“It’s more dangerous ta keep ’er, Rahkki,” Koko retorted. “Granak didn’ eat the sow offerin’, did yuh ’ear tha’? An’ now this mess wit the soup—the queen’s lost ’er ’ead.”
Rahkki braced. “I won’t join.” He met her hot gaze.
After a moment, Koko sighed and handed him the tack she’d found. “Here, yuh can ’ave this. An’ git yur mutha’s Kihlara blanket outta here b’fore it gits ruined.” She pointed at a closed trunk. “After your wildlin’ kicked Brauk, I stowed it there.”
Koko left the room, and Rahkki approached the trunk she’d indicated. He opened the lid, catching a glint of blue fabric. At the winged-horse auction, Sula had worn this ceremonial blanket that had once belonged to Reyella’s winged stallion, Drael. Brauk had said it would encourage higher bidding, but after Sula kicked Brauk, she’d been led back to her stall and Koko must have taken it off her.
He lifted the trunk lid higher and removed the soft blanket. Decorated with tassels and jewels and trimmed in white fur, it filled his hands with memories. He pressed it to his nose and inhaled. This blanket was one of the few treasures Rahkki and Brauk still possessed that had belonged to their mother. Brauk had gambled or sold everything else during the dark years following her death.
But this custom-made blanket, as soft as a flower petal, was worth two hundred dramals, maybe more. Staring at it, Rahkki clenched the material into his fists. Suddenly he knew how to get the money for the armor, but his throat squeezed tight at the thought. If there were any other way, he’d take it. But this was the best option—and also the worst.
Tomorrow morning, he’d fly Sula to the trading post at Cinder Bay. The Sandwen clans bartered with one another for most of their goods and supplies, but some things—like metalwork, books, foreign spices, fine fabrics, and armor—had to be purchased from the empire. And since the empire also purchased items from the Sandwens, a trading post had been set up on the Sandwen side of Cinder Bay. Daily ferry service transported the Daakuran merchants to and from the post.
Rahkki fingered the precious fabric. Tomorrow, he would sell Drael’s blanket.
15
The Descendants
ALONE IN HER STALL, ECHOFROST MUNCHED HER hay and downed her grain because she knew it kept her strong. It seemed obvious to her that the giants had come in peace—the group was small and they’d brought their cubs—it was also obvious that the meeting with the Sandwens had not gone well. Redfire was heading back to Storm Herd, still a captive, but she was relieved to know her friends were alive and that Dewberry’s foals were safe, still unborn.
Around her, the Kihlari stable blazed with activity as grooms rushed up and down the aisles, gathering tack, Kihlara armor, saddlebags, and grooming kits. Echofrost spied Jax, Meela’s stallion, standing nearby while a groom massaged lineament oil into his tired muscles. “When is the Sky Guard flying to Mount Crim? Do you know?” Echofrost asked him.
The gold dun nodded absently. “Soon. A day, maybe two. We’ll end our war with the giants forever.”
Echofrost’s heart stammered. “Good—that’s good!”
In the neighboring stall, Kol reared. “I should be going!” He rammed the divider between them with his chest. “This is your fault.”
Angling her head to see him better, Echofrost studied the stallion. Kol’s tail twitched madly, and his eyes rolled back, showing the whites. This powerful Flier hadn’t been exercised in days. Pegasi in Anok adopted a similar state of distress when they were injured and couldn’t fly. There was only one cure for what ailed Kol—the wind in his feathers and his lungs full of clouds.
“You need to get out and fly,” she prescribed.
Kol’s brown eyes bored into hers. “If my Rider wasn’t injured, I would be out.” He spun another circle, his hooves scraping the floor.
“This is ridiculous,” she huffed. “You should be free to fly when you want.”
Kol’s anger crumpled. “I miss Brauk,” he whinnied. “I want him back.”
“You depend on him too much; it isn’t right.”
“I love Brauk,” Kol said. “You’ll see; you’ll love Rahkki too.”
“Never,” she whinnied. “I don’t make friends with wolves or horses or birds, so why would I make friends with a boy?”
But a memory flew up in her mind. The immortal stallion named Star had befriended Crabwing, a bird that lived on the coast of Anok. His adoration for Crabwing had shone in his eyes each time he told a story about the silly, lazy bird. I guess pegasi do sometimes make friends with other creatures, she thought. But then, Star was not like most pegasi.
Echofrost snorted away her thoughts. “Brauk is your captor, not your friend. You love him because he lets you out of your stall and takes you flying. But if he set you free, you could fly when you wanted. You could find a mate and sire foals. You could truly live. This is not living.” She kicked the wall between them.
“You’re wrong,” Kol whinnied, but with less conviction.
A spotted Kihlara mare across the aisle spoke. “Isn’t it frightening to live in the wild?” she asked Echofrost.
“Not when you live with a herd,” she replied. “We watch out for one another. We have patrols scanning for predators and scouts searching for the best grasslands. Our foals fly moments after they’re born. By the time they’re weaned, they can fly to the clouds. We migrate twice a year to avoid bad weather. It’s very safe as long as we’re together.”
More Kihlari lifted their heads and listened to Echofrost. When she’d first arrived at this barn, they’d rejected the idea of living wild. Now she sensed their curiosity budding. “You all lived wild, once,” she reminded them.
“You still think we’re the lost descendants of those ancient Lake Herd steeds?” the spotted mare asked.
Echofrost nodded. “Yes. Lake Herd lived in the interior of Anok, in the Flatlands. The steeds all vanished four hundred years ago, right around the time your ancestors arrived here.” She fluffed her feathers, remembering tales she’d heard about the ancient pegasi. “They were excellent wind surfers. I wish I could have attended their flight school.”
“Flight school?” Kol eyed her suspiciously. “So you aren’t born knowing how to fly. You have to learn?”
She shook her white mane. “Yes and no. Pegasus foals fly moments after their birth, but we do learn about wind currents, elevations, and advanced maneuvers from our instructors.”
Triumph flared in the stallion’s eyes. “Just like I learn from Brauk.”
“Okay, okay, I guess it’s a little bit the same,” Echofrost admitted. “But an experienced pegasus can teach you a lot more about flying than a Landwalker. You don’t need Brauk. What you need is more practice and a better teacher.”
“Like you?”
“No, like Hazelwind or Dewberry. Redfire—that chestnut stallion who was with the giants—he can ride the jet streams and fly to where the blue sky turns black.”
“That’s impossible,” a white stallion scoffed.
Echofrost glanced at him. “It’s not. My friend Morningleaf rode a jet stream once. And the ancient mare Raincloud once flew to where the blue sky turns black sky to escape a cruel over-stallion.”
“Your homeland does not sound safe.” Kol tossed his yellow-streaked red mane. “Not at all.”
Echofrost shrugged. “It’s no more dangerous than living with dragons and giants and Landwalkers, except our herd protects us.”
“Is it true you keep your foals forever?” the spotted mare interrupted.
“We do,” Echofrost answered. “A herd is a huge family made up of smaller families. We guard our foals and keep them close. When they’re grown, they raise their families in the same herd they were born to. Sometimes a pegasus leaves, but it’s rare.” Echofrost decided not to mention the wars with foreign herds, the occasional stolen foals, or the raids. That was life in Anok. The Kihlari here could choose to live in peace.
Kol’s tension eased. “Do you sleep outside?”
&
nbsp; Echofrost whinnied, amused. “Most of us, but Desert Herd pegasi sleep in caves, and Jungle Herd steeds build nests high in the trees.” She noticed that all the Kihlari were listening now. Their eager faces and innocent questions made her eyes sting with tears. These pegasi had been robbed of their birthright and turned into slaves. Overcome by the injustice of it, she nickered to them softly. “Once we free Storm Herd from the giants, you should join us. Try living free.”
The Kihlari flinched backward. “And leave our Riders as Halves?” Tension shot through the barn. Some Kihlari trembled; others pawed the floor.
“Blast it,” Echofrost muttered, suddenly understanding. The Kihlari had bonded to their Riders as deeply as she’d bonded to her mother and friends in Anok. The thought of leaving was as distressful to the Kihlari as losing a herd would be to a pegasus. Their instinct to stick together was working against them. But they would get over their attachment to Landwalkers in time; Echofrost believed that.
“Just think about it,” she nickered to them. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But if you want to raise a family of your own, you’ll never have that here. Never.”
The Kihlari grew silent and retreated to the backs of their stalls, clearly overwhelmed. Kol tilted his head, considering Echofrost. “If Brauk doesn’t heal, I’ll be a Half,” he stated flatly. “They’ll send me to the Ruk.”
Echofrost leaned toward him. “You have a place with Storm Herd, if you want it.”
Kol sighed and dropped his head. “I just want Brauk.” He sagged against his wall.
Echofrost didn’t know how to soothe the big stallion. She returned to her dry hay and chewed it mindlessly. I need to get these steeds out of the barn and into the sky, she thought. They’ve never tasted freedom, or flown without a Rider, but once they do, they will love it. She closed her eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep.
16
Untethered
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, RAHKKI AND THE other Riders met with the three Headwinds in the training yard for a briefing.
“It’ll take the soldiers five days to march to Mount Crim once we embark,” Tuni said. “Our first orders are to protect the Land Guard,” Tuni said. “Their pack animals and cooking fires will attract droolers and panthers—we are to slay them on sight. The army will stick to the clan travelways for as long as they can.”
Harak interjected. “When we get to the mountain, we’ll set up base camp and send scouts to find the wild Kihlari, yeah. Our queen wants them alive, unharmed.” He met each Rider’s eyes. “We’ll halter the steeds and slice their flight feathers so we can drag them home. Got that, Riders?”
They each nodded, except Rahkki. He met Harak’s stare, his anger bubbling. When the meeting was over, Harak yanked Rahkki aside, his green eyes as cold as emeralds. “You better have that armor by the time we leave,” he snipped. “I’m counting on that viper you ride to lead us straight to her herd, yeah.” He released Rahkki, boarded Ilan, and coasted toward Fort Prowl.
Rahkki left the yard and went straight to visit Brauk, but Brim shook her head. “He’s not here. I moved him to your uncle’s farm. Ossi Finn is with him, she’s his new caretaker.”
“Mut Finn’s sister!” Rahkki blurted.
“That’s the one.” Brim chuckled. “She’s a good sort, Rahkki.”
“If you say so,” he mumbled. Rahkki thought about the fine ceremonial blanket he was going to sell. “Soon I’ll have the coin to pay you back, Brim.”
She gave him a stern look. “I’m an animal doctor, Rahkki. You can pay me when you bring me an animal.” She sent him off with a hug and a new pouch of tea.
Rahkki decided to head to Uncle’s farm right away, to ask Brauk’s permission before he sold their mother’s blanket. He stopped by the Kihlari stable to pick up Sula, but when he arrived to retrieve her, his eyes landed on Kol. The dejected stallion drooped in his stall, head low, tail down, probably bored out of his mind. “Kol,” Rahkki gasped.
The chestnut whirled around and whinnied a sharp reprimand at his former caretaker.
Guilt gutted Rahkki. “I’m sorry, boy, so sorry. Land to skies, I’ve left you locked in here.” Rahkki wiped the tears that pricked his eyes. He snatched Kol’s halter and strapped it onto the stallion’s head. “You’re coming with us.”
He quickly haltered Sula and led both winged horses out of the stable, scanning the Fifth Clan settlement as he did so. On the hillside, the villagers were fortifying their supplies and their homes against attack. Metal sang as soldiers and Riders sharpened blades. Cooking fires glowed as clansfolk smoked meat. And clay ovens steamed as grooms baked grain patties for the five-day march to Mount Crim.
People tromped everywhere, preparing for war, and Rahkki wasn’t in the mood to be teased or laughed at for walking his Flier instead of flying her, so he skirted the border of his settlement along the jungle’s edge. He crept softly, listening for Granak. The dragon had not eaten the sow, and that meant the beast was hungry.
While they traveled, Sula and Kol nosed him impatiently. They wanted to fly but he preferred to walk, so he ignored them. Overhead, the clouds darkened, threatening rain. A band of orangutans hooted within the nearby trees, but the usual noise of the jungle had subdued, perhaps because of the recent appearance of the giants.
When they arrived at Darthan’s hut, Rahkki led the steeds toward the barn. Kol balked at the doorway, his hide twitching. He needs to fly, Rahkki thought, but he didn’t want to take the stallion up himself, and Brauk couldn’t ride yet.
He glanced from Kol to Sula. His wild mare knew how to fly by herself. Why couldn’t he let both steeds loose to have some fun? Smiling at the idea, Rahkki slid off their halters.
Sula’s eyes widened. Kol tensed.
“Go on,” Rahkki urged. “Shoo! Get!” He waved his arms at them.
A happy whinny burst from Sula’s lips as she leaped into the sky. Kol flared his wings, glanced around, and then galloped away, bucking and lifting off. He trailed the silver mare toward the clouds. She hovered, waiting for him. When he caught her, the two soared toward the River Tsallan. All Kihlari enjoyed water, and Rahkki wondered if they’d go for a swim.
Still smiling, Rahkki entered Darthan’s hut to find a crackling fire and his brother lying on a cot, his eyes closed. “Ay, Uncle, ay, Brauk,” he greeted, shrugging off his satchel and rushing to his brother’s side.
A red-haired female sat near, about Brauk’s age. She extended her wrists. “Ay Rahkki, I’m Ossi Finn.”
He clasped her wrists, noting her pale-blue eyes, freckles, and mischievous smile. He’d seen her around, of course, but had never spoken to her. He liked her instantly.
“I’ll fix you a plate,” Darthan offered, and he began fussing over the platters cooling on his table.
Rahkki knelt beside his brother’s cot. Brauk had taken all the bells and beads out of his hair. The black locks hung long and loose, reaching well past his shoulders. He lay flat, his head propped on a firm pillow. His tan skin was pale, and when he opened his gold eyes, they were as dark as amber. “Hey,” Rahkki said.
“Hey,” his brother answered.
Darthan interrupted, handing Rahkki a plate. “Either of you want some more?” he asked Brauk and Ossi.
They shook their heads, and Ossi moved to a low-backed chair to watch the fire dance in Darthan’s hearth.
Rahkki hadn’t eaten since breakfast. As Darthan and Ossi chattered quietly, he sat next to Brauk and filled his starving belly. The meal was delicious, a feast of bamboo-skewered pork, slow-grilled wild mushrooms, fried rice, boiled duck eggs, fresh-sliced melons, and coconut milk. Brauk watched him eat as the conversation in the hut turned toward the giants. Ossi had informed the Stormrunners about the failed parlay, but since Rahkki had witnessed it, he filled them in on the finer details.
“I should be going to war, not lazing here like a Half,” Brauk muttered, glaring at his unmoving legs.
Uncle Darthan stiffened, then relaxed. He was a H
alf. His Flier, Tor, had died of heart failure years ago. Tor was Drael’s twin, and this brought Rahkki’s mind back to the reason for his visit. He stood and retrieved Drael’s ceremonial blanket from his satchel, causing Ossi to leap out of her chair. “That’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.
“Ah, you found Drael’s blanket,” Darthan said. “I wondered where it had gone.”
“Koko had it,” Rahkki answered, fixing his eyes on Brauk. “But . . . I’m going to sell it.”
Brauk’s head reared upward. “You’re what!” He gritted his teeth. “That blanket belonged to our mother’s stallion.”
Rahkki flinched, struck by Brauk’s hollow, anguished tone. “I know. But Brauk, we need the dramals. How else am I supposed to care for my Flier?”
“You shouldn’t have bought that wild mare in the first place.” Brauk grunted, clenching his fists.
“I didn’t buy her; I won her.”
“Bloody rain, you know what I mean.” Brauk spat at Rahkki’s feet. “That viper almost killed me, and now you want to sell Drael’s blanket to feed her. Just let her go. Get rid of her.”
“But she won’t go,” Rahkki explained. “She wants the Fifth Clan to free her herd.”
Brauk groaned. “There you go again, putting thoughts into that mare’s head that aren’t there. She’s an animal, Rahkki. A stupid animal.”
Rahkki leaned away. “Why do you hate Sula so much?”
Brauk slammed his unfeeling legs with his fists. “Did you really just ask me that?”
Rahkki blanched. “I’m sorry.”
Brauk spat on the floor again. Desperate, Rahkki continued. “Look, I can’t replace the hay and grain we lost in the last giant raid. If I can’t feed Kol or Sula, they’ll both be sent to the Ruk. The rations you stored are gone, Brauk. We have nothing left . . . except this blanket.”
Brauk froze at the mention of the Ruk, his eyes glistening. “Sun and stars,” he hissed. “I see you have to do it, Rahkki—but Sula? She deserves nothing.”
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