Across the Dark Water

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  She dropped her head, seeming disappointed, and Rahkki wondered if it was because she couldn’t fly, or because her friends weren’t up there.

  He reached out to touch her, to inspect her bruised neck and tangled mane. She shied away from him, so he tucked his free hand behind his back.

  Brauk finished at the stream and faced Rahkki, eyeing him from head to toe, his gaze settling pointedly on the dagger.

  Rahkki handed it over.

  His brother slid the dagger into its sheath with well-practiced speed and then tore off his bloody shirt and crammed it into his pocket. “How old are you?” Brauk asked, his eyes hard. “Ten? Eleven?”

  Rahkki’s jaw dropped. “I’m twelve. Don’t you remember? You gave me a . . .” Rahkki trailed off because it suddenly occurred to him he hadn’t received a present or even a candied melon from Brauk this year. When had they stopped celebrating birthdays?

  “Twelve already?” Brauk rasped. “And still playing at knives like a tot.” His brother ran his hands across his scalp, cursing in the language of the empire. “Sa jin, Rahkki, you don’t have the skills to fight off a mosquito. This dagger is more dangerous in your hands than in your enemies’. Sa jin huruk!”

  Rahkki felt suddenly cold, and he was still shaking from facing the giant, but his right arm was hot with pain. “I’m sorry . . . ,” he said, fumbling. What was the correct response for turning twelve while his brother wasn’t paying attention?

  “Nah. This is my fault. I haven’t taught you.” Brauk turned and watched the winged horse. “But you were brave the way you attacked that giant,” he said, his eyes softening. “I haven’t seen you that spittin’ mad since Mut Finn dunked you in pig slop.”

  Rahkki’s throat tightened. “I wasn’t . . . brave. I just wanted to save her.”

  Brauk frowned at Sula, his face a mask of smeared dirt and blood. “I don’t know what you see in this stubborn cow. Come on, we’d better go before the animals come to feed on this giant.”

  Rahkki turned away, feeling sick about what they’d done, but also knowing that they’d saved Sula. That Gorlander had grabbed the mare to take her back to Mount Crim, probably to throw her into his horde’s soup pot. The giants hated the Kihlari as much as they hated the

  Sandwens, and it was because the winged army had given the Fifth Clan the final advantage in their longstanding war over the farmland valleys.

  Now, in retaliation, the giants made sport of harassing the Sandwen settlements—stealing children, killing livestock, stomping on crops, and capturing Kihlari. They raided several times a year, and with the Clan Gathering and auction coming up, the Sandwens were on the move and vulnerable. Each Sandwen clan had its own Sky Guard and Land Guard armies, but they left most of their forces at home to protect their settlements. A Gorlan horde could do a lot of damage to traveling clans.

  As they walked back to Fort Prowl, Rahkki stared at his hands. “Brauk, how do I know Gorlish?”

  His brother’s eyes rounded. “You remember it?”

  “A little. Some of the gestures looked familiar.”

  Brauk let out his breath. “Mother taught you when you were a baby, before you could talk. It was brilliant, really. You weren’t so frustrated about everything once you could communicate.” He laughed.

  “What did I say in Gorlish?”

  “Mostly just no and more. That’s all I remember.”

  Rahkki pointed back toward the felled Gorlander.

  “Was that giant hunting?” he asked. “He was awfully close to our village.”

  “No. Giants hunt with spears, not bludgeons,” Brauk answered. “He was scouting for the horde. I suspect they’ll raid us soon.”

  “Not during the Clan Gathering, they’ll be too many of us.”

  “True,” Brauk said with a sigh. “It’ll be right before, or right after. The queen has increased our patrols, but we haven’t noticed any giants this close. I’m not sure how this scout snuck past our sentries.” Brauk tugged on his belt, looking concerned as they walked between the trees. Rahkki led Sula, and she followed quietly.

  While they traveled, Rahkki studied his brother’s strong hands—hands that had fed and cared for him since he was four years old—and a confession burst from his lips before he could stop it. “I wasn’t just worried about Sula,” Rahkki said. “I was more scared the giant would kill you.”

  Brauk halted, his face shadowed from the moon by the trees. “I’m a warrior, Rahkki, and I’ll die someday; but when it happens, it won’t be some stinking giant that does it. It’ll be something much grander.” He smiled widely and pulled Rahkki close. “Got it?”

  Rahkki wiped his eyes. He couldn’t imagine his life without Brauk.

  His brother stiffened. “By Granak, Brother. If you cry, I’ll break your nose.”

  Rahkki nodded.

  Brauk led Rahkki and Sula to the stone fort where the gate crew rose and greeted them in the dark. “Ay, who goes?”

  “Ay, it’s Headwind Brauk Stormrunner of the Sky Guard,” his brother said. “I killed a Gorlan scout in the woods, by Leshi Creek.”

  “Bloody rain,” said a guard, and then all of them, including Rahkki, spit on the ground. The guards quickly dispatched messengers to the queen, to General Tsun, and to the other two Headwinds in the Sky Guard, Tuni and Harak. “Sound the alarm,” said one guard to another. Soon the clanging of bells drifted out across the training yard, the horse arena, the village, and the farmlands. The fortress awakened as the land soldiers prepared to reinforce the perimeter of the Fifth Clan territory.

  Brauk was off duty, so he walked Rahkki and the mare down to the Kihlari barn. “Put Sula away and get Kol. I’ll fly you home.”

  Rahkki paused as he considered returning to Uncle’s quiet hut at the rice farm.

  His brother read his mind. “Let me guess, you’ve realized you hate farming?”

  Rahkki exhaled and grinned.

  Brauk smacked Rahkki’s back, throwing the boy forward. “Accept your fate, Brother. We need the wages. And tell Uncle to teach you how to fight.”

  “But he can’t fight!”

  Brauk grinned. “Darthan might surprise you. Now go get Kol, and remember—you’re twelve, so don’t cry.” Brauk’s grin disappeared. “Don’t ever cry.”

  They flew back to the farm on Kol, and Brauk dropped him off at Uncle’s door. Rahkki entered the hut, which was cool now that the fire had gone out. Darthan was snoring on his mattress. Rahkki removed his wet boots, changed, and climbed to his loft, peering out the window. In the far distance he watched his brother fly away on Kol, heading back to Fort Prowl. Rahkki’s uneaten dinner remained in the satchel, but he wasn’t hungry.

  He slid onto his pallet, pulled the covers over his head, and did not cry.

  20

  Acceptance

  ECHOFROST WAITED UNTIL THE LANDWALKER brothers exited the barn, and then she collapsed in her stall, her muscles shaking. She hadn’t thought of herself as food since she was a weanling. Sure, bears and pumas had stalked her when she was a young filly, but she’d had a herd to protect her. Since leaving Anok, she’d been hunted by sharks in the Dark Water, stalked by a panther, and nabbed by a hungry giant. She remembered how the Gorlander had snorted up her scent like a lion, and a hard shudder ran from her ears to her tail.

  “Shysong?” she nickered.

  “Yes, I’m here,” said the blue roan.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Shysong hesitated before answering. “I’m eating their hay,” she said, sounding guilty.

  “I know, and it’s okay. I was stupid to refuse it.”

  “Where did you go just now?” Shysong asked. “Why did the Landwalkers take you out at night?”

  “They took me to a creek to drink and graze. It was to save me.” Echofrost pricked her ears, realizing the truth of that statement. Brauk, for all his blustering abuse, had fetched his little brother to help her. And Rahkki had known what she needed—which was flowing water and grass that she cut with
her own teeth. “But while we were at the creek, we were attacked,” Echofrost added. “It was one of those Gorlan giants, a Landwalker the size of a hill. He grabbed me.”

  Shysong gasped. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m sore,” Echofrost admitted.

  Apparently eavesdropping, Rizah interrupted them. “You saw a giant?” she asked.

  “Saw him? I smelled his breath.”

  Rizah stamped her hoof. “A giant in the woods—that explains the alarm. Maybe he was just hunting, but he’s too close.” Then she inhaled hard and nickered. “Tuni is coming.”

  Moments later the sound of footsteps filled Echofrost’s ears as dozens of Riders from the fortress flung open the barn doors and charged through the rows. Their long hair flashed with the bright bells and hard, colored beads they tied throughout the braided strands. They donned armor and shiny helmets, shouting to one another. A loud rumbling filled Echofrost’s ears as huge tumblers turned, opening the ceiling above her head. Tuni spoke to Rizah, who was prancing with excitement. “Shh, my golden girl, hold steady.”

  Echofrost knocked over her water bucket and planted her front hooves on it so she could see farther over her walls. Tuni had retreated to the tack room and was now coming back, carrying Rizah’s things. Echofrost had learned the names of these adornments from Kol. The leather seat that Tuni heaved onto Rizah’s back was called a saddle. It was decorated with carved metal accents and tassels. Next Echofrost heard the soft clink of the bit as it settled between Rizah’s teeth. This was how Tuni controlled the mare—by pulling on a piece of metal in the pinto’s mouth.

  Echofrost stood taller, peering through the netting that penned her. Shysong did the same, and Echofrost noticed that her friend’s coat was glossy and that she’d gained back the weight she’d lost when they’d crossed the Dark Water.

  “Did you see Storm Herd while you were out?” Shysong asked.

  “No, it was too foggy.”

  Shysong tossed her long mane, which was brushed and shiny. “Hazelwind should go. He doesn’t understand how powerful these Landwalkers are.”

  “He’s staying hidden, which is what I should have done. If I’d stayed loose, I think I could have freed you by now.”

  “What do you mean, if you’d stayed loose?” whinnied Shysong. “Did you choose this? Did you let yourself get captured, for me?”

  Echofrost had let Shysong assume she’d been captured against her will, but now the truth was out, so she didn’t deny it. “Yes, I let them take me.”

  “Why?” Shysong whinnied. “Storm Herd needs you, not me! The Landwalkers caught me because I’m slow. I probably shouldn’t have left Anok in the first place. I’m not as tough as I thought I was, but you!” Shysong stamped her hoof. “You’re the heart of the herd. You’re the one who led us out of the Flatlands. And now look what you’ve done! Hazelwind can’t . . . no, he won’t leave you. He’s risking the entire mission by sticking around here.”

  “But do you remember what I’d said, Shysong? I promised I wouldn’t let them take you. And you’re not slow; you’re injured. That’s different.”

  Shysong’s voice quivered. “This is my fault, and now we’re both trapped here, unable to fly. We’re never getting out.”

  Around Echofrost, Kihlari steeds were being saddled and mounted. They walked into the aisles and flew out of the open ceiling because the barn doors were too narrow for them to exit in large groups.

  “Dusk Patrol, flying out!” shouted Tuni aboard Rizah. Her dark-red hair danced on her shoulders.

  The Dusk Patrol steeds snorted, excited, and their Riders hollered, their voices rising and falling in unison. Each Landwalker was armed with the sharpened sticks they called arrows, plus short daggers and sawa blades.

  Echofrost watched them sail into the night sky and thought of Shysong’s words, We’re never getting out. She turned to her friend. “Have you lost hope? Are you giving up?”

  Shysong turned up her eyes, thinking for a moment. More Kihlari flew out of the barn, and their bright feathers drifted down like plucked flower petals. One landed on Echofrost’s nose, and she shook it off. Overhead, the Sky Guard glided in tight square formations. Tonight the steeds wore horned armor over their heads, shiny metal plates across their chests, and shields around their lower legs. Spiked beads had been braided into the Kihlari’s tails, and the beads sliced the air as the winged steeds lifted off. Echofrost watched them pass over her, their feathers rattling, and she knew this wasn’t a regular patrol—the winged army was hunting giants. The queen must have finally given the order.

  Shysong answered Echofrost. “Look at them,” she said, pointing at the Sky Guard with her wing. “I’m not giving up, but I’ve accepted my fate. There is no way to escape that army.”

  Echofrost flattened her ears. “Accepting this is giving up!”

  “I don’t agree, but I see no point in fighting them. I know Brauk hits you—I hear the blows—but Tuni is kind to me because I do what she says. I’m trying to survive. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”

  “Are you blaming me for what Brauk does?” Echofrost kicked her wall, splintering off a piece of wood. “Blasted Landwalkers, they’ve turned you into a horse.”

  Shysong gasped, and tears filled her eyes. “Don’t judge me,” she rasped.

  “Then don’t judge me,” Echofrost whinnied. “This is wrong. We’re meant to be free. Don’t you want to escape?”

  “I didn’t say that,” said Shysong. “Of course I want to escape, but I won’t fight them. The Landwalkers are too powerful, just like you said. Look at them!” she repeated.

  Echofrost glanced at the patrol gathered overhead. The Riders and the Kihlari were flexed for battle, their eyes gleaming bright even beneath the dim crescent moon. Then Tuni shouted an order and the Riders kicked their mounts, sending them forward. The Kihlari blasted across the sky, snorting, their Riders whooping.

  “The Landwalkers are the over-stallions of this herd,” Shysong continued, “and so they’re easy to figure out. Just do what they want, eat their food, and they’ll treat you right.”

  “Landwalkers aren’t over-stallions, Shysong. And we can’t trust them. None of this is natural.” Echofrost exhaled, realizing it wasn’t Shysong’s fault she was overwhelmed. “Listen to me,” she said. “You’re as precious to Storm Herd as I am. I will free you.”

  But Echofrost didn’t know how much more she could take from Brauk. He’d saved her from the giant, true, but it was because she was his possession, not because he cared about her. She owed him nothing.

  As the last of the Sky Guard patrol flew out of the retracted ceiling, Echofrost searched the heights for Hazelwind. He would find a way to help them out of this terrible place. Then Storm Herd would resume their journey to new lands, never to return here.

  21

  The Kihlari Ancestors

  THE SKY GUARD RETURNED LATER THAT NIGHT, their energy deflated. Next to Echofrost, Kol whinnied. “What happened?” He’d been left behind because it was Dusk Patrol that flew out, and he was part of Dawn Patrol.

  “The giants are spreading out. Soon they’ll surround us,” said the mare Rizah, swinging her armored neck as she landed in the aisleway.

  Echofrost watched the Riders rub down their mounts, feed them grain, and remove the spiked beads from their tails and the battered armor from their bodies. The fitted metal shields were returned to the armory at the south end of the barn. Echofrost memorized each Flier, each Rider, and noted where the grain and hay were stored. She also

  studied where the tack—the saddles and bridles—were kept, and she inspected the retractable ceiling, watching the tumblers turn as the Landwalkers outside tugged the attached ropes to close the roof.

  Then the Riders left the barn, murmuring to one another, spitting and gesturing angrily, and soon after that, the dawn sun split the horizon and the clanging of the morning bells wafted down from the eight-sided fortress on the hill.

  Kol shifted in his stall. “Greet t
he sun,” he brayed to the Kihlari.

  Around Echofrost, all the pegasi faced east, including Shysong. Echofrost turned her tail and faced west. Kol flashed his teeth. “Show respect.”

  “I’m not one of you,” she grumbled.

  Kol shook his fiery red mane, which was streaked in yellow. He had a gleaming coat, thick muscles, and silky mane and tail. In Anok he’d have tangled hair, cracked hooves, and flies on his face; and he’d be much leaner. He’d be a steed who was long familiar with hunger and thirst, but he’d be afraid of neither. He’d know where to dig for roots, which tree barks were edible, where to search for moisture, and how to gather nuts.

  But here food was thrown at his hooves, water was

  carried to him in a bucket, stable grooms raked up his droppings, and he was walled off from predators. The Landwalkers had robbed Kol of purpose and cursed him with dependency—but Kol didn’t get it. He didn’t understand that he was the one who’d lost everything.

  After nickering toward the sun, the stallion took a long swallow from his water bucket and then turned back to her, still unsettled. “The Sandwen clans protect us,” he said. “And they’re willing to protect you too.”

  Echofrost had planned to ignore him but quickly changed her mind. “You don’t owe them anything for locking you up. They use you for war; that’s why they feed you.”

  Shysong pinned her ears. “Echofrost, don’t . . .”

  “No, we were wild once, like you,” Kol whinnied, his voice rising. “We also flew here from another land, from a place that had become, how did you put it . . . inhospitable? The Sandwen clans found us in the jungle—sick and starving and hunted by dragons. The tales are old, mostly forgotten, but we would have died without their help.”