AUTUMNAL EQUINOX, LATE AFTERNOON
Rives vaulted back over the crack where it narrowed, then ran alongside it, heading back south, the way we’d come, heading toward the SOS whistle that blew from that direction.
I didn’t ask Rives which whistle he’d follow. I knew he’d go help Thad.
Plus, we were heading toward the coast, toward the other whistle, so I didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out the plan. Now I just needed to figure out how to function amid my crushing fatigue, keep up with Hafthor, and watch out for Carmen. She glared at me, venom in her eyes.
She actually tried to kill me, I thought incredulously.
And she’ll try again, a tiny voice said.
“It’s not you.” I addressed Carmen quietly, keeping a safe distance from her. “Your hate. It’s the island, feeding you.” Feeding off you, I thought.
She laughed, cold and cruel. “As if you know me. You don’t.”
“And you don’t know me. But I know the island, and what it does to people. And it’s turning you into someone your own family wouldn’t recognize.”
“How dare you speak of my family?” she hissed. “Shut your filthy little mouth.”
Fine, I thought. But I stopped talking, less for Carmen’s sake than for mine.
I’d never been so tired. All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep.
Soon … the breeze crooned.
We hadn’t gone far when James barked a gentle command. “Trouble on our left. Listen carefully or we’ll all die.”
My eyes flew to our left. Three lions and three hyenas slunk in our direction, moving silently, eyes intent on us. Each movement deliberate, the lions padded slightly in front, a lioness in the lead; the hyenas skulked well behind. We were outnumbered, six to five, with only one torch between us.
“Calvin, take the torch.” James’s voice was quiet. As he spoke, I readied my sling, sweeping the ground for rocks. I had only a handful in my bag, which would go quickly.
“I have my spear,” James continued. “Look big, make noise. Throw rocks, aim for the cats’ faces. And whatever you do, do not run.”
James widened his stance and waved his arms, shouting. Barely moving, he inched to his left, toward the coast and slightly backward.
We all followed suit, waving our arms over our heads, yelling like crazy people. The lions slowed, possibly confused. Hafthor had surprisingly good aim, hitting two of the lions smack on the nose with rocks.
It’s working, I thought. Hope blossomed in my chest.
Without stopping, we yelled, crept left, threw rocks, and made a human racket. Only twenty yards to the cliff’s edge, less than ten to the trees. Now I knew where James was leading us: a path down the cliff, putting us near the hot springs and the cavern housing the Pool of Sight. Thick trees were at our backs, fifteen feet away at most.
Without warning, the ground shook. It rolled and shifted, moving like it was alive. Carmen tripped beside me, hitting the rocks with bound hands and rolling.
The lions snarled and sprinted and time slowed and spun. The ground stilled.
One cat leaped at James, mouth open, teeth bared. James froze, his face calm; he watched the lioness fly toward him, waiting. At the last possible second he rammed a spear down her open mouth. Another cat leaped at Hafthor. He grabbed the cat with two hands and head-butted the beast; they rolled on the ground as one. The third one went after Calvin, hissing and snarling at the lit torch. I slung a rock at the cat and missed.
“Help Hafthor!” I cried to Calvin, readying my sling to go again, terrified for Hafthor wrestling a lion with his bare hands. “He needs you!”
“Get behind me!” Calvin yelled.
James wrenched his spear from the dead lioness’s mouth. A look of self-loathing crossed his face, then he turned toward Hafthor, bloody spear in hand.
I stepped away from Calvin and aimed for the lion still prowling out of range of the torch.
I slung. Something brushed my shoulder and I missed again. Two hands flashed in front of my face, and wire choked my neck.
“Any last words?” Carmen rasped in my ear.
Are you kidding me? I thought. And then I elbowed her hard in the ribs and pulled out the best Krav Maga move I had. She screamed and relaxed her grip, giving me the opening I needed to slip away. She clutched her side, her face contorted in pain and, strangely enough, confusion.
She stumbled away as I spun toward Hafthor.
He still grappled with the lion on the ground, arms fully extended, hands gripping the lion’s mane, a battle of strength and will. Blood slicked across Hafthor’s arms and torso like red paint. Hafthor lay on his back, the lion’s jaws inches from his exposed throat.
I clutched my rock sling, indecisive. I didn’t trust myself not to hit Hafthor. My aim seemed off. Beside me, James jockeyed to get a shot at the animal too; he circled, spear in hand, moving as stealthily as a cat himself. Shouting and hollering and the opposite of stealthy, Calvin waved the lit torch wildly at the other cat.
Carmen took off running, toward the rain forest.
Distracted, the lion darted away from Calvin, toward Carmen. This time I didn’t hesitate; I had a clear shot. I steadied my shoulder, slung a rock, and struck the cat on the skull. James closed his eyes as he slid his spear into its heart, finishing what I started. Wrenching his spear out with an angry cry, he sprinted after Carmen.
I wheeled back toward Hafthor in time to see his grip on the lion’s mane falter. The lion bit him on the shoulder and clamped down tight.
Hafthor roared almost as loud as the animal.
“Calvin!” I screamed. “Hurry!”
Sprinting over, Calvin pressed the lit torch against the cat’s flank. Immediately, the lion recoiled; it released its grip on Hafthor and swung its head around toward the torch. Hafthor hopped to his feet, his compass tattoo destroyed, his shoulder covered in blood and missing flesh. The lion growled, deep in his throat, his fur smoking.
For one crisp second, that visual was so clear.
Hafthor swaying on his feet, dark-red blood running down his arm in rivulets; the lion facing Hafthor, his golden coat smoking, his teeth bared and bloody.
The ground rumbled, a different rhythm from before, a growing vibration that escalated with each passing second.
The smoking lion leaped at Hafthor; Calvin lunged forward with the torch, swiping close enough to actually light the lion’s already-singed fur on fire. The hyenas scattered. I glanced behind me and time accelerated: a massive elephant was charging straight at us.
“Run!” I yelled.
Calvin froze. Hafthor yanked Calvin’s arm, jerking him to safety; the momentum sent Hafthor stumbling toward me. Blinded by fire and fear, the burning lion charged the elephant. Immediately, the elephant jerked and changed course—straight into Hafthor, passing close enough to me that its heat brushed my skin.
The startled elephant trampled Hafthor and kept going.
The flaming lion disappeared into the trees; the other two lay dead.
I dropped to Hafthor’s side. He lay on his back, bloody and beaten, his chest visibly crushed on one side. “Hafthor?” I took his hand. My voice shook. “It’s Skye.”
His eyelids fluttered. “Skye,” he whispered. A relaxed smile pulled at his lips. “I am … not lost.” He choked as blood bubbled on his lips. He reached up toward his shoulder, as if to touch the skin where his tattoo used to be, a move I’d seen him do countless times, like a personal reassurance; only this time his hand faltered before it ever made contact, his fingers briefly brushing Nil air before falling back to Nil ground. The light left his eyes. The pressure in my hand eased.
“Hafthor?” Tears ran down my cheeks. The ground trembled ever so slightly, and a thin wave of unbridled energy washed over me like an invisible gate, a tangible surge of pleasure and power I couldn’t miss, or deny.
Hafthor lay still. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t expand my lungs under the leaden pressure of grief and death and loss. The weight of pain was suffocating. I would break.
Soon … whispered the wind.
I didn’t move.
“Skye, we’ve got to go,” Calvin said quietly. He gently pulled me to my feet. I looked up, taking in the shock in his rich brown eyes, the blood splattered across his cheek and chest, the fading torch still burning in his hand. Now he carried two satchels: his, and Hafthor’s.
“Skye.” Worry crept into his tone. “We gotta get away from those dogs.”
All three hyenas were attacking the first lion James had killed; they tore at the cat’s lifeless body without pause. “Hyenas,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Those are hyenas.” I looked down at Hafthor. At his empty eyes. For an endless moment, I saw Dex. Then Hafthor and the faces of hundreds of others. All dead. All lost, forever.
I bent down and closed Hafthor’s eyes.
“Peace,” I whispered. Tears clouded my vision.
Hafthor, gone. Dex, gone.
Rives, missing.
Rives.
He was nowhere in sight. Neither was anyone else, other than Calvin, who stood watching me, waiting nervously. Fear welled, an invisible riptide sucking me out to a place I didn’t want to be. For a long moment, there was no air.
You can do this, Skye. Think first, panic later.
Think.
I breathed, and I lifted my chin. I stood. I did not look down. “We need to get to the coast,” I told Calvin, my tone uncannily calm. “Figure out who else whistled and see if they need help. And then we need to lay that fuse.”
We left Hafthor behind. I couldn’t match Calvin’s long stride, but I held my own until we reached the cliff edge. And then I crumbled to the ground in exhaustion.
“I have to rest,” I said. “Just for a minute.” A foot away from Calvin, I sat with my head in my hands; it was too heavy to lift without help.
Below us sat the hot springs. The cave entrance we needed was a black hole down to our left. I couldn’t see it from where I sat but I could picture it.
“I don’t see anyone.” Calvin frowned. “They should be here.” He took out his whistle and blew two quick blasts. The reply came back right away, faint but clear: two quick blasts. Calvin blew again, a short five-note sequence I didn’t recognize. The same sequence returned.
Calvin nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Davey’s all right. Same for Molly.”
Calvin’s torch went out, leaving wispy smoke. More smoke wafted in the sea breeze.
Look, whispered the sea.
One second, then two.
LOOK.
Glancing back, I gasped.
The trees by the meadow spat flames; they licked at the air, greedy and hot. Smoke billowed from the thickets in massive puffs.
“Calvin,” I whispered. “Nil is on fire.”