Three more times she wrapped herself around the springy branches of the First Tree, letting them bounce her lower to the ground. The mass of branches was dense enough that she never missed her grip, though once she was forced to grab a narrow branch in each hand when she fumbled her hold on one of the larger ones. In less than a minute, her heels thudded to the earth. Her friends thumped down around her one by one, except for Kest, who had Guyrin clinging to his back with wide eyes. She marveled at his strength.
“A little warning would have been nice,” grated Renna. “If any of you looked up my dress…” A wailing horn sounded from the top of the tree, interrupting her incipient tirade.
“We’re not clear yet,” said Gamarron. “Back to the water. Quickly now!”
“No,” cried Tychus, dropping beside him from the branches. I didn’t think he’d follow us, Nira thought, bemused. How did he keep his grip with that huge tail hanging behind him? “The tunnels,” he panted. “They won’t want to follow you there.”
“What tunnels?” demanded Gamarron. “Where?”
“Tunnels, yes,” Nira breathed, remembering them from her dream. “They’re close. They go… deep.”
“You have no idea,” said the Naga. “Now come on. The rest of the city will be waking, and I don’t feel like getting caught just yet. So much fun! Come on, this way!”
He flowed off into the interior of the island, and the humans pounded after him. Nira stole a glance back at the monstrously large tree where, by all rights, they should have died, and tried not to think too hard about the weight swinging in her pocket.
Chapter 18 A Very Good Joke
Running was not on Guyrin’s list of favorite things. His toes and knees turned in just a bit, and he’d always had an awkward gait. Prolonged exertion led to grinding pains between his ribs and an unhealthy rattle in the lungs. On top of that, he’d always been soft and fleshy, even as a starving street thief, so everyone made fun of him when he ran. Laughter sounded different when it was mocking. And here he was in that damned Weaver woman’s clothes, belly bouncing out in the open for everyone to see. He half expected the Naga to stop chasing them and fall over laughing at the sight. If he heard a single snicker from those snakes, he was going to stop and turn them all into mushrooms no matter what Gamarron said. The Chaos is not mine to wield. I am a tool. I do not choose. He repeated his private mantra as he ran, and even though he was still moments from a grisly death, his anxiety eased. He hoped it would be a long time before he was called on to use the Chaos again. His exertions today should have been child’s play, but they had pushed him nearly to his limits. He wondered how many new tumors were growing in his guts because of it.
A truly horrendous number of Naga were after them. Somehow, the ones they had left behind in their death-defying jump from the great tree had communicated with those on the ground and sent a contingent in pursuit. They moved with surprising swiftness, and his legs pumped hard beneath him just to keep out in front of them. Renna had a hold on his arm with one of her bony claws and was hauling him along behind the others. He hated it, but he had to admit that he was moving faster than he would have been able to alone. Already his muscles felt like jelly. She’s about as much fun as a venereal disease, but she takes care of me. And she has the most amazing drugs. He wished she’d be a little less stingy with them.
Guy wanted to yell at the others to wait for him, but he couldn’t get his mouth to form the words. Ever since Nira had touched the Shard, a noxious buzzing had kept him off-balance and confused, forever slipping out of the present and getting lost in the molecules of the world that Chaos showed him. Usually that only happened if he opened himself to the Chaos he held within, but now it was forcing itself on him, and he was frightened of what that meant. Would the Chaos manifest without his consent? He tried so hard to keep it leashed; this new wildness frightened him.
Even worse, the Chaos he felt from Nira pushed against his own. He lived in the flood-strength currents of Chaos and had done so for years. He’d learned how to plant himself like a rock in that flow and find his orientation in the world. But this new push from the Chaos was like standing hip-deep in a river while an earthquake large enough to split the continent bucked beneath it. He’d never felt such power. He couldn’t find his center point any more, and panic was starting to build as he thrashed through reality, searching for the surface.
“Here it is,” cried the silly snake-man from the front of the group. He’s such a foppish little turd, Guyrin thought fondly. There were
