Riders of the Realm #2

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  “Your Intended steed stands beside you,” the Borla continued. “These Kihlari have been selected for their ferocity of spirit and their skill in flight. They represent the highest-quality Kihlari stock in the seven clans.” He cast a doubtful glance at Echofrost that sent snickers rippling through the crowd. Rahkki’s jaw muscle fluttered angrily. “It will be your duty to serve and protect your Flier above yourself.”

  Rahkki mindlessly touched her chest, and Echofrost didn’t pull away from him. He’s my ally, she reminded herself.

  “The bond you are about to form is second only to the fealty you owe your queen,” the Borla said. “Do you understand that what is done today cannot be undone?”

  The five prospective Riders answered in unison. “We do.”

  “Do you understand that only death can break a Pair?”

  “We do.”

  “And do you understand that when a Rider or a Kihlara Flier passes to the next life, the other becomes a Half, and that a Half can never Pair again with another?”

  “We understand,” Rahkki answered with the others.

  “Now for the Pairing,” the Borla said. “In the presence of your monarch, answer your truth.” He raised his voice higher. “Is this the Kihlara Flier you have chosen of your own free will?”

  “Yes,” the Riders agreed in unison. Echofrost felt tension swelling within the crowd. She sensed that the ceremony was almost over.

  “Name your Flier.”

  Rahkki shouted, “Sula of the Fifth Clan!” Then he reached for her again, but this time Echofrost scooted sideways, her nerves jangling.

  “Do you promise your lifeblood to protect your Flier from harm?”

  “Yes,” the Landwalkers answered.

  “Do you promise to care for your Flier until death parts you?”

  “We do.”

  “Do you promise to feed your Flier before you are fed?”

  “We will.”

  “And do you promise to outfit your Flier in full Daakuran armor for each and every battle?”

  “Always!” Rahkki shouted with the others, but he cast a worried glance at his mare.

  Echofrost neighed to Shysong. “Why is everyone shouting?”

  The roan pranced inside the queen’s shade tent, scattering servants. “I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

  The Borla raised his hand and addressed each Rider and Flier individually. He ended with Rahkki. “By your monarch, Queen Lilliam Whitehall, who is present here today, by the witnesses gathered, by the flesh sacrifice you are about to give, and by my own hand—I Pair you, Rahkki Stormrunner, with your Kihlara mare, Sula of the Fifth Clan.”

  The Borla shut his mouth with finality. Before she or Rahkki could react, ten men swarmed Echofrost and knocked her down.

  Shysong reared. Her head slammed into her tent’s ceiling, causing it to collapse. “Fly away!” she whinnied. The two princesses slid down her back and into I’Lenna’s quick embrace.

  Echofrost struggled but the men held strong.

  She watched as they lifted Rahkki off his feet and tossed him onto his side.

  The spectators whooped and hollered.

  “It’s okay! Don’t fight,” Rahkki cried. He was trying to calm her, and Echofrost realized this attack must be part of the ceremony.

  A huge man, the blacksmith himself, yanked a metal rod out of the smoking coals. Heat shimmered around its molten end. He strutted toward Rahkki and Echofrost, and then she understood what was happening—she and Rahkki were about to receive matching brands.

  She froze, her heart thudding.

  The blacksmith was swift, and as quickly as it had begun, the branding was over, leaving each Rider and Flier with identical marks.

  Echofrost rolled to her hooves, shaking. It was done. She and Rahkki were Paired. Her new Rider composed himself and joined her, and the two walked off the field to the cheers of all four clans. Their first task as a unit was over. They were in the Fifth Clan militia now, and one step closer to saving Storm Herd from the giants.

  7

  Brauk

  WHEN THE PAIRING CEREMONY ENDED, THE other branded Riders had rushed to their clan Borlas for help, but Rahkki and Sula stumbled across the field as he led her toward Brim Carver’s animal clinic. He’d ask her to treat their wounds, visit Brauk, and drop off the clothing he’d gathered yesterday.

  Rahkki glanced toward Lilliam’s shade tent. When the blacksmith’s men had knocked Sula down, Firo had reared and collapsed the entire structure onto the queen’s head. Now Lilliam screamed at her servants to resurrect it and clean up the overturned trays of food. She pointed at her eldest daughter. “If you can’t handle your winged pony, I’Lenna, I will send her to the Ruk.”

  “Yes, Mother.” I’Lenna clucked to Firo, who was prancing and shaking her braided mane. “Shh,” she soothed, and led her new pet toward the fortress. Rahkki felt bad for I’Lenna. Most Sandwen queens cherished their children, but Lilliam never had. Instead of viewing her female heirs as blessings, she perceived them as threats, especially her crown princess.

  Rahkki returned his attention to Sula. Her eyes bulged and her breath came in rapid bursts as she absorbed the pain of the branding. Rahkki’s body had gone numb except for his throbbing shoulder. He couldn’t believe he was a Rider now, like Brauk. No—not like Brauk. His brother couldn’t walk, or ride, or fight. He might be paralyzed, forever.

  A voice broke into his thoughts. “How’d you do it, Stormrunner?”

  Mut Finn, the leader of the Sandwen teens, intercepted him. Mut’s best friend, Tam Woodson, stood beside him.

  “How’d I do what?” Rahkki asked.

  “Tame her?” Mut nodded at Sula. “You a Meld or something?” Mut and Tam burst into laughter. People thought animal speakers were crazy, but Rahkki was neither a Meld nor crazy.

  “She chose me,” Rahkki answered, shrugging casually.

  Mut’s mood instantly blackened. When he’d tried to win Sula, she’d bucked him off. “Sula’s an animal, Rahkki, she didn’t choose you.” Then something caught Mut’s eye, a group of girls from the visiting clans. He tagged Tam’s shoulder, and the two boys slunk toward them. Now that the Pairing was over, the clans were packing to return home, and these girls would soon be gone.

  Grateful for the reprieve, Rahkki arrived at Brim’s small medical hut and knocked on the door.

  “There you are,” Brim said, as if expecting him. She stepped aside to allow Rahkki and his Flier inside the animal clinic. Sula folded her purple wings as she entered.

  Shelves full of Daakuran medical books, jars of herbs, gleaming instruments, and stacks of parchment lined the walls. The room also contained three open exam tables, several teakwood chairs, and low cabinets. A huge canvas painting hung on the back wall, the scene depicting a muscular Kihlara steed battling a spit dragon.

  “Is Brauk awake?” Rahkki asked.

  “He’s still sleeping.” Brim nodded toward a closed horse stall.

  “During the day?” Rahkki stared at the door. Brauk was always training, flying, fighting, teasing—he didn’t lie still. “Is he getting better, you think?”

  “Now, now,” Brim soothed. “If I left it to Brauk, you know he’d never rest. It’s the medication that’s making him sleep.” She showed Rahkki a vial of liquid and explained how she made the drug. Sula recoiled at its tangy scent.

  “You fed my brother dragon drool? But that’s poisonous!” Rahkki cried.

  “You know I’d never harm your brother.” Brim clucked. “Boiling the venom removes all the toxins but leaves the anesthetic properties intact.”

  “The what?”

  Brim replaced the medicine, laughing. “It makes him sleep, and it’s safe,” she promised. “Just a drop does the trick, but it wears off fast, only lasts about an hour at a time.”

  Her eyes darted to several timekeepers stacked on a side table. The largest was the hourglass, and its white sand spilled slowly from the top of the glass, through the thin center, and piled into
a conical shape at the bottom. She pointed at it. “Now is a good time to visit. See, that says his medicine is almost done, but let me look at your shoulder first. Would you like a song?”

  Rahkki just stared at her, barely understanding the last thing she said. Around him, Brim’s shed seemed to pulse in unison with his throbbing wound. The ceiling of her hut rose and fell. The lighting went from bright to dim.

  “Oh! No, no. Don’t pass out on me,” Brim chirped. She broke into a clan lullaby while treating the matching brands on Rahkki and Sula.

  “Sula’s mine now,” the boy said, a smile creeping across his face.

  The skin around Brim’s eyes crinkled. “She was yours before you won her, you know. Everyone saw it. She’d not balk at stomping any one of us, but you—she likes you.”

  Tension settled between them at the mention of Sula stomping people. Rahkki glanced at the closed stall door again, and a hard lump filled his throat. His brother was on the other side, helpless. His brother who battled giants alone, who flew Kol bareback, who had the grip of a python, who had cared for Rahkki since their mother died—he was lying inside that stall. Alone. “Hurry,” he urged.

  “Of course.” Brim spread a cooling mud across his brand. “This will stop the burning and numb the pain,” she said. He flinched with each touch of her spatula, and each time he flinched, Brim yelped as if she were the injured one. Soon Rahkki was grinning. Next she bandaged the wound in clean cloth. “All right,” she said. “You may visit Brauk while I finish with the mare. But come back tomorrow for a bandage change.” She reached for a salve and turned to Sula.

  Rahkki nodded and pushed open the stall door. Reed mats covered the dirt floor, and a cot stood along the sidewall. The table next to it held a mug of hot liquid, probably tea, a bowl of water, and packets of medicine. On the floor rested an empty bowl that smelled of urine. Brauk slept on the cot beneath a wool blanket, looking pale.

  Rahkki set down the extra clothes he’d gathered and eased next to him, staring at his brother’s legs. When he stretched out his arm to touch them, Brauk snapped, “Don’t do that.” His eyes had opened, as bright as stars.

  “Hel-hello,” Rahkki stammered.

  Brauk gazed at his brother’s ceremonial clothing, his jaw ticking, and then he grabbed the bleached leather in his fist, grimacing as he did so. “What’s this?”

  Rahkki opened his mouth. No words came out.

  “You didn’t,” Brauk rasped. “You didn’t Pair with that viper Sula, did you?” He let go of Rahkki’s tunic and shook his head. “No, you couldn’t have bought her. You don’t have a dramal to your name.”

  Brauk didn’t know about the contest. Rahkki scooted out of his brother’s striking range, knowing it was best to confess, and confess fast. “I didn’t buy her; I won her in a contest. I Paired with Sula today.”

  Brauk gaped at him.

  Brim poked her head into the stall. “Everything all right in here, boys?”

  “Get out!” Brauk snatched up his urine bowl, and he tossed it at the opposite wall, where it struck and then fell with a clattering ring. Brim shut the door.

  Rahkki leaped to his feet. “Don’t yell at her!”

  “Bloody rain.” Brauk spat on the floor. “I’m sorry, Brim, but my brother’s an idiot!” He glared at Rahkki. “Tell me you’re lying. Please tell me you didn’t do it.” His voice lowered to a soft growl.

  “I’m not lying.” Rahkki cast his gaze to the floor. “She’s mine.”

  His brother shut his eyelids for a long moment. His chest rose and fell in controlled breaths. “How?” Brauk asked. “What contest?”

  “No one would pay more than a few dramals for her at the auction. Not after she hurt you . . .” Rahkki trailed off. “So the queen said that whoever could ride her to the clouds and back could keep her, and she let the merchants bet on the contestants.”

  “And you flew her?” Brauk snorted in disbelief.

  “I did.”

  “I don’t believe it. You’re afraid of heights. If you were any taller, you’d be afraid of yourself.”

  Rahkki’s eyes stung, and his cheeks flamed. “I rode her, and I won her. I’m a Rider now, like you.”

  “Like me?” Brauk clenched into a hard, bitter laugh and pointed at his legs. “With that mare beneath you, I have no doubt you’ll soon be exactly like me, Rahkki. Now listen and listen close, because I won’t repeat myself: That wild braya will kill you. She’s nothing like our tame Kihlari. Nothing. And when I get out of here, I’m going to strangle that vicious silver filly with my bare hands. Now go away.” He closed his eyes, cursing in Talu. “Sa jin, you’re dumber than you look.”

  Rahkki inhaled sharply. “Brauk—”

  “Go!”

  Rahkki left the horse stall and closed the door. He faced Brim, his body shaking. “He hates me.”

  Brim threw her soft arms around Rahkki, smelling of tree sap and melons. “You know that’s not true.”

  He drew a long breath and peered up at her. “You have to heal him, Brim.” Rahkki pointed at the stall door and whispered, “That’s not my brother in there.”

  “No, you’re wrong,” she said, taking his hand. “That is your brother. You and he must accept what has happened. Of course I’ll try my best to heal him, and perhaps he’ll walk again, but that’s not a promise I can make. You and Brauk must focus on the path in front of you. Don’t bend your eyes toward what should be or you will stumble.”

  “You sound like my uncle.”

  She grinned, her tan skin crinkling around her eyes and mouth. “Thank you. He’s a wise man.”

  “How long will Brauk stay in that stall?” Rahkki asked.

  “I’m working on moving him to your uncle’s farm, but first I need the swelling in his spine to settle.” Brim opened the front door of her clinic. “Let me worry about Brauk. You’ve got a Kihlara Flier to care for.”

  Rahkki peered at Sula who stood awkwardly in the hut, waiting. Her breathing had calmed, and she was no longer shaking. He imagined all her needs—quality hay, expensive grain, her battle armor, a saddle, and a grooming kit—and he blanched. Mut Finn had stolen the last of his money, a mere eight jints, and Brauk had long ago gambled away their inheritance. Now Rahkki was flat broke, and he didn’t have a wealthy family to sponsor him.

  He also had to fund his brother’s flying horse, and Kol required enormous amounts of hay and grain. Then his uncle’s face flashed in his mind. In all the excitement, Rahkki had forgotten Darthan’s wager—and the fact that Uncle was rich!

  “I have to talk to Darthan,” Rahkki mumbled. But first he needed to give his report to the queen. Lilliam met with her advisers each day just before se-vu, the clan’s resting hour. She heard complaints and reports, and lunched with clan leaders. Rahkki glanced at the sun, not wanting to be late. He clucked to his mare and she expectantly followed him back toward Fort Prowl.

  8

  The General

  ON HIS WAY TO THE FORTRESS, GENERAL TSUN, the commander of the Land Guard army, intercepted the new Pair. “Stormrunner,” he grunted.

  Rahkki paused, surprised. This man had spoken a handful of words to him in as many years. “Yes, General?”

  “A word, please?” He didn’t wait for Rahkki to answer; he took hold of the boy’s elbow and guided him toward the jungle. Alarmed, Sula flared her wings as she trotted beside them.

  The general halted within a dense thicket, and Rahkki squinted through the leaves, his pulse thrumming. Why were they standing within the borderlands of Granak’s hunting territory? He swallowed, nervous and alert for any sign of the black-scaled, drooling dragon. Overhead, the forest canopy rustled in the breeze, and Sula rattled her feathers.

  General Tsun nodded to Rahkki’s mare as if to pacify her and took a long breath. “I hear Queen Lilliam ordered some of my soldiers to attack you after the giants raided us. Is that true?”

  “What?” Rahkki cringed, his panic rising. It was true that soldiers had beaten him as punishment fo
r trying to free Sula, but he’d told no one about that, or had he told Tuni—he couldn’t remember. Either way, he answered, “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  The general’s hard, sun-lined face softened. “I know you didn’t, son. Word got out in the barracks, but it’s true, isn’t it?”

  Rahkki felt frozen by the man’s flint-blue eyes. He slowly nodded.

  The general sighed. “I’m going to spit this out, boy. There’s no other way to tell you. Queen Lilliam’s birth clan didn’t educate her about anything: war strategy, handling a treasury, raising heirs. Why would they? She was tenth in line to their throne, but now she’s our problem.” He glanced east. “The giant hordes are escalating toward war, and the queen is afraid of them. We need a new monarch, one who can handle this kind of trouble. Some of your clanmates are planning an uprising against Lilliam.”

  “I’m not!” Rahkki had spent the last eight years staying out of Lilliam’s way, just trying to survive. And now he was a Rider, but he was not a traitor. Lilliam was queen. He may not like it, but that was final.

  Unless my mother’s still alive, a small voice whispered inside his head.

  General Tsun studied Rahkki’s face. “You don’t believe Queen Lilliam is good for the clan, do you?”

  Rahkki felt trapped, and he set his jaw. Was the general going to report his answer to Lilliam or was he a rebel too? Leave me alone, Rahkki thought.

  “Your mother was a good queen,” the general continued. “The clan loved her.”

  Rahkki’s eyes shifted toward the village, his feet flexed. Should he run for it? He didn’t want to talk to this man about the uprising. The only way to dethrone Lilliam was to kill her, or convince her to renounce the crown on her own—and she’d never do that.

  “Rahkki,” the general pressed. “We could use your name, the Stormrunner name, to rally the entire clan against her. Will you speak to your family about joining us?”

  “Us?” Rahkki reeled away from the general. “You’re one of them?” Land to skies, Rahkki was meeting with a traitor in the jungle! If anyone saw . . .

  “Your family’s dislike for the queen is no secret,” the general stated. He made a fist and then opened it, pointing all four fingers down, a studied gesture or signal that Rahkki didn’t understand.