But Oriantha was there to keep him grounded, and he took strength from her, changed back now into her sleek, muscular cat form as she led him out from the tent and into battle against their pursuers. There was a sense of indestructibility about her, an endurance that both defied all of the dangers that threatened and pushed back against the fears and doubts that plagued him. She had done for him what should have been impossible, and he would never forget it.
Oriantha was running the moment they went through the tent flaps—not so swiftly she outdistanced the boy, but fast enough to make him work at keeping up. Redden was still weak, and his legs would only allow him to move at a hobble. He was shaky, but he was also determined. The thought of going back to that cage was a nightmare he could only barely keep at bay. All of his concentration went into putting one foot in front of the other and staying upright in the process. He took his lead from her; wherever she went, he stayed close behind.
The pursuit was swifter in coming than he had expected. Growls and shrieks descended on them almost immediately, coming from behind and to the left. Oriantha seemed oblivious to them, moving ahead as if she didn’t hear them. Redden tried to do the same, but felt himself cringing nevertheless. Don’t listen to it, he told himself. Just keep going. Just run.
Then a body hurtled at them from between the tents, dark and swift and dangerous. Oriantha wheeled into it and left it lying in its own blood. Another creature appeared in front of them and she went right for it, putting it down so fast that Redden couldn’t even be sure how she had managed it. He was aware that he was supposed to try to defend himself but, physically, such an act was impossible. He was debilitated to the point that a strong push might overthrow him.
What he had to rely on—if he could manage to bring it to life—was the magic of the wishsong.
Oriantha kept moving—a few steps one way, a few the other, always heading west, back toward where she said she’d left Tesla Dart. Shouts and cries pursued them, but the tents were thinning ahead and the way out onto the flats was open.
Then an ogre lumbered into view from one side, surrounded by demon-wolves. It carried a club studded with spikes and roared in challenge. The wolves, keeping pace, snarled in concert, and began fanning out to either side of their bigger companion.
Redden tried to summon the wishsong, his voice raw and dry and empty. He could feel the magic fizzle and spark, but there was no power behind it.
Oriantha crouched in response to this new threat, gathering herself as the ogre trudged toward her. She waited until it was close, then exploded into action, leaping onto the creature and running up its huge body to its head, driving claws and teeth into its eyes and face, leaving both in tatters. She was off it in seconds, but now the wolves were on her, bearing her down. She fought to throw them off, getting clear and breaking for safety, but they gave pursuit and brought her down again. The ogre was stumbling about close at hand, stamping at the earth in rage and pain, trying to find something to hurt. It caught one of the wolves by mistake and finished it. The others cringed away as Oriantha rolled close to the ogre’s huge feet but somehow managed to keep out of reach. She was bleeding from a dozen lacerations, her sleek muscular body streaked with dirt and sweat.
Redden watched as one of the wolves noticed him for the first time and turned his way. It slouched forward, shaggy head lowered, muzzle drawn back to show rows of gleaming teeth. Oriantha was too far away and there were four more wolves between him and her. Redden was on his own.
He again tried to summon the wishsong, and again he failed. The magic would not respond.
The wolf was crouching now, gathering itself, preparing to leap. Oriantha had thrown herself into the midst of the other wolves in an effort to break past them and reach him, but her effort was hopeless. Redden braced himself, fear racing through him, his nerves raw, his terror so strong it had eclipsed all sense of reason. He went down on one knee, fighting his panic, remembering his promise, his word, his determination …
The ogre stumbled back into view right in front of him, cutting off the wolf, then turned toward him as if it could smell his fear. Its face was all bloodied and torn, and it roared in dull recognition of what it had found and might now act against. Great hands groped outward, reaching down.
Abruptly, Redden’s voice exploded out of his throat, the wishsong a primal scream that gathered up the very air and turned it into a savage wind and changed particles of dust into deadly shards. Both tore into the ogre and the wolves, ripped them to shreds and threw them away.
Then Redden regained control of himself and stumbled forward, catching up with Oriantha. Her smooth feline face swung toward him momentarily, and there was satisfaction in her bright eyes. Teeth showed in an attempt at a smile, and the cat bolted ahead onto the open flats.