Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) (12 page)

“Okay, stop!” Laina cried, putting a hand on Burn's arm. “That's a frightening story. What does it have to do with Kaelyn?”

“She was one of the Wanderers,” Sora said. “The first Wanderer. She was summoned by the Goddess to find the sacred flute and prevent the War of the Races....”

Laina was shaking her head. “Well, they're all just legends,” she said. “I guess it's dumb for me to be afraid. The book isn't even accurate! My grandmother told me that Shadow
did
create a race. It was pure evil. They would kidnap children and sacrifice them to the Dark God....”

“That's not true,” Sora said, waving her hand dismissively. “I've read this legend a hundred times. There's no race of darkness, and you're lucky there isn't, because you'd probably be their first victim.”

Laina glared at her, a stormy expression crossing her face. “My grandmother wouldn't lie!” she growled. “I heard it from her own lips, and she took the story with her to the grave!”

Laina was obviously upset, her small chest heaving. Sora backed off; she didn't want to argue, especially about something so personal. She looked at Crash instead, hoping to change the topic.

The assassin was staring at Laina in annoyance. The girl shied away from his gaze and turned back to Burn, continuing the conversation, ignoring them both.

Sora reached over and touched his shoulder. “If you stare much harder, you'll set her on fire,” she said with quiet humor.

“That girl will be trouble,” he said testily.

She frowned. “She has a name, you know.”

“And I’ll be happy to forget it.”

Sora let out a small laugh, remembering how long it had taken him to actually use her own name. Except back then, she had feared him. Now... now things were different. Or at least, she thought they might be. She felt closer to him, though his silence was still intimidating.

Things are different now, I don't have to be afraid of him,
she thought, trying to convince herself. “You really are conceited, you know that?” she finally said, bracing herself for his reaction.

Crash glanced at her, but didn't respond. She might have seen a smile play around his lips, but it was a mere flicker. She had to wonder at that.

“Well, I’m getting some sleep,” Burn said, closing the book and putting it away. This was followed by a loud yawn. Then he gave Crash a tired look. “Will you take first watch?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Then I’ll see you three tomorrow.” The Wolfy moved over to his bedroll, and after a moment, Laina followed suit. Her bedroll was set up next to his, as close as she could get without seeming invasive. Sora wondered if she felt safer that way.

She sat with Crash by the fire, watching her friends settle down for the night. She wondered if she should say something, but the assassin seemed quiet, withdrawn. Then she too decided it was time for bed.

* * *

Crash gazed into the fire. He watched its exotic dance, felt its warmth, and shared that warmth somewhere deep in his blood.

His eyes wandered to his companions. He didn’t like the new girl, Laina, not at all. She was a nuisance and a manipulative one at that. Her very presence grated on his nerves in a way that Sora would never understand. What had she been thinking, allying herself with this street rat? The child was rude and unskilled, with nothing to offer but a snotty nose—and he wasn't a fan of baggage.

His gaze traveled to Sora, who twitched restlessly in her sleep. He knew she wasn't fully unconscious; he could tell by her breathing, by her shifting eyelids. He watched as she neared the fringes of a dream. Somehow, her presence made him relax. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not. Relaxing could be dangerous.

It had only been a year, yet she seemed different, older somehow. Even her face had changed: tanner, gaunter from living on the road. But it was obvious that her heart was soft, wide open and still young. She was a fool to come after him. He had done nothing but put her life at risk. Why would she pursue him now...
and why do I feel so compelled to let her?

He watched the fire play over her hair, over the lean angles of her face. Somewhere deep inside of him, he wanted to speak, to confess himself.... It was a strange urge, and confusing to him. Why tell her all of his secrets? She couldn't understand who he was. Not even Burn knew his full past, his years spent in the Hive, a childhood of intense discipline, schooled by generations of assassins. His very nature made him separate from the world, scorned by it.

And yet, looking at her face across the fire, he wanted to try....

Who are you kidding?
some inner voice mocked.
She will never accept what you are. How could she?
She was still young and fresh out of childhood. She still believed in things like justice, truth and fate. He didn't know how to tell her otherwise. Justice was a human concept. Nature had no order. The Wind hadn't brought peace to the elements, hadn't brought love to the races. All things were still chaos. Just because she wanted to save him didn't mean it was possible.

But with her... with her, he felt different. Like he could be someone else.

You're not Crash,
the voice whispered.
You're Viper. Or have you forgotten?
The assassin, the killer who had won his Name at fourteen, a protegé. A boy of Laina's age, already with blood on his hands. Such were the ways of his people. He had been the best... or perhaps, the worst. It was a rueful thought.

And even if he told her his real Name, if he confessed it, she wouldn't know what that meant. What was the Viper?
The one who hides in the grass.
An elite assassin. Death for hire.

Crash looked down at his hands, at the blade that he had sharpened. Its hilt was worn by generations, passed from one Viper to the next and to the next. In some ways, he felt that he had failed. Those who carried this blade were not supposed to live this long, to think like this.

But that's why he had left.

His eyes returned to Sora. He had to protect her. He owed her that much. If she was willing to risk so much for him, for the world, then maybe he could risk the same for her. And it went deeper than that. Viper was a creature, a shadow, a ruthless mask. Crash was a man.

As long as she didn’t know his true title, as long as she didn’t know his true self, he was changed. Free of the endless faces of his victims. Free of the knife, of the Hive, of his own dexterous skill.

And free to protect her, from his enemies and from himself.

Chapter 6

The city of Barcella was only a day's ride away, which was surprising. Counting back, Sora realized it had been more than a month since she had left home, and the days were growing much hotter.

They packed up camp early and set out just as the sun breached the wide plains, which Burn referred to as the lowlands. “Not many farms out this way,” he explained, nodding to the dry, rocky ground. “Bad soil, hardly anything grows but weeds and scrub grass.” He led them out of the thin patch of trees, doubled up with Laina on the large gray steed. “A few days past Barcella, there is a ridge of hills called the Thumbs. Then, past the rolling hills, there is the coast, the ocean and the city of Delbar.” He finished with a broad sweeping gesture.

“How do you know so much about the area?” Sora asked.

Burn grinned. “I've been traveling quite a few years longer than you have,” he said. “And who in the lowlands hasn't visited Barcella, and prayed at the Temple of the Goddess? It's a well-worn road.”

Sora knew this was true; she had heard travelers speak of that Temple in her mother's town. Barcella contained one of the four great Temples that graced the lands. It was known as the Western Light, the supposed Throne of the West Wind.

Burn and Laina rode in front while she and Crash rode behind, two to each horse. Sora's dappled mare didn't appreciate the extra weight and swished its tail with each step, ears flicking in annoyance. Sora couldn't help but agree with the beast. She didn't like sharing a saddle, especially with the dark assassin, who had always been keen on personal space. Now her breasts were pressed against his back, her thighs against his legs. She had to hold onto his hips. The rocking of the horse was... distracting....

The bandits from the night before had disappeared. Sora counted herself lucky; the Ravens might have become discouraged when they entered the forest, or perhaps ran off after seeing Crash and Burn. Those two warriors were definitely intimidating, well-traveled—and armed to the teeth. Whatever the reason, the lowlands were empty, an endless sea of yellow and white grass before them, a hazy horizon.

It was mid-afternoon when Sora began to hear a strange noise. At first she thought it was her Cat's Eye, since it reminded her of sleighbells. But the necklace always resounded right inside her ear, partly within her own head; this sound rose and faded with the wind.

Toward late afternoon, the city made its first appearance. The sight began as a small speck that grew rapidly as they neared, with spiraling towers stretching up toward the sky. The closer Sora got, the more ornate the walls: limestone painted with curving, swirling shapes, as though gusts of wind had solidified into rock. A gentle chiming was in her ears. The closer they came to the city, the louder the sound became.

The wind blew again and she saw glints of metal flash in the sunlight. Perhaps thousands of small metallic shapes were hanging from the large wall—wind chimes? She squinted. The wind blew again. Yes, wind chimes—dangling from every available surface. Charms and baubles swirled and danced in the light. With each gust of wind, glorious sound cascaded through the air, shockingly akin to music, a wondrous cacophony that made her jaw drop, her mouth gape in amazement. Must have carried for miles across the plains. Perhaps even more surprising, it was pleasant to the ears; not a chaotic splash of noise, but a soothing rush, ebbing and flowing like a river.

She stared in fascination. Then her eyes traveled to a large building that towered above the walls of the city, jutting up like a giant, spiraling seashell. It was dome-like, with towers and scaffolds, the roof tiled with a swirling mosaic of brightly colored stones; lime greens, deep purples and brilliant reds. She recognized the golden emblem perched on top, spinning on a weather vane. This was the Throne of the West Wind.

“They founded the city here because of the intense winds,” Burn explained, following her eyes. “Something to do with the land formations. The winds here never stop, and at certain times of the year, can be deadly. They say entire houses have been uprooted from the ground.”

Sora nodded, too stunned to say anything, imagining an entire house being lifted into the air. She had noticed that the breeze faded at times but never disappeared; dust and pollen blew into her eyes.

The city grew larger and larger. She couldn't believe the size of the walls, built of a dull gray stone that was obviously native, an extension of the surrounding bedrock. She could also see where an older section of wall abutted the hills east of the city. “It looks like the walls were rebuilt at one time,” she said, pointing out the brighter, newer stone to Crash.

Crash nodded, though he seemed distracted by his thoughts. “This city was a fortress once, back in the time of the War. It's been destroyed and rebuilt several times. These walls are hundreds of years old.”

“Aye,” Burn called, overhearing their conversation despite the racket made by the bells. “The sewers run through the buried streets of the old city.”

“Creepy,” Laina added.

Sora looked back at the walls with renewed interest, swept up in her imagination. She pictured a fortress smashed by magic, leaping flames, shining weapons, siege engines and war.

It took them a surprising amount of time to reach the front gates. A long line of travelers waited outside, people of varying heights and dress, some talking amongst each other, some standing quietly, others tending their horses or wagons.

“Do we have to wait in line?” Sora asked as they neared the gates.

Burn nodded. “Most come here on a pilgrimage of some kind or another,” he said. “The soldiers check everyone who enters the gates.”

Sora nodded, her eyes returning to the giant Temple. As they rode toward the end of the line, her stomach growled. She sighed in resignation.
Looks like we won't be eating any time soon
.

* * *

Three hours later, they finally entered the city, the sound of countless bells ringing in their ears.
Surprisingly, once inside the wall, the sound was not so intense. It was muffled by wood and stone, drowned out by the rumble of evening foot traffic. Barcella was by no means a small city; twenty-thousand citizens lived within the whitewashed structures and slate-tile roofs. Most buildings were two or three stories high, crammed close together, and connected by wooden balconies. Streamers, flags and banners hung along the main boulevard, advertising shops and restaurants.

Sora never would have guessed that Barcella was built on top of another city. Everything looked sleek, clean and new. The well-maintained streets were laid with brick. Colorful flowers graced pots along the main thoroughfare, and vines spilled over the windowsills. The windows were mostly made of stained glass. Bells and charms swayed gently in doorways and over balconies. Horse-drawn buggies were parked along the main street, their drivers casually waiting for the next passengers.