Volcrian's Hunt (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) Read Online Free PDF Page A

marriage to come.
    Volcrian hadn't intended for his spells to grow out of control. He had summoned three wraiths from the underworld, but they had brought a dark power with them. The residue of the Dark God, released back into the land. The only way to stop the plague was to kill Volcrian and return the Dark God's weapons to their rightful place, wherever that may be. The first half was easy enough. Kill the mage, stop the plague.
    I wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for Crash, she thought bitterly. The assassin had kidnapped her after discovering her Cat's-Eye necklace, an ancient device from the War of the Races.
    Sora grimaced and forced herself to stand up. I need some fresh air, she told herself firmly. She walked out of her cabin, a small room barely large enough for her bed, and into the ship's hold. A long, salt-worn hallway stretched in either direction. She chose the stern.
    Halfway down the hall, a group of Dracians lingered in the doorway of another cabin. They were short men, only a few inches taller than herself, with bright coppery hair and eyes like the ocean waves, a mix of green and blue. They snickered when she passed. Sora tried to ignore them. They had all sorts of names for her now: Upchuck, Oatmeal and her personal favorite, Spew.
    Good-for-nothing clowns, Sora thought. The Dracians were the most obnoxious race she had met so far. If they weren't teasing her in the hallways, they were cat-calling to her on deck or dumping seaweed on her head.
    One day, when this was all over, she would get back at them. Somehow.
    Sora climbed up the short stairs to the deck. The topsail flapped above her in a strong breeze. It was still overcast, the clouds roiling about like a frothing stew. They hadn't seen a day of sun since leaving Delbar. The Dracians had warned that queer storms hovered over the Lost Isles, magic that lingered from the War of the Races. It astounded her that the storms had lasted so long. The War of the Races was a legend to most on the mainland, an ancient history all but forgotten, having taken place countless centuries ago.
    She shivered against the cold wind. A few drops of rain struck her nose. Another storm was brewing, a few minutes away from breaking loose. Perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea, but there were only so many places one could go on a ship, even a three-masted seafaring vessel.
    “Sora,” she heard a voice call.
    She looked up, surprised to see Burn approaching her. The Wolfy towered over her by almost two feet. He usually wore a giant greatsword strapped to his back, but today he was dressed in a linen shirt and snug breeches. His gold eyes met hers and he grinned, two fangs pushing against his lower lip.
    “How are you?” he asked, pausing next to her.
    “Oh, same old,” she muttered, and grimaced as another wave swelled beneath the ship.
    “You look pale,” he observed. “Still haven't found your sea legs?”
    “I'm beginning to think I don't have any,” Sora replied. Then she glanced around. “Where is everyone?” Usually the Dracians were all over the ship, clearing off the decks or manning the rigging.
    “Jacques called us all to the captain's quarters. I believe he wants to discuss our course,” Burn said.
    Sora frowned. “I haven't heard anything about this....”
    “That's why I came looking for you.” Burn offered his arm, a surprisingly chivalrous gesture. “Let's go below deck.”
    Sora sighed. The waves were worse downstairs, where she could hear the creaking of the timbers, the various rocks and debris that struck the thick wood. It made her shudder. She wasn't sure how reliable this vessel was. She felt terribly concerned about the storms, as though a thin sheet of paper stood between her and drowning.
    Another thought occurred to her. A bit of anxiety cramped her stomach. “Will Crash be there?” she asked slowly.
    “Of course,” Burn replied, a small frown on his face.
    She took his arm anyway. “Right,” she said. She