by Brandon Mull
“Next we’ll try a physical exercise,” Tarik announced. “All three of you will go to the far wall.” He indicated the wall he meant. “You’ll run across the room and touch this other wall as high as you can, then run back and strike the suspended bag with all your might. Ask your animals to enhance your efforts in any way they can.”
Meilin surveyed the canvas bag hanging from a beam near the far wall. Suspended by a chain, the bulging sack was taller than her and looked heavy.
“Will we do it at the same time?” Meilin asked.
“Yes,” Tarik said. “The first to reach the bag will strike it first, and so forth. We’ll evaluate your speed, the height of your leap, and the force with which you hit the bag. Go ahead and take a moment with your animals.”
Meilin approached Jhi. The panda sat on her hind legs and watched her serenely. Jhi licked one of her paws. The relaxed attitude did little to boost Meilin’s confidence.
“Can you help me with this?” Meilin asked. “Can you give me extra speed? Extra energy? I’ve never felt that from you. This might be a good time to start.”
The panda cocked her head as if mildly perplexed.
“Look,” Meilin whispered harshly. “Every minute we are stuck here in training is another minute that my father and his army have to struggle without us. I know you have power — you’re a Great Beast. So I need you to help me, because every delay helps our enemy. Do you understand? We’re not playing a game here. We are at war.”
Did Meilin sense a degree of understanding in that unblinking silver gaze? Or was it imagined?
The boys were heading to the wall, so Meilin trotted to join them. Her body was in good condition. Even though it had been a few weeks since a formal training session with the masters, she had engaged in regular routines while traveling to maintain her reflexes and endurance. The boys were taller, but she wasn’t slow, and she knew how to deliver vicious blows.
Briggan paced along one of the side walls, watching the three with a predator’s intensity. Essix flew up to roost on the beam above the suspended bag. Jhi sat where Meilin had left her, looking on silently.
Rollan smirked at her. “Did you have to run much in your palace?”
“I didn’t live in a palace,” Meilin replied. It was true, although she realized her home would probably look like a palace to Rollan or Conor. Assuming it still stood.
“I run fine,” Conor volunteered. “I haven’t done it much lately. How about you, Rollan?”
“Orphans have to run well,” he replied. “A slow orphan ends up in jail.”
“Weren’t you just in jail?” Meilin asked innocently.
“Are you ready?” Tarik called.
One Greencloak observer stood by them against the starting wall. Another was positioned by the wall where they would jump. And the third waited near the hanging sack. All three kids touched the wall behind them.
“Get ready,” Tarik said. “And . . . go!”
Meilin pushed off and ran as fast as she could. In her mind, she asked Jhi for greater speed, feeling somewhat ridiculous. It was hard to imagine extra speed coming from the sluggish panda. With swift spirit animals, Conor and Rollan had more cause for faith.
Meilin ran well, but as she approached the wall for the jump, Rollan was a few paces ahead, and Conor was about even with her. The dash felt like nothing beyond a regular sprint.
Meilin considered the jump. If the boys tried to leap high, it might slow their turn. If she focused instead on turning around quickly, she might gain ground and perhaps make it first to the hanging bag. Then again, if the jump counted for a third of her score, a weak jump might guarantee last place even if she hit the bag hard.
Ahead of her, Rollan slowed a little and jumped, slapping the wall as high as he could. It was a respectable jump, but nothing extraordinary. Meilin decided to go for it.
As she leaped, Meilin felt a strange surge of energy, and kicked off the wall to increase the height of her jump. Conor sprang beside her, and although he was taller, she slapped the wall higher.
After landing she turned and ran hard. Conor was behind her now. Rollan was a good four paces ahead and going strong.
A piercing howl cut through the room. Briggan. Though Meilin tried to ignore the noise, goose bumps rose on her arm.
Conor streaked past Meilin and passed Rollan as well. He reached the bag several steps ahead of Rollan, jumped, and slammed into it with his shoulder. He rebounded roughly, spinning to the floor, and the bag only jounced a little.
Meilin realized she needed to take care how she hit the bag. It was clearly heavy. She would treat it like she was striking a wall.
Rollan threw a punch at the bag as he ran by. The bag absorbed the impact as if it were nothing. At least Conor had moved it.
Begging for energy from Jhi, Meilin left the ground and kicked with both legs. The massive bag swayed with the impact, but not a lot. She broke her fall with her hands and rose to her feet, panting.
“Are you all right, Conor?” Tarik asked.
He rose gingerly, rubbing his shoulder. “I’m okay.”
“You might have warned us it was full of rocks,” Rollan complained, massaging his wrist.
“Sand,” Tarik clarified. “Thoughts?”
“Not much beyond their natural talents,” the female Greencloak said.
“Except toward the end of Conor’s run,” one of the other Greencloaks pointed out.
“How did that feel?” Tarik asked.
“When Briggan howled?” Conor asked. “I don’t know — it was like I had the wind at my back. I felt more aggressive. I wasn’t planning to ram the sack, but it felt right.” He grimaced. “Until I hit it.”
The Greencloak near the jumping wall spoke up. “Meilin may have had a little boost when she jumped.”
“Did you feel it, Meilin?” Tarik asked.
“Maybe a little,” she replied. “To be honest, I mostly felt on my own.”
“If the panda had helped, she would have gone slower,” Rollan joked.
“You certainly punched like a bird,” Meilin shot back. “It was hard as a feather.”
“Whoa,” Rollan said, raising both hands. “Better not pick on the panda.”
“No squabbling,” Tarik ordered. “Your relationships with your animals are individual in nature. This isn’t a contest. I mainly wanted to make each of you more aware of your spirit animal and how you might learn to help one another.”
Meilin fought a stab of anger. The training exercises had only emphasized the worthlessness of her relationship with Jhi. If this was all the panda had to offer, she had made a huge mistake leaving Zhong. How could she have abandoned her father and her homeland for this?
“Are we done?” Conor asked.
Tarik exchanged nods with the other Greencloaks. “We’ve seen enough for now.”
“What does it look like when you hit the bag?” Rollan challenged.
Tarik glanced at the other Greencloaks, then at the kids. “You’d like a demonstration?”
Meilin sighed softly. The last thing she wanted after her lackluster showing was to watch an expert in action. But the boys encouraged him.
With a flash, a sleek otter appeared.
Rollan choked back a laugh. “Your spirit animal is an otter?”
“Lumeo is more clown than beast,” Tarik explained.
The otter rolled into a series of acrobatics, its long body twisting and twirling like the tail of a kite. Conor clapped.
“All right,” Tarik told his beast indulgently. “We all know you’re the biggest showoff here. Do you mind lending me some help for a moment?”
The otter jolted upright to attention and then watched as Tarik walked to the wall where the others had started their race. Meilin gasped when he started running. Nobody could accelerate so quickly! When he reached the wall, he kicked against it three times, gaining altitude with each step, before slapping a spot more than twice as high as anyone else had reached. As he fell, Tarik pushed off fr
om the wall, did a backflip, and landed running. When he reached the hanging bag, his punch made it leap and quake. Then he turned away from the swinging bag.
“Amazing!” Conor said.
Rollan clapped as well, and gave a whistle.
Meilin decided she had better offer some applause or she would look like a poor sport. The display really had been quite impressive. She would never have guessed that the tall warrior could move with such speed and agility.
Tarik extended a hand to his otter. “Lumeo deserves the accolades. Without him, I could not have done any of that. We’re a team, just as you are with your animals. Explore that connection, and you will be rewarded.”
“Impressive,” Meilin conceded. “But I feel like we’re getting distracted. Zhong is under attack. People are dying. Who knows how many cities have fallen by now? I’ve come a long way in good faith, but I’m starting to wonder how my presence in Amaya is helping the war in Zhong. When will we learn what you Greencloaks want from us? I didn’t cross Erdas to run races and kick sacks of sand.”
“Soon,” Tarik promised. “Olvan is finalizing his plans. You three have no idea how vital you are. We have to use you correctly. And you must try your best to be ready.”
Tarik and the other Greencloaks departed. Meilin avoided further conversation with Conor and Rollan by heading directly to Jhi, who had rolled over onto her back, legs splayed out ridiculously.
“Let’s go back to our room,” she told the panda.
Jhi looked up expectantly.
Meilin raised her hand. “You want a lift? Guess what? As a reward for all your help, you get to walk today.”
Meilin started toward her room, not caring whether the panda followed or not.
8 THE ISLAND
BY THE GLOW OF A LARGE YELLOW MOON, ABEKE CREPT along the rooftop behind Uraza, breathing softly. From her high vantage, she could see the lagoon where their ship had docked. The warm, humid air carried the rich smell of jungle foliage, mingled with the salty tang of the sea.
According to Shane, they were on an island in the Gulf of Amaya, on the far side of the ocean from Nilo. She had secretly explored part of it on two previous outings, confirming that it was at least a peninsula. Since she had been asleep when the ship made port, tonight she would see for herself that she was truly on an island. Not that she doubted Shane — it just gave her something to do. She had never been on an island before.
Uraza leaped down from the roof to the top of a wall. It was not a serious drop, but the landing was barely three handspans wide. As Abeke paused, Uraza looked back at her, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Abeke felt a steadying surge of ability. The tension departed from her muscles, leaving her relaxed and limber. Her balance steadied, and she concentrated on the night sounds of the island — creatures scurrying, the call of a bird, and a hushed conversation below, perhaps on a balcony, perhaps on the ground. Her vision sharpened in the low light, and she breathed the layered scents in the air.
Abeke landed lightly on the wall, then hurried to where it joined the outer wall of the complex. After climbing a little, she dangled from the wall and dropped to the sandy ground.
Nobody had seen her escape — not that it mattered. If she got caught, the only penalty would be the sting of failure. She was hungry for practice. Her training with Shane was useful but artificial. These nighttime excursions with Uraza felt much more authentic.
Abeke followed Uraza into a ferny shadow world of tall trees with enormous leaves. She was not used to such lush vegetation, to vines and creepers, or to so many trees crowded together, but supposed the wetness in the air explained why plants thrived here. Since her arrival, it had already rained twice — short, hard downfalls that came on with little warning and ended just as swiftly. Abeke wished that she could send some of the abundant water to her village.
The stronghold where they were staying disappeared behind them. Situated just inland from the sheltered inlet where the whale-towed ships were anchored, the walled outpost contained the only buildings she had found on the island.
“Uraza, this way,” Abeke said, pointing. The leopard had been veering toward the highlands they had already explored. “I want to see the far side of the island.”
The big cat moved off in the desired direction. The rustling of shrubs and the cries of birds did little to disturb Abeke. She would never have ventured into this jungle alone at night, but with Uraza at her side, she felt invincible.
They prowled unhurriedly, whispering through the foliage like ghosts. Falling into an almost trancelike state, Abeke mimicked Uraza, pausing when she paused, advancing when she advanced. Through their bond, Abeke studied the leopard’s techniques while borrowing her sharper senses and innate stealth.
After some time, they emerged from the trees to climb a long slope that grew steeper as they followed it. The bushes were smaller here, affording Abeke a long view of the dark forest behind her, the lights of the little outpost reduced to orange sparks near the lagoon.
From the bare ridgetop, Abeke got her first view of the farthest side of the island. The opposite slope descended sharply to the sea. By the moonlight, she could discern the coastline, partly shielded from the open water by long sandbars. There was no other land in sight. Her eyes were drawn to a pale beach in a certain cove, due to the presence of two bonfires. To blaze so brightly at this distance, the fires had to be an impressive size. Figures moved on the beach, dark specks occasionally illuminated by the firelight.
“Look down there,” Abeke said. “Who could that be?”
Crouching low, Uraza watched warily beside her.
Abeke squinted, straining her sight. “Hard to tell from up here. They’re a long way from the outpost. Could it be pirates? Shane said all ships have to watch out for pirates lately.”
Uraza remained still beside her.
Abeke wondered if Shane’s people knew they were sharing the island. Could the figures on the beach pose a threat? It seemed unlikely. There were dozens of people at the sturdy outpost, many of them armed soldiers and most with spirit animals. Three big ships waited in the lagoon. Shane had mentioned others coming soon, distinguished visitors. Could it be them on the beach? Wouldn’t visitors come directly to the outpost?
“I don’t like this,” Abeke murmured. “I don’t want to risk anybody sneaking up on Shane and his people. Think we could get close without being spotted?”
In reply, Uraza flicked her tail and started down the slope toward the cove. Abeke followed.
Soon they passed beneath trees again. Abeke took extra care to move silently. This was no longer a game. The people on the beach could be dangerous.
A balmy breeze ruffled the surrounding leaves, bringing the faint smell of smoke. Abeke welcomed the breeze — it would further disguise any sounds they made.
After a considerable hike, the smoke grew stronger and Abeke could hear distant conversations. Then, from up ahead, a shriek pierced the night. A second shriek came, less strident, followed by a third. Abeke held her breath, kneeling down beside Uraza. The cries stopped. The shrieks had not sounded human, nor did they match any animal she could think of, but they had sounded desperate.
Uraza started forward again. They advanced more cautiously than ever, a little at a time, finally coming within sight of the beach. Together, Abeke and Uraza crept as close as they dared, gazing out from the last of the dense foliage beneath the shadows of the trees.
The twin bonfires burned wide and tall, like small huts accidentally set ablaze. By the rippling light, Abeke saw six large cages, and perhaps ten men. Four of the cages contained monstrous beasts: one was feathery, some gargantuan bird of prey; another had quills like a porcupine but was nearly the size of a buffalo; a third held a huge coiled snake, probably some kind of constrictor; and the fourth housed what appeared to be a muscular rat big enough to bring down an antelope.
An ordinary dog paced inside one of the other cages, looking small and scared compared to the neighboring monstrosities. The sixt
h cage stood empty.
A man in a hooded cloak approached the empty cage with a rat in his hand. The rodent was big, but nothing like the unnatural rat nearby. “Let’s double the amount on this one and check for differences,” he said.
“Large or small, a dose is a dose,” a bald man protested.
“We have plenty,” the hooded man countered. “We lost the parrot, so we have an extra cage. Let’s find out firsthand.”
Abeke had to strain, but she felt sure that she heard the words correctly. The hooded man produced a waterskin and upended it over the mouth of the rat in his other hand. The rat squirmed, tail whipping from side to side.
“That’s enough,” one of the other men growled.
“Cage it,” another man demanded.
“Not yet,” the hooded man said, capping the waterskin. “If I’m too hasty, it will run out between the bars.” He held out the rat for the other men to see. It wriggled in his grasp, seeming to swell. It began squirming harder, screeching in pain.
The hooded man turned and stuffed the rat between the bars of the empty cage. The rodent writhed on the cage floor, new flesh bursting out beneath its fur. It let out a tortured shriek that Abeke recognized. It squealed one more time, then lunged against the bars, its enlarged body bloated with muscle. The rat tested the bars several times, rocking the cage and kicking up sand before settling down.
Abeke could hardly trust her eyes. What would Shane think when she told him about this? Would he believe her? She glanced over at Uraza. “You’re my only witness,” she whispered. “You see this, don’t you? It isn’t natural. What did they give it?”
Uraza only looked her way for an instant, then returned her attention to the beach.
“What did I tell you?” the bald man said. “A dose is a dose. The amount don’t matter.”
“This one is a little larger,” the hooded man said. “And if you ask me, the transformation took less time.”
“Waste of effort. Let’s finish this.”
“This last one should be simplest,” the hooded man said. “Admiral is well-trained. He may even remain so after the Bile.”
