Tiger's Quest (43 page)

He stared at it incredulously. “What did you do, Kelsey?”

“You’ll see. Put it on.”

“You said parachute. You think we’re going to parachute out of here?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ah, come on. Tigers aren’t afraid of heights, are they?”

“This isn’t about heights. This is about being extremely high up in a tree and hurtling our bodies into oblivion based on a strange fabric that you now claim is a parachute.”

“It is, and it will work.”

“
Kelsey
.”

“Have faith, like the Ocean Teacher said. The Scarf does other cool stuff too. I’ll tell you about it on the way back. Kishan,
trust
me.”

“I trust
you
; I just don’t trust the fabric.”

“Well, I’m going to jump, so are you coming with me or not?”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn? Were you this stubborn with Ren?”

“Ren had to deal with stubbornness
and
sarcasm, so consider yourself lucky.”

“Yeah, but at least he got some kissing for his effort.”

“You got a few kisses yourself.”

“Not voluntary ones.”

“True, you stole them.”

“Stolen kisses are better than none.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Are you just starting an argument with me to chicken out?”

“No. I’m not chickening out. Fine. If you insist on doing this, please explain to me how it works.”

“Easy. We strap ourselves in, jump, clear the tree, and pull the ripcord. At least I hope that’s how it works,” I mumbled softly.

“
Kelsey
.”

“Don’t worry. It’s the way we’re supposed to get down. I know we’ll make it.”

“Right.”

He strapped himself in while I put our regular backpack on backward against my chest. Then I approached Kishan.

“Umm . . . you’re too tall for me. Maybe I can stand on a taller branch.”

I looked around for something to stand on, but Kishan wrapped his hands around my waist and picked me up. He snuggled me next to his chest while I strapped myself into the other part of the Scarf’s harness.

“Er . . . thanks. Okay, so what you need to do is carry me, run, and leap off the branch. Can you manage that?”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he responded dryly. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He squeezed me close.

“One . . . two . . . three!”

Kishan ran five steps and hurled his body into the void.

T
he wind screamed around us as we plummeted freefall through the sky, spinning like Dorothy’s house in the tornado. Kishan was able to stabilize us in a face-down position. He took hold of my wrists and drew our arms out in an arc. Not a moment after we stabilized, we heard a screech overhead. An iron bird was on our tail.

Kishan lifted my left arm in the air, and we dramatically veered to the right and picked up speed. The bird followed. He lifted our right arms, and we swung left. The bird was on top of us.

Kishan screamed, “Hold on, Kells!”

He pulled our arms back to our sides and tilted our heads down. We burst forward like a bullet. The bird folded its wings and plummeted with us.

“I’m going to flip us! Try to hit it with a lightning bolt! Ready?”

I nodded, and Kishan flipped us over in the air. Our backs were now to the ground, and I had a great view of the bird’s belly. Quickly, I shot off a succession of bolts and managed to irritate the bird enough to get rid of it. I missed its eye but hit the edge of its mouth. The bird didn’t like that and flapped off, screeching angrily.

“Hold on!”

Kishan flipped us back over and steadied us once more. He pulled the ripcord, and I heard the slither of material as it was fed out into the wind. With a
snap
, the Scarf’s parachute opened to catch the air. Kishan tightened his arms around my waist as it opened and slowed our descent. Then he let go to grip the toggles and direct the steering lines.

I shouted, “Aim for the pass between the two mountains!”

A terrible screech overhead meant the birds had found us. Three of them began circling, trying to grab us with talons and beaks. I tried to use my lightning power, but it was too hard to hit their eyes from this distance. Instead, I opened the backpack and retrieved my bow.

Kishan banked left, and I drew back and let an arrow fly. It whizzed right over the head of a bird. My second arrow hit its neck and, imbued with lightning power, gave the bird a shock. It fell to the ground injured. Another bird hit us with its razor-sharp wing, sending us into a spin, but I managed to irritate it enough that it soon flew off in another direction.

The third bird was wily. It circled out of my line of vision to stay behind us as much as possible. When it attacked, it ripped a large hole in the parachute with a talon. The collapsing chute dropped us into another freefall. Kishan tried to guide us, but the wind bucked the torn canopy wildly.

Suddenly, the chute began to repair itself. Threads wove in and out and up and through the material until the Scarf looked as though it had never been damaged. As it filled with air again, Kishan yanked on the toggle to head us in the right direction.

The angry bird reappeared and managed to avoid my arrows. Its loud screeches were answered by others.

“We’ve got to land!”

“Almost there, Kells!”

At least a dozen birds were streaking their way toward us. We’d be lucky if we survived long enough to hit the ground. The flock circled, screaming, flapping, and snapping their beaks.

We were almost there. If we could just hold out for a few more seconds! A bird came right at us. It was fast, and we didn’t see it until the last moment. The creature opened its beak to snap us in two. I could almost hear the crunch of my bones as I imagined the metal bird cutting me in half.

I shot several more arrows but missed with each of them. The wind suddenly turned us, and I could do nothing from my current position. Kishan maneuvered the chute, piloting the canopy into a dangerous swoop and a hook turn. I closed my eyes and felt a jolt as our feet touched solid ground.

Kishan ran a few steps and then pushed me flat to the grass. He lay on top of me while he frantically unhooked us from the rigging.

“Keep your head down, Kells!”

The bird was right on us. It grabbed a beak full of parachute and yanked, tearing it in half. I winced listening to the horrible rip of the special material. Frustrated, the bird dropped the chute and circled around for another pass. Kishan freed himself, dug his chakram from the backpack, and threw it while I crouched down and gathered the folds of the parachute.

“Please knit back together.”

Nothing happened. Kishan threw the chakram again.

“Little help here, Kells!”

I shot off a few arrows and saw the material move from the corner of my eye. It began weaving itself back together, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. It shrunk down to its original size again.

“Hold them back for a minute, Kishan. I know what to do!”

I picked up the material and said, “Gather the winds.”

The patterns shifted, colors changed, and the Scarf grew. Twisting up and over itself, it swelled and stretched to create a large bag that fanned out in the breeze. A strong burst of wind hit my face and gusted into the bag. When it waned, another wind whipped around my body from behind and began filling the bag as well. Soon, winds from every direction were pummeling me. I felt buffeted from every direction and could barely contain the bagful of powerful winds.

Finally, the gusts died so that I could feel not even a wisp of a breeze, but the bag bucked violently. Kishan was surrounded by ten birds, barely holding them at bay with the chakram.

“Kishan! Get behind me!”

He drew back his arm and, with a powerful thrust, let loose the chakram. As it spun through the air, he ran to me, grabbed the bag on the other side, and caught the hurtling chakram just before it took off my head.

I raised an eyebrow while he grinned.

I yelled, “Okay, ready? One, two, three!” We opened the bag and let loose all the winds of Shangri-la in the bird’s direction. Three of the birds were slammed against the mountain while the others spun off toward the world tree, trying desperately to escape the tumult.

When the winds died down, the empty bag hung limp between us. Kishan stared at me incredulously.

“
Kelsey
. How did you—” he trailed off.

“Scarf, please.”

The bag shifted and twisted, turned a soft blue and gold color, and then shrunk into a Scarf again. I wrapped it around my neck and tossed the end over my shoulder.

“The answer is, I don’t know. When Hugin and Munin cleared our minds, I remembered stories and myths I had learned before. I recalled things the Divine Weaver told us and also things that Mr. Kadam had speculated about. He’d told me a story of a Japanese god called Fũjin who controlled the winds and had a bag to carry them in. I also knew that this material was special, like the Golden Fruit.

“Maybe everything was in my mind all along or maybe Hugin whispered it in my thoughts. I’m not sure. I do know that the Scarf can do something else, something that will help us save Ren, but we should get out of here before the birds come back. I’ll show you then.”

“Alright, but first, there’s something
I
need to do.”

“What’s that?”

“This.”

He yanked me up against his body and kissed me. Thoroughly. His mouth moved against mine passionately. The kiss was fast, turbulent, and wild. He held me tightly, one hand cradling my head while the other held me firmly at my waist. He kissed me fiercely, with an utter abandon that I could no more put a halt to than I could stop an avalanche.

When you’re caught in an avalanche you have two choices: stand there and try to block it, or you can give in, roll with it, and hope you come out alive at the base. So, I rolled with Kishan’s kiss. Finally, he lifted his head, spun me around, and let out a jubilant whoop of victory that echoed in the surrounding hills.

When he finally set me down, I had to catch my breath. I panted and said, “What was that for?”

“I’m just happy to be alive!”

“Okay, fine. But keep your lips to yourself next time.”

He sighed. “Don’t be upset, Kells.”

“I’m not
upset
. I’m . . . I’m not sure what I think about it. It all happened too fast for me to even react.”

A scoundrel’s smile lit his face. “I promise to slow it down next time.”

“What next time?”

He frowned slightly. “You don’t need to make a big deal out of it. It’s just a natural reaction to narrowly escaping death. It’s like when soldiers come back from war and grab a girl to kiss right after they get off the boat.”

I retorted wryly, “Yeah, maybe so, but the difference is,
this
girl was on the boat
with
you. Feel free to grab any girl you like when we get back to the mainland, sailor, but
this
girl is hands off.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “
Really?
It felt more like your hands were
on
if you ask me.”

I sputtered in outrage, “If my hands were on you at
all
, they were there to push you away!”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to have a clear conscience at the end of the day. You just won’t admit that you
liked
it.”

“Hmm, let me see. You’re right, Casanova. I
did
like it. After it was
over
!”

He shook his head. “You
are
stubborn. No wonder Ren had so many problems.”

“How
dare
you even
mention
your brother!”

“When are you going to face facts, Kells? You like me.”

“Well, I’m not liking you so much right now! Can we just head back to the spirit gate and drop this conversation?”

“Yes. But we
will
continue this discussion later.”

“Maybe when Shangri-la freezes over.”

He took the backpack and grinned. “I can wait for that. After you,
bilauta
.”

“
Kissing Bandit
,” I muttered.

He smirked wickedly and lifted an eyebrow. We hiked for several hours. Kishan kept trying to talk to me, but I stubbornly refused to acknowledge his existence.

The problem with what happened between us was . . . he wasn’t wrong. I had spent more time with him now than I had with Ren, and we’d been living under the same roof for months. We’d been hiking through Shangri-la and spent day and night together for weeks.

Day to day contact like that creates a level of closeness, an . . . intimacy between two people. Kishan was just more willing to recognize it than I was. It was not surprising that Kishan, who already admittedly had feelings for me, was beginning to feel comfortable expressing them. The thing was, it didn’t bother me as much as it should have. Kishan kissing me was not like Artie or Jason or even Li.

When I kissed Li, I felt in control. It wasn’t like kissing Ren either. Ren was like a fantastic jungle waterfall—sparkling and shimmering in the sunlight. He was an exotic paradise waiting to be discovered. Kishan was different. Kishan was a raging, grade six whitewater river—fast, unpredictable, and un-navigable to even the most skilled thrill-seekers. The brothers were both magnificent and fascinating and powerful, but kissing Kishan was dangerous.

Not dangerous like the man sirens; they just felt wrong. If I was being honest with myself, kissing Kishan didn’t feel wrong. It actually felt good, like a wilder, fiercer version of Ren. With Kishan, it was like I’d literally caught a tiger by the tail, and he was ready to turn on me and drag me off. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant notion, and that was the part that disturbed me.

Clearly, I’ve been separated from my boyfriend for too long
, I tried to rationalize my feelings.
Kishan’s the next best thing, and I’m just missing my tiger. I’m sure that’s all it is.
I let those thoughts comfort me as we walked.

Like Ren, Kishan had a knack for charming his way out of difficult problems. Before long, he made me completely forget that I had been upset with him.