Riders of the Realm #2

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  Rahkki let out his breath. I’Lenna appeared unharmed after her conversation with General Tsun, but what had they spoken about?

  Then the Highland prince began signing in Gorlish, and Tuni explained to Rahkki what was happening. “They’re offering to trade the captured herd for their stolen land.” She huffed at the word stolen, but Rahkki knew it was true; his clan had taken the land by force.

  The general whispered the offer into Lilliam’s ear, and her nostrils flared.

  “This is good,” Rahkki said, his hope blossoming. “The queen will agree, right?” A deal like this would stop the war with the giants, save the wild herd, and bring peace between the hordes and the Sandwens.

  “Wait.” Tuni slowly raised her hand as she studied the conversation between the giants and the general. “The Gorlanders won’t discuss this further until Lilliam has shared soup with them.” Tuni exhaled, shaking her head. “Giants,” she muttered.

  The wild red stallion was led away, and the Gorlan attendants returned to the pot they’d brought from Mount Crim. With a grace belying their size, they untied the lid and removed it. Steam rose from the large container, and everyone present leaned closer. Gorlan horde soup was legendary, and Rahkki stood on his tiptoes, wanting to see it for himself.

  Odd lumps bobbed in the yellow broth as the attendants stirred it, and Rahkki’s gut lurched. Gorlan camps and their entire culture centered round their massive cauldrons of soup. Broths often simmered for years, even decades. The older the soup, the better it tasted to the giants; and each member of the horde contributed, tossing in whatever animal or plant they’d harvested during the day. Each meal for a Gorlander’s entire life was scooped directly from the communal pot.

  And when the giants warred, they attacked one another’s cauldrons, tipping them over or tossing coal into the broth to spoil it. Once spoiled, a horde would have to start over with a fresh broth. And since they believed that a young soup would weaken an entire generation of giants, losing an old soup was a terrible blow to a horde.

  But when the giants were at peace, they shared soup—and right now the giants were offering to share with the Sandwens. “Finally the hordes have something worthwhile to trade,” Tuni whispered, glancing at the red stallion. “This could be the end of our thousand-year war.”

  Rahkki’s scalp tingled with pleasure. This also meant the giants hadn’t harmed Sula’s wild herd, not yet.

  The attendants ladled a creamy broth into each of the carved wooden bowls and then handed the steaming soup to each Gorlan prince. The older of the two attendants approached Lilliam with the final bowl, which was much smaller: a human-size bowl.

  The crowd of Riders and Land Guard soldiers quieted. Only the sound of shuffling hooves and feet, soft nickers, and the unexpectedly savory aroma of the Gorlan broth filled the air. The older attendant, a male Gorlander about twelve lengths tall, halted at Lilliam’s throne with her bowl in his gigantic hands. He bowed toward her while the other attendant signed in Gorlish.

  Tuni summarized. “They say they are proud to honor our queen with a portion of soup before negotiating. It’s a mixture of broth from each horde, and the combined age of the serving comes to seventy-five years. It has nourished two generations of giants.” Tuni lifted a brow. “They’re extremely proud of it.”

  The attendant handed the bowl to Lilliam as if presenting her with a newborn baby.

  Tuni relaxed her shoulders, her warm eyes finding Rahkki’s. “This is incredible,” she said. “In the Gorlan culture, sharing soup creates kinship. They will be honor bound to come to peaceful terms with us after sharing soup with Lilliam. When your mother tried to arrange this, the giants weren’t as receptive.”

  “So there will be no war?”

  Tuni smiled. “Nope. All Lilliam has to do is eat the soup.”

  “How do you know all this?” Rahkki asked.

  Tuni adjusted the baldric that held her sword, and the oiled leather creaked in response. “Your mother studied Gorlan culture in Daakur, where there are many books about the giants. When she returned, she taught us.”

  Rahkki glanced at Queen Lilliam, who stared suspiciously at the soup. He understood her hesitation. It was said that giants put everything in their broth—from insects, snakes, and rodents, to spiny plants and vines, and even Sandwen children. In fact, whenever a child went missing in the clan, his people didn’t blame the dangerous jungle—they blamed the giants.

  Because of this, making peace with them was all the more important. So why was Lilliam hesitating? Rahkki glanced at Princess I’Lenna, noting her horrified expression. His friend tried to speak to her mother, but Lilliam shushed her. An uncomfortable pause fell upon the hordes as the Sandwen queen whispered heatedly with her general.

  “Queen Lilliam knows she has to eat the soup, right?” Rahkki whispered to Tuni. “And why is General Tsun translating for her; doesn’t she speak Gorlish?”

  Tuni paled, and her eyes flicked across the circle to Meela Swift, the woman who’d replaced Brauk as Headwind. Meela’s green eyes were as round as Daakuran marbles. Even Harak had blanched. Tuni’s hand shifted back to her sword. “Rahkki, I think you’d better get out of here.”

  “I don’t—”

  But he never finished the sentence.

  13

  Fight

  ECHOFROST STARTLED WHEN LILLIAM HEAVED out of her chair and swiped the bowl of Gorlan soup toward her general. “Why don’t you eat it?” she snarled. But when her hand struck the bowl, it tipped out of the giant’s paw and clattered onto the flagstone. The yellow broth spilled, as thick as blood, and spread toward Lilliam’s sandals. The bowl wobbled, landing upside down.

  Silence descended.

  The Gorlan princes stared at the spilled soup, their faces turning as red as their hair. They rose and pounded the flagstone with their fists, threw back their heads, and roared. The noise struck Echofrost’s chest, rolling through her like thunder.

  “Go!” Tuni shoved Rahkki as she swung her body onto Rizah’s back. “Now!”

  Rahkki plunged toward Echofrost and they collided; he fell. Huge bare feet slapped the stone around him as the giants closed ranks against the Sandwens. Rahkki rolled out of the way as a Gorlan foot dropped toward him. Then he leaped to his feet, snatched Echofrost’s mane, and hauled himself aboard. She pushed off the hard stone and sprang toward the clouds.

  The tiny fire-breathing dragons filled the sky, chortling and hissing. Echofrost dodged them as they swarmed the Sandwens and shot jets of blue, then red flames out of their mouths. The soldiers ducked behind their shields.

  Echofrost galloped toward the heights, pumping her wings and swirling straight up like a bat. Rahkki gripped her mane tight and squeezed his legs. She felt a tremor shudder through him.

  Princess I’Lenna had thrown her sisters onto Shysong’s back and leaped up behind them. The blue roan paddled through the sky, panting at the effort to carry all three. Echofrost soared toward her friend, and they hovered side by side. “Where’s Redfire?” Echofrost had lost sight of their friend in the melee.

  “They retied him to that elephant.”

  Echofrost squinted, her eyes telescoping fifty winglengths to the scene below. She glimpsed Redfire’s copper hide as the cow elephant trotted across the courtyard, dragging the stallion behind her. A giant had mounted the beast and they shambled toward the gates, which the Sandwens were shutting.

  The Sky Guard ascended. Guiding their pegasi with their legs, the Riders fired arrows at the Gorlanders. The queen’s private guards had whisked Lilliam into the command chamber, and fortress guards defended the entrance.

  The small Gorlan party, outnumbered and outraged, gathered close to retreat.

  “Surround them!” General Tsun shouted. The Land Guard soldiers circled the giants, their sawa swords flashing in the sunlight.

  Rahkki shouted over the wind to I’Lenna. “Why didn’t your mother eat the soup?”

  I’Lenna’s sisters sat in front of her, crying; but
Echofrost saw fury, not sadness, smoldering in the older girl’s dark eyes. “She doesn’t speak Gorlish,” I’Lenna answered, and spat toward the ground. “I told her to learn. I tried to teach her.” She tugged on Shysong’s reins, flying the mare in a wide circle.

  Below, the giants slammed Sandwens across the courtyard. “I should be fighting.” Rahkki bent to urge Echofrost toward the battle.

  “You’re not ready,” I’Lenna cried. “You don’t even have armor!”

  But Echofrost needed no urging. She dived toward the battle, whinnying to Shysong. “The Sandwens are going to trap the giants inside the courtyard. We have to free Redfire.”

  But then the bull elephant rammed the unlocked gates, flinging them wide open.

  Led by the two elephants, the Gorlanders rushed out and their huge strides carried them swiftly toward the jungle. The burners took up the rear, blasting the Sandwens with their coldest flames. The purple fire froze the Sandwen swords, covering the metal in frost, and the soldiers dropped them, crying out when the icy blasts reached their fingers. Chirping in delight, the dragons protected the giants’ retreat into the forest.

  Echofrost swooped after the Gorlanders, and the Fire Horde prince spotted her. He signed to his trained dragons. A cluster of the burners massed together and flew at her, combining their flames into a huge blue ball of fire. She tucked her wings and dived to avoid being struck. Rahkki floated off her back but kept hold of her mane. He’s learning to stay with me, she thought.

  The dragons dived down, shooting hot jets at the new Pair. Rahkki cringed when the flames licked the back of his neck. Echofrost smelled burned hair. She flew sideways, then angled toward the clouds. The dragons chased her. Blast it! She couldn’t lose the swift the little beasts. She retreated, and when the tiny dragons realized it, they turned and followed their masters into the jungle.

  Echofrost glided back to Shysong. “I couldn’t get to Redfire,” she neighed. Gazing down, they watched the Sandwens scurry around the courtyard and the damaged gates like ants.

  Shysong blinked her large ice-blue eyes. “Whatever just happened down there, I don’t think it’s good for Storm Herd.”

  Echofrost stamped the sky as anger scorched her heart. “I agree, and as much as I can’t stand it, we still need the Landwalkers’ help to free Storm Herd. Nothing has changed.” She glanced at the roan and the three young cubs riding on her back, then down at the furious and shocked Sandwens. “Redfire told me that Dewberry is having twins.”

  “Twins,” Shysong gasped. “We have to rescue her before they’re born.”

  Echofrost flattened her ears, and with fresh resolve, she said, “We will.”

  14

  The Blanket

  THE LAND GUARD AND SKY GUARD ARMIES COLLECTED in the courtyard. Rahkki wanted to ask I’Lenna about her meeting with General Tsun, but there was no time. The wild mares glided into the courtyard. Firo touched down first and the princesses rode her toward their private chambers inside the fortress. Rahkki and Sula landed near the hitching post. Rahkki slid off his silver mare, feeling miserable. He’d had no control over Sula during the Gorlan skirmish. His mare did whatever she wanted. He’d never be able to pilot her well.

  “We should go after the giants right now,” Harak snapped at Tuni.

  Rahkki was close enough to the Headwinds to eavesdrop. He grew still and melted into his surroundings. All stable grooms knew how to vanish while in plain sight. Spying on Riders was, in fact, one of their favorite pastimes, and Rahkki had once been Brauk’s stable groom.

  “The Gorlanders came in peace,” Tuni snarled back. “We’re the ones who blew the parlay.” Her eyes cut toward the command chamber where the queen had disappeared.

  Harak pushed his stallion against Tuni’s mare. “The giants want farmland that is on our soil, yeah. Lilliam would never have agreed to their demands, soup or no soup.”

  Tuni’s soft-brown eyes darkened with rage. “She could have told them that without offending all three hordes. War is inevitable now.”

  Harak jerked on Ilan’s reins, driving the nervous stallion even harder into Tuni’s mare. “Are you questioning our queen?”

  Tuni pressed her lips together. Rizah flattened her ears, threatening to kick Ilan.

  Meela pranced toward them aboard Jax. “The giants will be back with warriors from all three hordes and their battle beasts. We can’t let that happen to our village. We need to strike first—in their territory.”

  Harak nodded. “I agree.”

  “We have no choice now,” Tuni grumbled.

  “Wipe that sour look off your face, Hightower,” Harak snarled, “or I might start questioning your devotion to our ruler, yeah?”

  “Riders!” General Tsun marched toward them, his flint-blue eyes trained on the Headwinds. “The queen won’t hold Council tonight, she’s not feeling well, but she’s spoken her commands. Forget the scouting mission tomorrow, no time for that now. She’s sending us to Mount Crim, a full battalion of Riders and soldiers. Our orders are to destroy the hordes and retrieve the wild Kihlari. There is much to do to get ready. We leave in two days’ time.”

  A heavy silence fell on the group, and Rahkki held his breath. This is what Sula wanted, to save her friends. It was finally happening.

  “We’ll leave a ghost detail behind to protect the clan from predators,” the general added, looking around at the stunned faces. “Have you heard me? We’re going to war.”

  “We hear you,” the three Headwinds answered in unison.

  “Then prepare! Ready your fighters, sharpen your weapons, and mend your tack and armor. You have two days.” General Tsun stalked away, his fists clenched.

  The Headwinds dispersed. Tuni mounted Rizah and was about to leave when she spotted Rahkki, eavesdropping in the shadows. She trotted Rizah toward him. “You’re a Rider, but you don’t have to go with us,” she said. “You can stay back and protect the clan.”

  Rahkki shook his head. “Sula won’t stay back. She knows the giants have her friends.”

  “Friends?” Tuni frowned. “Rahkki, I’m not sure Sula is as aware of things as you believe.”

  He snorted. “She is; I know it. Sula will follow the Sky Guard to Mount Crim, with or without me.”

  Tuni flipped her dark-red locks off her shoulders and let out a pent-up breath. “All right, but you both need armor. If you don’t have it by tomorrow, I’ll clip Sula’s flight feathers and ground her myself. That will keep you two home.”

  “You wouldn’t!” he cried.

  Tuni’s eyes glistened. “The feathers will grow back, but I have to look after you, Rahkki. Who else will?”

  He straightened. “I’m a Rider, and I’m almost thirteen. I’ll look after me.”

  She softened. “Just get the armor by tomorrow night. Promise?”

  He nodded, feeling sullen. “My mother would have eaten the soup.”

  “The Pantheress? Yes,” Tuni agreed. “She’d have eaten it and asked for seconds.” The Headwind peered skyward and grabbed Rizah’s mane. “Yah, Rizah!” The golden pinto whinnied and soared up and out of the courtyard, her gold-edged pink feathers twinkling in the sunlight.

  Rahkki turned to Sula, filled with sadness. When he was a prince, buying a set of armor for himself and his Flier would have been as easy as ordering a chunk of honeycomb at the Clan Gathering. Now the dramals he needed were so out of reach they might as well have been stars. “I can’t afford new armor,” he said to his mare. “But maybe Uncle is right. Maybe Koko has some old stuff for us.” Deep down, he didn’t believe she did—armor was too precious to go unused—but he led his mare to the Kihlari stable anyway, hoping for a miracle.

  When he arrived, he led Sula into her stall and then hunted about for Koko. He found her, finishing her instructions to the grooms. News of the war had traveled like a firestorm through the clan, and the grooms had gathered around Koko like squirrels, their eyes bright, their heads cocked.

  “Check the tack, fix ev’ry tear an’ br
oken stitch,” she said. “Pack ’xtra straps, spare bridles, an’ tools. Yur marchin’ wit the soldiers so yuh can care for the steeds. Don’ forgit nothin’. Now git.” The grooms scattered.

  Koko swung around, spotted Rahkki, and squared up. “Yuh pack the same gear fur yur wildin’, since yuh don’ got a groom ta do it.”

  “I would, but I don’t have any gear yet,” he said helplessly.

  Koko swept her gaze across Rahkki, considering him a moment, then sighed. “I got tack yuh can borrow, but no armor. Come on.”

  He followed her into the tack room. Koko pushed her thick blond hair off her face as she dug through trunks of old equipment, and Rahkki watched the muscles ripple in her shoulders. The girl was powerful strong and as unflappable as a spit dragon. She would make an excellent warrior. “Do you want to be a Rider?” he asked.

  Koko froze, her head deep inside a trunk. Her answer echoed up to him. “Course I do.” She heaved out an old saddle, chose a bridle, and faced him. “Can’t afford a Flier though.” Her brown eyes settled hard on Rahkki. Like Mut, she’d tried to win the wild mare at the contest, but Sula had easily thrown her. “Maybe I’ll git one a those wildlin’s after we save ’em.”

  “The queen is selling them to Daakur.” That fact soured his stomach. How would Sula react when her friends were freed and then sold? He didn’t want to find out. Somehow, he would stop that sale.

  Koko rocked back on her heels. “Sellin’ ’em ain’ righ’.” She tossed him a long look and then closed the tack room door so they were alone.

  Rahkki stood up, wondering what she wanted. Outside, he heard grooms rushing about the stable, calling to each other and arguing as their excitement mounted.

  Koko lowered her voice. “Join the uprisin’, Rahkki. Git tha’ crazy queen off yur mutha’s throne.”

  Rahkki stilled. “You know—”

  “I know the general talked to yuh.”

  “Bloody rain,” he muttered, sweat prickling his scalp. “I told him I won’t join. No future queen will be able to trust the Fifth Clan if we’re traitors.”