Journey Across the Hidden Islands

by Sarah Beth Durst

  Seika held still, not breathing, as the dragon swooped down and gently lifted the egg in her talons. Seika’s arms trembled as she lowered them. Her heart felt as if it were beating louder than the drums on top of the palace spires. Her father standing next to her, she watched as the dragon flew toward the island and the now-quiet volcano. The smoke was already clearing, blown away by winds that rose from the dragon’s wings. Blue sky poked through the haze.

  She turned toward the emperor. He had tears in his eyes. “Father?” she said.

  He laid his hand on her shoulder. “You have done well. I’m proud of you.”

  Before she could form an answer, Alejan and Ji-Lin landed on the deck. Ji-Lin leaped off the lion’s back and ran toward her sister. Seika ran toward her. They collided in the middle of the deck and hugged each other. Into her sister’s hair, Ji-Lin asked, “Did we do right?”

  Seika looked over her sister’s shoulder at Master Shai and Uncle Balez, who landed under Master Vanya’s watchful eye. “I think so.” Everyone was alive, and that was all she’d said she wanted—​that was a win.

  But there was still the matter of their uncle and the lioness. And the earthquakes.

  Their father swept toward Uncle Balez. “Brother, what have you done?”

  Uncle Balez’s shoulders slumped, and his expression crumpled. “I have failed to save us. That’s what I have done. All my life, I’ve studied . . .” She couldn’t hear the next few words. She inched closer.

  “The barrier has kept our people safe for two hundred years,” Father was saying. “It is because of the barrier that our people have thrived. To risk that on a theory—​”

  Uncle Balez looked toward the horizon, where the barrier flickered like the air above a fire. “I have mapped the quakes and measured their effects. I’ve studied the old texts. The barrier should have fallen fifty years ago; the earthquakes began fifty years ago—​there’s a clear connection. I believe that the barrier is causing too much stress to the land, built up over the decades. Its continued existence is causing the earthquakes. And it’s worsening. Eventually, the islands will be pulled apart.” He demonstrated with his hands, pushing his fingers together, then yanking them apart. “We can’t withstand that.”

  Is it true? Seika wondered. If the barrier was somehow causing the earthquakes . . . If the quakes were going to destroy the islands . . .

  The emperor shook his head. “You have no real proof. Merely cryptic notes in old books. Our traditions tell us—​”

  “Didn’t you hear the dragon? She kept her egg from hatching—​it was supposed to hatch years ago; the barrier was supposed to fall naturally. It was never meant to stand for so long.”

  Seika thought of the weneb and the valravens and the scylla. There were hundreds more like them, and more koji she didn’t even know the names of. “If the barrier fell for good, more monsters would come,” she said.

  Master Shai huffed. Even surrounded by guards, she looked regal and untouchable. “The people of Himitsu fear monsters more than they fear the trembling earth—​and that is a mistake greater than any we have ever made. We feel only tremors now, but in time, there will be quakes of such magnitude that they destroy our cities, crush our people, and drown our islands.” She flexed her claws and glared at the guards. “We can fight monsters; we cannot fight the earth.”

  The emperor shook his head. “You risk too much on a belief—​”

  “We can survive the koji, as the people of Zemyla have survived,” Uncle Balez said. “We can adapt and learn and fight, perhaps with the Zemylans’ help. We cannot survive the earthquakes.”

  Seika thought of Kirro and his people, the cities he’d described, the cannon the ship used. It was possible to survive the koji. He was proof of that.

  “Biy knew this,” Uncle Balez said.

  “Biy was consumed by grief—​”

  “He studied the texts, the same ones I have seen! The barrier has to fall if any of us are to survive.”

  “We did what had to be done,” Master Shai added. Seika heard the righteousness ringing in her voice. She believes what she’s saying, she thought. She thinks they’re the heroes.

  Uncle Balez’s shoulders slumped. “We tried to do what needed to be done,” he corrected the lioness. “Tried and failed.”

  Father nodded to his guards, who closed in around his brother. “And in the process, you endangered all of us.”

  Uncle Balez didn’t resist as his hands were bound together. “We’re all in danger right now. If only I’d had more time . . . If she’d slept longer, you could have seen the truth!”

  “I do see the truth: you betrayed me.”

  Beside him, Master Shai allowed a collar to be snapped around her neck. She held her head high and met no one’s eyes. Seika couldn’t help thinking of the waterhorse: Heroes. Traitors. Both at once. We define ourselves by the stories we tell. But which story was true: the one in which Uncle Balez and Master Shai were traitors, or the one in which they failed to be heroes?

  “If you won’t believe me, then ask the dragon!” Uncle Balez said, his voice desperate. “It’s her barrier, and these are her islands.”

  The guards stepped back, uncertain whether they were truly arresting the emperor’s brother and Master Shai. Seika studied her father’s face—​he was uncertain too. She saw it in the crinkle around his mouth. He felt doubt. Emperors were never supposed to feel doubt, but she read it there in his face.

  “Ask her if I tell the truth,” Uncle Balez pressed.

  “I cannot ask,” the emperor said. “My Journey was completed long ago, and the dragon will not speak with me again. Indeed, she has sworn not to.”

  Seika swallowed. She squeezed Ji-Lin’s hand and then stepped forward, between her father and her uncle, between the lions. “I can ask.”

  The lava had cooled to solid rock. The smoke had dissipated. The ash shifted in the wind but didn’t fall anew. As they sailed toward the island, Ji-Lin stared up at the now-sleeping volcano. She kept her hands buried in Alejan’s mane. He was trembling but standing—​he’d pushed himself harder than he ever had before, with his desperate flight to the ships. He’ll recover, she thought. He’s strong. And so am I.

  The sailors raced around them, preparing to dock. On shore, the people of the island were clustered by the dock—​they must have been watching it all unfold: the ships, the cannon, the dragon, the lions, the volcano . . . Ji-Lin wondered what they thought had happened and what stories they’d tell.

  Still at the prow, Seika was waving to the crowd. She’s the perfect heir, Ji-Lin thought. She hoped Seika realized that. All the lessons in how to be a princess . . . they’d made her strong too.

  Nearby, on the other ship, the sailors were scurrying over the deck, securing the rigging and tossing out lines. Before their ship was fully docked, Kirro leaped off it and ran across to the emperor’s ship. He charged up the deck, and three guards blocked him.

  “It’s all right,” Ji-Lin called. “He’s a friend!” She realized as she said it that she wasn’t lying. He’d come through for them. And he didn’t even seem that annoying anymore. Or at least, he was less annoying.

  The guards glanced at the emperor, who nodded, and then they stepped back to allow the boy through. Kirro raced to them. “Did you see that? Wasn’t that amazing? The dragon! And the lions! You were amazing, standing up to them like that. And Seika, on the prow, like a hero out of a tale. And the dragon—​whoa, and then—​oh, oh, is this the emperor? Gah!” He dipped forward into a bow and nearly fell over. Stumbling, he caught himself.

  “You were great, Kirro,” Ji-Lin said, “and yes, this is His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Himitsu, our father. Father, this is Kirro, a sailor from Zemyla.”

  “I just clean the decks,” Kirro said. “A lot.”

  “Honored to meet you, deck cleaner,” the emperor said gravely. He inclined his head. Ji-Lin saw the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips. She wasn’t certain her father could smile. She
hadn’t seen him do it in years.

  “My people . . . um, that is, the captain . . . he wants to talk with you,” Kirro said. “He said to tell you things like ‘mutually beneficial agreement’ and ‘trade negotiations.’ Specifically, he said to tell your daughters, because he didn’t think I’d talk to you, since you’re an emperor and I’m . . . well, I clean decks.”

  The emperor’s almost-smile faded, and Ji-Lin saw him glance at his brother, between the guards. “There can be no ‘trade negotiations’ with or travel between the islands and Zemyla while the barrier stands. But you are welcome to make your home among us. You will be the first immigrants from Zemyla in two hundred years.”

  Ji-Lin wondered what Kirro thought about being stuck on the islands permanently. And what about his father and the other sailors? How would they feel?

  Accompanied by Master Vanya, the emperor strode off the ship at the same time the Zemylan captain debarked. Pitching his voice so it would carry to the people on the dock and the ships, the emperor called, “Welcome to the Hundred Islands of Himitsu! We are honored by your visit, grateful for your assistance, and eager to make your acquaintance.”

  The captain bowed. Just as loudly, he said, “We are emissaries of Zemyla, and we come in peace.”

  Kirro whispered to Ji-Lin and Seika. “This is pretty much my father’s dream come true—​to be the first to discover the Hidden Islands. He said from now on, I’m his favorite son. I’m also his only son, but that’s still good.”

  “Must be nice,” Ji-Lin said. “I think our father has forgotten about us.”

  “Never,” Seika said with complete certainty.

  Ji-Lin wasn’t so sure. She’d fought with Master Vanya and Master Shai. He couldn’t be happy about that, even if he approved of the reason. Students were not supposed to attack their teachers; it was hardly traditional.

  As if he’d heard them talking, the emperor turned from the captain and beckoned to Ji-Lin and Seika. Seika trotted toward him, and Ji-Lin followed, slower. Alejan kept pace with her.

  “Captain, I’d like to introduce my daughters, Princess Seika, worthy heir to the throne, and Princess Ji-Lin, our bravest warrior.”

  Did Father just call her brave? Ji-Lin stared at him. She glanced at Seika, who met her eyes and mouthed, He’s right. “We have met,” the captain said. “They saved my crew from a scylla, and then saved the life of my only son, who was dying of poison.” He bowed to them, even lower than he’d bowed to the emperor.

  Father smiled at them. Smiled.

  It was more of a shock than seeing koji or finding the dragon or fighting the lions.

  “Tales will be told about them,” Father said. “I am proud of both of them. They have proved themselves worthy. But now they have a journey to complete.”

  “Yes, Father,” Seika and Ji-Lin said.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Four

  WITH SHAKING HANDS, Seika pinned her tiara into her hair. She’d bathed, dressed, and braided her hair already. She’d told the servants that she didn’t want their help. She only wanted her sister.

  Sitting behind her, Ji-Lin was polishing her sword. She’d already polished it twice.

  Adding another pin to hold the tiara, Seika watched Ji-Lin for a moment. The sword was gleaming, without even a shadow of dirt on it. “Do you think Uncle Balez is right?”

  Ji-Lin paused in her polishing. “I don’t know. Do you?”

  She remembered when they were little, and Father had told them not to worry about the tremors. He’d been wrong about that—​the quakes were dangerous. They’d lived through mild ones. She didn’t want to face a major one; she didn’t need a dragon to tell her that. “I don’t know either. But I’m glad you’ll be with me.”

  “Always,” Ji-Lin promised. Putting down the polishing cloth, she sheathed her sword and stood. “Seika, I really missed you while I was at the temple.”

  “You know I missed you too. But now we’re—​”

  A knock on the door. Seika stuck one last pin into her hair and then answered it. Outside were three guards. In unison, they bowed. Seika inclined her head. Escorted, the sisters walked to the Great Hall.

  Workmen had been clearing debris away, but most of the roof was still piled in chunks on the side of the hall, and dust lay over everything, as well as a thin layer of gray ash from the volcano. The tapestry had been removed to show the tunnel opening, and a picture of the red shrine had been painted around it. Torches lit either side of the entrance.

  Due to the damage from both the tremor and the eruption, Father had vetoed plans to use the traditional entrance to the volcano. They were going to use the secret tunnel created by Uncle Balez and Master Shai, from the Great Hall.

  “I guess it’s not so secret anymore,” Seika murmured.

  Uncle Balez and Master Shai were watching from near what was left of the fireplace, with guards around them. On the opposite side, Kirro stood nearby, next to his father. Excited, the boy hopped up and down as he waved. Seika waved back.

  By the tunnel entrance, the emperor was waiting, along with Master Vanya and Alejan. Beyond the Great Hall, through the open doors, Seika could see the courtyard. It was filled with men, women, and children who had come once again to see the Journey completed. This time, their faces were scared, and they clung to one another. No one held candles.

  “Let the princesses proceed,” the emperor said.

  Seika walked forward, and Ji-Lin came next. Alejan followed.

  At the mouth of the tunnel, Seika hesitated. “Father, I . . .”

  “Go,” the emperor said. “I will be proud of you, no matter what occurs.”

  Whatever happened, he trusted her. Them. She looked around the hall at everyone watching. All of them trusted their princesses.

  It was time to act. And she was ready, wasn’t she? This was what it had all led up to: the end of the Emperor’s Journey. She had to finish what she’d begun.

  “But what do we do if—​” Ji-Lin began.

  Before she could complete her question, Seika grabbed her elbow and propelled her into the tunnel. Shadows closed around them. “Father was clear. It’s up to us now.”

  “He wasn’t clear at all about what to do.”

  “Because he doesn’t know.” Seika was certain of that. She was good at reading people. He didn’t know what the dragon was going to say, so he couldn’t tell them what to do. “He trusts us to do the right thing.”

  “How will we know what the right thing is?”

  “We’ll know,” Seika said. I hope.

  She plucked one of the lanterns off a hook—​someone had clearly left them for the princesses. Ji-Lin took one as well. The amber light bathed the rock walls of the tunnel, chasing away the shadows.

  They walked forward. Inside the tunnel, the air felt warm and wet but didn’t stink like rotten eggs. In fact, it smelled a little of flowers and a little of copper—​the smell of the dragon.

  Lowering her voice to a whisper, Ji-Lin asked, “Do you think he believes Uncle Balez and Master Shai?”

  Seika had wondered that. “He allowed them to be present.”

  Alejan spoke up. “But with guards. Master Shai wore a collar.” Seika heard the pain in the lion’s voice as he spoke of his hero.

  “I think he’s waiting to hear what the dragon says,” Seika said. And that, in and of itself, meant he wasn’t sure Uncle Balez was right.

  Ji-Lin was silent for a moment. “So then it really is up to us.”

  “I think maybe it always was,” Seika said. “This is our Journey.”

  They continued walking. It was becoming warmer. Pinned beneath a tiara, Seika’s coiled hair trapped so much heat that her scalp itched. At last, ahead was the heart of the volcano, lit by the pale grayish light of the sky far above.

  “Ah, the heir has come, as promised.” The dragon’s voice slithered around them. Seika saw the dragon, a hulking shadow that filled half of the cavern. Her tail was wrapped around the bones, and her front feet w
ere curled around her egg. She stroked it with a single claw.

  Seika stepped forward. “Dragon of Himitsu? We have come to . . .” She faltered. Father had bargained with the dragon. He hadn’t asked any questions. She could simply do the same, and all the people of Himitsu would be happy, safe behind the barrier. Or not safe, if Uncle Balez was right and the quakes continued.

  Ask, Seika, she ordered herself. Just ask the question.

  But if I ask . . . everything will change! Either the answer was no, and her uncle and Alejan’s hero would be imprisoned and the quakes would continue, or the answer was yes . . . Seika took a deep breath. “Does the barrier cause the earthquakes?”

  The dragon shifted, and the gray light skittered across her scales. She glistened in the shadows. “Ahh . . . Only one has ever dared ask that question, and when he heard the answer, he tried to strike me with his sword. Will you do the same?”

  Seika said, “We won’t attack, no matter what the answer.” She glanced at Ji-Lin, who nodded agreement. “Please, won’t you answer me?”

  The dragon lifted her head, and Seika saw the swirling fire in her eyes. Her tongue flicked out between her sharp teeth. Shivers ran up and down Seika’s spine. “Yes, indeed, my little princesses. The answer is yes.”

  She heard Ji-Lin gasp. Beside her, Alejan rumbled, a distressed noise.

  “And what . . .” Seika licked her lips. She suddenly felt as if all moisture had been sucked from her mouth. He’s right, she thought. Uncle Balez . . . Uncle Biy . . . They were right! “Please tell us, O Dragon of Himitsu, if the barrier falls, will the quakes stop?”

  “Yes.”

  And with that one word, Seika felt as if her entire world shifted. “Then why don’t you let the barrier fall?” She’d never, ever thought she’d be asking that question.

  Alejan let out a kittenlike whine, and Ji-Lin shushed him, whispering, “Trust her.”

  Hearing that, Seika felt stronger. She stood straight and tall, not breaking the dragon’s gaze.

  The dragon drew her egg closer to her stomach and curled her tail around it. “If I drop the barrier, my child will be exposed to the horrors and dangers of the outside world.”