The Return Varian Johnson Scholastic Inc.
1 Zerif Z erif jammed his fingers into a small crevice and climbed onto the narrow, rocky ledge. Ahead, the majestic peaks of the Kenjoba Mountains stretched before him. Below, he could still hear the shouts of the Niloan warriors and Greencloaks in pursuit. They had been chasing him for days. He thought that he would be able to hide in one of the villages in South Nilo, but it had only taken a few days for someone to turn on him and alert the authorities. He bolted as soon as he saw the first Greencloak roaming the small village. Now that the war was over, Zerif found that very few of his allies remained. Most of the Conquerors had surrendered as soon as they lost control over their spirit animals, thanks to the destruction of the Evertree canceling the effects of Gerathon s Bile. The few warriors that still pledged allegiance to the Reptile King wanted nothing to do with Zerif and would have probably turned him over to the Greencloaks themselves if they found him. 1
2 Not even Zerif s jackal remained. Like the other animals, it had abandoned him as soon as he lost his power to control it. He was glad that he hadn t bothered to name it. No matter, he thought. I am Zerif. I will triumph again. As always. Zerif climbed to another ledge, scraping his hands and face as he pulled himself up. His blue tunic, ripped and withered, flapped against him in the howling winds. The breeze shifted direction, and suddenly the stench of rot filled Zerif s nostrils. He looked around. To his right, on another ledge, large black buzzards picked at the remains of an animal. Zerif backed up to gain as much running ground as pos si ble. Then he took off, his weakened legs flailing as he leaped through the air. He landed on the ledge and stumbled, almost falling over into the deep, empty valley below. Once he was sure of his footing, he charged toward the birds, driving them away. Zerif peered at the rotting carcass. there wasn t much left of the wild dog a few slivers of flesh hung on the other wise dry bones, and the beast s fur was torn and ripped. Still, he picked up what remained of the animal and flung it over his shoulder. One of the Greencloaks had been traveling with a fox; he hoped the dead animal would help mask his own scent. after a few more hours of climbing, Zerif stumbled upon a long fissure in the rock face. It took some effort, but he crawled through. Sparse patches of green moss covered the slick, cool walls of the small cavern. The cave was barely big enough for him to sit up in, much less stand. He was shivering so much that his teeth
rattled and his fingers were blue, but he didn t dare light a fire. Anger seethed from him. This was not what was supposed to happen when he allied himself with the Conquerors. They had failed him. Zerif dropped the carcass beside him and curled himself into a tight ball. He would wait and plan. Eventually, the Greencloaks would abandon their pursuit. And then, very soon, he would be great and power ful once again. Two days later, he still hadn t crawled out of the cave. every time he considered leaving, he thought he heard the footsteps of Greencloaks or the shouts of Niloan warriors. Perhaps it was just the wind. Or the sound of rocks tumbling down the mountain. Maybe he was hallucinating. He had tried to eat moss to gain strength but had retched the bitter vegetation back up as soon as it hit his stomach. It was there, lying with his face pressed against the ground, that he first saw the gray worm inching toward him. It was small and strange looking. And fluid almost like a coil of smoke. It moved toward him with an eerie purpose, as if it knew he was there. Zerif had never seen anything like it. What is this? A leech? A snail? And is it edible? Zerif shook his head as he considered what do to. Has the mighty Zerif fallen so low that the idea of eating a worm excites him? 3
4 He picked up the worm, hoping to study it. It wriggled up his hand much quicker than he had anticipated. Before he knew it, it was at his elbow. He shook his arm furiously, but the worm remained. It burrowed its way into a deep gash on Zerif s shoulder. Panicked, he hurled himself into the wall, hoping to crush the thing. When that didn t work, he picked up a jagged rock and tried to cut the worm out of his skin. Nothing seemed to stop the creature. It inched its way beneath his skin, up to his collar bone, then neck, then face. Zerif could feel it writhing. He screamed both in fear and in pain. He felt it curling at his forehead. Zerif twisted, clawing at his face, driving deep gouges into his skin. And then, Zerif fell silent. His legs and arms ceased to move. They no longer belonged to him. Slowly, he heard ancient whispers echoing in his mind. Soft at first, they intensified, feeding the anger and evil already residing in the depths of his soul. Power surged inside him. He rose to his feet, no longer hungry or pained. He sensed the voice telling him to leave. To travel north. A being of great power would be there. An eagle. Halawir. Suddenly, Zerif found himself surrounded by hundreds of small gray worms. They crept from rocks, seeping out like liquid darkness. Parasites. Allies. With their help, Zerif would be great once again. He would be feared and worshipped. He would rule the world.