Quintessence Sky (39 page)

Catherine looked between them. "I see. You
want me to be your talisman. The star-bird, fallen to the depths
and risen again, pointing the way towards victory and a happy
future."

"They will see you alive," Tanalabrinu said.
"They will know that the earth snakes did not devour you."

"And if I'm killed in battle? Am I just a
martyr to further the cause?"

Tanalabrinu lashed one of tails like a whip,
a gesture of irritation. "This is your cause, too. Rinchirith
wishes to massacre all the humans on the island."

Dry laughter from Maasha Kaatra. "I wonder if
he mentioned that to the Spanish."

"I'm not a good luck charm," Catherine said.
"I want to see Matthew and my parents again."

The ground shook again, and a loud crack
sounded from the direction of the Gorge. Catherine leaned around
the edge of the rock to see what was happening. She jumped back,
startled, as a thousand spirit lights blazed past her head in
whining buzz. One of them circled back and hovered near Antonia.
"Flee!" it screamed.

It dashed off after delivering its warning,
but it was too late. An enormous salamander, ten feet long and
heavier than any three people, leaped over the rock behind which
Catherine and Maasha Kaatra were sheltering and snapped its wet
jaws around the fleeing light. It crashed down onto the mountain
with bone-shaking force, fissuring the rock.

Its head swiveled, and it saw Antonia. Its
muscles bunched to leap again, even as Antonia flew upward.

"No!" Catherine shouted. With quintessence
speed and strength, she snatched up a log and smashed it into the
salamander's head just as it jumped. The blow was enough to save
Antonia, but not enough to stop the beast's momentum. It launched
itself into the air, mouth closing just short of Antonia's fleeing
light, but its giant tail sent Catherine sprawling. It landed half
on top of her, smothering her with its slimy, glutinous body. She
fought to breathe, unable to shift its bulk, until it moved again,
trampling downhill after the other lights. Catherine lay on her
back, coughing and panting, damp with slime. Maasha Kaatra stood
over her, intent, feeling her arms and legs for broken bones.
Tanalabrinu was pressed against the rock, eyes wide with evident
terror.

Catherine clambered up, bruised but unharmed,
and looked down the hill after the salamander. The lights were
getting away, apparently unable to float high enough to be
completely out of reach, but able to move slightly faster than the
salamander could run, at least on this uneven terrain.

Then the ground rumbled again, and a shower
of dirt and rock exploded ahead of the lights. A hole opened in the
earth, and a second salamander wriggled out of it. The lights tried
to veer, but it snatched a huge mouthful of them. The rest whirled
left to evade it, but a third salamander burst out of the ground,
and then a fourth.

Catherine started running down the hill,
heedless of Maasha Kaatra's cries. "Quick!" she said. "Or they'll
all be dead."

The salamanders were effective predators.
They knew how to corral their prey, creating an ever tighter clump
of lights that allowed them to fill their jaws with each lunging
mouthful. Catherine threw rocks at them as she ran, but if any of
them struck home, the salamanders were not diverted.

Even with quintessence, her options were
limited. She could produce light, bright enough to start a fire
that could burn just about any substance. It was a powerful weapon,
but not a very focused one, and it might hurt the spirits more than
the salamanders. Besides that, she could make her body light, jump
high in the air, move incredibly fast, and walk through solid
objects—all useful skills, but not very helpful for driving off
massive predators.

If she did nothing, however, all the spirits
would be dead. She reached inside for the quintessence power and
blazed out with it, just as she had done a year ago to drive the
manticores away from the settlement. The salamanders stopped
immediately, sliding to a halt with their legs splayed. Then all
four salamanders turned toward her, eyes intent and huge mouths
dripping.

Dirt sprayed from their hind legs as they
charged at her, churning up the ground. In panic, she increased the
intensity of the light, and nearby trees burst into white flame.
The fire gave off no heat, but it devoured the wood quickly,
shooting up the trunk and into the leaves.

The salamanders didn't pause. When they came
into range, they ignited, but they kept coming. Catherine scrambled
backward and tripped on a root. The lead salamander lunged at her,
but then Maasha Kaatra was there, scooping her up in his huge arms
and dragging her away.

"Turn it off!" he shouted at her. "It just
attracts them!"

She obeyed, quenching the light. As soon as
she did so, the salamanders stopped chasing her as if she had
disappeared or ceased to exist. Instead, they leapt on each other,
all of them still on fire, licking and gnawing at each other's
skin, crushing bushes and felling small trees as they rolled and
wrestled. The fire didn't consume them like it did the trees. In
fact, it seemed to make them larger.

By this time, a crowd of manticores had
gathered, watching the spectacle. Tanalabrinu stood next to
Catherine. "The deeps are rising," he said. "The tribes are
choosing sides for war, and the earth snakes are walking beneath
the sky. It is the
chithra
. The end of the world."

Catherine turned to him. "I will help you,"
she said. "But first, take me to Matthew and my parents. They need
to hear what's happening, and they need to know I'm alive."

"I have already told your father I have found
you safe."

"Please, just take me to them."

TORRES hated these manticores already, and he
suspected the feeling was mutual. Rinchirith wanted only one thing
from the Spanish: as many matchlock rifles as could be provided. He
insisted that Torres's men train the manticores on proper loading
and firing techniques. Given the number of creatures that
Rinchirith commanded, it was hard to strike a fair bargain, but
Torres had resisted actually handing over any quantity of weapons.
He had also concealed from the creature the superior wheellock
rifles he had onboard. Before he gave Rinchirith anything of real
value, the manticore would have to fulfill his side of the
bargain.

When it came down to it, the manticores could
probably massacre them all and take the weapons, permission or no.
Torres knew the trick of covering the bullets with wax; that
information had been passed along through Juan Barrosa, from the
last group of Spaniards who had come to this island, before they
died. Even so, they would only be able to kill a fraction of the
manticore force before they were overwhelmed. But Torres wasn't
willing to simply give Rinchirith everything he wanted. He hadn't
become Capitán-General without the ability to bluff. He had a
mission to fulfill, and superior force or no, the manticores were
just a tool for that purpose.

Torres needed to mine this island's riches,
and to do that, he first needed to find the English colonists. Most
of them could be killed outright. They were apostate, so that
didn't bother Torres's conscience. But he would need to capture
enough of them alive to learn everything he needed to know about
the island's magic. Then, once he understood what was important to
bring back with him, they would die, as he had been ordered.

The manticores were a means to an end. He
didn't care if they lived or died, or whether Rinchirith was the
king of the island or some other beast. Eventually, the Spanish
would send enough power to enslave or kill them all. He just had to
keep them happy in the meantime.

"We need more guns to train," Rinchirith
said, having come up on the deck of
La Magdalena
yet again
to complain. He was flanked, as usual, by two smaller manticores,
one white and one a dirty yellow, neither of whom ever spoke. For
that matter, he could be accompanied by dozens more, invisibly
swarming the deck, and Torres would have no way to know.

Torres glared at him and tried to seem
implacable, not that this creature could probably pick up on his
facial expressions. "Not a single one more. In fact, your people
won't fire a single shot more until you fulfill your end of the
bargain. I want those colonists."

"They may have help from other manticores.
Unless my brothers are armed and trained, we cannot be certain of
victory."

"You said they were on the run. Fleeing,
living in caves. If we wait, they may gather allies, become more
entrenched. I say the time to fight is now."

Rinchirith snapped his pincers together with
a sharp clap, and Torres had to steel himself not to jump. "If you
insist."

"Good," Torres said. "Now, what can these
colonists do, and what can the manticores do who might be defending
them? I don't want to charge into battle without a good idea of the
enemy's power."

Rinchirith arranged his tails in an
expression that meant nothing to Torres, but from the tone of his
voice Torres imagined a self-satisfied smile. "They can do many
things, but they will die quickly."

Rinchirith opened a pouch made of some kind
of plant material. Inside were a dozen balls made of what looked
like a dark wood. Torres plucked one out and turned it in his
fingers. It was very hard, but definitely not made of metal. It
appeared to have been made of two halves glued together with an
adhesive, making him wonder if there was something hidden
inside.

"What is this?" Torres said.

Rinchirith made the same twining movement
with his tails, and Torres was pretty certain this time that it was
the equivalent of a smile. "Victory," Rinchirith said.

CHAPTER 24

MATTHEW was ready to strangle someone.
Elizabeth's council, as she called it, was a disaster. Everyone had
different priorities, different grievances, and each saw this
change of leadership as a chance to get their way. There was no
reasoned debate, with argument matched with rebuttal. Instead, each
new speaker changed the subject to bring the conversation around to
his own pet complaint.

It disgusted him. This was Princess
Elizabeth, the rightful queen of England. They should be asking her
for advice, not squabbling for attention. It wasn't that Matthew
was so impressed by royalty. But here was a clear chain of command,
someone who could command with authority and make irrelevant any
arguments about who should be governor. So why were they still
bickering and getting nowhere?

Ramos sidled over to stand next to Matthew.
It was disconcerting to have a member of the Tavera family here,
despite his apparent good will. Only a year ago, Ramos's brother
had tortured Matthew for the secrets he knew, and had shot
Catherine in the head. Ramos had a different build than his
brother, but the resemblance was still there.

"Don't worry about all this," Ramos said,
indicating the noisy and increasingly belligerent council. "I've
seen monarchs do it before."

"What are you talking about?"

"This isn't really a decision-making
discussion. She called it a council, but she has no intention of
taking any of this advice."

"So why is she doing it?" Matthew said.

Ramos watched her while he answered. "She's
taking everyone's measure. She doesn't know these people. This way,
she learns their names, learns their dispositions, discovers who is
wise or foolish, rude or gracious, devious or forthright. I've been
serving kings and queens for most of my adult life. Trust me, she
knows what she's doing."

Matthew shook his head. "It drives me
crazy."

Elizabeth looked up sharply. She raised a
hand, and the room fell silent. Matthew followed her gaze to see
Stephen Parris, on his feet, his face ashen.