Across the Dark Water

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  Outside the barn, Riders charged in formation toward the giants; their steeds flew fast with their ears pinned and tails lashing.

  The Land Guard soldiers trooped across the yard, rows and rows of them—some mounted on land horses, the rest marching on foot. They’d coated their spears in boar’s blood for luck.

  Rahkki glanced at the stone fortress that protected the queen and her daughters. I’Lenna was inside; he’d seen her return after she left him at the round pen. The queen’s archers lined the tops of the walls, their arrows drawn, waiting.

  Rahkki could head to the village, or to his uncle’s farm as Brauk had instructed; but Uncle was alone.

  He paused—Uncle was alone!

  Now he knew what to do. Rahkki would help his uncle defend the farm.

  “Come, Sula. Come, Firo,” he said, whistling softly to the wild Kihlari. They pricked their ears and followed him with a light prance in their steps.

  Behind Rahkki, the jungle groaned, and a fifty-length banyan tree cracked and toppled toward the fortress with a hard shudder. Startled, the archers loosed their arrows. They struck the tree, piercing it in a hundred places. From the ground, Rahkki heard Lilliam screaming in rage. The harmless banyan crashed down like a murdered corpse.

  Then an elephant trumpeted and the giants appeared. Hundreds of them poured out of the trees, roaring and draped in buffalo hides that were stained red and as bright as their hair. At least fifty giants sat astride tusked elephants. The rest walked on land, swinging bludgeons and spears. They gestured in Gorlish, sending commands so fast their fingers blurred.

  Sula brayed, loud and ferocious, and Firo copied her. The two mares lowered their necks like wolves and clenched their jaws. Rahkki’s heart raced, but his feet seemed rooted to the grass as he watched the giants emerge.

  The Sandwen Land Guard galloped toward them astride their chargers, hefting spears. General Tsun barked orders from the rear. The giants lifted heavy shields and mowed down the front line of Sandwen soldiers, crushing them under their elephants’ feet and stabbing them with their spears. The horde roared in unison and advanced over the bones of the dead. Rahkki’s people swarmed, quick and organized, like ants.

  Rahkki drew the sawa blade, his hand shaking. The tallest Gorlanders towered to fourteen lengths, but most stood around eleven or twelve lengths. All of them were as thick as they were tall, and they dwarfed the lean Sandwens. The elephants loomed sixteen lengths at the shoulder, some taller. Their tiny eyes flashed in their gray heads, and Rahkki thought they looked terrified, but that made them no less deadly. One had a Sandwen warrior hanging off his tusk. The elephant tossed him off, and a giant speared the man straight through.

  Rahkki bent over and threw up.

  Sula nickered for his attention. Rahkki wiped his mouth. The mares wanted to fight or run, and he’d lose control of them if he didn’t act soon.

  He glimpsed Brauk soaring into the battle flanked by Tuni and Harak, and his heart tightened. The Sky Guard shot another round of arrows, slowing the giants’ speed as they paused to lift their wooden shields. The Land Guard rallied, and soon the clanging of metal and the thud of blows filled the yard. Brauk guided Kol lower and slayed giants from the chestnut’s back. Kol kicked them with his hooves, twisting as he flew to avoid being grabbed.

  But the giants kept coming. From the eight turrets of Fort Prowl, more archers appeared, prepared to shoot if the elephants came close enough to batter down the front gates. Rahkki glimpsed the Queen of the Fifth watching the battle from her perch on the highest tower, I’Lenna at her side. The crown princess wrung her hands, her eyes fixed on the fighting below.

  Mut and his friends leaped from one wounded giant to the next, quickly ending their lives. Koko had joined them, her weapon a four-pronged pitchfork.

  Without thinking any more about it, Rahkki leaped onto Firo’s back, slipped his legs beneath her wings, and kicked her toward Uncle’s farm. She surged forward, almost toppling him off her back. He curled his hands into

  her black mane while keeping hold of Sula’s lead. Firo galloped, quick and sure, and Sula kept pace with them.

  Rahkki guided Firo as best he could without a bit or reins. Kihlari were smarter than horses, so within minutes she understood to move opposite his leg pressure. When his heel pushed on her right side, Firo turned left, and when it pushed on her left side, Firo turned right. If he squeezed with both heels, she ran faster. As soon as she did as he asked, he released the pressure to reward her.

  In this manner they galloped past the village and across the lowland plains, heading north. And each time Firo jumped a bush or a ditch, she flapped her wings and this buoyed them over the obstacles and caused Rahkki’s belly to float. On the way he passed the soldiers who had been sent to guard the outlying farms like Uncle’s. They were galloping back toward the fortress on their war horses, called by the bells. “How goes it?” one shouted to Rahkki.

  He shook his head. “They brought elephants.”

  “Stinkin’ giants!” All the soldiers spit on the ground and kept going.

  Soon Rahkki reached the rice farm and Firo halted, sliding through the mud in front of Uncle’s hut.

  Darthan stepped out his door in full armor and with a long-handled Daakuran sword at the ready.

  Rahkki gaped at him. “Where did you get that?” He stared at the weapon, which was etched with a fiery sun. The sun was the symbol of Daakur, the eastern empire on the other side of Cinder Bay.

  “That story is for a hot fire and a peaceful day,” said Darthan. His eyes flicked over the mares. “Did you steal them?”

  “No. I’m saving them. They can’t fly.”

  The corners of his uncle’s lips twitched. “Put them in Lutegar’s stall.”

  “But where’s Lutegar?” Rahkki asked, feeling panicked. His head swam with images: the redheaded giants, the trumpeting elephants, the army, the storming Kihlari Riders, the blur of the land under Firo’s hooves, his uncle’s armor, and the foreign sword—he didn’t even know his uncle had a sword, or armor.

  “Put your winged friends in there with Lutegar,” Darthan clarified. “It’s the biggest stall, and the rest are full. I put all the animals away when I heard the bells. Hurry, Rahkki, then meet me at the mill. We have to move the seeds in case the giants come.”

  Rahkki led the mares into the barn. They balked at the darkness of it, but he coaxed them inside with soft

  urgings. Lutegar sniffed the air when he opened her stall door. The two wildlings spooked at the sight of the big buffalo. Rahkki threw fresh hay on the floor, and Lutegar moved aside, making room for the winged mares.

  Sula and Firo glanced at each other and then entered the stall. Rahkki closed the door. “I’ll be back for you,” he said. “I’ll protect you; I’ll protect this barn. Don’t worry.” He licked his hand and wiped it across the wood, making his words an oath.

  Then he walked out, locked the barn, turned around . . . and froze. Three hulking Gorlanders stood in the distant rice field, facing him. They licked their overstuffed lips, and their eyes, which gleamed beneath their crinkled foreheads, stared at him hungrily.

  “Bloody rain,” Rahkki whispered. He drew Brauk’s sawa blade and faced his enemies.

  25

  Defense

  THE LARGEST OF THE THREE GORLANDERS stomped toward Rahkki, huffing from traveling so far so fast. By the cut of the giant’s tunic, he guessed it was a male—but it was tough to be certain with giants. Rahkki lifted his sword to chest height and then sputtered into hysterical laughter. The small blade might be good for trimming the giant’s nails, or cutting his unruly hair—but for killing him, useless.

  The giant roared, beating his chest like a lowland gorilla, and Rahkki’s blood drained to his toes.

  Leaning forward, the Gorlander increased his pace, charging headfirst. The swampland rippled out from his heavy steps, rolling like a landquake.

  Rahkki turned and ran away from the barn, leading the giant away from Sula, Firo,
and Lutegar, heading toward the River Tsallan. The giant picked up speed, and the pounding of his footfalls vibrated Rahkki’s chest.

  The other two Gorlanders got busy digging up the rice plants and ripping the stalks in half. The attacking horde had tricked his clan! They assaulted the fortress with such force and numbers that the queen had to call in all her armed forces, and that left the farms vulnerable to smaller groups of raiding giants. These three were sent to ruin the Sandwen army’s food supply, and now Rahkki was extra glad he’d come to check on Uncle.

  “Grrrahar!” growled the giant.

  Rahkki glanced behind him.

  The Gorlander swung his arms, rocketing across the mud now. His bare feet slapped the soil, leaving footprints like craters. His fist was wrapped around the large handle of an ivory bludgeon, his blue eyes promised death.

  Rahkki hadn’t known giants were so fast! He sprinted toward the river, leaping over woody vines and brush. Brauk had told him once that Gorlanders didn’t swim well—perhaps he could lose him in the water. Rahkki’s blood roared in his ears as the giant raced toward him and lifted his weapon. He’d never reach the river first, so Rahkki turned to face him. The giant smiled, showing rotting teeth and his short tongue. He signed in Gorlish, but his hand moved too fast for Rahkki to translate.

  The boy crouched, flashing his blade.

  The giant rushed forward, swinging his club, and Rahkki knew that the male was too big to stop his charge quickly—his momentum was too great. So Rahkki galloped toward the nearest tree and at the last second leaped behind it. The giant followed him, but as Rahkki predicted, he was too large to change course. His eyes widened, and then he slammed into the trunk. The tree cracked and splintered.

  Rahkki raced away from it, but the tree broke toward him. It was at least thirty lengths tall and heavy enough to squash him flat. Rahkki bounded like a deer, hopping and dodging boulders as the tree crashed toward him. He dropped and rolled out of its way just as it struck the ground.

  The boy sat up, covered in leaves, in time to see the bludgeon coming down. He rolled again. The ivory smashed into the mud, and the sound shocked his eardrums. He stood, staggering, and the giant’s breath blew at him like a hot wind.

  Having given up on reaching the river, Rahkki raced into the jungle. The Gorlander followed, enraged by the tightness of the trees that slowed his pace. The sawa blade slipped out of Rahkki’s sweaty palm. He turned, grabbed it, and spotted the two other giants approaching the barn with their weapons raised.

  The mares!

  Rahkki whipped around faster than the giant could switch directions and sprinted back to the barn. His heart fluttered and his feet blurred beneath him—he had to defend Sula.

  “Uncle!” he screamed.

  “Here,” cried Darthan. He’d returned from the mill and was now running to help Rahkki, drawn by the crashing sound of the tree no doubt. Darthan had his Daakuran sword drawn and a shield attached to his left arm. At the sound of his voice, the giants turned toward him.

  Rahkki took that moment to leap at the nearest Gorlander, a female, he guessed. He stabbed her straight through her naked foot. She threw back her head and howled. No one likes to be stabbed in the foot, thought Rahkki. Not even a giant. He yanked his blade out of her.

  She snatched his arm.

  Oh no.

  The female lifted Rahkki off the ground until they were eye to eye. She shook him so hard his teeth rattled.

  He stabbed at her, but she swung him like a doll. Then she dropped her ivory club and grabbed his other arm, stretching him and studying his face as he yelped.

  Uncle Darthan fought the giant next to her, leaping and slicing like a trained Guard (when had Uncle learned to fight?), and the third giant was on them both. Inside the barn, Rahkki heard hooves shuffling madly, and then violent kicks against the barn door. The wildlings wanted out.

  The female giant tugged Rahkki’s arms hard enough to make him scream, and then she reached into the pocket of her tunic and pulled out a dirty piece of sinew. She wrapped it around Rahkki several times, balling him into it, and then she lifted him over her head and dropped him into her back sack.

  Rahkki gasped. She was stealing him! He squirmed, but his arms were bound tight. It was dark inside her pack, but Rahkki felt creatures crawling on his exposed skin. Terror tore through him. In the dim light filtering through the seams, he spied hunks of rotting fruit swarming with black ants. The ants had begun to climb up his legs, scurrying toward his head. He shrieked and kicked. Rahkki hated ants almost as much as he hated giants!

  The barn door shook with the pounding of Sula’s and Firo’s hooves, his uncle was now fighting three giants by himself, and Rahkki was wound up like a toy yo-yo. We need help, he thought.

  And then help arrived.

  26

  Help

  ECHOFROST STRUCK THE OLD, WEATHERED BARN door with a final mighty kick that broke it. Bursting outside, she saw three giants engaged in battle against Rahkki’s uncle. The cub was near; she could smell him, but she couldn’t see him. Shysong galloped to her side. “What now?”

  Echofrost glanced at the jungle, thinking to flee, but she knew she wouldn’t get far without her ability to fly. A sprout of dark hair caught her eye and she turned in time to see Rahkki’s head poke through a sack tied to the female giant’s back. His expression was twisted, desperate, and his golden eyes were as round as twin suns. Black ants swarmed his face and neck. The sorry sight of him shot unexpected rage through her. “Charge the giants!” she whinnied to Shysong.

  The mares surged forward, each attacking a giant so that the man Rahkki had called Uncle could focus on the third. Echofrost struck the female Gorlander as Redfire had instructed her in Anok when she was training for Star’s United Army. She imagined kicking straight through the giant, and soon she felled her like a tree. Rahkki spilled out of her pack.

  Echofrost turned on the second giant, and Shysong galloped to help Uncle with the third. The red-haired beast swung a weapon at Echofrost that was spiked at one end. She dodged it, barely. He swung at her again and knocked her into the side of the barn. With her head ringing, the giant stomped toward her—his bludgeon lifted.

  All of a sudden, jade feathers shot across her vision. Hazelwind? Echofrost peered skyward. Hazelwind and Graystone, Dewberry and Redfire and fifteen pegasi from Storm Herd swooped down from the clouds and attacked the giants from above.

  Shysong whinnied a rally cry. Dewberry’s voice joined hers, and Echofrost felt a sob of joy rise in her chest. With fresh energy, the pegasi fought side by side. Rahkki rolled out of the melee, struggling with the fibrous cord that bound him.

  Echofrost pinned her ears and joined them, slamming the large male Gorlander with both hooves and kicking the breath from him. Seconds later the giants gave in and fled, snatching up their clubs as they left. The creature that Rahkki called Lutegar charged out of the barn and bellowed as though she’d chased them off herself.

  “I’ve never seen her move so fast,” Rahkki said, staring at Lutegar.

  Uncle chuckled and sat down, wiping his sword.

  Echofrost felt the tension leave the Landwalkers, and herself. Her friends landed, and she trotted to Hazelwind’s side and pressed her muzzle into his neck, inhaling his warm scent.

  “I’m back,” he said, wrapping his neck around hers.

  Dewberry folded her wings. “What should we do with these two?” she asked, eyeing Rahkki and his uncle, who were each gaping at the wild herd.

  “Nothing,” Echofrost answered. “They haven’t hurt us.”

  Hazelwind drew back to speak. “We’ve been watching you as best we can since that Landwalker shot at me,” he said. Echofrost noticed the long scabs across his chest where Koko’s arrows had cut Hazelwind. “But we haven’t been able to get close.”

  “Those Kihlari warriors patrol the sky night and day,” Graystone added.

  “It’s because of the giants,” said Shysong. “They increased all their patrols.”<
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  “Little good it did them,” Dewberry huffed, clutching her sides with her wings.

  “Are you sick?” Echofrost asked. Dewberry appeared thinner than ever but her belly had swelled as if filled with gas. Perhaps she’d eaten a toxic plant.

  Dewberry lifted her chin, her eyes glittering. “I’ve never felt better.”

  Echofrost knew the mare would never admit to weakness, so she turned to Hazelwind, thinking of all the dangers that lurked in the jungle. “Have you lost anyone?” Echofrost asked.

  “No. We’re safe in the nests, but we’ve eaten all the leaves and figs. We have to fly down twice a day to graze.”

  Echofrost, still catching her breath, drank in the sight of Hazelwind, standing right in front of her—his lean muscles, battle-scarred hide, tangled tail, and suspicious eyes all looked beautiful to her. He was wild and free, relying on himself and his herd to survive. And now, with no barrier between them, there was nothing ahead but their future.

  Rahkki rose off the ground and limped toward Darthan. Echofrost’s friends shied away from the boy. “He’s so small,” Redfire commented.

  “His name’s Rahkki,” Echofrost told him.

  “The Landwalkers have names?”

  “Yes, and they also name their Kihlari. I’m called Sula. They call Shysong Firo.”

  Hazelwind examined Echofrost’s feathers. “You still can’t fly,” he said, frustrated. “That’s going to make this difficult.”

  “What difficult?”

  “Leaving this place.”

  Echofrost glanced at her snipped flight feathers and then at Hazelwind’s ruffled expression and Dewberry’s impatient posture. It was time to go.

  Just then Rahkki approached, speaking his soothing words. She smelled his essence: the burned wood, wet soil, and jungle air, all of it tinged with sorrow. He’d fought for her today, battling giants three times his size. He had the heart of a stallion.