Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) (28 page)

Sora watched in fascination as he hurled the ball to the ground. There was a moment's silence, then the street below erupted into a clatter of shouts and curses. Someone grabbed her arm, and before she knew what was happening, she found herself leaping across the rooftops. Then a small explosion rumbled through her chest—
fuuuummmph!
Tiles trembled beneath her, windows rattling in their frames. Thick smoke billowed up into the sky, but she kept moving.

Sora had never run on rooftops before; it reminded her of the pole exercises her mother had made her practice. She used her staff to help her vault across alleys, but most of the buildings were so close together that she had little trouble. It helped that the houses were all of similar height and make. Her biggest challenge was keeping her footing on the roof tiles, which were slick and slippery from the constant moisture.

Jacques caught up with them quickly and ran next to her, his crow gliding above their heads. She looked over at him. "Don't you ever worry you'll hurt someone?" she panted.

He looked at her, then over his shoulder, where the smoke was quickly dispersing in the breeze.

"Naw," he finally said, and gave her a roguish smile. "The soldiers can take care of themselves. It's all in good fun!"

But an explosion like that could have cost someone a leg,
she thought. Sora got the sudden feeling that she was surrounded by a pack of rowdy teenagers. Although the Dracians appeared to be well into their twenties and thirties, their eyes held a childish, carefree twinkle. She wasn't sure if she liked that.

After several more minutes, the group started to slow down. They paused on a pyramid-shaped wooden roof, layered with wooden shingles. A large window in the ceiling served as a skylight. As they arrived, it opened inward and three of the Dracians, André and two other males, slipped through. Next in was Laina, who looked exhilarated, then Burn. As the Wolfy passed her, he whispered, "Reminds me of my younger days."

Sora glanced around the rooftops one last time. She had no idea where they were; the city sprawled out on each side, a jungle of smoking chimneys, metal ladders and jutting towers. With a slight shrug, she dropped down through the skylight.

It was a short distance to the floor below. Sora landed softly and gave herself a minute to adjust to the shadows and dust. The space was clearly an attic, packed with old boxes and scuffed trinkets. If she listened, she could hear the sound of distant foot traffic from the floor below, voices and an occasional thump. They were most likely above a store.

The attic had been transformed into a cozy room with a tattered carpet and scratched paintings. The atmosphere was friendly and welcoming, which put her at ease. Her gaze shifted to Burn, who had been tackled by four of the Dracians. They were laughing in delight as he lifted all four into the air, two in each arm.

"I guess they've never seen a Wolfy before," came Crash's voice next to her. It undermined the laughter in the room. A wry expression marked his face, and Sora felt a momentary stab of pain, remembering Dorian. He would have enjoyed the Dracians immensely.

Sora frowned, trying to clear her thoughts. "I guess we won't be getting that money today," she murmured to Crash.

"Ah, well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow," the assassin replied. She hadn't been expecting his easiness on the matter, but his words were not comforting. Perhaps they weren't supposed to be.

"Jacques! I'm back!"

A trapdoor opened in the floor, only a few feet away from Sora's boots. A young man bounced through, probably a year older than herself and, from his coloring, obviously a Dracian.

"Tristan!" Jacques ran over to the young man's side and gave him a rough knock on the shoulder. "Courting a young love this afternoon, weren't you? How is the girl?"

Tristan put one hand on his forehead and groaned dramatically. "Woe, horrible! She is so demanding! You're a terrible man, Jacques, to pick her out of the crowd!" He scrunched up his face; he had strong, handsome features, dark auburn hair and bright blue eyes. "She must be the most selfabsorbed person I've ever met!"

"Aye... I thought you might make a good match!"

Tristan narrowed his eyes. "Very funny...."

Jacques laughed and put his arm around the younger man, tussling his short red hair. "Eh, there will be others, I'm sure. Anyway, I'd like you to meet a few new faces." He turned and motioned to their group. "This is Laina, she's from out of town. Quite the li'l charmer, aye?"

Laina's cheeks turned pink. The young man made a short bow.

"This is Burn, a mercenary Wolfy from... well, I don't know where exactly," Jacques continued.

The young man's mouth fell open as Burn turned around. It was a ridiculous sight. The mercenary had four grown men hanging from his arms, and was almost twice as tall as the Dracian.

Tristan was struggling to regain control of his voice. "Really?" he finally gasped. "A Wolfy? I thought your kind had perished long ago! No offense...." he paused nervously.

"None taken," Burn said, and managed to grip Tristan's hand, despite the extra baggage.

Jacques continued around the room, hesitating when he looked at Crash, then continued past him. “And this beauty over here is Sora,” he finished.

Tristan's eyes fell on her and she noted his expression. It was the same look that the farmboys had given her back at her mother's town. She swallowed and tried to ignore it. “Nice to meet you.”

"Tristan," he stuttered, coming up to her. "My name's Tristan. Nice to meet you, too. If—uh, if you don't mind me saying so, miss, you are...” he grabbed her hand and held it a little too tight for comfort. “Perfect.”

Whatever that means,
she thought. She looked around the room quickly, hoping that someone would rescue her from the embarrassing situation, but she saw only Burn's amused smile and Laina's angry glance. She blinked in surprise. Jealousy?

"So... you're a Dracian too?" she asked hesitantly. Tristan still hadn't dropped her hand.

"Half, actually, on my father's side," he said, a little too fast. Then he smiled. Two handsome dimples stood out on his cheeks. Sora sucked in a quick breath.
Oh, my.
Then he winked. "That's why I'm so much better-looking than the rest of 'em! How about you? Are you half Harpy?"

“What?” Sora asked, taken aback. She didn't know what Harpies looked like, so she didn't know how to answer that. "N-no, I'm not," she stuttered. "Or at least, I don't believe so."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because that would explain everything: your grace, your stature, your beauty....” He kissed her hand, lingering. She felt an urgent need to tug away. "You have a certain glow about you, almost like magic. Have you cast me under a spell? I feel absolutely bewitched...."

He straightened up suddenly, dropping her hand, and Sora was shaken out of her trance. An arm slid around her shoulders.

"Hello," Crash said bluntly. The assassin stared at the young man with a dead, cold eye.

She could feel his warmth, and for some reason, it was even more distracting than the handsome redhead in front of her.
What's wrong with me?
she suddenly thought, shaking her head. She looked at the two men, but was unable to understand the tension between them.

Crash, who was the older of the two and a lot more skilled at silent confrontations, stared Tristan down until the young Dracian was forced to look away.

"Come on, Sora, Jacques...." Crash straightened up and withdrew his arm. "I need to speak with you." The assassin turned toward the open window without another glance at Tristan.

Sora and Jacques shared a glance before following him. He led the three outside onto the roof, where they sat down to watch the sunset, leaving the rest of the party inside. Sora shifted around several times, trying to get comfortable on the tiles. She wrapped her arms around her legs and looked out over the city. The sea breeze was still brisk and fresh, and the distant rumble of the street was like calming music to her ears. She felt somehow above the world, untouchable.

Crash and Jacques both settled nearby.

"Dracian?" the assassin began.

"Jacques is my name, and you may call me by it." He sounded almost hostile. "Also, I would prefer it if you don't go spouting out the word Dracian and getting us into trouble."

Sora was surprised by the sudden shift in his tone.

Crash sneered slightly. "More trouble than you're in now? I hardly believe that's possible." He turned to face Jacques more fully. "Listen,
Dracian,
I'm not breathing a word about your kind, though your presence is obvious to anyone who knows what to look for. And I hope you won't breathe a word about us as well."

Jacques nodded after a long pause. "I don't intend to say anything of you, Dark One." He fixed Crash with a cold stare.

Sora listened to the discussion curiously, but held her questions in check.

"I know that you don't want me here," Crash said calmly. "But our quest cannot be further delayed. Sora, show him the rapier hilt."

Sora was surprised. She reached for her bag, wondering where Crash was going with this. After a bit of rummaging, she pulled it out and unwrapped it.

The Dracian looked at the hilt for a long moment, then back to Crash. “What is this?”

“Look at the symbols on the hilt. Here, hold it in your hand for a moment.”

Jacques went to lift the device from Sora's hand, but as he did, he dropped the rapier, as though touched by fire. With a slight hiss, he shook his fingers. “It's colder than ice!”

“Exactly.”

Now Sora was confused. “Wait, what do you mean?” she asked.

Crash nodded slowly. “The hilt doesn't affect you, Sora, because you wield a Cat's Eye. You can't feel the rapier's magic. I'm not surprised that you haven't noticed this before.” Then he looked back to Jacques. “We are being hunted by a very angry, blood-driven Wolfy mage. He is consumed by a thirst for revenge. He has summoned three wraiths to hunt us from the underworld.”

“Three wraiths?” Jacques asked, his eyes widening. They returned to the rapier hilt. “Three dead spirits?”

Crash nodded again.

“I am not a specialist in these things,” Jacques said slowly. “But our kind, too, has legends. From what I recall, this magic is forbidden.”

“And for good reason,” Crash replied. “These are not just normal weapons. They are sacred weapons of the Dark God. The longer they remain in this world....”

“The more His power manifests.” Jacques stared at both of them for a long moment. “And with his return will come plagues, war, chaos.”

Sora was stunned that he knew so much. She looked at Crash, who had a satisfied glint in his eye. “Yes,” the assassin finally said. “I'm glad I don't have to convince you of that. Sora has a Cat's-Eye necklace. We are traveling to destroy the mage... and hopefully set things right.”

Jacques turned to look at her, sharing her stunned expression. “Well,” he finally said. “You are a curious lot, indeed. Let me see this Cat's Eye.”

Sora hesitated before pulling the necklace from her shirt. The Dracian's eyes lingered on the stone. He looked as though the breath had been knocked out of him. “'Tis a bit much,” he murmured.

Sora nodded in agreement—
'tis still a bit much for me, too!
“We've come from Barcella,” she said quietly. “We've already spoken to the High Priestess. A plague has started spreading across the mainland. It hasn't reached the coast yet, but it's on its way. Countless livestock have died. Crops have turned rotten. Now farmers and their children are getting sick.”

Jacques nodded slowly. “I have heard rumors of this in past months. I thought 'twas just hysteria over a bad crop.”

“No, it's not. It's real,” Sora said, her voice turning serious. “The legends are true, and this is just the beginning. We need to destroy the weapons... and destroy the mage who summoned them. That's the only way to stop the plague.”

Jacques' eyes darted back and forth between them. “Bringin' spirits back from the dead is tricky business,” he finally said. “If the mage is unskilled, then the spirits can enter the world with all sorts of strange energy. Looks like you drew the short straw. It would be pretty hard to swallow if this hilt weren't right in front of me. What happened to the blade?”

“Long story,” Crash said bluntly. “More importantly, we need to kill Volcrian to stop the plague.”

“And how d'you plan to do that?” Jacques asked.

“The Lost Isles,” Crash stated.

The Dracian looked at Sora, then at the Cat's Eye that she still held in her hand. He wasn't smiling anymore; his face was solemn. “All that, just to kill a Wolfy? Though, I suppose he is more than just a Wolfy now. Don'cha realize what awaits you on the Isles...?”

“I...” Sora's voice faded. She didn't know what to say.

“The Lost Isles are one of the few remaining sacred grounds,” he said. “They contain a circle of stones that was once used for living sacrifices. Prisoners were placed within the circle, and a Cat's-Eye stone would suck the very souls out of them. The magical energy is still dense in the land, in the clouds and sea. There are strange storms out that way.” Jacques frowned. “I take it you plan to do the same to Volcrian?”