Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles #2)

By T. L. Shreffler

Sora is having visions. Strange, terrifying visions brought on by her Cat's Eye necklace, an ancient and magical device. Spurred to action, she leaves her mother's cabin to find Crash, the mysterious assassin who once changed her life. She is certain that together, they can discover what the necklace is trying to tell her.

Crash is still on the run from the dark sorcerer, Volcrian, but now a plague is spreading across the land. Volcrian's quest for vengeance has awakened something far more evil than himself; a force that could destroy the entire kingdom. Together, he and Sora must harness the power of the Cat's Eye and kill the sorcerer before it's too late....

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. L. Shreffler
• Release date: Oct 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9780985166342

T. L. Shreffler

T. L. Shreffler lives in Snohomish County, WA. She loves diversity, fantasy, romance, iced tea, long walks, philosophy, and thrift store shopping. She currently holds a BA in English and her poetry has been published consecutively in Eclipse: A Literary Journal and The Northridge Review. She is the author of The Cat's Eye Chronicles, a popular YA Fantasy series in the spirit of Throne of Glass, along with other works including The White (The Dragon Pearl #1), Blood of the Wolf and Mark of the Wolf (PN Romance.)

Book preview

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Smashwords edition.

http://www.catseyechronicles.com

The Cat's Eye Chronicles

Sora's Quest (Book #1)

Viper's Creed (Book #2)

Volcrian's Hunt (Book #3)

Ferran’s Map (Book #4)

The Cat’s Eye Chronicles Novellas

Caprion’s Wings (Book #3.5)

Smashwords Edition.

Crash awoke from the dream with a start.

It dissipated as soon as he opened his eyes. Stars glinted above him, pinpricks on the pitch-black horizon, the ground cold and moist. From the stillness in the air, he knew that it was early, early morning.

He stood, looking across the flat plain, a dark ocean of wavering grass. The residue of the dream lingered, its cold hand on his back, as if warning him of something....

What? he thought, studying the broad expanse of the lower plains. What am I overlooking? He felt keenly disturbed, as though a predator stood just beyond the fringe of grass, watching him, filled with murderous intent. But was the threat far away or nearby? It was like watching a heavy storm cloud approaching. How long before it reaches us?

A large flock of crows suddenly appeared in the sky, flapping loudly against the dead night air. They cawed and squawked to one another, rushing by overhead. Dozens, perhaps hundreds. The mass of birds was so thick, it blacked out the stars.

Crash stared. Crows flying at night?

Then he noticed a certain skittering in the underbrush. Rabbits, mice and ground squirrels dashed through the dry grass, all following the same direction as the crows. The more he watched, the more he saw. Sparrows, black birds, swallows... all darting across the plains, fleeing west.

What is this? he wondered. A fire? An earthquake yet to strike? Yet there was no firelight on the plains, no telltale smell of smoke. The ground remained cold and solid.

Crash pondered the animals thoughtfully. Why are they running? Deep in the pit of his stomach, he felt like he already knew the answer.

A bush rustled, and he turned around to find his companion, Burn, returning from his watch. Small leaves, curled and dry from the summer climate, crunched beneath his boots. It was difficult to move soundlessly. They were camped next to a thicket of spindly trees tall enough to offer shelter from the elements. Burn had spent the last several hours in the branches, taking a better look at their surroundings.

So they woke you? Burn asked softly, glancing at the sky where the crows were still flying by. I wonder where they're going.

Crash nodded. So he wasn't just imagining it. They're fleeing from something.

Burn paused next to the assassin and gazed at the horizon. He turned his face into the wind, his flared nostrils sniffing the air, his long, pointed ears twitching; Wolfies' senses were naturally heightened and sharp. Finally, he pointed toward the northeast. There, he murmured. Far away, at the base of the mountains. He looked troubled. It smells like... blood.

Crash's eyes hardened. Volcrian. Had to be. The bloodmage was approaching—though Crash doubted he was close because if he was, they would know it by now.

He wants my head, Crash replied. We should go our separate ways. He would most likely let you go. This isn't your fight.

The Wolfy's eyes turned hard. "It is my fight, he murmured. Or have you forgotten what he did...?"

Silence. No, Crash hadn't forgotten. He only wished that Burn could forget—Burn was one of those rare, upright, honorable men who deserved a good life. But if they continued traveling together, they would both end up dead.

Now Crash could feel the bloodmage's presence descending onto the plains, a malevolent force, unstoppable. He seemed larger than before, easily detectable, powerful.

We should leave the mainland, he finally said.

Aye, Burn grunted softly in agreement. Might be our only option. We can travel south to Delbar, take a ship overseas... we have some backtracking to do. They were currently traveling north, and had planned to traverse the mountains to the distant ice fields. If Volcrian was close, however, they would need a faster route of escape. Overseas would do.

Crash's eyes turned to the south, tracing the constellations in the sky. To reach the port city of Delbar, they would have to pass through the region where they had left Sora more than six months ago.

Should I warn her? he wondered. Hopefully, Volcrian would leave her alone now that she wasn't traveling with them anymore. If they showed up at her house, they would risk drawing the bloodmage there, too. No, he decided. Better to stay away.

We leave at dawn, Crash said determinedly, and turned back to the copse of trees, ready to keep watch. The crows continued to fly overhead, growing in number.

The poles definitely did not look inviting. About a full hand's width in diameter, they were wooden, moss-covered and lined the meadow like solemn sentinels. They started low to the ground, progressing around the field in a half-circle, growing taller and taller until they reached the height of a man. Sora had never seen anything like it.

What are these? she asked, and gave her mother a skeptical look.

These, my dear, Lorianne said, will make you a true fighter!

Lori had awakened Sora at the crack of dawn. The two women had dressed and eaten a hasty breakfast. Then her mother had led her out into the fields, gray mist hovering above the frosty grass, and into the forest beyond. They had entered the overgrown clearing soon after.

I constructed this place especially for combat training, her mother said, though it hasn't been used in a while.

Sora was confused. The poles looked degenerate and rotted. A firm shove might have sent one toppling to the ground. With a bit of effort, she dug her fingers into the soft wood. She couldn't imagine what they were used for. Was she supposed to practice sparring? They didn't strike her as very challenging opponents.

I don't get it, she said plainly. And why wouldn't you let me bring my staff? What's the point? Her staff was her best weapon, the only thing that felt natural in her hands.

Her mother grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye, and said, Climb one.

What?

That one, right there. Lori pointed to a short, stout pole nearby. It was only about a foot tall. Sora stepped on top of it easily. Then she stood there, balancing on one leg like an awkward stork. She felt a little foolish.

Okay, now what? she asked, trying not to get annoyed.

Now jump to the next one.

Sora looked for the next pole, only to find it almost a yard away and a good foot higher than the first. After a bit of eyeballing, she swung her arms and jumped, landing clumsily on the other foot. Her balance wavered.

And now the next one, her mother said immediately.

The next one? Sora looked for her next landing place, only to find it another yard away and a whole foot higher. Granted, only a year ago she had jumped from branch to branch through the monstrous, tangled trees of Fennbog Swamp. But she was out of practice, and the narrow diameter of the poles demanded much better balance.

I can’t, Sora finally said. I won’t make it. I’ll break my ankle!

You’re not even going to try? her mother cajoled, and her grin widened.

Sora shook her head in defeat, and hopped lightly to the ground.

Without another word, her mother passed her. Lori jumped onto the pole in front of Sora as though it were a normal doorstep, and proceeded to leap from one pole to the next across the clearing. Sora's mouth dropped. Her mother was magnificent! Fluid! Graceful! She danced across the pillars, climbing to the highest and then bouncing down to the lowest. When she finished, she came vaulting back in Sora's direction, and landed at her daughter's side with an elegant twirl. She had crossed the entire clearing and back in under ten minutes.

Sora stared at Lori with wide eyes. She had only known her real mother for about a year now. The woman was full of surprises.

This is called 'step training,' Lori explained. It's to gain balance and confidence.

Where did you learn to do that? Sora asked breathlessly.

I’ve seen training grounds like these on my travels, Lori said nonchalantly. A friend helped me build one for myself many years ago. This is an old, old technique, used by the warrior priestesses at the Temple of the South Wind. And by your assassin friend as well, I suspect.

Her assassin friend.

The mention of Crash was unexpected, and Sora quickly turned away. He hadn't truly been a friend, but he had definitely changed her life. Memories of the assassin left her flustered and tense. He had left her behind, traveling away with their mutual friend, Burn. An entire year had passed since they said goodbye. Sora had received no letters, no news. She could only assume the deadly duo had traveled far overseas by now. But she still thought of them every day. Every. Damnable. Day.

Lori pursed her lips, watching her daughter, but Sora avoided eye contact. Thankfully, her mother turned back to the poles instead of asking about Sora’s sudden blush.

"Now you do it," Lori said.

Sora clenched her teeth. If this is how Crash trained, then I will master it, too!

She stepped onto the first pole, the lowest one, and centered herself. When she closed her eyes, she once again saw the arching branches of Fennbog Swamp. She remembered how she had leapt from limb to limb, at first clumsy and hesitant, and then with relative ease. She tried to imagine each pole as a separate tree limb, each step accurate and targeted.

She opened her eyes, lining up the poles in her mind. Then she leapt.

She landed.

She leapt again. Her momentum carried her through. She tried not to think, to let her muscles work by memory alone, but her mind traveled back to the swamp, and even before that, to when she first met Crash. He had killed her step-father, and after a chance collision in the manor halls, he had discovered her Cat’s-Eye necklace. He had kidnapped her without question from her own Blooming, and dragged her halfway across the kingdom, all to escape a sorcerer out for revenge. For months, she had hated him, yet through trial and adversity, they had somehow grown to trust each other, and then rely on each other. Friendship seemed like too sentimental a word. Crash was not the kind of man who inspired warmth, and yet...she missed him, in rare moments of the day, when she was knee-deep in housework or out riding through the forest. She yearned to see him again, though she wasn't sure why. Occasional travelers would pass by her mother’s cabin, and she would always look, hoping to see him.

Or Burn, she reminded herself. I miss Burn too.

Her memories finally caused Sora to lose balance. She reached her next target—for about two seconds. Then her foot slipped, and she tumbled head over heels with a yelp. She fell four feet to the ground, landing with a thud in the dirt.

Her mother reached her side and offered her a hand up. Not bad for your first try! What do you think?

Sora brushed dust and grass from her clothes, surprised that she had made it almost halfway across the clearing. It’s hard, but not impossible, she said.

That’s the spirit! Her mother winked at her. We’ve been focusing so much on hand-to-hand combat, I thought some balance and coordination exercises were in order. Practice whenever you want.

Sure, whenever I want, Sora echoed. The poles were fun for about fifteen minutes, but she missed using her staff and daggers. Her mother had taught her mostly hand-to-hand combat this past year, since she didn’t specialize in any weapons. Sora kept her daggers sharp and clean, but her staff might as well have become a broom handle. She spent most of her time doing chores now. Not the life she had imagined so long ago, when she had plotted to run away.

Shall we have another go at it? Sora said, ready to try again.

I would, but I have an appointment this afternoon at a nearby farm, Lori said. I could use your assistance, if you’d like to accompany me.

Of course, Sora said, better than sweeping the stables. What’s the ailment?

Lori picked up her walking stick and turned away from the clearing. Sora fell into step next to her. They left the training yard and entered the acreage of forest behind her mother’s cabin.

A young lad arrived this morning, her mother said. His father fell ill last night. The lad seems to think his father caught the illness from their chickens.

Food poisoning?

No, some sort of disease.

Sora frowned. It sounded unusual. But infection doesn’t usually travel between humans and animals….

Exactly, her mother agreed.

Lori was a Healer, one of the few in the region, and some farmers traveled weeks to see her. She always had a steady flow of work, and since living with her, Sora had learned quite a few things about the healing trade. She had become an assistant in some ways, a personal maid in others. But that was life as a peasant—one person wore a lot of hats.

Sora was used to an army of maids doing her laundry and turning out her sheets, or cooking her meals, or cleaning her dishes. Her adoptive father had been a rich lord, well known on the High Plains, but there had been no warmth in that house. Sora had grown up with a distinct feeling of imprisonment. A year ago, she had willingly run away, giving up her title and inheritance—though sometimes she wondered why. Housecleaning was hard work!

Lorianne turned abruptly and started back across the fields, collecting remedies as she went, pulling up a few wild herbs or snatching leaves from certain vines.

Sora followed with a sigh. Assisting her mother had been exciting at first, learning how to mix potions and sew up wounds, but after a long winter of colds and a warm spring of hay fevers, she was absolutely, without a doubt, tired of it.

* * *

The small farmhouse was about four miles away. Sora recognized it. They had visited only three weeks ago to deal with the farmer’s sick chickens. They had found over a dozen hens with gummy eyes and blackened beaks, their feathers falling out in odd clumps.

When Sora saw the farmer, she thought he looked much the same. He laid on the bed restlessly, tossing and turning. His nails had turned black, and his hair was falling out in fistfulls on his pillow.

After wrapping a cloth over her mouth and pulling on leather gloves, Sora mixed a concoction of poppy and chamomile at her mother's direction, which would help him enter a deeper sleep.

Lorianne collected samples of mucus from the back of his throat. Strange, she murmured, holding a vial up to the light of the window. It's clear. No color.

What does that mean? Sora asked.

Her mother spoke softly. It means that his body isn't fighting an infection.

But his fever….

Feel his forehead—it’s cold, not hot. There is no fever.

Sora watched the farmer toss in his sleep. He certainly looked feverish.

The farmer's wife stood in the background, silently wringing her hands. She had the tough, weathered look of a woman who could work the fields. Her hair was tied up in a kerchief, her arms tight and sinewy.

Lorianne passed the farm wife a rag to hold up to her mouth. This disease might be contagious, she said gravely. Be careful not to breathe in his air. Have you shared any meals with him? Laid in his bed? It's probably unsafe for you to be here. Can you step out of the room?

The woman paled and nodded, and quickly left, closing the door tightly behind her. Sora glimpsed a tall lad standing in the hallway, staring at them with wide eyes.

Mom, Sora said, after the door was firmly shut. You said there's no fever and no infection. How is that possible?

It's not, Lori said, her voice muffled from the linen around her mouth. It’s either some natural disease I’ve not yet encountered, or…we need to use your Cat's Eye.

My Cat's Eye? Sora echoed. She touched the stone under her shirt. It hung from her neck on a silver chain. But why...?

Because I think this is a curse.

A curse?

Yes. Use your necklace. See if it reacts to anything.

Sora raised a skeptical eyebrow. A curse seemed unlikely. Humans couldn’t work magic, and the five races were fast dwindling into extinction. She also wasn’t sure if her Cat’s Eye would be much help. She hadn't used its power since arriving at her mother's house. She had grown up thinking of the necklace as an old family heirloom, but a year ago, she had discovered it was an ancient weapon from the legendary War of the Races. The Cat's Eye protected its bearers from magic by detecting and absorbing supernatural energy.

I'll try, she said, and with some hesitation, reached out to touch the man's wrist.

Chkkkt!

Sora's hand snapped back. The immediate energy shocked her fingers and she heard the dim whisper of bells in her ear, like a distant passing wagon. She shook her head in amazement. It had been so long since she had experienced magic, since she had felt the Cat's Eye awaken and move....

Look! her mother gasped.

Sora looked at the farmer’s rigid body. His eyes were now open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. As she watched, his eyes rolled back into his head, his mouth opened, and he suddenly sat bolt upright. His blind face turned toward Lorianne.

Then a black, shiny river of tar spewed from the man's mouth. The strands of tar seemed to stretch and contort into worms, which shot through the air, projecting straight at Sora’s mother. Lori yelped and stumbled backwards. The worms landed all over her arms and chest, squirming left and right. They were looking for an opening, a pathway into the body.

Sora reacted instantly. She reached up, touching her Cat's Eye. Her ears began to ring in response, the urgent jangle of bells. The necklace rushed to life.

Then she grabbed her mother and wrapped her in a tight embrace. Please, she thought fiercely, protect us! With a vicious crackle, the necklace’s power enveloped the two women. The worms screamed—screamed—and with another fizzle, they dispersed, vanishing into small puffs of smoke. The necklace quickly absorbed the dark energy.

The two women sank to the ground.

W-what happened? her mother asked, obviously shaken.

They both stared at the bed where the old farmer lay, snoozing peacefully.

I don't know, Sora frowned. But I think you’re right. It must have been some sort of a curse. The Cat's Eye dealt with it, but where did it come from?

Her mother finally dropped Sora's hands and climbed to her feet. Her eyes never left the farmer’s bed. I've never seen anything like that, she said. Then she prodded Sora's shoulder. You should touch him again. See if the curse is gone.

Sora shoved away her mother’s hand. Gross! she exclaimed. "Why don't you touch him?"

I would, if I had a Cat’s Eye!

Sora sighed, stood up and crossed the room to the farmer’s bedside. She wiped her sweaty hands on her pants, then she reached out a shaky finger and touched the man's wrist. It felt warm, dry...normal. She closed her eyes and sank deep into her mind, where the bond with the necklace resided. Mentally, she nudged it. What kind of magic is this…?

Instantly, darkness flooded her vision. A strong static shock nipped her fingers, but this time she resisted the urge to remove her hand. She allowed the Cat’s Eye to react freely. The necklace took over her consciousness, and Sora felt as though she had been sucked into the man's body. She could feel his labored breath, the stab of pain with each inhale, the heaviness of the quilt and an overwhelming nausea. Hot, so hot....

Her eyes filled with images: swarming insects, billowing smoke and miles of heavy, dank earth. Then a red hot boil burst in her chest. She took a sharp breath. Hatred. So much overwhelming hate....

Sora felt like the hatred would consume her, like it would work its way deep into her body and control her. Fear seized her heart. She summoned the Cat's Eye and the sound of bells met her ears—a gentle clinking in the wind.

When she opened her eyes, she saw a green light surrounding her hand. The power of the Cat's Eye flowed from her fingers like cool water, stretching across the man's dry skin. The necklace drew the diseased magic into itself, like water into a duct.

With a final tinkle of bells, the Cat's Eye fell dormant.

Sora looked up at her mother. She felt tired, but exhilarated. When had she last dealt with magic? Over a year ago, to be sure, before Crash and Burn left. The necklace had remained silent for all that time, but she could feel it firmly now in her mind, as though another person sat just behind her eyes. She had almost forgotten the sensation.

Well? her mother asked.

He’s cured, Sora said. She knew this for a fact, though she couldn’t explain how. The magic was…strange. It felt like his body had been poisoned by hatred. I don't know how that’s possible.

Her mother looked troubled. We shouldn’t ignore this, she said quietly.

What do you mean?

Lori glanced at the door, where Sora knew the farmer's wife stood just beyond, listening with an acute ear. I’ve noticed many animals coming down with this disease, but it shouldn’t be affecting humans. There is something dangerous afoot here. I need to return to my library.

Sora nodded, thinking of the books that filled her mother's library back at the cabin. Lorianne had spent her entire life collecting them, from children's stories to tales of Kaelyn the Wanderer and the five races.

Let's go, her mother said, packing up her supplies.

Sora nodded. Her hand traveled to the necklace under her shirt. The small, circular stone felt warm to the touch, as though she had dropped it in fire.

* * *

By the time they returned to Lorianne’s cabin, Sora felt like her head was on fire, too. The sun was high in the sky and harsh to her eyes. Even blinking was painful.

She staggered off her horse and walked to the house, eager to get away from the sun. Once inside, however, her headache only grew until her vision blurred and she couldn’t even find the stairs. She paused with one had on the banister and the other on her head.

Are you all right? her mother asked, coming up behind her.

Just a headache, Sora said. I think I need to take a nap. Perhaps using the necklace after so long had affected her more than she thought.

Her mother frowned worriedly, but allowed Sora to trudge up the stairs on her own, and then drag herself to her bedroom. Each footstep felt twice as heavy as the last. Sora didn't like her mother fussing over her, and closed her bedroom door in relief. Then she slumped into a large, overstuffed armchair, too tired to make it to the bed.

What's wrong with me? she wondered, resting her head back against the soft chair and shutting her eyes. Had she somehow caught the farmer's sickness? It wasn’t possible. Her Cat's Eye protected her from magic. It had been a curse, not a disease. Certainly not contagious.

She couldn’t stay awake. Just a nap, she thought. Just a short nap. That’s it. She allowed her thoughts to fade into swimmy darkness. Just a nap and I’ll be fine....

She stood in a field of tall yellow grass, looking down at Dorian’s lifeless body. His eyes were glassy, empty, gazing up at her. She had buried her good friend a year ago, but she could still conjure up the curve of his face, the slope of his nose, his pointed chin and silver hair.

A peculiar shudder ran through her. She forced herself to look away.

The field looked as though giant hands had torn up the earth. The stench of decayed bodies sat heavily on the still air. Chickens pecked the ground at her feet, clucking and bickering with each other, their beaks black with infection.

She looked up. In the distance, she saw a man’s silhouette walking against the background of the swamp. With a simple thought, she lifted from the ground to glide smoothly over the fields toward the figure.

She had to hover quite close to get a good look at the traveler, and then she grew confused. Was it Dorian again, this time creeping through the trees? No, she had just left his dead body. Then who...?

A gust of wind swirled around the figure’s cloak, and his face turned in her direction. Sora’s eyes widened in fascination. No, it wasn't Dorian, though the man was of the same race. His eyes were narrow and cunning. His lips were thin and pale, set in a tight line. His overall frame was broader and taller than Dorian, though still rather lean compared to a human male. Her gut twisted at the sight of him, and some inherent dislike bloomed in her chest.

Everywhere he stepped, the grass turned brown and the earth turned black.

He raised his delicate nose to the air and sniffed. His long ears twitched, listening, and his head turned. His eyes looked straight at her.

Who watches? he called. He stared at her—pierced her.

Then she flew off again. The field disappeared. Acres of farmland swept by below her, the crops bent and withered. She passed over a small forest, then more dead fields, until she finally crested a tall hill.

She found herself overlooking the ocean. A bustling port city sprawled at her feet. She could hear the sound of people coughing and sobbing, as though some disease had overtaken the whole city. The scenery seemed darker than it should be, the world thrown into a permanent dusk.

Sora caught a glimpse of countless rooftops before she soared down into the streets, twisting and turning past flower stalls and cobblestone walkways, brick storefronts and painted street signs. Then she launched up into the air, above the rooftops, once again.

A gasp lodged in her throat. There, before her, a dark figure hovered amidst a forest of chimneys. The very sight filled her with dread. Its black cloak and misty, shifting form was unmistakable—a wraith, just like the one that had killed Dorian. Impossible! she thought. She had destroyed the last one—the only one—with her Cat’s-Eye necklace. She had almost died during the battle. She didn’t think she

Reviews for Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles #2)

[Yvette · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very good book I highly reccommend it

[Melissa Mayfield · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Is even better than book one which is saying a lot because book one was phenomenal!!