Part 37 (1/2)

”It is!”

”It's me,” said Storm, still without taking his eyes off Sauny. Then bodies were all around him-pus.h.i.+ng, sniffing, licking, shouting. He heard Kelsy's exuberant laugh and Tracer's jubilant yip, but Sauny didn't move. After what seemed an eternity, she walked slowly around the body of the creasia. The other ferryshaft grew quiet. Storm stepped forward, and Sauny sniffed noses with him.

She swallowed and finally tried to smile. ”I knew you weren't dead,” she whispered.

No, you didn't, thought Storm.

But Kelsy was speaking beside him. ”She did. She kept saying so.”

Sauny came right up to him and rested her head across his shoulders. Storm could tell that she was fighting the urge to rub her face in his fur just to convince herself that he was real. She was trembling. ”Please talk,” she whispered against his ear. ”Please talk to them.”

Storm didn't know what to say, but he knew that Sauny needed him to fill the awkward silence. ”What happened here?”

”They've been coming all summer,” muttered Kelsy, ”sneaking around the edges of the herd at night, grabbing orphans and loners and young foals who wander. Everyone said it was a new kind of raid-a punishment because...well, because of you.”

Storm stared at the body of the creasia-its fur a deep ocher, stained black with blood. ”How did-” he began. ”How did this-?”

”Sauny thought of it,” said Kelsy.

For the first time, Storm looked around at the little crowd of ferryshaft. ”Thought of what?”

”She said that if they were coming alone, we could kill them. She was right.”

More than a dozen ferryshaft were gathered round them. Storm didn't recognize all of them, but he had caught sight of Kelsy's three mates, Tracer, and Valla. They were staring at him as though he had grown a second head. ”I can't believe you're alive,” whispered Tracer.

A ferryshaft whose name Storm did not know gave an abrupt whoop. ”This is it!” he exclaimed. ”This is what we need to move the herd! Storm alive? They'll fight now!”

A babble erupted from the others. Ferryshaft began shouting and laughing and prancing with excitement. ”The foal that Arcove couldn't kill!” someone called. And another threw back the cry. ”The foal that Arcove couldn't kill!” They were pus.h.i.+ng forward again to touch him, to lick him, to congratulate him, to ask questions.

Storm felt overwhelmed. He caught Valla's eyes over the press of bodies. She grinned at him, but he thought there was hesitation behind her smile. ”Please, everyone calm down!” he said, but they wouldn't listen.

”Vearil,” someone shouted, ”the doom of cats!”

”Vearil, the doom of cats!” chimed the others.

To his consternation, Storm realized that the crowd was growing. ”Come on!” Sauny seemed to have mastered her shock at his appearance. She was beaming now. ”They need to see you. Come on, Storm!”

Storm looked around for the curbs, but they had vanished. Kelsy and Sauny stayed right beside him as the group swept them along with its momentum. ”That's only the third creasia we've killed,” Kelsy tried to explain, shouting in Storm's ear. ”The group was already excited. You just walked up at the right time.”

”We've been practicing,” Sauny said from his other shoulder. ”We've gotten about thirty foals and young adults involved, but we need more.” Sauny turned to the pus.h.i.+ng crowd and shouted. ”Get back! Give us room to walk!”

To Storm's shock, they obeyed her. They didn't listen to me. Or even to Kelsy. He glanced sideways at his sister. She'd grown taller, though she was still obviously a foal. Her tail had filled out, and she held it high as she walked. Her red-gold fur was almost the same color as Kelsy's, but her eyes, when she turned to look at him, were pale gray...as gray as those Storm had seen in the Ghost Wood. What are you becoming, Sauny?

Their riotous company began to pa.s.s little groups of sleeping ferryshaft, who stared at them blearily from their gra.s.sy nests. ”Storm has returned!” chanted the group. ”The foal that Arcove couldn't kill! The doom of cats!”

Charder stared at Arcove in the gloom, his voice pleading. ”The way these raids happened...it was almost as though we were being baited. Cats coming alone? Cats raiding in secret? Carrying off live foals? Were you trying to-?”

Arcove finally spoke. His voice was flat. ”I didn't send them.”

Charder let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. ”I thought-”

”a.s.sume for a moment that I am not trying to bait your herd into fighting so that I can annihilate it,” said Arcove. ”Because I'm not.”

Before Charder could fully appreciate his relief, Arcove started talking again. ”How many cats have they actually killed?”

”Only one that I know of,” said Charder, ”but these raids happen so secretively that there might be more-”

”Did you recognize the cat?” cut in Roup. ”Did you recognize any of them?”

”No,” said Charder. ”The ones I saw looked like young adults, but I didn't see most of them. The dead one was...mauled. Don't ask me who killed it, because I didn't see that either. The situation is getting out of my control. The younger ferryshaft are very angry.” He didn't think he needed to point out that opportunities to kill lone creasia would only increase their confidence, skill, and determination.

”Are they still talking about Storm?” asked Roup.

”Yes,” admitted Charder. ”They whisper about him. These odd raids have gotten a lot of them asking whether Storm might have had the right idea.”

Roup was muttering furiously in Arcove's ear. Charder thought that, behind his calm faade, Arcove looked worried. Charder raised his head and dared to be blunt. ”You asked me whether I've lost control of my herd, Arcove. Have you lost control of yours?”

Chapter 16. Homecoming.

Storm talked until sunrise amid a comfortable nest of clover and long gra.s.s by the lake. In spite of the fact that it was midnight, so many ferryshaft came to listen that several fights broke out on the edges of the group among those straining to hear. Storm implored them to calm down. He would tell them everything if they were patient.

I'll try, anyway. During the long, dark days in Syriot, Storm had frequently imagined himself sitting comfortably with half a dozen friends in the suns.h.i.+ne, gleefully relating his adventures. The idea that he might have to tell his story to a shoving, chattering crowd in the middle of the night had not figured into this vision.

Storm felt like running. Instead, he held his head high, raised his voice, and told the story as best he could. He talked about stumbling through Groth, about finding a strange blue stone, about being rescued by an ely-ary. He told them about recovering in the care of telshees, how the telshees were their allies and not their enemies. He told them about Shaw, about Keesha, about the Battle of Chelby Lake and the fortress that lay locked beneath Kuwee Island.

Most of those who sat listening to him were young-less than ten years old. He recognized many of them as Kelsy's friends and supporters. They were clearly riveted to his story-shocked by things they had not known. However, Storm also caught sight of a few older ones in the crowd-even an elder or two. They did not look surprised, only grim. I'm not telling you anything about the past that you didn't already know, thought Storm.

When he paused for breath, one high-ranking female of perhaps thirty years stood up and said loudly, ”It's a lie.”

The whole group went quiet. Many turned to stare at her. ”Rocks that open caves, ely-ary that rescue ferryshaft, telshees that heal wounds with singing, secret codes scratched in stone...” Her voice was heavy with contempt. ”It's a fine story by a fine trickster.”

A low rumble of talking broke out, but she continued more loudly. ”Storm Ela-ferry, we all know how you escape from hunters. You hide. You're good at it. You hid from Arcove, and it was quite an accomplishment. However, you left us to take the punishment for your tricks. We've been punished all summer because of you. You were too afraid to return here and face the creasia, so you've been hiding while we suffered. You've had plenty of time to work on this story, and now you think it's safe to return and tell your fable. You think we'll welcome you like a hero after all the death you've caused.”