Blood of Wonderland

by Colleen Oakes

  Dinah stopped and stared at the ladder. It blew about in the wind, looking weak and worn. “I can’t.”

  The angry Yurkei warrior pushed Dinah up to the ladder and placed her hand on the bottom rung.

  “Climb,” he demanded.

  Dinah looked up. The pod was suspended hundreds of feet above the earth. A fall from even the middle would surely either kill her or break every bone in her body. She took a deep breath and began making her way up the rope ladder that somehow blew in the breeze but still managed to be strong and unbendable beneath her white-knuckled grip. Hand over hand, she made her way up with the two Yurkei warriors lingering behind her, obviously annoyed by how slowly she was climbing. A strong gust of wind rocked the ladder, and Dinah pressed herself against it, wrapping her arms and legs around the rungs. She heard the roaring laughter of Yurkei children from below who watched her desperately cling to the ladder for dear life as it lifted off the ground and blew out behind the warriors, lashing like an angry tail.

  “Up, up!” shouted the guard behind her. Dinah clutched the ladder, afraid to move. The ladder twisted and swayed, and Dinah let out a cry before murmuring nearly forgotten prayers from childhood as she clutched the rung before her. The ladder began to twirl in the wind, which cracked and whistled the faster it blew. The rung underneath her hand was growing slippery with sweat, and Dinah’s foot was tangled between two other rungs. I can’t, she thought.

  Before she could finish her thought, the kinder of the two guards began rapidly climbing up the ladder after her. He reached her in seconds. Once there, he moved slowly, circling around the ladder until he was on the opposite side, his face inches from Dinah’s. He dangled from the rope with one hand as he untangled Dinah’s footing with the other. He switched hands then and wrapped one palm around the wooden rope and the other tightly around her waist. “I will help,” he murmured. “Step.”

  Dinah closed her eyes and reached for the next rung, secured by his hand supporting her waist. Her foot found the rung. She opened her eyes. Without thinking, she grabbed the next rung and the one after that, even when the wind wrenched the ladder sideways so roughly that Dinah almost lost her grip. The Yurkei warrior held on to her as she slipped and strained her way up. At times it seemed hopeless, but still she climbed. She climbed up past the breasts of the enormous cranes, past the crests of their giant necks, and finally, straight up into the vast white pod strung between the two birds, like some saucer that the fowl had dropped from their mouths.

  The Yurkei warrior was the first one through the pod, and he rapped his hand twice against a wooden bracket on the outside. A square of fabric was pulled from the bottom, and with a leap, he disappeared up into the hole, reaching back to help Dinah. Her feet dangled in the air as he held her arms, and she looked up with fear into his glowing blue eyes, her life completely in his hands. He gave her a shy smile and yanked her up through the opening, setting her down roughly inside the tent. Dinah’s legs and arms were shaking so terribly that she simply rolled over onto her back, her lungs heaving and contracting with each long breath. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling, a cold sweat pouring from her skin. It felt good to be on a hard surface, but she couldn’t forget that this fabric tent was suspended hundreds of feet in the air. It was unnatural to be this high, and she longed to feel dirt underneath her fingernails. She was a child of the earth, not the sky. Her heart gave a terrified thud when she realized that she would also have to climb back down the ladder, which would be less physically exhausting but infinitely more dangerous. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing. After a few minutes, a man’s voice broke the silence.

  “Did you enjoy your climb, Princess?” Warily, Dinah opened her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position. She tried to force her heaving breaths down into her ribs, to appear more in control. Mundoo stood before her, looking resplendent in a full headdress made of blue feathers, wearing nothing more than a feathered loincloth and some sort of wooden sandal that laced up the ankle and calf. The white painted stripes she had seen on him before were gone, now replaced with elaborately illustrated white drawings and symbols that coated his skin. He sat calmly on a huge throne of carved golden birds that, much to her surprise, was not unlike the Heart thrones in the Great Hall. In fact, the more she looked at it, the more she realized it was the twin of the thrones in Wonderland Palace. Carved by the same maker at the same time, no doubt.

  Stand up, Dinah told herself. You look weak. She forced herself shakily to her feet and raised her head. Mundoo stood and motioned to his guards. “Lu-feryir.” The guards turned and walked toward several open flaps around the bean-shaped tent and out into the open air. Dinah gasped before realizing her foolishness when she saw that the ropes suspending the pod high above the earth were also slim walkways leading into tunnels, carved out from the breasts of the stone birds.

  “Would you like some water? The ladder climb can be . . . strenuous for those who aren’t used to it.” Dinah waved his water away. She didn’t want anything from him except for mercy, though her throat longed for liquid.

  “The ladder climb was to make me look weak.” She raised her chin. “Your Majesty.”

  Mundoo gave a small laugh. “You know, you don’t remind me of your father, not much. Your pride and your blatant lack of self-control, perhaps. But otherwise . . .” He peered into her dark eyes. “I do not see the man in you who has killed so many of my own.”

  Dinah lowered her eyes. “My father, the king, murdered my brother in cold blood so that he would not have to share the crown. I have no love for my father and the fact that you see none of him in me is the greatest compliment I’ve ever been paid.”

  Mundoo smiled and lifted his hand to Dinah’s cheek. She forced herself to stay steady as his tan, weathered hand caressed her jawline. “And what of Wonderland Palace? Do you have loyalty to them? To the Cards?”

  Dinah considered her answer carefully. I am a mouse in an eagle’s nest, she thought, and one wrong move will deliver me straight into his mouth. “I have no loyalty to Wonderland while it remains under the rule of the man who murdered my brother.”

  Mundoo’s bright blue eyes sparkled. “Well answered. I see you are adept at the language of ruling and politics. I should not be surprised.” Mundoo stepped back from her and began pacing around his throne. “You must know the history of my people and Wonderland. Our legends say that the Yurkei arrived here hundreds of years ago, flown here on the backs of great birds. We lived in peace with the land, and made this place—Hu-Yuhar, the hidden city—our home. We had no need for war, for weapons, other than to hunt. And then one day, strangers came, borne by a boat from a distant land, from the ‘Other Worlds’ as you call them. These men established Wonderland Palace and proceeded to push us back into the mountains. Your ancestors declared war on us, and we have been battling the line of Hearts ever since.

  “And for what? We long for nothing more than to live on our lands and have peace. It’s true—when a Wonderland village comes too close to our lands, we will burn it to the ground, because we must fight for each inch of grass. This is a vast country, and yet the palace feels it must own every inch of it, from the Western Sea to the edge of the Yurkei Mountains. As you are probably well aware, I have spies in Wonderland Palace, and I hear whispers that your father is laying the groundwork to start his great war. He longs to push us into the sea, the place from where his ancestors came. He seeks to find and destroy Hu-Yuhar.”

  Mundoo gave a sigh and rested his hand upon the throne as he gazed at her. Dinah could see lines of worry etched across his strong face. “And so we come to you, you who rode so boldly into my territory astride the black devil. What do I do with an exiled princess? Most of the people down there would have you publicly executed.” Dinah stood still as Mundoo raised a few flaps on the side of the tent. Then he wrapped his hand around her neck and pushed her face toward the light. “Look down, Dinah. You may have been exiled from Wonderland and the king himself may wish you dead, but that
matters little to a fatherless child or a woman whose bed will never be warm again.”

  Dinah kept quiet as she looked down at the throngs of people below, Mundoo’s hand against the back of her head. Nothing he said was untrue.

  “Executing you, your Spade, and your steed would be the easiest course of action. But I think that we can find a better use for you. How much do you know of your kingdom as it currently stands?”

  “I know that the city is restless because of raised taxes. I know that my father is growing ever more paranoid and that he is amassing the Cards in great numbers; for what purpose, I am unsure. I know that he has placed Vittiore, his puppet, on the throne next to him, and that he rules with an ever harder iron fist. He is preparing for something, but it is of little concern to me. I am no longer a member of the royal family. I am now simply a girl who has no home.”

  Mundoo smiled. “If only I could believe that. I hear your sister is very beautiful, with hair like the sun.”

  “And a mind like mud,” replied Dinah, sharper than she intended. “She does nothing that my father does not tell her to do. Vittiore could not rule over an anthill.”

  “Interesting. But your father, he is a clever man, no?”

  Dinah thought of how her father had beheaded Faina Baker right in front of her just to teach her to not put her nose where it didn’t belong. “He is intelligent, yes. He is a skilled fighter, but he is also brutal and unforgiving and a drunk. It has made him slow in recent years. He is full of hatred, for reasons I do not understand. The cleverest man in the palace is Cheshire. Most of the decisions my father makes come from him.” In her mind’s eye, Dinah saw Charles’s tiny body crumpled under a starry sky. Her voice rose. “I have nothing but hatred for the king. I would gladly take his life. I attempted to in the Twisted Wood until the Spade intervened.”

  “So I have heard.” Mundoo stared at her, his unflinching blue eyes piercing her tingling bones. “I find you very interesting, Dinah, exiled Princess of Wonderland. Stories of your escape from the palace have echoed through this land, even here in Hu-Yuhar, our home. You are called many things: the Queen of Death, the Red Queen, the Rebel Queen, Rider of the Black Devil. Some even say you are a ghost or an omen of the future. . . .”

  “I am no one,” replied Dinah. “I am simply Dinah, an exile who stumbled into your mushroom fields by accident.”

  Mundoo raised his eyebrow. “By accident? Yes, that is interesting. No one stumbles into our sacred burial ground by accident. No. Your Spade led you there, though his reasons are not yet clear.”

  “No, we were . . . ” Dinah found the words dying on her tongue, and the twinge in her heart told her that Mundoo was right. The Spade had led her there. Had she known it the whole time, exchanging her own security for the comfort of a friend? She had thought they were simply fleeing the king, perhaps heading over the Yurkei Mountains to the Other Worlds. “I trusted him,” she gasped, her throat dry and raspy.

  Mundoo stood and handed her a small wooden bowl filled with water. “Drink. I insist. It pains me to hear your voice.”

  Dinah, feeling humbled, gulped the water noisily.

  “You should know not to trust anyone when you possess so much power.”

  “I do not possess power,” she answered, wiping her mouth. “I possess a sword, a bag full of filthy clothing, the pelt of a white bear, and a horse.”

  “Ah, your horse.” Mundoo untied a piece of fabric that was lashed to his glorious throne and the roof of the tent pulled back, like an egg with its shell removed. The sky opened up above them, and the space was filled with the whirling cold wind that had so easily tossed the ladder. Dinah barely had time to duck before a giant white crane flapped into the tent, its huge wings sending bursts of air across her face. The crane landed on the throne and gave a loud squawk at Dinah. Mundoo continued, seemingly oblivious to the dangerous-looking bird. “Morte will be put to death soon enough. A price must be paid for all the blood he has taken from this tribe. Believe that I will find no joy in killing a Hornhoov. They are rare and exquisite creatures, and I have never seen one as large as him. We will study him first.”

  “He hasn’t done anything.” Dinah knew it was untrue as soon as the words passed over her tongue.

  “No? With my own eyes, I saw him crush three of my best warriors without even a backward glance—at least, not until he came back to taste their flesh.” Dinah remembered the bear, Morte’s muzzle covered with the smear of blood, and the way her stomach had turned. “The beast will die. And then we shall decide what to do with his rider. I have much to think about. My spies have given me reason to believe that your father is preparing to launch a large assault on my tribe, perhaps bringing the fight here, to Hu-Yuhar, within a few months’ time.”

  “But your city seems impregnable. It is surrounded by mountains on every side.”

  Mundoo smiled as the crane rested its head on his knee. “So one would think, but I do not underestimate your father. We have our weaknesses, just like any city. But that is for me to consider. For now, you will stay here as our guest. You will attend our feasts and ceremonies, and I would encourage you to talk with our tribe, to learn. You may not leave the valley, and you may not enter any homes. You are to keep up your training with the Spade, and I will command my strongest warrior to help give you instruction and build your skills. You are not to go near Morte. And if he suddenly disappears or is set free, you die, along with the Spade. I will make you watch as we take him piece by piece.”

  “Where is Sir Gorrann?”

  “He will be waiting for you back at your tent. We spoke earlier this morning, and he handled the climb even worse than you did.” Dinah’s mouth curved into the smallest of smiles as Mundoo strolled up behind her. At least Sir Gorrann was alive. “We will speak again, Princess, but for now you must go. You have met your guards, Ki-ershan and Yur-Jee. They will follow you wherever you go. Yur-Jee lost his eldest son to your father’s Heartsword, so I would be careful not to anger him. Passion can lead a man to violent ways.”

  Dinah nodded and turned to go. The sunlight winked in front of her face, just for a second, and then there was an arm around her neck, a body pressed against her back. Mundoo had moved so fast. Dinah didn’t understand what was happening. The pain came swiftly as something sharp and hard was shoved into her, through her. Her shoulder exploded, and everything went white. She grasped his outstretched hand, where she saw a thin wooden knife made of the same white wood that held the tent aloft. It was as slender as a knitting needle, and now covered with red. Mundoo took a breath and shoved it into her back again, just over her shoulder blade. He was killing her. She didn’t feel it going in, but the pain when it was pulled out was worse than anything she had ever felt. Dinah let out a muffled scream as the blood rushed forth over her shoulder. The pain was deep, like a thousand scalding irons were being pushed inside her. She stumbled backward before falling to her knees with a choking gasp. Mundoo knelt behind her and wrapped his thick arm around her neck again, his lips brushing her ear as he pulled her close. Dinah gurgled and choked. His hand was covered in blood.

  “Don’t be afraid, Princess. It’s not a fatal wound I’ve given you, and it will heal quickly. That was for swinging your sword at my head. I am the noble chief of the Yurkei and a man of honor, and I wouldn’t want you to think that we were friends.” His hot breath lingered over her face, and she felt herself spiraling into his glowing blue eyes, losing consciousness. “You and I, we are both the blood of Wonderland. It flows from my people and through your veins. I can’t let you forget it.”

  He released her violently, and she fell face forward onto the wooden floor of the tent, writhing in pain. The chief called for Ki-ershan and Yur-Jee, and they appeared through one of the open flaps of the tent door.

  “Take her through the mountain,” Mundoo instructed with a wave of his hand. “Make sure no one hurts her or the Spade until I have made a decision regarding their fates. Feed, clean, and clothe them. See that they are well
cared for but closely watched. Call for Ge-Jursi to use Iu-Hora’s potions to heal her.” Dinah’s whole body curled up in blinding pain as she cried out. Yur-Jee raised his voice to argue with the chief, but Mundoo silenced him. “Do as I command. Ach-julik.”

  Yur-Jee bowed with his hands spread out before him into the symbol of the crane. Dinah’s guards pulled her out through one of the tent’s open doors. She gasped for air, unable to breathe through the pain. They pushed her out onto the rope walkway that led into the breast of the crane. Dinah stumbled repeatedly, which made treading on the thin, knotted-rope walkway even more terrifying. Blood dripped down from her shoulder until it coated her bare feet, and she struggled to stay conscious. She slipped. Ki-ershan pressed his palm over the wound to stop the bleeding. Dinah could see the ground hundreds of feet below her as they struggled to stay on the thin rope bridge. The crowd watched her in silence as drops of blood fell from her body. They seemed satisfied.

  “Walk,” grunted Yur-Jee, roughly pushing her forward, so hard that Dinah would have gone flying off the edge if Ki-ershan hadn’t yanked her back. “Ja-hohy!” he snapped at Yur-Jee. Stop, thought Dinah, half-delusional. Yes, ja-hohy means stop. Thank you, Harris, she thought madly.

  Something twitched in her shoulder and suddenly it felt as if the bone was separating from her muscle, somewhere deep inside the cut. She gave a scream and stumbled forward, her knees hitting the rock outcropping that led into the mountain. Overjoyed at the cool feel of the stone, she laughed hysterically. The urge to brush her lips on the mountain was overtaken by a throbbing, angry pain. She heard raised voices and shouting. Sir Gorrann’s face appeared in a hazy blue sky over her, the thin lines of his face creased in worry.