Sora's Quest (Cat's Eye #1) by T. L. Shreffler
Sora approached the Panthera and stopped a respectful distance away, turning to her long-hated court manners. I guess they're good for something. Who knew that she would actually use them again? She made an elegant bow — a curtsy would be a bit hard without skirts. She finished it with a flourish and clasped her hands before her, waiting expectantly. She didn't know whether to make eye contact or not; on one hand, it was a sign of her own heritage as a noblewoman. On the other hand, she knew it was dangerous to look a wild animal in the eye.
The Warlord gave a dry chuckle and motioned for her to step closer. His yellow claws, as long as a hawk's talons, looked dangerous and threatening in the flickering candlelight.
"Welcome to my domain." The voice was deep and croaky. "This is the last Catlin colony, and you are the only human to have seen it in a hundred years." He paused, as though waiting for Sora to say something. She couldn't think of anything appropriate, which didn't matter anyway, as her throat had closed up again. Her heart was hammering — she was, quite honestly, terrified. How did one speak to a Panthera? Her words could make the difference between freedom or an execution. The only thing keeping her on her feet was the fact that she didn't want to think about what might happen if she fainted.
After a few moments of awkward silence, the Panthera said, "Our colony was founded centuries ago. We sought refuge from the human world. Humans have since defiled the land of our ancestors, the land beyond the swamp. What is the phrase? You breed like rats.” The Panthera looked her over again. “We want no dealings with humans, yet now you are here. I'd like to know why. And how."
Sora still didn't know what to say. Breed like rats? She supposed it might be true, but she still felt insulted. Humans were not so bad. From what she could tell, the Catlins and Wolfies were much more vicious.
The Warlord spoke before she could. "Answer me, human! The dark one and the Wolfies were far more entertaining than this! Say something, or your presence is of no use here!"
No use? So they were going to kill her if she didn't answer. Sora swallowed, organized her thoughts, and found the courage to look the beast in the eye. "We're not here to trespass," she said, and realized just how lame that sounded. She winced. "Or attack you, or anything like that. We're just trying to get through the swamp, that's all." She hoped that was good enough.
The Panthera narrowed those great, slitted eyes. "Is that so? We found a map on your companions. We do not allow maps of this region. You are a traveler looking to build a town.”
“No!” Sora said, alarmed. “No, not at all! We're just passing through. Once we leave the swamp, we'll never return, I swear.”
“But how?" the Panthera demanded. "How did you make it this deep? Maps do not matter. How did you bypass the spell? It should be impossible for you to travel this far into the swamp."
Sora stared at him, eyes wide, and opened her mouth to speak. She couldn't. Once again she felt the alien presence of her Cat's Eye rise up. A voice seemed to whisper no, there is danger here. She had been about to tell the Panthera everything, but now she thought better of it.
"What are you planning to do with us?" she demanded instead, the words coming unbidden.
The giant Catlin was silent. The atmosphere of the room grew fragile. Sora sensed that she was walking on a thin line. Then, with no warning, the Warlord threw back his head and broke into yowling laughter. "Well said, human, well said... boldness is greatly respected by my race! I shall answer your question as a reward. The Wolfies will be put to the blade tomorrow evening... but I am not unjust. I take it that your intentions are honest. You and your mate shall be set free... as long as you do not return."
Sora's eyes opened in alarm and fear. They can't kill Burn and Dorian! She opened her mouth to protest, then paused, struck by the second half of the Panthera's sentence. She heard herself squeak, "What do you mean — my mate?"
The Panthera frowned at her, a terrifying sight, and shifted in his chair. "Is the dark one not your protector?"
Sora was silenced by confusion. Her mind turned a full circle, mulling over the statement, taking it one piece at a time. Then she slowly grasped what he meant. Why, the Panthera was referring to Crash! She remembered the first Catlin she had spoken to, who had said something similar. Perhaps “protector” had a different meaning in the Catlin language. As I recall, he also called me 'lucky,' she thought with some humor. Ironic, to be sure.
She had to correct this misunderstanding before Crash caught wind. It would be all too humiliating. "Um, we're not... like that," Sora said lamely, her face heating at the very thought.
The Panthera stared at her. She wished she could read his expression — he looked hungry, maybe. "Perhaps you don't know the meaning of the word?" he finally murmured. "The dark one implied that he was your protector, but perhaps I was mistaken. When males and females become bonded, we call them protectors and providers. It is a sacred bond, respected by our species. It is unholy and cruel to separate a protector from his provider, and vice versa. You're sure this is a misunderstanding?"
Sora didn't know what Crash was playing at, but if he had implied as much to the Panthera, then he probably had a good reason for it. "Okay," she muttered. "Well, maybe he is. I'm still not sure I understand. Um... he has... uh... protected me before." There, that's technically true.
The Catlin Warlord seemed satisfied by this, and nodded. "Good, then you will be released as planned. Now answer my questions — how did you get past the spell?"
Sora swallowed and searched for a good excuse. She couldn't say anything about her Cat's Eye; she didn't know why, but the necklace had planted the thought firmly in her mind. It felt like a very bad idea. He might try to take it away, and then who knew what would happen to her.
Suddenly, the Warlord leaned forward in his chair so his face was close to hers. He spoke quietly, in a purr. "Here, young one. Step closer. Look into my eyes. A small female like you must be scared. Just relax... I can help you...."
Sora stepped back at the sudden change. She was alarmed, suspicious — then she made the mistake of looking into those green eyes. It only took one glance, one momentary look, and suddenly she couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't begin to comprehend what was happening.
The Panthera's eyes seemed bottomless, vast; they sucked away the entire room. She wasn't sure where she was anymore, couldn't feel the ground beneath her or see the walls. Just to fall into those eyes would be paradise; to drift away from the world and its problems, no more secrets or dangers or troubles. Oh yes, she had secrets, too many of them. Secrets from Crash, Burn, and Dorian. Secrets from her father — dead now — and from herself. Selfish motives. Lies. Sora found herself suddenly watching her life rewind, seeing all that had happened, relearning all of the information.
And suddenly she was falling, stars passing her, whizzing by at unknown speeds. She had never fallen so fast before. The lights were bright, dazzling — but there was also sound. Music? No, a dull chatter. The stars seemed to be talking to her, snatches of speech. You have to listen. Listen to the stars, and they will tell you all of the secrets.... Their voices were getting louder and louder the faster she fell, ringing in her ears. Each star was saying something different, trying to get her attention; she thought she recognized some of their voices: kitchen maids, yard workers, servants she had passed in the hall... her nanny, her father booming over his desk. The roaring grew and grew until it broke into a sound like a consuming wave — a sound that was startlingly familiar, both welcomed and dreaded.
Sleigh bells.
Sora blinked her eyes.
She was staring into the scarred face of the Warlord, and she would have had to be blind to miss the fury in his expression. His eyes turned hard and no longer held their deep look. It had been a spell, some other magic she had never seen or heard of before. He had seen right through her, read her mind, something like that. How much had she given away? In sudden fear, she stepped back.
"Aaargh!" he growled, rising from his chair to a h
He snarled, and she thought he might look deranged. "It has come back to haunt me! Why?" the Panthera roared. "Why must it follow me wherever I go? And the bearer, always the same, with those eyes, those blue, perfect blue eyes...!" With a growl he lunged at her, moving too fast for Sora to react. He smashed into her, slammed her into the ground, the full weight of the Catlin Warlord on her. Sora tried to gasp, to cry out, but she couldn't breathe. The beast hissed and frothed at the mouth. "Where is it? Give it to me now! Give it to me or I shall kill you!" Those giant hands tore at her, ripping her shirt, scraping her skin. "Where do you hide it? Where does it hide?"
Sora was fighting her fear and pain. The Warlord's claws raked down her side and she gasped, blood drenching her shirt. She was either going to faint or die. "What?" she managed through clenched teeth, still struggling against the beast on top of her.
"The Cat's Eye! You foolish human, give it to me!" He leapt up and grabbed her by the waist, his claws biting deep into the place between her ribs and hip bone, drawing more blood from the wound. Her shirt was in shreds, ripped up by the Catlin's claws, and her necklace dangled in the open, fully exposed. The Panthera's eyes caught on it — his mouth open, heaving — eyes wide, he reached for the stone....
But the Cat's Eye didn't want to be touched. No, not at all. As the fingers came within a few inches of the necklace, she felt the stone give out an angry buzz. It started to crackle and pop with energy. With a hiss, the Panthera dropped her to the ground, and Sora hit hard — but the Cat's Eye wasn't done. Little strands of yellow electricity shot through the air and wove their way around him, followed by a brilliant green flash. The Warlord was thrown back and skidded across the floor, rumpling the carpet and knocking over several candle holders. Half the light in the room was snuffed out.
When he had stopped tumbling, the Panthera looked at Sora, pure rage lighting his eyes. Then he smiled — a feral look, something she would never forget. "Hah! Good work, human,” he growled. “I expected far less from a little girl.”
Sora crawled back along the floor, dragging herself toward the door, her hand pressed against the shallow wound on her hip.
"But you shall not get away! Oh no, I will kill you like I should have years ago! Ha, haa! GUARDS!"
Years ago? What did he mean? Or was it just the ramblings of an insane beast? There was no time to wonder. The guards scrambled in and saluted, then grabbed Sora and hauled her off the floor; the bandages slipped from her waist and coiled on the ground.
"I want all four killed tomorrow evening! I want them good and dead!"
The guards nodded and flipped their tails in a strange salute. Then they escorted her roughly out, lifting her when she lost her footing.
Sora was dragged down a series of narrow bridges. She was in too much pain to pay attention to where she was going or if there were any spectators. She felt dizzy, shocked, pain stabbing through her with each breath. She could feel blood dripping from the wound in her side. The guards took her back to the original tree, which she assumed was their prison; through the door, down the narrow hallway, past her original room and down a flight of steps, deeper into the tree. They finally paused next to two cells. One had metal bars along the side where Burn and Dorian sat resolutely, neither looking at each other. Sora tried to call out to the Wolfies but found she could only gasp from the pain in her side and ribs. Dorian glanced up at the sound and smiled slightly, but she noticed his face seemed extra pale and there were bruises along his cheekbone.
Burn didn't look so good either; his arm was bleeding heavily, stopped up by a piece of torn cloth that he had probably gotten by himself, and he had a head wound with a long cut leading down the side of his face. He didn't look up at her as they passed, and that worried her.
At the end of the corridor was a wooden door with iron grating. The guards stopped there, one fumbling with the keys while the other held her up none too gently. The door opened and Sora was thrown inside; she hit the wall with a loud thud and fell to the hard, cold ground. With a groan, she pulled herself to her feet, her head spinning. She hobbled over to the corner, nauseated, barely able to stay upright. Her stomach lurched. A moment later she threw up, both from fear and leftover poison.
Sora gave a few leftover heaves, but there hadn't been a lot in her stomach, mostly bile. Classy. She wiped her mouth and wished for a glass of water. Then she backed away from the corner, numb, cold. Fear flooded her, filling her veins with fire and ice. This was all her fault. Now they were going to die. Why couldn't she have been smarter and somehow saved their lives? I'm so stupid. I'm useless! There was no escape, no way out — and how was she supposed to tell her companions? How could she look them in the eye? Now we're all going to die just because of this stupid necklace!
Suddenly a hand landed on her shoulder. Sora yelped in surprise, jumping into the air.
Then a quiet voice said, "Be calm."
Sora whirled around. Crash stood behind her, quiet and subdued. Before she could think about it, she threw her arms around him, hiding her face in his shirt. Sobbed. Silent tears ran down her cheeks, springing forth like dew drops, summoned by her fear and panic. I'm crying on an assassin, she thought, and perhaps at another time it would have been embarrassing, but now their differences seemed stupid and petty. They had lived opposite lives, but they would be sharing the same death. It was all over. She would have to tell him the truth.
"It's all my fault," she muttered. "All my fault, all my fault...."
"What?" he asked, one hand resting stiffly on her shoulder. "What are you talking about?"
"My Cat's Eye!" Sora broke down again, sobbing. "He thought you were my protector, Crash, so he had decided to let us go. Then he saw the Cat's Eye... and now... now we're all going to die!" She wiped her eyes and let out an angry sigh. "And it's all my fault!"
Crash's hand had been lightly feathering over her shoulders, but now it stilled. In fact, his whole body became tense. "What?" he murmured.
Sora had known he would be mad. She had let the team down, had dug them deeper into the hole. He had every right to be totally enraged at her. Maybe the assassin would do them all a favor and kill her right now.
"I didn't mean it to happen," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"Never mind that," he caught her off guard. "The Panthera thought you were my provider? He bought it?"
Sora pulled back from the dark man and looked up at his shadowed eyes, her mind blank with shock. "Uh, yeah," she said, suddenly aware of just how close they were standing. "I told him differently, of course, but — uh...."
"Shh, don't say anything," he whispered. Sora's mouth was open slightly, about to finish her sentence, but his expression killed the words in her throat.
The sound of voices abruptly echoed down the hall, a language filled with short yowls, purrs, and growls. Two Catlin guards walked past, talking, then stopped in front of their cell. Sora glanced over and witnessed one guard looking in — he gave them an evil smile. He then turned and said something to his partner. The other one, an albino, also looked in and grinned. Sora took to mind the way she and Crash were standing. Rumors were already spreading, and she realized what the guards must think. Protector and provider? Her gut reacted violently at this — she thought she might throw up again. She tried to pull away from the assassin but abruptly he yanked her back, holding her forcefully against him. He leaned near her ear and whispered, "We're getting out of here. Play along, or we're both dead."
As Crash talked, he slowly wrapped his arms around her and started to nuzzle her neck. Sora turned scarlet. By all means he could have been kissing her, and she had never been kissed before, and she certainly hadn't realized how sensitive the neck was. It kind of tickled. She might have liked it, the feeling of his breath, the closeness of him — if it hadn't been Crash,
But they had to put on a show. Sora felt awkward and clumsy, but she tilted her head back and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. Leaned into him. She hoped she was acting realistically; she had no previous experience in such a situation. She made a little sound in her throat, hoping it was enough.
Apparently it worked. A moment later, a metal spear rattled against the bars of the cell.
"Aye, break it up, you two! None of that!"
Crash nuzzled a bit harder, adding more force to it. She thought she felt his lips against her skin. His hands slid down to her hips. Her neck felt sensitized, warm, practically sizzling; now she was legitimately breathless. This is a killer! her inner voice said. Remember, you don't really like him. It didn't seem to matter, though. Her body was still responding. Was it all an act? He seemed very involved, completely focused, his lips and his hands and his body so close.... She didn't know anymore.
Then a sound met her ears — chink-chink. Keys jingled in the lock.
The door opened.
Immediately Crash let her go. He dodged across the room and rammed into the albino guard, moving too fast for anyone to follow. By the sheer force of the impact, he broke the albino's ribs. Then he struck the beast's throat, smashing its wind pipe. The Catlin collapsed to the floor with a painful wheeze. The next guard had enough time to grunt in alarm — then its spear was thrust forcefully into its stomach, blood spilling across the ground. It staggered back, toppling into the hallway.
Sora stared in disbelief. She felt sick again at the sight of the mess; the blood was spreading from the bodies, creating a wide puddle. It was hard to believe that the assassin had just killed two giant beast with little more than his bare hands.