Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) (24 page)

But she wasn't a rock. Maybe she wasn't like her hero at all.

Sora sighed harshly.
I can't save the world.
She was going to die at the end of this journey. It was a nagging truth, one she tried to avoid thinking about.
There's no way out. I'm going to die—and for what?

This was enough to renew the tears and soon she was having trouble keeping her sobs inside. She held her knees tighter and looked around at the dark, gloomy, abandoned streets.
How did I get here?
It suddenly seemed ludicrous, insane; how had she come to be in an alley, alone, somewhere on the coast, miles away from her birthplace?

This is a waste of time, Sora. Get yourself under control,
her inner voice said. She had fought Catlins and risked life and limb before. Why was it so easy for a few harsh words to hurt her?
You have to carry on.

The hard stone bit through the seat of her pants. It was growing colder, yet she could not make herself get up.
I can stay here all night,
she suddenly thought. She had slept on the ground plenty of times before. In the morning, she would go back for her horse and leave, return to her mother's house where she was loved and needed. Where she belonged.

A sudden shadow entered the courtyard. Sora tensed. She hadn't heard any footsteps, but as she watched, a figure emerged from the overhang of a building, as smooth and silent as a ghost. Just from the way he moved, she knew who it was.

He stopped in front of her, a mere foot away. She waited, unwilling to speak because she didn't want him to hear the weakness in her voice. She couldn't stand looking at him. Was he really here? Why? It was the last thing she had expected.

Sora pulled her legs up to her chest and pushed her forehead against them, closing her eyes, trying to disappear.

After a moment, a hand touched her hair. She flinched, uncertain. The hand continued to caress the same lock of hair over and over.

There was a stretch of silence; then the assassin said a little irritably, “Come now. Don't pout.”

She could feel the tears start again at those words, and her resolve buckled. Against her will, a tiny sob escaped.

This time, Crash didn't just content himself with touching the lock of her hair, but took her hands and pulled her gently to her feet. She had little strength to protest. She kept her face turned away, clamping her eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks.

In careful detail, she felt one of his hands brush the hair back off her face and tilt her chin upward. She blinked through the tears to find his green eyes staring into her, bright against the night, as though lit from inside. She wanted to hide, to bury her face against something, to pull away—but she could do nothing.

“I... I'm not strong,” she finally confessed, trying to excuse her tears. “I'm too soft, Crash. Maybe I am too open and trusting. I try to see the best in people. I'm not the right person for this journey.”

"
Shush
," he whispered, and pulled her to him. His arms went around her, and Sora found herself wrapped in his warmth. One arm went around her back while the other hand cradled her neck. Her head didn't even reach his shoulder, and she buried her face in his chest. He held her tightly.

“Why do you act so cold?” she said, muffled by his shirt.

"It's been... necessary... for me to survive," he murmured.

She understood that. A lifetime of killing couldn't be easy; she wondered what kind of demons he lived with, wondered if he had regrets, doubts. "I don't know why you're here," she said, struggling to speak despite the lump in her throat. "Why you decided to help me. It's a suicide mission. Honestly, I'm terrified, Crash. I try not to think of it, but... by the end of this, I might be dead." She looked up, though crushed against his chest. "I'm willing to die next to you—and I don't even know who you are. What is wrong with me?"

Crash gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes shadowed. She felt like she was staring up at a dark tower, a vague light at its peak. "I don't deserve it,” he said quietly. “I can't lie to you about that. I don't deserve your friendship or your sacrifice.”

“Why are you here, Crash?” she asked, just like she had asked him once before, back in the gardens of the Temple.

“To protect you.”

She was silent.

“Sometimes...” Crash started, then stopped. “Sometimes the heart doesn't make any sense. Sometimes we don't even know our own intentions. You're trying to help the world, Sora. I don't think it's just your Cat's Eye. But you can't do it alone.” He lowered his head slightly, and she felt his hand travel over her back. “You don't have to be strong all of the time. That's asking a bit much. You can be soft too, if that is who you are. I... I came to protect you."

Sora wasn't sure she had heard him right. She looked up at him, uncertain.
Protect?
How could a killer protect the living?

“It's weak to be soft,” she said instead. “I should take care of myself.” Weakness didn't belong in an adventure. How was she supposed to be like Kaelyn, like the Wanderer of old, if she was too fragile to handle a harsh word? “I don't want to be a burden....”

“All friends are burdens,” Crash said quietly. “But we carry them anyway.”

A typical statement, coming from him, and yet it was as though a great weight had been lifted from her; as though she finally had permission to be who she was. She couldn't take it. She buried her head against his chest again, trying to hide from his intensity. His hand continued to stroke her hair methodically, calming her, allowing her time to compose herself.

Finally, her throat loosened. She felt as if she could breathe, perhaps even better than before. She stayed in his warm embrace for a moment longer. Then, with a sigh, she looked back up at him.

"I think I'm okay now," she murmured hoarsely.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

He let his arms drop and she stepped away, suddenly self-conscious. They had been so close... she could still feel his body imprinted on hers, his warmth thrumming in her blood. She wanted him to hold her again; she yearned for that close contact.

She smiled, trying to look cheerful. It was a sorry attempt. "Let's go." She tugged his arm.

Crash gave her a small grin in return. There was an openness in his expression that she hadn't seen before, something vaguely welcoming. For once, he moved slowly enough so she could walk next to him, at her own pace. They headed back down the cobblestone pathway, leaving the old statue behind, past the silent houses with their black windows, then traveled through a pocket of back alleys, gray and deserted.

After a few minutes, the pair found their way back to the main road. A gust of chill wind from the ocean reached them. Sora shuddered at how cold it was, and pulled her cloak closer. Obviously the moisture from the water was making the temperature drop. The streets widened and light from the windows began to illuminate their path. The bobbing paper lanterns returned. A group of people passed by them, laughing and stumbling into one another. Soon the streets were full of pockets of people, hanging around outside brightly lit taverns or houses. Everything looked more familiar.

Sora looked at Crash. They had been wandering somewhat aimlessly for a while. "So, where are we going?" she asked.

Crash glanced down at her from the corner of his eye, then back to the street. "The map maker," he finally answered, as though his thoughts had been somewhere else. “Hopefully he'll have something on the Isles.”

The street took a downward path, and she altered her gait accordingly. Crash stopped sooner than she expected in front of a small, cramped shop with boards over the windows, through which a dim light slanted. Sora could see that the windows had been broken at one time. Across the street, a group of red-haired men sat, sharing a bottle of wine and laughing loudly. She tried not to stare at them as Crash led her into the shop.
Why are there so many redheads in this city?

The inside of the store was warm and bright, and smelled like old pipe tobacco and dusty paper. There were rows of tables, and shelves covered in rolled-up parchment. The shopkeeper was in clear view, standing with his back to them, hunched over a table.

Sora stared in surprise at the scruffy old man; he was hovering over a large book, but his figure seemed familiar. She leaned to one side slightly, trying to get a glimpse of his face. Over a year ago, she and Crash had gone to a similar store in the town of Mayville. It seemed impossible, but... if her eyes weren't deceiving her, this was the exact same mapmaker!

Everything from his stiff gray hair to his large nose was the same as before, yet it seemed as though he had lost his hat. She leaned over so far to see him, she bumped into a table, causing it to inch noisily across the floor. The mapmaker stood up and turned toward them. Yes, even his piercing blue eyes were the same.

"Ach, customers, and at this time of night!" he said sourly. "How'd you get in?"

Sora was surprised. “Uh... the door was unlocked...?”

The old man snorted. “Nonsense, locked it meself 'bout an hour ago. Oh, well! I'd be grateful for your coin, if you're willing to part with it. What are you looking for?” He stared at them, his eyes narrowing. Sora wondered if he recognized them, too.
He's a senile old man,
she reminded herself.
Can't even remember if he locked his door or not.

“You,” he said suddenly, unexpectedly, pointing a gnarled finger at Crash. “We have done business before.”

Crash nodded. Sora wondered why the man remembered the assassin but not her. “We are looking for a map to the Lost Isles,” he said.

The old man chuckled from somewhere deep in his throat and began shifting through piles of parchment on one of the tables. “An adventurer like myself, I see... why go there? The Lost Isles—better they didn't even exist. What about your lady friend? Certainly, she would like to go somewhere more... cheerful.” The old man winked at her, a gap-toothed grin splitting his face. “Why not the King's City of Crowns? It is beautiful this time of year, and you can get there quickly by sailing north to the mountains, then down the Little Rain River. They'll be holding the winter carnival soon. It should be a mighty big one, celebrating 300 years of peace.”

Sora shook her head, and the man waggled his eyebrows. “Oh? Then can I interest you in the Glass Coast?” He held up another map. “Half-price. I've got about a hundred extra copies. Beautiful beaches, caves where the stones sparkle like stars, and the sunsets turn green against the waves! The sand there has turned to glass over hundreds of years of lightning storms... it's quite the sight to see....”

Sora was shaking her head. The old man's speech stumbled to a halt, and he sighed. “Why the Lost Isles?” he repeated. “You know they are cursed.”

Crash coughed. “Far from it, my friend. And I know that for a fact. We are going there for personal business, and you are safer not knowing about it. Do you carry a map?”

The old man nodded slowly. “I didn't make it myself, but yes, I do have a map of the Lost Isles. Bought it from a traveler a long time ago. I won't part with it cheaply.”

Sora wanted to sigh. Was anything cheap anymore? “How much?” she asked.

“Let's have a look first,” Crash said.

The old man traveled to the other side of the room, using a withered cane for support. He opened up a large chest near the far wall and rummaged through it a bit, then brought out a small square of paper. Sora was surprised. She had expected something larger and far grander. Instead, the map looked like it had been drawn on a scrap of leather, perhaps someone's handkerchief or bandana.

“It is a bit old, but I doubt much has changed out that way over the past decades. You are aware of the storms?” The mapmaker said, giving Crash a dark look.

The assassin nodded. They followed the man to a large table and he spread out the piece of leather, holding a light close to it. Sora stared at the scratchy ink and burn marks. She could make out a thick line where the coast was, and an indication of Port Delbar, but the rest was unreadable. Crash, however, was slowly nodding.

“We will need a compass as well,” he said.

“Altogether, I'll give you the map for twenty silvers... and I'll throw in the compass for free.”

Twenty silvers? That was enough to buy a new horse! Sora opened her mouth to speak, then Crash said, “I'll pay no more than four.”

“You cut a hard bargain. Let's say fifteen.”

“Six, then.”

Sora rolled her eyes, uninterested in haggling. She was simply no good at it; in all honesty, she found the process stressful. She had grown up in a safe, sheltered manor where she had never had to shop for herself. After moving in with her mother, haggling and bargaining had remained one of the great mysteries. She had no knack for it, and she hated the feeling of being cheated out of her money.

As the two men talked business, she wandered around the store looking at the items on the dusty shelves. Most of the parchments were untitled, but every shelf was either numbered or lettered. Some of the shelves were categorized by region, “Southland” or “Northland,” all in regard to the King's city. And then there were more curious labels.
The Bracken, Valco, Ester....
She ran her fingers along the bookcases. Just how large was the world if it could contain so many maps?