Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) (9 page)

She kicked her foot free just as her horse took off into the trees, whinnying madly, pushing its way through a thin patch of bramble. She leapt to her feet; no time to worry about the beast. Then she dodged to one side, led by pure instinct. Another dagger whistled past her. A dark blur followed the dagger, and Sora brought out her own knives, ready for the next attack.

So there were bandits in the woods. She should have known! No wonder they had given up the chase so easily.

By the strength and speed, she judged her foe to be a man. His knives whistled close to her and she leapt away just in time to save her neck. Then the Cat’s Eye began to jingle, a dull chiming in her ears, and its unnamed presence awoke in her mind. She felt its power melt through her, sinking into the nooks of her shoulders, the joints of her hands. She felt as though her eyes had suddenly opened.

It happened far more naturally than ever before. The Cat's Eye joined with her mind, and everything became clearer: the trees, the ground, the moon above. Her mother told her that each bearer left an imprint on the stone; the knowledge of past warriors lived inside it. With moves she never thought she could have mastered in her short lifetime, she dodged and ducked, easily evading the man's attacks.

Feinting to one side, Sora felt her back touch a tree.
Uh-oh, wasn't this my first lesson in fighting? Never get yourself cornered!
She ducked beneath the next swing and came up on the man's other side, then brought up her daggers. Blocked. The man was a much better fighter than any of the bandits she had faced so far. He was fast, almost too fast, even with the help from her necklace. One thing was for sure: hand-to-hand combat was getting her nowhere.

Sora broke away from her opponent and leapt across the clearing, putting several feet of space between them. Then she faced him, crouching slightly, observing. To her surprise, he followed her lead, breaking off from the fight and standing back to watch her.

Who is he?
she wondered, but when she tried to see his face, she found that it was too dark to make out clearly. He wore a hood pulled low over his head, his clothing as black and muddled as the foliage.
It doesn't matter, a foe is a foe,
she told herself, and concentrated on his wickedly pointed knife.

It was time to act. She sprang forward, dagger outstretched, hoping to catch him off-guard. The man turned just in time to deflect her blow, but she nicked him; she felt her blade snag on his clothing and the slight pull of flesh. Sora couldn't see where she had hit him, but there was blood on her knife.

They were in close combat again. He tried to grab her, his hands going to her wrists. She barely evaded him and landed a kick to his ribs, trying to force him back, but he wouldn't give her any space. It didn't seem to matter where she struck; he had a way of blocking her, of trapping her hands. And then, suddenly, he lashed out—
wham!
—and struck her squarely in the chest. Sora staggered backwards, winded from the blow, only to smash into the trunk of a tree. He was on her in a second, no space between them, no chance to even breathe. He grabbed her roughly and rammed her back against the tree again, hard, his knife against her throat.

Anger burned inside her; all she could think of was Laina lying helplessly in the woods. The Raven pressed the knife against her throat to kill her, and she brought her knee up hard into the man's unprotected groin. With a grunt, he keeled over, and Sora brought her elbow down on the back of his head.

The blow should have dropped him, yet he shook it off. Surprised by this, for a moment she didn't know how to react. Then he suddenly reached out and fastened his hand around her knee and with powerful fingers, squeezed the joint.

She cried out. It felt as though her knee were breaking! Her knife fell from her hand. The man released her, though she didn't know why—perhaps her scream had startled him—but she didn't give him a second chance. Without hesitation, she reached for her staff, which was strapped to her back. She pulled it out, holding it in front of her, shifting from her sore leg.

The man picked up a long branch from the ground, holding it in an identical fighting stance. Sora's mouth dropped open—absurd! None of the Ravens so far had been trained fighters; just petty thieves with old, rusty knives. She couldn't remember the last time she had fought an opponent, staff-on-staff.

She lunged forward, enjoying the feeling of the familiar weapon in her hands. The man moved to meet her, fearless and confident. He ducked her swing, then brought the makeshift staff up into her ribs.
Uff!
Sora hadn't expected the blow; that had slipped straight through her defenses. She staggered back, the wind knocked out of her.

The man took another swing, the staff whirling in his skilled grasp, but she ducked to one side just as it sailed over her head. She leapt away, trying to put some space between them, but pain stabbed into her foot, cutting through her boot and into her heel. With a grunt, Sora hobbled backwards, off-balance. The moon glinted and she saw her dagger on the ground, stained dark with blood. She cursed herself for her own carelessness, realizing she must have stepped on it by mistake.

In that second of hesitation, the man was on her and had her down on the ground, sprawled in the wet leaves. He held her pinned down by sheer weight, then put his staff to her throat and pressed it down to cut off her air supply. Feeling her control slipping away, Sora was filled with a sudden, intense fear. Terrible things could happen to a girl in the wilderness. Her mother had warned her. Men were capable of evil, despicable acts....

She reached out to one side, grasping for anything that might aid her in her struggle. Finally, her hand connected with the bloody dagger on the ground. Perfect!

Desperate, she grabbed the knife and lashed out wildly. She didn't know if she had cut him, but he sat back fast. Sora took her chance and launched herself to one side, rolling in a circle. Suddenly he was below her and she sat astride him.

He was prepared for the move. When she looked down at him, he had a long dagger in his hands, a new weapon he had pulled out of his cloak. Moving on instinct, she grabbed his hand and tried to take the knife away. It was a pure match of strength. Sora tried to keep her balance as he twisted beneath her; she cursed her light weight.
If only I were a little heavier!

The man flipped the two of them over again easily. Now she was on the bottom, her legs astride him, his hips pressed against hers in an unexpectedly intimate way. She wasn't prepared for it. Suddenly she couldn't concentrate—she felt his hips, his torso, his thighs pressed against her, hot and powerful. She had never been under a man before; somehow, she hadn't envisioned this exact scenario. His body was large, heavy, muscular. She let out a harsh breath. Her control broke. She had been wrestling with the knife, but suddenly her arms caved and her body quivered with adrenaline and nerves, no longer able to resist his strength.

The man pressed the knife against her throat again. They held that position, each panting and heaving for breath, their bodies locked together. Sora didn't dare move. She tried not to think of the position they were in, of all the stories her mother had told her cautioning her to be careful. She let her chest rise and fall, the air choking in her lungs, fear and strange anticipation surging through her belly. He was a worthy fighter, for sure. It made her blood race.

Finally, she gasped, "W-who are you?"

There was another long, silent moment.

In a violent movement, the man dropped the knife and yanked back her hood. A rare beam of moonlight cut through the trees, illuminating her face. He stared at her, blocked by shadow, unreadable. He gazed for a long time—longer than she thought reasonable. Sweat dripped down both sides of her face and she felt cool air on her skin. There were leaves in her hair.

Fear coiled inside her again. She was acutely exposed in this position, defenseless. He could do anything he wanted to her.

Then he pulled down his own hood.

It took her a long moment to make out his face, which was turned away from the moonlight. But slowly, the angles and planes became visible. And finally, the color of his eyes. Green, like the deep meadows of the forest. All the air left her for a second time. She had seen green eyes like that before. Could it... could it
really
be....?

“C-Crash?” she whispered. No, impossible! She blinked, expecting it to be an illusion, like the man she had seen in the jail cell. But those glowing, vibrant eyes caught the moonlight and, for a moment, seemed as bright as fire.

He stared at her as though she were a ghost. She tried to shift from under him, but was suddenly uncertain. Why wasn't he letting her go? The memory of her vision came roaring to life again, his maniacal laughter, the evil that had oozed from his body. His eyes flickered over her, a shadow crossing his face, something dark and heated and feral....

Then he quickly sat back, lifting his weight off her. He allowed her to slip from beneath him, then rolled onto his feet, standing up and sheathing his knife. He held out a hand to help her up.

Sora was shocked, to say the least. He still hadn't said anything. She should have expected this.
He's never been the chatty type.

When she took his hand, she was surprised to find herself shaking. Or maybe it was him? He pulled her to her feet. She let out a slow breath, amazed at the battle they had just fought.
Dear Goddess, what if I had killed him?
She almost laughed at the thought.
As though I could.

Suddenly, there came a rustling from the bushes and a hulking figure appeared. She recognized the golden, wolf-like glow of his eyes, which burned through the night like a wild animal. “Burn!” she exclaimed, unable to keep the relief from her voice. It was certain now. She wasn't dreaming. She had finally found them!

She would have run to the giant mercenary—her heart felt like it might burst from her chest—but he was holding tight to the struggling, hissing form of Laina. From what she could tell, the girl was fighting for her life, with no results. The Wolfy looked down at his captive in amusement, then back to her. A wide smile was on his broad face.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise!” he exclaimed. His booming voice shook the night, breaking the moonlight's spell; she doubted that he was capable of whispering. “We thought you were a pair of those bandits. They attacked us a few nights back and took our horses and supplies."

Sora’s mouth dropped. “You thought we were bandits?” she asked in disbelief. “But we thought
you
were bandits!”

The Wolfy laughed again.

“This is all very funny,” Laina said, her hair in disarray and her tone nasty. “But it would be much more fun if you would let me go!”

“Oh, sorry,” Burn grinned again, a sheepish twinkle in his eyes. Laina broke away from his muscular arms and jumped to Sora's side, still carrying the panicked, slightly-winded look of an escaped rabbit. She stared at Sora and the two men.

“Okay,” she finally said, sizing them all up. “I take it these are the two you’re looking for?” She put her hands on her hips, her eyes darting back and forth. She looked absolutely silly.

Sora sighed. “Yeah, these are the two,” she confirmed. “Laina, the Wolfy over there is Burn, and this is Crash.” She motioned to the man next to her.

Laina’s eyes landed on Crash and she paused, a frown tugging at her lips. Sora frowned too, then turned to look at him, wondering what was going on.

Crash was glaring. Hard. In fact, he looked so scary that she wanted to run screaming back into the woods—if only for a moment. She had seen that look before, long ago.
It's not a good sign.

“So, Laina, why don’t you come with me and tell me all about yourself,” Burn tactfully broke the silence. “Our camp is a ways over there through the trees. We were just about to set a fire.” He glanced at Sora meaningfully. “We’ll leave these two to talk.”

Laina and Crash stared viciously at each other for a moment longer, then she slowly nodded. With apparently no qualms at all, Laina turned and linked her arm with Burn’s arm, and the two walked off into the woods.

Sora shook her head at the sight. She could remember her first meeting with Burn; he had a way of dissolving tension. Then she turned to look at her assassin friend. Blinked. Crash was now staring at her, a strange expression on his face.

"What?" she asked, her eyes straying to the cut on his cheek. It was shallow, but visible. She fought the urge to grin. So she had landed a blow after all....

"Been practicing?" he asked, a thin trace of amusement in his voice.

Now she couldn't keep from smiling. Coming from Crash, that was a huge compliment. “No,” she said, trying to be humble. “It’s mostly the Cat's Eye... which is actually why I’m here right now, but, uh, I'll get to that in a moment.” Her voice faltered. Now what? “Just why are you guys so close, anyway? It's been a year!”

He shrugged, his eyes scanning the clearing. “That long?” he asked, as though he hadn't thought of her at all, which was probably true. “We're on our way to the port of Delbar. For a while we were doubling back north, but we decided it would be better to leave the continent. Catch a ship overseas.” He paused. “This is certainly unexpected.”

Oh.
Sora nodded, her stomach sinking slightly. A part of her had hoped they had been coming back to visit her.