“Why?” I pressed. “Do you see her?”
You are close to so many things, he replied. Don’t ask me. Go.
I had no time for riddles and resented Malator for speaking them. “Sorry, boy,” I told my horse as I climbed into the saddle. “This time we don’t stop until we find her.”
There was nothing I could do for the pony. It was too small for me to ride and bringing it would only have slowed me down. Maybe it would find its way to Isowon, or maybe a friendly farmer would find it. I gave it one last look, then wheeled my stallion northward and galloped away. I forswore the map, riding by instinct alone, frantically searching the land as it passed me. My mind was a blur, every bit of me focused on finding Sky Falls. But maybe she hadn’t made it there. Or maybe the pony had wandered for hours, stranding her somewhere far from the Falls. I called out for her as I rode, afraid that someone else might hear me. But now it didn’t matter-I was ready to kill anyone who tried to stop me.
I rode that horse through the mud and rocks of the riverbank, giving no concern at all for the brave beast. He might have easily snapped a leg or lost his footing on the slimy shore, but I drove him cruelly, uncaringly, thinking only of Cricket. The dark thoughts that had plagued me all day were freed, filling my head with the worst of predictions. By the time I sighted the black hills, the barb was frothing. I could feel his heart pumping wildly in his breast, about to burst. The guilt of one more dead horse overwhelmed me.
“Enough!”
I reined back, cursing. White foam dripped from his mouth. I leaned forward, rubbing his neck.
“Enough. .”
Ahead of me lay the hills. Maybe Cricket, too. But I couldn’t kill the noble barb, not even for her. I looked up river, following the ribbon toward the forested hills. If there was a fork ahead, it was hidden in trees. Gently I nudged the horse forward, calling out for again for Cricket. Birds shot out of the branches, but no one answered.
I knew she was there, though. I could feel her.
The horse caught its breath as we entered the woods. The river moved more quickly now, running with an easy music. High branches filled with colored leaves shaded me. The harshness of the world fell away, and suddenly I was in a different place, a green cathedral of flowers and jumping fish. Trees sprouted from the rocky faces of the hills and dragonflies buzzed the shore. I gazed around, sheltered by the trees that held me like motherly arms. I jumped down from my horse, onto the pebbly bank. That’s when I heard the Falls.
The sound was quiet at first; I had to cock my head to hear it. I left the horse behind and followed the sound until it was unmistakable. It grew into a rumble, like the growl of a dog, and suddenly I was running, hurrying toward it. I saw the fork where the river split, breaking west against the ancient rocks, then looked up into the stepped hills where the river tumbled down, falling and rolling over itself and crashing into foam.
I stopped. I think I even gasped. It must have been forty feet tall and the sun was right behind it, tossing rainbows into the spray. Birds nested in the moss-covered cliffs. I could hear their young chirping over the noise. The fallen water spread out into a lake, flooding the valley it had carved from the hills. Suddenly I realized why Cricket had remembered this place so vividly. In the midst of desolation, Sky Falls was a paradise.
“Cricket!” I shouted. “It’s me-Lukien!”
If she could hear me, I couldn’t tell over the din. I moved carefully toward the distant falls, studying the ground for clues, anything at all that might tell me if she’d been here. Amid the sheer hills there seemed a hundred places to hide, but when I saw hoof prints in the soft earth I knew I wasn’t alone. They looked like the prints Cricket’s pony might make, small and coming to a stop near the end of the river. I tracked them backwards to where they disappeared into the woods. That’s when I noticed the other prints-dozens of them, deep impressions made by big horses with heavy riders. I discovered them yards from where I’d seen the pony’s prints. Following them took me to the first real footprints. Human prints.
I stared down at them, not wanting to believe it. The prints weren’t made by Cricket. Only a man could have made them. I shut my eye tight as sickness writhed inside me.
“Malator,” I moaned. “Where is she?”
Look.
He directed my gaze toward the other side of the river, not far from where the water tumbled from its cliff. There, like a flag on a stick, hung the rass skin cape I’d made for Cricket, draped atop a branch plunged into the ground. I splashed toward it, fording the water up to my waist and calling out for her, shouting over the roar of the falls. I forged up the opposite shore, searching frantically as I snatched the cape from the stick. There was no blood on it; it wasn’t even torn.
“Cricket! Where are you?”
A feeble voice answered from behind a rocky outcropping. First her hands, then her face crawled into view. She was almost unrecognizable from the bruises puffing her eyes. I dropped the cape and ran to her, saw her lying broken in the sand, her bare feet pushing to reach me. Her clothes had been ripped open, top and bottom, and her wrists were bound and bloodied, tied with rope. Dried blood crusted her broken lips. A patch of blood soaked the right side of her head. Not far away sat the stone used to crack her skull.
I sank down next to her and tried to keep the horror from my face. I had never in my life seen a person so brutalized. A girl! She looked at me and tried to talk. I put my hand to her cheek.
“Don’t,” I told her. I lowered my face to hers. “Don’t move or say anything.”
Cricket broke into sobs. “He found me, Lukien.”
At first I thought she was the one who’d made the flag, but seeing her made me realize that was impossible. He’d stuck the cape there. He’d done it so I’d find her, so I’d see her like this. I slipped my hands beneath her battered body. She cried out as I cradled her. I could feel the lumps on her skin and the pulpy contusions through her tattered clothing. She felt cold but didn’t shiver. Her dark eyes-swollen to slits-smiled at me.
“Did you get the monster?” she gurgled.
I shook my head. I pulled her feather-light body against my own. “No. I tried, Cricket, but I couldn’t.”
She strained to talk, coughed up a bubble of blood, then pointed to the water. “Take me there.”
“In the water?”
She nodded, clutching me with her broken arms. Her request made no sense to me. Then I realized she’d been trying to reach the water all along. Carefully I stood up and carried her down the river bank and into the water, going deeper until I was up to my waist again. She let go her arms and floated there, looking up at Sky Falls with my hands beneath her back. A sigh of enormous pleasure peeled from her lips. Her body went limp in my palms.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, struggling. “I failed.”
“No. .” Her fingers curled around my shirt. “I remember.”
Gently I lifted her dripping head from the water. Her dark hair spread out like ink on the surface. “Cricket? You remember?”
“Not Cricket,” she said. “Lisea.”
“Lisea.” I cooed the name like she was a baby. “Your name is Lisea.”
She gave a little nod. “Cricket was my sister.”
That made me freeze. She locked eyes on me and wouldn’t look away. Her newfound memories made her battered face slacken. She was waiting to unburden herself, and like a priest I gave her leave.
“Go on.”
“Don’t take me to shore. Keep me here in the water.”
“I will, Lisea.”
Her breath came in bursts. “Cricket drowned here,” she said. “My father sent us here. To hide us.”
I held her as still as I could. “All right,” I whispered. “It’s all right.”
“I was the protector that time, Lukien.” She laughed, then started to cry. “We ran. I couldn’t save her. .”