“Yes,” said Tuni. “You used to sleep in his stall, and you flew him by yourself. Scared your mother to death.” Tuni stopped short at the word death. “I’m sorry.”
Memories of soaring over the village slammed Rahkki. These were things he rarely thought about—the things before his mother died. But he used to enjoy flying. It was difficult to believe now.
“We’ve got work to do,” Brauk interrupted. He loathed talking about the past. After Reyella died, he’d spent years trying to forget what had happened. He’d gambled and stayed out late and fought anyone who looked at him sideways. Those were the awful years for both brothers. Rahkki was left to fend for himself, often taking to the jungle to find food. That’s where he’d learned to run fast. Spider armies, giant ants, panthers, and the smaller dragons had all hunted Rahkki. He’d been scratched,
stung, bitten, and even sucked into a carnivorous plant. He’d survived it all while living in terror that one night his brother would not come home.
Darthan had tried to help them, but Brauk had stolen from him, and their uncle had cut ties with Brauk for years. Not for stealing, lying, and destroying his property, but because he said that Brauk had to run himself out. He insisted that the less he helped Brauk, the quicker this would happen.
And Darthan had been correct about that. One day Brauk just quit it all. But by then their inheritance was almost gone. They had just enough money left to purchase Kol. And the way Brauk had thrown himself into that stallion—Rahkki believed with all his heart that his love for the chestnut Flier had saved Brauk’s life.
Tuni loosened her reins and urged Rizah into the sky. “All right then, I’ll see you at dinner.” She and Rizah surged toward the clouds.
“Take Sula to the round pen and work on her gaits,” Brauk said to Rahkki. “I have drills to run on Kol, but if Sula’s not ready in fifteen days, there’ll be nothing we can do to save her.”
Except to set her free, thought Rahkki, and his heart tumbled. How he’d love to see her loose and flying, but how he’d mourn to lose her. Since he’d begun training her, he’d become attached. Yes, she was sour and stubborn, but he didn’t blame her for that. She wanted to be wild again—he was sure of it—and she had friends waiting for her. The Sky Guard had spotted Sula’s herd several times, circling overhead, higher than the Riders could fly. They were watching and waiting.
If he were still a prince, he could command her release, or buy her and set her free. But as an orphan he had no coin, no power. Rahkki imagined collecting his wages from Uncle, ten dramals for a full season of labor, a fair wage for an apprentice; but even if Sula sold for a tenth of her value, ten dramals would not be enough to bid on her.
He kicked the ground, frustrated. Sula would sell to a Rider from another clan, and Firo would be purchased by an ignorant gem trader or given to a spoiled child. Or worse, Sula wouldn’t cooperate, and the queen would feed her to Granak, the dragon.
As Rahkki led her toward the round pen, Sula inspected her surroundings. She was already plotting her escape, he was sure of it. And since Rahkki couldn’t buy her, maybe he could help free her. He blanched at the thought. The punishment for destroying or losing clan property was tyran—stinging of the ants—and repayment
to the clan at full value. Rahkki would never earn enough wages to repay the value of a missing Kihlara. But there was a solution to that—not getting caught. Rahkki sighed. He had fifteen days to figure out how to train this wild mare or free her.
23
Shame
ECHOFROST HAD LOST TRACK OF THE DAYS AS they passed, each the same as the last. She had not seen Hazelwind again, and that disturbed her. But the little cub, Rahkki, visited her twice a day. She’d begun to look forward to his arrival because the rest of the time she was left completely alone. Shysong spent all day outside because she was obedient and everyone had come to trust her. Even the youngest groom could be seen leading her across the yard or bathing her. But those same grooms weren’t allowed anywhere near Echofrost.
One morning when Rahkki had arrived late, a nicker rose in her throat—a greeting. She’d suppressed it, of course, but she was beginning to understand how the Landwalkers had tamed the pegasi four hundred years ago by locking them in stalls and forcing dependency on them. Without Rahkki, Echofrost would starve to death, and that bound her to him.
Now the cub was leading her toward the stupid round sandpit again, a place he led her every day after she drank and grazed. She knew he wanted her to run in a circle along the edge of it, but she saw no reason to do that, so she didn’t. His brother, Brauk, had given up on her, it seemed, because he rarely showed up anymore; she was mighty pleased about that.
They halted just outside the gate. Shysong was in the pit now, and Echofrost rested one leg and watched her friend gallop in an elegant circle with her neck arched and her wings tucked high on her back. Koko stood in the center, directing her. Rahkki’s friend Princess I’Lenna leaned on the rail, but when she noticed him, she skipped closer.
“Rahkki,” she said. “Look at Firo’s gait! She trots like she’s floating. I bet she’s a wonder in the sky.”
Rahkki glanced around the yard, looking nervous. “I’m not sure I’m allowed to talk to you.”
I’Lenna frowned. “Who told you that?”
“Harak Nightseer.”
She considered his words and then brushed them off. “Then let’s not tell him.”
“What about your mother?”
“She’s meeting with General Tsun,” I’Lenna said. “Want some spearmint?” She handed Rahkki a sprig of the herb wrapped in a flat leaf.
As Rahkki chewed the plant, he relaxed, and Echofrost turned her attention to Shysong cantering in the pen. Her friend’s hide glistened with sweat, her muscles had hardened from the work, and her mane and tail flowed behind her, free of tangles and burrs. All the baths had erased her natural scent, leaving her smelling like them—the Kihlari.
Shysong slowed her pace to whisk off an aggressive fly, and Tuni tapped her rear with a whip. Her friend reared, surprised. Tuni tapped Shysong again, not hard enough to hurt her but hard enough to get her attention. “Canter,” Tuni commanded.
Echofrost watched Shysong tamp down her rage and canter forward, but deep fury lurked behind the roan’s flat expression. Echofrost sucked in her breath, suddenly realizing that Shysong was using all her strength to remain obedient. She’d thought that Shysong had grown to trust the Landwalkers, but that wasn’t it. Shysong was coping by cooperating. It was perhaps less silly than not cooperating, which was how Echofrost was coping. Her ears burned with shame for judging Shysong earlier.
When they were finished, Tuni and Shysong exited the sandpit.
“We’re next,” Rahkki said.
“Can I watch you train her?” I’Lenna asked.
“Sure,” he said, smiling. “If you tell me how you sneak out of the fortress.”
“What?” I’Lenna’s jaw dropped, and she turned on her heel to leave. “I will not.”
Rahkki spoke quickly. “I’m sorry! Please stay. Look, you can watch me make a fool of myself while Sula ignores me.”
I’Lenna crossed her arms. “Promise?”
“Promise what?”
“That you’ll make a fool of yourself?”
Rahkki chuckled and led Echofrost into the round pen. “Trot,” he commanded, but Echofrost paid no attention to him.
“See,” Rahkki said. “She ignores me. Much like you.”
I’Lenna climbed onto the rail and leaned over it. “I think I’m doing the opposite of ignoring you, Rahkki.”
“Then why won’t you tell me how you get out of Fort Prowl? Unless you’re scaling the walls, it’s impossible.”
“Come here,” she said.
Rahkki strode across the sand toward her, and Echofrost sensed the tension building inside the princess, but the girl hid it well. I’Lenna lowered her mouth to Rahkki’s ear. “It’s too dangerous for you to know,” she whispered. “Don’t ask again.”
> Rahkki blinked at her and then I’Lenna jumped back, her eyes on someone behind him. Echofrost followed her gaze and spied Harak emerging from the Kihlari den. He spotted I’Lenna and clenched his fists.
“I have to go,” she said. She whipped around so fast that her hair fanned around her like petals around a flower stem. Then she was gone, her sandals kicking up hunks of mud.
Rahkki stared after the princess, looking confused. Echofrost shoved his arm with her muzzle, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Sorry,” he said absently. Rahkki closed the gate and unhooked her lead rope. The first few times they’d entered this pen, he’d held a whip in his hands, not to hit her, but to direct her. Still, she didn’t like the sight of it, so she’d snatched it out of his fingers and broken it. From that day forward he just stood in the center of the pit and waved his arms at her.
“Trot,” he said again, clucking at her this time.
Echofrost stared at him like she usually did, with her hooves rooted in the sand, but her shame about Shysong returned. Could Echofrost obey Rahkki? Did she have that kind of strength? She shrugged her wings; there was only one way to find out. Echofrost trotted forward.
Rahkki’s eyes popped wide. “Good girl,” he whispered.
Echofrost proceeded to do everything he asked of her. She trotted and cantered in both directions. She did it with her wings high and her wings low, folded and open. She galloped. She stopped and turned when he asked. She sped up and slowed. It wasn’t so terrible if she shut off her feelings.
Finally he signaled her to stop. She was wet with sweat, but strangely, she felt better for the exercise. Her muscles were getting soft in the stall, and it struck Echofrost that cooperating could be good for her. Eating their grain and exercising would make her more powerful, more ready for escape. She lowered her head—she’d been a fool. She’d let her body become weak, all because of pride.
Wingbeats drew her attention. Kol flew overhead, with Brauk on his back. “Look at the mighty Sula,” the chestnut stallion brayed to the Kihlari steeds present in the yard. “Tamed by a boy.”
“He didn’t tame me,” she snorted. “I chose to obey him.”
The Kihlari in the yard burst into amused nickering. “What do you think taming is?” Kol asked.
She stared at him, her confidence melting.
Rahkki grinned at Echofrost, flashing his little white teeth, which she knew meant that he was happy. He approached her and snapped on her lead rope with less caution than was usual for him. Echofrost resented his joy, but noticed that he believed in her obedience. She tucked that information away for later—the Landwalkers were easy to fool.
She flexed her wings, studying her flight feathers. In ten days, maybe less, she’d be able to fly again. She gazed at the clear sky overhead. Nothing would keep her on land once her feathers grew back.
“Let’s bathe you,” Rahkki said, leading her toward the water-filled buckets.
But then a sudden cold feeling, like ice in her blood, made Echofrost pause and listen. Something was wrong. Around her, every single pegasus lifted its head. Kol swiveled his ears. They feel it too, she thought. A young mare spooked and brayed an alarm that erupted like a flame, blazing through the Kihlari steeds. Everyone sensed danger, but what was it?
Then the land shook beneath Echofrost’s hooves.
The birds, monkeys, insects—all went silent.
“Giants!” Kol brayed.
“Giants!” Brauk shouted.
Echofrost whipped her head around. The trees in the forest that bordered the yard crashed against each other, and her ears filled with a ferocious, trumpeting roar—a sound she’d never heard in her life. It vibrated her ribs and pierced her ears. She flapped her useless wings and turned to Rahkki. Fright rounded his golden eyes.
“What do we do?” Echofrost whinnied to the Kihlari, but they were in motion, gliding toward the armory with their Riders. She faced the forest with her heart slamming her chest and her ears pinned. Whatever was coming, she and Rahkki would face it together.
24
Raid
RAHKKI SIDLED CLOSER TO SULA, TOUCHING HIS shoulder to hers. The ground shook beneath his boots as the giants crashed through the jungle toward them. Every single Sandwen grabbed a weapon. Warning bells clanged from the fortress, calling all the Fifth Clan’s armed patrols in from the jungle and the sky. Fierce shouts and the distant cries of children reached his ears. This wasn’t one Gorlander. This was an attacking horde.
He glanced at Sula. Her eyes were as black as pitch and trained on the trees. She faced the coming enemy with her wings flared, her head low, ready for battle. Rahkki’s legs wanted to run, but he was twelve now, no longer a child. He would help his people. Brauk flew overhead on Kol, and Rahkki shouted to him, “Brauk! What do I do?”
“Get out of here. Get to Uncle!” Brauk ripped at Kol’s reins, flying toward Fort Prowl to call out Tuni and the rest of the Sky Guard. The giants must have busted through the tight perimeter patrolled by the Land Guard. But how?
The Gorlan horde stomped closer, leaving a wake of swaying trees. Rahkki couldn’t see them yet, but he smelled them on the wind.
As the alarms blared down from the fortress, the village folk on the hillside screamed for their children. Dozens of kids raced home from the fallows. Mut Finn and his gang trotted past, carrying slingshots and clubs. Mut’s eyes drifted toward Rahkki, and he nodded in truce.
Rahkki’s blowgun was tucked in his satchel, but the darts weren’t poisoned. He doubted the small tips that killed fish in the river could kill a giant. He had no way to protect Sula, and she couldn’t fly yet. If the giants caught her, they’d steal her and eat her. He had to get her out of the yard. “Come,” he said, urging her forward. Sula’s ears swiveled, and her eyes hunted for danger. She didn’t budge.
The Sky Guard Riders burst through the iron gates of the fortress and scrambled down the hill, whooping and hollering. The strongest grooms gripped the ropes and cranked open the barn ceiling. Rahkki leaped sideways as Riders stormed past him. One smashed into him, knocking him flat. He lost hold of Sula’s rope. She flapped her wings and lifted an inch off the ground but could rise no higher. Landing, she stomped her hooves, snorting and whirling in a circle, and just missed trampling Rahkki.
“Easy, Sula,” he called to her, and she jerked her head toward him as if just remembering he was there. Rahkki pushed himself up, spitting dirt and coughing. He grabbed the end of her rope just as she bolted toward the barn and was yanked off his feet. Not thinking to let go of the rope, he bounced across the yard, yowling as his bones scraped the soil. No one paid him or his runaway mare any attention.
Sula halted when a trumpeting roar pierced the chaos. Rahkki staggered upright and shook the dirt out of his ears. “Elephants!” he shouted, but the elephants themselves drowned out his warning. He hadn’t heard any mention of them in Brauk’s reports. He’d assumed the giants had left their massive leviathans at home. I need a weapon!
He touched Sula to get her attention. They needed to get to the armory.
She coiled back her neck and met his gaze, her eyes glittering.
“Please,” he said to her. “Follow me.” He tugged gently on her lead and she followed him, seeming to understand.
They jogged into the barn and past the tack room. The Riders had already raided it of saddles and bridles, and had moved to the stalls to tack up their mounts. All around him, Rahkki heard loud buckling and the clang of metal. One by one, the Riders flew out of the stalls and out of the barn. Overhead, Tuni sailed by on Rizah. The woman’s dark eyes blazed, and her expression was fierce. She had three sisters and two brothers living in the village with her parents, and so this Gorlan raid was personal to her, and to the entire clan.
Tuni caught sight of Rahkki. “Get safe!” she hollered.
How, he wondered.
Tuni kicked Rizah, loaded her bow, and swooped toward the Gorlan horde.
Rahkki trotted Sula past the tack room to the armory, wi
ncing at the bruises blooming across his body. He pushed open the wooden door and was disappointed. The armory had also been plundered by the Riders and left a mess. Rahkki led Sula into the cluttered room with him and searched through the leftover weapons, hunting for anything small enough to wield.
Outside, the roar of elephants and giants grew closer. This was the fault of the queen. Her incompetent Borla had a bad dream, a bad omen, and so she hadn’t sent her full militia out to take care of the Gorlan hordes when they’d first descended from Mount Crim. Born tenth in line to her birth clan’s throne, Lilliam had not been educated to rule. She was superstitious and inexperienced. His mother would not have let the giants get so close!
Sweat dripped from Rahkki’s forehead, and Sula pranced next to him, spooking at every noise. “Shh,” he said, trying to soothe her. “We’re okay.” But they weren’t okay. He could feel the thudding of the elephants through his frayed boots. He spotted Brauk’s weapon box, remembering that his brother kept his first sawa blade inside as a spare. It was the one he’d learned on when he was twelve. Rahkki threw open the lid of the trunk and shifted through Brauk’s pieces of cracked leather, doeskin gloves, sealed rations of jerky, wide selection of shields, and items that were more difficult to decipher.
Ah, there it was—the blade. He slid it from its sheath, checked the edge for sharpness, and sliced open his finger. Perfect. He attached the sword to his belt and was about to leave when he spotted Brauk’s old helmet tucked beneath a pair of crocodile-skin riding boots. Rahkki donned the helmet and strapped on an oversize chest shield. Then he led Sula out of the tack room.
The silver mare whinnied to her roan friend, and Firo whinnied back. Rahkki realized that Firo was trapped in her stall—and this was probably why Sula had dragged him into the barn—to save her friend. Rahkki raced toward the penned mare with Sula in tow. He found Firo’s stall, grabbed the halter hanging on the door, and slipped it over her head. She was the only winged horse left in the barn—the rest had been taken out to fight the giants, even the few that were sick or injured. Rahkki led Firo and Sula out of the stable, and the mares calmed instantly at the sight of each other.
Across the Dark Water Page 14