A Friend in Need
The Adventures of Seeker and the Serpents, Chapter Four
This is the fourth chapter of my serial sci-fi adventure story, The Adventures of Seeker and the Serpents. The story picks up where my novella SEEKER leaves off. It should read well as a stand-alone story, but you can get a free copy of SEEKER by subscribing to my mailing list! (You’ll get a link in the welcome mail.)
Start with Chapter One: Déjà Vu Dinner
Go back to Chapter Three: Into the Crucible
Opie imagined a demonic spirit rising from the document in Harja’s hands—a death sentence, or a painful ineligibility for the Crucible.
Opie flattened his ears against his skull. His entire being wanted the second option to be true. He scolded himself, told himself he wanted Harja to be happy… but the terror of losing her traveled through his entire body like electricity.
There was only one thing he could do: use what he had to keep her safe. Opie had his HUD, all the classified knowledge he still had access to, connections in every industry. He would apply every bit of his privilege in Harja’s favor, to ensure she knew everything she could before anything got too dangerous.
Harja threw up her paws and keened in the back of her throat, a sound of frustration unique to the Shihari. Sometimes, when a mission didn’t go as planned, Opie and the Serpents would stand around and scream about it for a while.
And so a howl rose reflexively from Opie’s belly. He threw his head back and wailed like a wolf to the moon. Harja keened again; Opie howled; and they went on until their voices were exhausted.
Harja put her paws on her hips and sighed. “Ugh, what in all the hells are they thinking?” She looked tiny, fuzzy, like a sick animal, and her certainty dimmed.
It compelled Opie to lean forward and start laughing. Normally when Harja was like this, it became a joke they could play off. But when she didn’t join in the laughter, he quickly realized this was no joke to her. He nosed her elbow. “What is it? Is there anything I can do?”
Harja took in a breath so long that universes were born before she exhaled. “Well… first, I have to decide if I really want to do this.” She looked Opie square in the eye, then spread the map out across the bed, patting it down. “Here, look.”
It was a hand-drawn map of a jungle. Like the jungles on Shihar, it looked utterly unnavigable. A long list of rules and regulations unfurled in dramatic script alongside the map, but Opie’s attention was fixated on the depiction of the jungle. The illustration was ceremonial, but also functional.
Silently, Opie instructed his HUD to scan the map. It returned an affirmative almost immediately. THESE ENTITIES EXIST IN THE HATI DATABASE. The HUD maintained an illegal connection to HATI’s databases, which Opie’s friend Thunder back at HATI HQ conveniently ignored.
Then the HUD flashed a bright red warning IN Opie’s vision. HATI RECOMMENDATION: AVOID AT ALL COSTS.
Opie’s heart sank, and he turned his attention to the rules. Every dawn, the beloved must ascend to the sky to offer a token of their commitment. The beloved must capture and wear a sacred kithara feather to the final ceremony. The beloved may not make a sound as they traverse the whispering canopies. The rules were mysterious and seemingly impossible without wings.
At the end of the list of rules, there was one that raised Opie’s spirits just a little: Each beloved can choose up to two companions to join them in the Crucible.
Opie steadied his breathing so his fear was not obvious. He looked up at Harja. “Well, you can take us with you.”
She winced and looked away. “I don’t think the Serpents want anything to do with this quest.”
Opie swallowed hard. “You might not be wrong on that.”
Harja clasped her paws to her heart and closed her eyes. “They don’t want to risk their lives for ceremonial feathers and sky offerings just because I want to marry a stranger. I don’t exactly blame them.”
Her hopelessness was so devastating that Opie blurted, “I’m pretty sure all the Serpents would be there for you.” But even as he said it, he wasn’t sure he believed it.
Harja’s eyes snapped open. “Oh, really? After how meeting Riddle went down? Don’t be thick, Opie.”
Circles of panic darkness closed in around Opie’s eyes. To stave off the attack, he said, “You just have to ask for help. Isn’t that what being this weird little family has taught us?”
It was supposed to reassure Harja, but Opie knew he’d meant it for himself.
Harja’s anger faded to thoughtfulness. “You’re right. I should give them all the benefit of the doubt. I’ll ask Hlana first.” She gestured for Opie to follow her to the hallway.
Hlana had been careful to get a room next to Harja’s, even though the hotel was full. So Opie wasn’t surprised at how quickly Hlana opened the door in response to Harja’s knock.
But it shocked him to his core, the way Hlana’s eyes narrowed, her eyes darkened, and she slammed the door shut without a word.
Opie’s jaw dropped open. Even Hlana wasn’t usually so difficult. He wondered if she was feeling the same panic he was about losing her sister. The two Shihari were by no means related, but their bond was eternally close.
At least, Opie had thought it was. “Gods, Hlana didn’t even let us speak,” he said.
Harja’s tiny shrug sent a wave of sadness through him. “Well, I expected that.”
Opie thought of how he’d confronted Riddle with hostility, how he’d scolded her for her commitment. He’d been an ass, and it made him cringe. “Maybe she just woke up.”
“Opie, I appreciate it, but Hlana was… seeing someone,” Harja said. “A Shihari.”
“I guess that’s an excuse.”
“Don’t, Opie,” Harja said. “I prepared myself for that answer.” Dejectedly, she walked back towards Opie’s room.
Opie surged forward to lean against her side. “You want me to call Dax?” Before she could answer, Opie instructed his HUD to contact Dax.
There was a loaded pause while Opie waited for an answer. The HUD blatted and returned, NO RESPONSE.
Frowning, Opie instructed it to try again. After the same amount of time, NO RESPONSE flashed once more.
“That’s weird,” Opie said.
“What?”
“Dax is flaky about answering, but when we ping him multiple times—”
“—he picks up,” Harja finished.
They stared at one another, nervous energy rising between them. Harja rubbed her face with both hands. “That’s so strange. He should know it might be an emergency. Maybe he’s blocking me.”
Opie shook his head. “I don’t think so. He’s not answering me, either.” Dax might have been upset enough at one of them to ignore their calls, but if more than one Serpent called him around the same time, he would assume it was an emergency.
Opie jerked his head towards another hallway, far away from Harja and Hlana’s rooms. “Let’s go find Meras. At least one of the Serpents will come with us.”
Harja nodded, steadying herself against the wall. She set her shoulders and they walked slowly to Meras’ door.
There was no response to her knock. Opie put his nose down to the small crack beneath the door and sniffed deeply. No scent of Meras. He raised his head and flicked an ear towards the bar.
The bar itself was a high, smooth stone just off the dining room, which was painted in a gaudy pale green and decorated with bright red furniture. Most of the seats were empty; a few stragglers from the Fable Freight ceremony sat scattered throughout.
Opie recognized several faces and quickly turned away. He didn’t have time for a conversation.
Harja walked up to the stone bar and climbed onto a stool, waving for the bartender’s attention. “Excuse me, have you seen anyone who looks like me? Fuzzier here, though.” She gestured to her face.
The bartender shrugged, wiping his hands off on a towel. “Not recently. There were two of ‘em here last night, though, commiserating. They got real loud.”
Harja sighed and slid off the stool. “Oh, great. They got drunk because of me.”
“What? You don’t know that,” Opie scoffed.
Harja gave him a convincing glare. “Opie, I do know that.”
As Opie looked away to avoid her scathing stare, he caught sight of a dark, curtained doorway with an old THEATRE sign over the top. He sniffed and caught a distinct whiff of Shihari musk. “Wait, over there—the little theater. Meras loves the theater.”
“There’s no show right now. It’s dark!” Harja protested behind him, but Opie was already running into the theater doorway.
There wasn’t time for his eyes to adjust to the dark before the HUD identified Meras’s familiar shape. He was hugging his knees to his chest in one of the seats, and his eyes were open, staring into nothing.
Opie loped down the aisle and caught Meras’s sleeve with his teeth. Despite the Shihari’s grunts of protest, Opie dragged Meras out of the theater into the light.
“Meras, please, listen to us,” Opie said. “Harja needs our help.”
Meras’s face was swollen, as if he’d been grieving. Harja reached out and touched his cheek. Meras turned away, mumbling. “I’m sorry, Harj. I can’t.”
Harja withdrew her hand, looking down sadly at the thick, lush blue carpets. “I understand. You don’t want me to be with Riddle.”
“No, it’s not that,” Meras said. He took both of Harja’s hands in his. “My mother is sick.”
“Oh, Meras, I’m so sorry.” Harja pulled him into an embrace.
“They don’t have the facilities to help her on Shihar,” Meras said over Harja’s shoulder, “so I’m shuttling her here. Kiru IV has decent medical care, but I have to stay here and meet her. I can’t join you. I’m so sorry, Harja. I wish you luck.”
Opie looked at their two fuzzy heads close to one another, exchanging the deep concern of chosen family. He sank down on his belly, distressed.
The Serpents would not be the same without Harja. Opie was determined to make the most of what time he had left with Harja—the way she would have done for him. The way she was doing for Meras now, even on the verge of something terrifying and lonely of her own.
Harja released Meras. Without another word, he drifted back into the theater. Opie envied Meras a bit, waiting in the silent darkness, alone with his thoughts. Harja headed back towards Opie’s room, and he followed her on paws soft with his concerns.
As they reached his door, he couldn’t hold in his words any longer. “Harja, I will be your champion. I will join you in the Crucible.”
Harja struggled to keep her composure. “I’m sorry, Opie.” She reached for his cheek and grasped his fur firmly in that loving way she always did. “And thank you. I accept your help.”
And now, Opie was committed.