“Yes,” Rollan said. He shifted on the ground. “Well, you know, I’m freezing. And there’s sand in my underpants. And a thorn is literally in my side. But otherwise, I’m doing great.”
“You just …” Conor said, his voice trailing off. He coughed. “I was thinking, just for myself, that it’s important that we talk about what happened as much as we can.”
“You can’t be serious,” Rollan said. “We’re in occupied territory, trying to track down one of the last free talismans, and you’re worried about our feelings?”
Tarik, on his belly on the far side of Conor, reached across the boy to lay a hand on Rollan’s shoulder. He whispered, “What you mean to say is that you agree with Conor. That we should keep reminding ourselves that it wasn’t Meilin’s fault. It wasn’t, and it isn’t. And we’ll find her and Abeke. But it’s okay to feel upset about it. It breaks me apart that they were taken. But all the same, we can’t pretend they weren’t.”
“For the love of Mulop!” Rollan said. “Both of you?! I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Tarik, I expected better.”
Tarik clamped his strong hand over Rollan’s mouth.
“Hmph,” Rollan said, straining to lift the man’s fingers. “Mmph!”
“Shh,” whispered the senior Greencloak, returning to his survey of the village.
“Yeah!” Conor joined. “Shh, Rollan.”
Tarik clamped his other hand over Conor’s mouth. “There’s something moving out there. On the far right side of the palisade. I can’t quite tell. Rollan, could you —”
“On it,” Rollan said. Or “hmphit,” since Tarik’s hand was still over his mouth. As Tarik lifted it, Rollan let his consciousness drift to Essix, who was circling the palisade, high in the air currents above.
This was a trick Rollan had picked up while they were battling through Nilo. One day his mind had been wandering, and he peered up at the falcon and thought to himself: What would it be like to see the savannah from up there? Then, ominously, his vision blacked out. After a sick moment of panic, he’d seen a pinprick of light appear at the center of the blackness, and suddenly Rollan could see again.
That’s when he really panicked.
Because what Rollan had seen was the world from a thousand feet up. He was looking through Essix’s eyes. Somehow she’d snatched up his daydreaming mind like a delicious desert mouse and carried it soaring over the savannah. It took a few more tries before he finally stopped screaming and learned to enjoy it.
The falcon’s eyes were on either side of her head, and the first sensation Rollan had now was of how wide open the world was. He could see above, below, and on both sides, simultaneously taking in the yellow moon, the forests to the north, the swamps to the west, and the motion of a flying squirrel as it leaped between tree branches. The falcon’s vision never stayed in one place for more than a moment, ever flitting among the grasses and buildings below. Essix was obviously used to the way her eyes worked, but it made Rollan feel like he was tumbling down a hill with his eyes open. His stomach clenched at the constant motion. Still, something caught his attention. Something big.
“There’s an elephant,” he reported. His vision was still with Essix, but he’d learned he could speak through his own mouth if he concentrated. “Pressing against the palisade wall.”
“An elephant? Like Dinesh?” Conor asked, Briggan rumbling worriedly in the background.
“Much smaller than Dinesh — this is a normal elephant. But yes.”
Essix cried in the night and flew tighter circles over the elephant at the palisade. “It’s … breaking down the wall, like it’s trying to bash its way through,” Rollan reported. “Something has it spooked.”
Conor grunted. “Are there any Conquerors with it?”
“No,” Rollan said, returning to his own vision to see Conor searching the shadows. “It’s alone.”
Conor opened his mouth, but then stilled when they heard a tremendous crash.
“Hold on,” Rollan said. “Let me get back into Essix’s vision.”
“No need,” Tarik said, squinting into the darkness. He crouched on his feet, curved sword at the ready, his powerful body tensed. “It’s quite clear what happened. That elephant knocked down the palisade wall. It is probably a Bile-fed puppet of the Conquerors. Okaihee has been breached.”
“Come on,” Conor said to Briggan. The wolf had been dozing only a minute ago, head heavy on his paws. But now he was on his feet, growling softly. “It’s time to go help Okaihee.”
“Don’t you think,” Rollan said, “that maybe we should avoid the insane elephant?”
Conor, Tarik, and even Briggan stared back at him balefully. “Okay,” Rollan said, getting to his feet. “Fine, let’s go. I was starting to get termites up my pant legs anyway.”
As they stole down the hillside toward the noise, shouts rose from the village as the elephant progressed through Okaihee.
When they reached the palisade, they saw that the wall had been trampled. Logs and rope were jumbled along either side. They heard another large crash from the far side of Okaihee, and Briggan crouched, growling.
“It seems our elephant found its own way out,” Rollan said.
“Well,” Tarik said. “If Abeke’s village has been occupied by the Conquerors, this would be a good distraction to use to our advantage. We should find Chinwe as soon as possible. She’s a faithful Greencloak, and was present at Abeke’s Nectar Ceremony. She can help fill us in on what’s happening here, and might be able to point us toward the Golden Lion of Cabaro.”
They started forward, but Tarik raised a hand to stop them. “Above all, be alert to Conquerors. I don’t want to lose you two, as well.”
Rollan sensed Essix gliding over them as they crept into the village. Briggan loomed large in the moonlight, but Rollan wasn’t too worried the wolf would get them spotted — there weren’t signs of Conquerors. In fact, the whole village was eerily quiet. Whoever was shouting earlier must have either chased after the elephant or returned home. All was silent and dark, grass curtains fluttering in the night breezes.
As they crept forward, Rollan in the lead, he couldn’t shake the suspicion that they were being watched. He peered into the homes they passed, but could see no one. He approached the fire pit, where the elephant must have finally managed to disentangle itself from the fence debris. Bits of wood and cord were everywhere. Rollan picked at a loose plank with his foot, half-expecting something to lunge out at him. “Conor,” he finally said, “do you sense any —”
Suddenly Rollan was on his back, a sharpened stick jabbing into his throat. He batted it away on reflex, but then the point was back, pressing right into his windpipe. “Help!” Rollan managed to cry, the sound strangled by the thrusting weapon. Then he saw who was assaulting him.
It was a skinny girl, a bit younger than himself.
Rollan could see Tarik and Conor creeping behind the girl, both crouched low to the ground, ready to pounce if she made a wrong move. Beside Conor, Briggan growled, a noise that sent the hairs on Rollan’s arms on end — and that was knowing the wolf was on his side.
But the girl didn’t seem afraid. As she stared into his eyes, Rollan saw a dullness to her gaze, a sense of what-more-could-life-do-to-me? He recognized it from the street orphans he’d known in Concorba. This girl had been through trauma.
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Tarik said from behind her. “You don’t need to threaten him.”
The girl stared down at Rollan flatly, ignoring Tarik.
Rollan wanted to speak, but the stick was still jammed firmly into his neck. All he could do was continue to stare up at his attacker, his eyes wide.
“We’re friends of Abeke,” Tarik continued. “She used to live in this village. Do you know her?”
The girl’s eyes lit slightly. She turned her head, and the pressure on the stick at Rollan’s throat lessened.
“Can you tell us where Chinwe is? We’d like to speak to her.”
The gi
rl’s eyes cast back down.
“What’s your name?” Rollan croaked, rubbing his throat.
“Irtike,” the girl mumbled.
“Irtike,” Rollan said. “Can you tell us where Chinwe is?”
“She’s dead,” the girl whispered simply. Finally she stepped away from Rollan and stood at ease, though still gripping her sharpened stick. “She was killed by the Conquerors while protecting Okaihee during the first invasion. We gave her a funeral at the end of the last rainy season.”
Tarik bowed his head. “You have my sympathies. She was a strong, kind woman. The village must be mourning her loss very much.”
“Is Okaihee under Conqueror control now?” Rollan asked, crawling to his feet.
“No,” the girl whispered. “Abeke’s father, Pojalo, became the new chieftain when our old one was killed defending the village, with Chinwe. He has worked hard ever since to keep us beneath the Conquerors’ notice. They leave us alone because there is little of value left here. Our crops have all failed.”
“Where is Pojalo?” Tarik asked.
Irtike pointed to a hut indistinguishable from the rest, at the other side of the fire pit.
“Thank you,” Rollan said. He felt her stare hot on his back as he turned to confer with his companions.
Tarik shook his head grimly. “Chinwe was a capable and courageous fighter, with a powerful wildebeest at her side. If anyone could have led us safely to Cabaro, it was her. If even she has fallen …”
“We’ll find a way,” Conor said. “You’re the best fighter the Greencloaks have.”
“I’m glad for your confidence,” Tarik said, a weak smile on his face. “But I’d hoped to find allies here. With Meilin and Abeke gone, and Chinwe dead … We’ve lost so many great warriors. So many friends.”
After a moment, Tarik seemed to find some inner reservoir of courage. He lifted his head resolutely and led them toward Pojalo’s hut. Rollan heard a rush of wind and felt Essix’s familiar talons on his shoulder. He stroked the bird’s clawed leg. She surprised him by giving an affectionate nip in response.
“It’s the custom in this region that a visitor be introduced to the chief by another member of the village,” Tarik said. “It’s a wise practice, since it gets the community invested in one another’s affairs and prevents outsiders from manipulating any one villager. But I don’t know how we’ll get an introduction to the chief, with Chinwe gone.”
Something sharp jabbed Rollan in the back and he jumped. “Aiee! Hey!”
When Rollan whirled, he saw a small figure with now-familiar solemn eyes blinking up at him.
“I’ll introduce you,” Irtike declared. She swept her braids back from her thin face and smoothed her simple wrap over her narrow hips.
Conor chuckled. “Looks like you’ve made a new friend.”
Rollan glared at Conor. He opened his mouth to speak, had so many things he wanted to say about girls who snuck up on people and jabbed them with spears.
“Thank you, Irtike,” Tarik said, intervening. “We are honored.”
Irtike nodded, then loped gracefully to the chief’s doorway. She called something in the local language, then listened for a response. After a male voice shouted back, Irtike pulled aside the heavy grass curtain and ushered them inside.
The hut, so unassuming from the outside, was actually very spacious. A cooking pit was at the center, an iron pot steaming away over hot embers, giving off a wonderful aroma of greens and cream and nuts. Banded chests were stacked at one side, and at the other was a long table set for a simple meal. At the far end of the hut was a man Rollan assumed was the new chieftain, Abeke’s father, Pojalo. He wore a length of beaded red fabric wrapped around his head. Beside him was a girl who was unmistakably Abeke’s sister.
Abeke had once said Soama was the more beautiful sister, but that’s not how Rollan would have put it. Lips lined with kohl, a beaded headpiece flashing on her forehead, the girl simply looked more … precious than Abeke. It wasn’t a quality Rollan particularly admired.
Irtike whispered to Pojalo, and he nodded gravely in return, the scowl on his face not lifting. When he gestured to a low wicker stool at his side, Irtike shyly ducked her head and sat on it.
“Greetings,” Tarik said. “We are —”
Soama made a tsk, and Tarik fell silent. They all stared at one another. Awkward, thought Rollan, while Irtike stared furiously into the ground. Taking a cue from her, Rollan began scrutinizing the dusty wicker mat below his feet.
Pojalo finally spoke. “You may state your business now.”
“I am Tarik, and these young warriors are Conor and Rollan. We are Greencloaks, and come with tidings of your daughter. Abeke —”
“And those are the Great Beasts Briggan and Essix,” Pojalo interrupted. “My daughter summoned a Great Beast too. Uraza the Leopard.”
“She certainly did,” Tarik said, a strained smile on his face. “And it ushered in an extraordinary time. Actually,” he continued, “I would like to speak to you about your daughter.”
But Pojalo raised a finger to stop him. “When my daughter summoned Uraza,” he said, “it marked her as special. Our tribe has been without a Rain Dancer for years, and we had hopes that Abeke would serve as our next. But she was taken by the Greencloaks. By you.”
“Excuse me,” Rollan said. Even though he wasn’t a Greencloak, himself — no way was he going to spend his whole life obeying someone else’s orders — Rollan was irked that Pojalo had gotten it so wrong. Abeke had not been taken by the Greencloaks. It had been Zerif, masquerading as a Greencloak.
Rollan was about to say so when Pojalo held up a hand to silence him. It only made Rollan want to talk louder, of course, but then he saw Irtike make an almost unnoticeable “back off” gesture with her fingers. Remembering the sharp stick she’d pressed so confidently to his jugular, Rollan obeyed her.
“If we’d had a Rain Dancer, we would have had rain,” Pojalo said. “But you Greencloaks took Abeke from us, and so our drought continues. Our crops have failed. We were famished and weak when the Conquerors attacked, and we soon lost our previous chief, as well as our Greencloak, Chinwe. If you are as concerned as you claim about the Conquerors dominating Nilo, perhaps you should not have taken the one person who might have kept us strong. We are a proud people, but it’s only a matter of time until we will have to submit, like so many others. I will keep Okaihee independent as long as I can. But if you hope to save Nilo, then all I can say is that you have gone about it foolishly so far.”
Why hadn’t Pojalo asked about Abeke yet? Rollan opened his mouth to speak, but Conor beat him to the question. “Perhaps, my lord, you would like to hear of your daughter?” he asked.
Pojalo glared at Conor. “You use polite titles, boy, but in Nilo it is the chieftain who decides who will speak when.”
Rollan had seen Conor scolded by nobility before. Back in Trunswick, the young lord Devin had once silenced him with a similar tone, and Rollan had watched his meek, gentle friend recoil from the rebuke, his face full of shame. But a lot had changed since Trunswick. Now, Conor’s face flushed with anger and his eyes glinted. Even Briggan’s hackles were raised.
“You have permission to speak,” the chieftain said, gesturing to Tarik.
“We bear news of Abeke, when you wish to hear it,” Tarik said, speaking carefully. “But right now, you should know that we witnessed an elephant break the village’s palisade. Surely you heard the noise.”
Soama and her father exchanged a look. “This is not the first time we have experienced such a disturbance,” Pojalo said. “But there are few able adults left in Okaihee, and I cannot rally them until morning. We must hope that the Conquerors will not take advantage of the breach before we can repair it.”
“I fear,” Tarik said, “that the elephant could be here precisely as part of a plan to attack your village. Wherever there are Conquerors, there are also animals who have been force-fed Bile and turned into monsters. Perhaps this elephant is th
eir puppet. It seems likely that it broke the palisade precisely so the enemy force could enter after it.”
Pojalo chuckled. “Oh yes, that elephant was indeed being controlled. But not by the Conquerors. You know less of the current situation in Nilo than you think, stranger.”
Rollan couldn’t resist speaking up. “What do you mean?”
Pojalo sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to tell you. We have had … numerous animals entering our village lately. They always arrive from the north and leave toward the south. Any wild creature that was thinking straight would go around, but they are single-minded in their path. We cleared out the huts from the center of the village so they could have an unobstructed course and do less damage. The Conquerors are a bad enough problem, but that elephant was not sent by them. It was not possessed by Bile.”
“Who, then, is behind this strange animal behavior?” Tarik asked.
Pojalo hung his head. It was Soama who spoke, her voice both proud and faint, like she’d once had much poise but had been brought low by recent times. “They say he was the first creature to settle in Nilo, that he has been here for eons, since long before the age of man. He is as old as the savannah itself. A mighty titan, a giant lion who lives in a secluded oasis in the southern desert. He hates all humans.” The girl’s voice dropped low. “Cabaro the Lion.”
“The Great Beast,” Conor mouthed.
“It is Cabaro that we search for!” Tarik said. “We need to secure his talisman before the Conquerors can get it first. We’ve recently learned that they mean to use the talismans to free Kovo the Ape from his prison. If they succeed, then whatever hope we have of resisting the Conquerors will be dashed.”
“Interesting,” Pojalo said, leaning forward as he weighed the words in his mouth. “What do you intend?”
“Our passage through Nilo has been difficult, and we have already lost precious allies. We need your aid to get farther, and someone who can help us negotiate with the tribes that we pass. We need someone who knows this terrain. We were hoping Chinwe could come with us —”
Rise and Fall Page 2
