast enough for me.”

  The she-cats giggled as they padded into the corridor he’d entered from. He continued to follow them at a distance, wondering who they were discussing.

  “If this works as well as they think it will, we might be able to use the same technique on those poor deluded felines we sometimes get in.”

  “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? I hate the idea that they’ll be left behind. I keep hoping we’ll find a cure for them. It’s just not normal to think that way.”

  Toby wanted to ask them what they meant, but decided it would land him in one of their cells, so he continued to pad behind them. They talked about possible uses of the new technique as they opened the door and walked out. He trotted out behind them before the door closed, following them for several feet and wondering when he’d be able to go his own way without raising suspicions. They stopped abruptly.

  “What was that?” asked one of the she-cats.

  Toby swiveled his ears, listening. He heard the breeze as it sighed through the trees and that was it. He swiveled his ears a bit more, searching for the sound the she-cats had noticed. A moment later he caught a low moan in the distance that raised the hair along his spine. It sounded just like the moan at the abandoned chapel. He almost expected a ghost to come around the nearby boulder. He watched the she-cats, wondering what they would do. The smaller of the two shrugged.

  “It’s just the ghosts in the caves.”

  The other she-cat shuddered. “That always gives me the creeps. Let’s go.”

  The females trotted away in the opposite direction without a glance back. Toby sat down to listen again, curious. If it were the ghosts in the caves, why didn’t it sound like it was coming from the door behind him? He heard it again. It sounded like it was coming from in front of him, in front and to the left. He lowered himself into a hunter’s crouch and crept forward. Whatever it was, the sound was getting fainter even though he was sure he was getting closer. He paused for a moment more, triangulating the position of the sound. He wriggled his hindquarters, whatever was making that noise, he intended to ask it a few questions. He sprung, landing on something large and rather soft.

  “Oof,” it grunted.

  Human, the young tom decided, taking in the thing’s large size. Toby padded up the human’s length and peered into its face. The boy’s freckles stood out against the cold pale skin. The tom’s eye’s widened. He patted the boy’s face.

  �
��Lorn! Lorn, wake up!”

  The boy’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned. He batted weakly at the charcoal cat.

  “No, you can’t take me. I won’t let you.”

  He closed his eyes again and started muttering. Toby felt the magic building up beneath his paws as his fur crackled. He didn’t understand the words to the incantation, but he knew Lorn’s grasp on magic was still tenuous under stress. There was no telling what would happen with him in this state. The boy’s disguise melted away as he gathered every fiber of energy left in his frozen body to activate his spell. Toby let his own disguise disappear with a pop. He grasped the man’s bearded face, his claws piercing the white skin beneath.

  The man’s eyes flew open, pupils wide. Toby shoved his face into the man’s full view, blocking out anything else.

  “Lorn, it’s me,” he shouted.

  Lorn blinked rapidly, his muttering ceasing. The energy around him hummed, demanding to be released. Toby’s orange fur stood on end.

  “See the boulder you just passed in your mind. Send the magic there. Now.”

  The man closed his eyes, reaching a pale hand toward the boulder behind them. Toby flattened his ears to his head and ducked. A moment later the huge rock split in two with a crack of thunder. The orange tom glanced back. If that sound had carried into the tunnels and someone came to investigate, they would be as obvious as dog pee on new fallen snow. He had to get his partner hidden.

  He looked back at the unconscious man. Too big to drag, but could he float him? He’d never tried floating an unconscious human before. He glanced back through the split in the boulder at the metal door a few feet away. It would take time. He didn’t know how much he had. He needed to delay them somehow. If he couldn’t repair the boulder, maybe he could disguise it.

  He looked around for something to keep the split hidden. Just behind the tunnel entrance was an old tree that had been struck by lightening sometime in the past. The tom’s whiskers splayed. The tree would disguise the split in the boulder, as well as delay the investigators and perhaps give another reason for the sound Lorn’s magic had made.