Unsurprisingly, this did not comfort her.
Telly and Red Sun wheeled their horses and moved in next to Emma and Felani. Telly reached out and touched Emma’s arm, face a shadowed mask in the darkness, only the pale hair, high contours of his cheekbones, and the sharp tip of his chin visible by starlight and a newly-risen quarter-moon. His eyes were dark, for once.
“I think it’s about showtime,” he said to her quietly. “We’ll stay close to you. Don’t let this stallion of yours carry you off into the enemy’s ranks, okay?”
Emma nodded, confident he could see the movement. She and Fern were the only ones with crappy night vision.
“Look alive,” Red Sun grumbled under his breath. The sound of rushing wind picked up, a breeze teasing their hair, promising more to come. The jaguar guards tightened formation, boxing Telly and Red Sun in against Emma, Fern and Felani. Emma scanned with her eyes, but just couldn’t see anything worth a damn.
For a moment there was nothing, and then, the barest whisper of the call. She might not have felt it if she hadn’t been searching, her rudimentary abilities amplified by Fern’s connection to her. He was refraining from opening the call himself, just as everyone else was.
Fern, Emma sent sharply, Why does nobody open the call?
He turned to her, his face all dark hollows and white bones beneath his shock of unruly black hair. Because they’re cautious, anxious, not wanting to betray their fear. But mostly because it’s deemed rude to do so upon entering another’s kingdom at the invitation of their ruler.
Emma bit back a frustrated noise. So we’re standing on ceremony?
Fern shrugged mentally, but he didn’t get the chance to reply. Wind howled down out of nowhere, carrying with it the sting of sand and the thick taste of dust.
“Cover your eyes!” Sadiki’s voice boomed out over the shrieking wind. Everyone raised hands or robes to shield their faces, everyone but Telly. The horses shifted, nervous, but didn’t balk. The roar of air rushing toward them, around them, grew stronger and wilder, pummeling sand and grit against Emma’s body, making her sway and grip Sefu’s mane for purchase. Her legs involuntarily squeezed to hang onto him, but the stallion stayed put, patient and calm in the face of the gale. The jaguar guards leaned in to protect her body with their own, and Fern huddled into his robes and turned his face to her, his mind crouched in hers, ready for any sign of attack.
The wind screamed higher, as though it would tear the roof off the world, as though it were a man being torn limb from limb.
And as abruptly as it had come, it died.
The sound of sand and grit hitting the desert floor rushed to fill the silent void the wind left. Emma couldn’t move for a moment. It was the murmurs of the guards first, then Fern’s small grunt of wonder, that finally made her lift her head from the safety of her robes.
She almost fell off her horse. Where there had lay spread before and below them a dark, empty valley basin, was now a city of light, dancing golden illumination, blinding in the darkness that had been unbroken moments earlier. Beyond the lights, too far away to see clearly, a huge and hulking structure rose into the night. Sound drifted to Emma’s ears on a fresh, soft breeze; voices, music, the high notes of strings and the meatier thrum of percussion. The air shimmered with heat.
“Welcome,” said Sadiki, voice carrying on the wind. “Enter the Jackal Kingdom as guests, under invitation of the king, of your own free will.” Sadiki turned his horse aside, waiting for them to proceed ahead of him.
I don’t like the sound of that, Emma sent to Fern.
Neither do I, but unfortunately, we can’t take objection to the terms by which we enter their kingdom. They are true after all.
Emma snorted, glancing around at the guards, who were clearly reluctant. I think that coercion and kidnapping really stretch the bounds of “entering of your own free will”. She scowled, about as happy as the guards were.
But there was nothing they could do about it.
Alexi, at the head of the group, was first to bite the bullet. “The jaguar kingdom and its allies are grateful for your welcome,” he said, voice flat and cold and somehow still dripping with scorn like hot oil. He dipped his head in Sadiki’s direction, and then turned away from him with a curl of one lip. He motioned for Rish, Mata and Tarissa to go ahead of him, as he had been forbidden to touch the reins of his own horse.
The maidens squared their shoulders, eyes flashing with far-off flames, and rode over the crest and into the gradual slope of the valley, and Alexi’s horse followed. Horne led the guards, with Fern, Felani, and Emma sandwiched between Andres, Guillermo, Kal, and the other two jaguar guards. Emma didn’t even know their names — if they all survived the welcome ahead of them, she’d ask.
Telly flanked one side and Red Sun the other. Together they rode into what looked like a city of fire, innumerable billowing white tents the size of houses forming undulating shapes in the half-light. She couldn’t imagine what so many structures were for, except housing people — shapechangers — enemies. Upon closer inspection, the billowing village of tents was surrounded to the east and west by encroaching vegetation; tall swaying palms reached up into the night, some of them standing among the tents like sentinels, firelight gleaming off their glossy fronds, and long grasses undulated like a calm black sea in the darkness that stretched away from the encampment.
The jackal’s kingdom lay at the heart of an oasis — an oasis that by some feat of magic, had never appeared on any map or satellite survey.
A few yards closer to ground-level and Emma began to see people. Lots of them. Milling around the very edges of the light, some of them dancing, whirling to the music that was louder with every step. The guards tightened their position and Emma’s stallion tossed his head, whickering a warning.
“Is he okay?” Andres hissed at her; Emma turned, could barely make out his features, even with the growing light. His skin was dark, hair long and black, and he looked like every other jaguar guard in their group.
“He doesn’t like his movement being restricted,” she whispered back. She was about to reassure Andres that it would probably be fine when Sefu started to prance, picking his feet up high, lifting his dark gray nose into the air. Emma could see the whites of his eyes rolling.
“Hush,” she crooned a little desperately to him, stroking his neck. The other horses were starting to back off, despite the guards trying to keep them together. “He just wants some space, come on guys.” Emma hardly wanted to lose the protection of the guards, but nor did she want Sefu to bolt in an attempt to gain ahead. Emma gave Telly a confident nod when his eyes questioned her.
As soon as there was room, Sefu surged forward, muscling Fern and Felani out of the way and carrying Emma straight to Alexi. She clutched at the stallion’s mane.
Emma! Fern’s mind melted into hers, trailing after her, urging his horse on.
We don’t have time for this, we’re almost there, Emma sent, heart in her mouth. The rollicking sound of music and voices raised in revelry was loud now, a wild, heady rhythm that set her teeth on edge. She could see people clearly; straggling groups of people dancing and flitting about, but more alarmingly, armed guards marching into formation on the outskirts of the encampment, forming a column through which Emma’s group would no doubt have to pass. There could only be as many of them as there were in Emma’s own entourage — the difference was, they had weapons.
She touched Fern’s mind. Don’t worry about me and Alexi, just focus on keeping us safe! She risked a glance at the serpent priest as Sefu brought them neck and neck.
Alexi didn’t even look at her. His yellow eyes were aflame in the growing light, and they devoured everything in sight. His mouth was turned down, jaw tight, shoulders stiff. On guard.
Emma faced ahead. What they were walking into almost frightened her more than Alexi did, but that was only because the jackals had yet to directly threaten her life, and she had no doubt they’d be doing so soon enough. Too soon.
>
Rish, the maiden with the nasty streak, slowed her horse to Alexi’s pace. “We are taking point, but don’t forget you are next in line, Alexi.” The maiden’s little face was narrow and pinched, mouth cruel. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Alexi regarded her with a long look down his long nose. He lifted his eyes to the looming welcoming party, face a steely mask. “I would never do anything to endanger Seshua’s most prized possession, Rish,” he said. “On that, I am sworn.”
Emma spoke before Rish could. “You didn’t seem very sworn the last time we saw each other.” The words didn’t wobble — ten points for her.
Alexi turned the force of his gaze on her. “Perhaps. But my brother’s life was not at stake then.” He looked away from her. “It is now.”
Wow. Fern’s mental voice was droll. He can be such a charmer.
Even if Emma could have thought up a reply, she never got the chance. A shout went up from the armed guard, mere yards away, and the music stopped, stilling the dancers. The maidens pulled their horses to a halt, blocking the way for the rest of the group. Felani muscled her horse in beside Emma, eyes huge, coppery hair rustling around her shoulders, bristling with tension as she joined Emma in surveying the welcome party.
The jackal guards were spread out in opposing ranks, either side of the avenue that led through the large billowing structures of the tents, carving a road through the thronging crowd of people who stood eerily silent now. All of the guards were male, with chocolaty bronzed skin and slim, muscular bodies covered by nothing but the traditional belted loincloth of ancient Egyptian garb, and gleaming circular metal armor plating over their shoulders and chest. The firelight from dozens of torches flickered in the polished metal of their armor, made dark hollows of their eyes — made them look like soulless warriors in an army of the damned.
Or maaaaybe that was just Emma’s overactive imagination talking.
Sadiki rode in close and addressed Alexi. “You may proceed,” he said, voice quiet. “It is customary that you ride the length of the main avenue, and greet our rulers at the center of our sanctuary.”
Alexi gave him a long, eloquent look that told him just what he thought of that idea. Without replying, he turned to Emma. “Come,” he said loudly, gesturing for Emma to move Sefu forward once more. “We must not keep the jackals waiting.” He flashed Emma a smile that was all grimace and hard, untouched eyes, eyes that bored into hers. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to tell her something, or kill her with a look.
She squeezed Sefu’s sides with her knees. The stallion snorted and pranced ahead, urging the maiden’s horses into motion. The jaguars fell into formation around her. Fern was somewhere behind her, she knew without looking; Felani dropped back, letting the guards crowd in close around Emma and Alexi.
They passed the first rank of guards — Emma counted exactly twelve, six on either side — and entered the wide avenue that served as a kind of main street for the village of tents. The jackals moved to escort them, armor and weapons clattering — Emma wasn’t sure if it was to keep her people contained, or to guard them against the thronging crowd. There were people everywhere. Emma’s heart leapt into her throat, her fingers tangled in Sefu’s mane, as her eyes darted over too many colors and clothes and faces for her to recognize, or positively identify nationality or culture.
Alexi leaned in toward her and she caught herself before she jerked away from him. “Be ready to drop to the ground.” His voice was the merest thread of sound. Emma stared at him in disbelief, resisting the urge to look around and see if he was actually talking to somebody else. His creamy yellow eyes fixed on her; one steep eyebrow shaped a severe frown.
God, how Emma wished she could do that with her eyebrows.
“Did you hear me?” He hissed at her, glaring. “An attack could come from anywhere. These people are not jackals, not all of them. It appears the jackal king has invited neighboring tribes. Gods only know how many or what they want with you, or what the king’s intention is with such a move.” Alexi’s eyes were already moving ahead, scanning the throng, so he didn’t see Emma’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. That had to be the longest thing Alexi had ever said to her that didn’t involve threatening her life or insulting her humanity. She tried to recover.
“You’re not expecting an attack from the jackals,” she whispered back to him, ignoring Fern’s blaring, unspoken questions beating at her mind. “You’re thinking one of the other tribes will try something. Wouldn’t the jackals have safeguards against that? They wouldn’t bring me here just to have me assassinated, not unless it was their idea.” That had made more sense before she spoke it out loud. But Alexi seemed to understand. He gave a sharp nod, and Emma continued. “Can’t you just, you know…” She swallowed, leaning toward him, trying to speak as softly as possible. “Do your mind thing?”
He slid her a long, considering glance beneath his thick lashes. “I am reading as many of them as I can, but there are hundreds of shapechangers here. If only half of them are as good at shielding as Sadiki is, we are, as they say, fucked. An attack could come before I sense the mind it originates from. If that happens, drop to the ground. Being trampled by the horses is the least of your concerns.”
“Wow, thanks, that’s very comforting. I’ll keep that in mind.” Emma winced; she just shouldn’t talk when she was nervous.
Alexi grunted and she shot him a sideways look. He could not be laughing at her.
Fern? Emma tried to keep the panic from her mental voice and failed.
I’m here. He didn’t just mean behind her in their procession. Emma sighed, ignoring the way her breath shook. She was too tired for this shit. Too tired for the hundreds of eyes on her, too tired for the oppressive heat of the tall, roaring torches set along the avenue, and too tired to keep worrying about Alexi and whether he was reading her mind.
Definitely too tired for whatever that huge structure was, looming at the very end of the long processional path. They drew closer and the firelight illuminated more: a huge, wide facade of stone pillars and blocks, rising into the night, either side of an open rectangular archway that led to more light, so much more. Silhouetted against the light, in the center of the archway, were shapes on a raised dais; torches flanked them, along with about a hundred more jackal guards. Emma’s heart sank further the closer they got.
They were still yards away, though, when a handful of guards suddenly slipped from their posts and moved into the center of the avenue. One stepped forward, into the light, and Emma could see his eyes were made up with heavy kohl, tiny jewels glittering high on his cheekbones. “You must dismount,” he said in a guttural voice, the English words sounding clumsy on his tongue.
Emma looked at Alexi. He narrowed his eyes, nodded at her, and slid off his own horse first. A jackal guard came forward to take the reins from him. Emma followed, careful not to tangle herself in her robes — wouldn’t that be priceless, falling in a heap right before their big introduction? — and looked around for a guard to take Sefu’s reins — or rope, or whatever.
The instant the guard tried to lead the stallion away, Sefu screamed, the sound slashing through the hushed night like a blade, nostrils flaring and teeth bared. Emma felt hands on her shoulders, pulling her back as hooves struck out. The jackal guard danced away, hands up to defend himself.
Emma smelled rain, ozone, felt cold steal down her spine and realized Alexi’s long hands were on her. She swallowed against the feel of her pulse in her throat and darted away from him — straight into Telly’s chest. She looked up into his frowning face, but his eyes were on the stallion. “Come,” he said to her, capturing her hand with his own, leading her past Alexi without looking at him.
The jackal guard was speaking rapidly in Egyptian, all barks and harsh consonants. More guards were gathering behind him, and Emma had a bad feeling about how they planned to handle Sefu.
The stallion arched his neck in a clear equine threat, sidling to and fro, refusing to let anyone near
him. Until Telly approached with Emma.
He stopped, flanks heaving, one dark eye glittering at them. Telly murmured something Emma didn’t understand. Sefu grunted, tossed his head.
Telly murmured his nonsense with more insistence, and the gray stallion stepped gingerly toward them.
“Put your hand out to him. Tell him you’ll return.” Telly spoke quietly.
Emma raised an eyebrow at him. “My talent with animals doesn’t work if I’m lying.”
Telly’s mouth quirked up at one corner. “It won’t be a lie.” He leaned his face very close to hers, put his lips to her ear, enveloping her in the scent of grass and motor grease and something else that was just Telly. “We will have to demand they keep the horses here, or else the gray will take control of his herd and revolt. This way, we will have the horses close should we need a way out.” There was a smile in his voice; if Emma could have believed it, she might have thought he’d engineered the whole thing, but no-one was that good. Or that cunning. Or that paranoid. Well, actually, Telly was — but even this was too chancy to be his work.
Emma padded over to Sefu, who dropped his nose into her palm and whuffed out a long, frustrated breath, showing the jackal guards more eloquently than words that the stallion answered to her. Why that was, she had no idea.
“I’ll come back, okay?” she whispered to him. “We’ll be sticking around here for awhile. It’d be good if you could, too. Hey?”
Sefu lifted his head, whickering, shaking his mane, and after giving the top of Emma’s head a hefty swipe with his cheek, no doubt frizzing her hair beyond redemption, he trotted away from her. The guards still couldn’t get near him, but he circled the white mare Alexi had been riding.
The Jackal Prince (Caller of the Blood - Book 2) Page 14