Juniper took a step back. Cyril put a hand on her arm, and she could feel his grip trembling violently.
“I fear for your kingdom, Juniper, daughter of Alaina.” Whatever emotion had clouded Zetta’s face, it was gone now. With the rock-hard air of someone making the best of a bad deal, she stepped closer and hissed in Juniper’s ear. “Choose now—for you cannot have both. The floods will not delay; this I can promise you. Set your sights on this Trial if you will. Give your try at wresting the Anju away from me, and you will lose your precious Basin. Or else go now and save your people, and leave me to mine.”
20
JUNIPER DIDN’T STOP TO THINK. SHE TURNED, pushed through the circle, and ran.
There was no analysis, no reckoning, no weighing of measures and balances. She just hitched up her split skirts, pumped her arms, and tore across the uneven ground like her life depended on it. And perhaps her life didn’t, but others’ certainly did.
She heard pounding steps behind her, but she ran on blindly. She didn’t slow her pace until something snagged her arm and she stumbled and nearly fell.
“Juniper,” Cyril panted. “Slow down! You’ll never make it if you don’t pace yourself.”
“That scheming—evil—conniving—”
“She’s all of those things,” he agreed. “But we can beat this. We can save them.”
The ground shook.
“Come on,” said Cyril. “We’ll make it in time.”
They ran on together, stopping only when needed, and barely even then. Finally at the rope bridge, Juniper doubled over, panting. Cyril collapsed near her, toppling flat out on the frosty ground. Below them and off to the side, Juniper could see the forbidden cave. Its opening was now the mouth of a wide, steaming river churning out and gushing over the side of the mountain. Presumably, more water was massing under the mountain, engorging the underground passageways toward the Basin right now.
Or maybe it was already there.
Juniper pushed onto the bridge, with Cyril right behind her. She didn’t dare run, though. The structure was too precarious for that.
“You’re giving up the Trials by leaving now,” Cyril said, unnecessarily. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“You’re jesting, right?”
Cyril shrugged. “If it’s a matter of warning Erick and the others, my legs are longer than yours. Look at you, barely keeping up! I say you go back and kill that beastly draco before Zetta does, win the Trial, and let me take care of sounding the alarm. You can have it both ways—don’t you see?”
Juniper batted away the idea without a second’s pause. “I won’t risk it. There’s too much at stake. We don’t know where everyone is or how near the floods are. It’ll take both of us to round everybody up quickly enough—and see what we can do to save the settlement.” She started to jog again, although the bridge wobbled badly under her feet. She was forced to slow down, grinding her teeth in frustration.
“Your decision, I suppose. Only you’ve worked awfully hard to get this far.”
“Don’t you see?” Juniper exclaimed, turning to Cyril. She could feel tears stinging the corners of her eyes. “Don’t you see that none of that matters without the Basin, without them? The Anju aren’t my people, not really. There’s Odessa, of course. But we’re only just beginning to know each other. My heart’s in the Basin, and I can’t even think about another thing until I know they are safe.”
“Fair enough,” said Cyril quietly.
Their feet hit the stone embankment, and they set off running at full tilt again.
• • •
As Juniper burst out of the tunnel’s opening onto the ledge overlooking the Basin, a wave of heat hit her like a slap to the face. Everything looked just as she’d left it, just as she’d known it every day of their stay thus far. The weather had been mild and pleasant always, with an almost charmed quality. Unusually warm, perhaps, given how high they were in the mountains. But never anything like this. This was like stepping onto the brick of an oven: a damp, sticky heat that wormed into her smallclothes and curled the fine hairs back from her neck. Without slowing her pace, she unfastened her cloak, which was stiff and heavy with layers of matted dirt, sweat, and sweetcrystal gum. Tugging the odious thing off, she threw it down on a boulder. She’d come back for it when this was all over.
Maybe.
Behind her, Cyril yanked at his own collar. “What is with this heat wave?” Sweat glistened between his brows.
“Zetta was right! This whole mountain is gushing out heat.” The stones that formed the mountain’s crust had gone from their usual comforting warmth to the pale pink of oven coals. As Juniper dashed down the trail, she could feel a disturbing warmth seeping through the soles of her boots.
“They’ll have already moved out by now. It’s evident that something—”
“Oh, no,” Juniper breathed. She and Cyril were partway down the slope and could see how the river bulged up, already slopping over its banks and rocking with little bubbling undercurrents. And at the center, just up from the Great Tree . . .
“They’re all there!” yelped Cyril, sounding so shaken that Juniper would have done a double take if she hadn’t already been flat-out running.
The entire group was gathered together. They scurried around with stones and branches and giant pots from which they were scooping big handfuls of clay onto a makeshift wall. They were trying to build a barrier between their settlement and the overflowing edge of the river.
“Hey!” Juniper yelled. But the sound caught in her throat, her voice a little parched butterfly that barely left the ground. It was, she quickly saw, impossible to yell and run at the same time. And she was just too far away to be heard.
Cyril grabbed her arm. “Run,” he said. “Run fast and get them out of there. I have an idea.”
Before Juniper could register what was going on, he’d turned and started back up the hill the way he’d come. “Where—” she puffed, then her feet nearly skidded out from under her on the stony trail. She had no idea what Cyril was up to, nor, frankly, any time right now to care.
She had to get to the river.
Far away—too far!—down the cliff and across the clearing, along the riverbank the wall was taking shape. Juniper could faintly hear the kids’ cheers and calls of encouragement. They were working hard, pulling together, just like the incredible team they were.
Juniper’s eyes stung. She ran faster, pushing through air so thick and soupy she was almost swimming.
She cleared the slope’s last boulder and hit the valley running, not even bothering to go around the vegetable garden but cutting straight through the middle for the quickest route. Every few seconds, she tried calling out, but her voice held no volume at all.
Look around you! she thought at them desperately.
But they didn’t, of course—why would they? Their full concentration was on their task, trying to save a settlement they had no idea was already doomed.
Then Juniper heard a dull bellowing sound. It came from above and behind her, so that she windmilled her arms and skidded a long stripe in the dug-up earth. The noise came again: the long, loud trumpeting bellow. She saw then—it was Cyril, perched on a rocky overhang, blowing on a hollow ram’s horn and waving his arms madly at the faces down by the river that were now starting to turn in his direction.
Fearing she might collapse with relief, Juniper redoubled her speed. Sweat poured freely down her back and legs. But she’d been spotted, and the general enthusiasm ratcheted up a notch. The group let out a wild yell of joy—then set back to work with renewed zeal.
“Nooooo,” Juniper moaned. She was so close now. “Listen up!” she yelled. “You need to—” But it was no use. They saw her; they might even hear that she was calling something. But how could she make them understand?
“STOP!” It was Cyril’s voice, but loud and
distorted. Juniper wanted to cheer—he was yelling into the horn. The resulting sound was disturbing, and only just barely intelligible. But he’d caught their attention.
“DANGER!” Cyril called. He paused, while Juniper noticed some of the kids stopping to look around. The bridge was just ahead of her now. She waved her arms.
“The river’s flooding!” she yelled. “Go back! It’s not safe!”
At the river’s bank, the bubbling, roiling surface cast up long plumes of steam and mist. She flung herself across the bridge, coughing and gasping at the rising heat. The surging water heaved just below the soggy planks.
“FLOOD!” Cyril bellowed.
Juniper leaped off the bridge and nearly topped Alta. “Get everyone back!” she gasped. “There’s a huge flood coming—boiling hot water—it’s going to burst out and overflow everywhere. We need—to get everyone—to higher ground!”
Alta blinked twice, taking all this in. Then, while Juniper collapsed in a heap, gasping and trying to dislodge the sledgehammer from within her chest, Alta raised a loud call. “Everybody back! Our queen says the river’s not safe. We’ve got to abandon camp and get to higher ground, NOW!”
“Let’s move out, everybody!” called Erick, then rushed over to place a hand on Juniper’s back. “Are you all right? And was that really Cyril up there? Being helpful?”
Juniper smiled, still panting. “Against all expectation, our Cyril seems to have done some self-improving over the last few days. Oh, Erick—I have so much to catch you up on! But now we’ve got to move out, and quick.”
“The animals!” said Toby. “If there’s a flood coming, they’ll be in danger, too.” He took off running toward the enclosure. Juniper considered the chickens and the goats—were they really worth risking the kids’ lives for? Then again, Toby was already in for the slog; there wasn’t much they could do but help.
She turned to look back across to the North Bank, her heart sinking. “Where are the horses?” she said. Those, they definitely couldn’t do without.
“No fear,” said Erick. “They’re settled up in the Cavern already. Remember?”
Right. He’d said as much in his last letter. That was one less thing to worry about, at least.
“Oh, no!” came Sussi’s voice. “LOOK!”
Juniper followed the direction of the girl’s trembling finger, looked up past the roiling river, past the cliff to where the swimming hole had been. But it was a hole no longer. Above the rocky crest, around the bordering plants, the water swelled in a rounded, bulging mass—a heaving bubble of burgeoning liquid, just waiting for that one last drop that would shatter its surface tension and send it all raining down on the valley below.
On them.
“It’s about to burst!” Erick called.
“Let’s go—everybody, top speed!” barked Juniper. “Head for the trail. Toby’s got the animal enclosure open already. Everyone grab the nearest creature and hightail it up the slope, double-quick.”
They ran.
Filbert led the way, his long legs giving both stride and speed. Leena grabbed Sussi’s hand. Jess held her skirts up and tried to avoid the muddy patches, while still making excellent time. Root slowed his pace to run alongside Oona, who seemed unwilling to be more than a few steps from his side. By ones and twos, with every animal accounted for, the group clattered up the ragged slope, heading for the opening to the Cavern. The animals moved just as swiftly, as if they could tell there was nothing good for them down below.
But something felt incomplete.
Juniper ran through the settlers in her mind, then her eyes popped opened wide. “Where is Tippy?”
“Tippy?” said Alta. “She—she was just here! I saw her rolling in the mud not ten minutes ago.”
“TIPPY!” Juniper screamed.
Kids and animals streamed past, but Juniper pushed her way back to look out over the valley. “TIPPY!” she shrieked again.
“Here!” came a faint squeak, and to Juniper’s inexpressible relief, the little girl popped out of an apartment cave farther up the cliffside.
“What are you doing all the way over there?” Juniper yelled. “Come join us, and quick!”
Tippy bobbed a quick curtsey. “Right you are, O My Commander!” she chirped. Then she frowned. “That water don’t look right, miss—I think—” She started running toward them along the narrow cliff’s trail.
Juniper let the others rush past her as she waited for Tippy to catch up. Toby and a couple others were already in the Cavern, but many—too many—still struggled up the trail.
Then off to their west, up on the far bank, the surface tension took in its last drop. With a wet, smacking sound the giant water bubble burst, sending a volley of white-hot water catapulting across the clearing. Several others pushed inside the cave, but most of the kids—Juniper and Tippy included—were still too far away.
“EVERYBODY TURN AROUND!” Juniper yelled. “Face the cliff wall!”
“Keep a tight hold on the creatures,” panted Paul.
There was a scream from Jessamyn. Erick tugged at her arm, and they jammed their faces into the cliffside.
The water struck, a searing wave that crashed hard against the lower Basin floor. Steam scalded the backs of Juniper’s hands, and she felt a painful prickling through her stockings. Their position on the cliff’s edge, however, shielded them from all but a smattering of the boiling liquid.
“Now move, everybody!” Erick yelled. The first assault was over, but the overflowing river was now tearing up the ground below. The water level rose by the moment.
Grabbing Tippy’s hand, Juniper dashed the rest of the way up the trail. A few seconds later, they reached the cave’s opening and piled inside. The last of them hustled in, creatures and all, everyone dashing for the farthest side of the giant, echoing room.
The noise in the Cavern was deafening. But it was the knowledge of what was going on outside that tied Juniper up in knots.
“I’ve got to know how it is out there,” she whispered to Erick after a few minutes. He nodded and followed her back down the short entryway to the cave’s mouth. Moving carefully, and keeping her face well back from the blistering heat, Juniper parted the vines and looked down. She needed one last look at the kingdom they had so painstakingly built—this place she’d come to think of as home. Through the sea of steam and scorching vapor, she could just see the thatched roof of the dining area disappear under the unforgiving current.
Then it, too, was gone as Queen’s Basin sank under a pouring cataclysm of waterfire.
21
INSIDE THE CAVERN, ALL WAS CHAOS. THE torches in the wall sconces had been lit, but everywhere was squawking, bleating, and whinnying. Kids shrieked and wailed. Some of the younger ones were crying. Juniper felt very near despair herself, thinking of all those hours, days, and weeks they’d spent building their kingdom. To see it all being swept away, very likely destroyed altogether—it was nearly too much to manage. But someone needed to stay calm, and right now, Juniper was it.
Yet what could she hope to do against all the fear and confusion tearing through the crowd?
That’s when it came to her.
There was one thing that always brought them together, that calmed nerves and joined spirits—the very thing, in fact, that had launched them on this whole journey to begin with: music. Juniper smiled to remember that ragtag, all-kids group of musicians at her Nameday party back at the palace—many of the kids sitting here tonight, in fact—and how their melodies had called to her and whispered how much more she herself could be and do. And now here she was, seeing and doing and being so much more than she ever could have imagined.
What could be more powerful, more transporting than music?
Juniper began to hum, low in her throat. It took her a moment to find the right key, but when she did, she let herself sing out the melody more loud
ly. She herself was far from musical; she knew that for a fact. But it wasn’t artistry she was after. Next to her, Erick noticed, caught on, and joined his voice to Juniper’s. Alta came next. Then, one by one, each member of Queen’s Basin quieted their fretful jostling and began to sing. The song was soft and gentle at first: a whisper of nights gone by, the ghost of arms linking with arms, the promise of a stronger tomorrow. The slow start built to a warmer middle, as flagging spirits rallied and dispirited thoughts clung to the bandied notes like a life raft on the waves.
So much was broken; so much had been lost. But here they were, still together, still well.
Still Queen’s Basin.
The horses settled into their feedbags and the goats into a cordoned-off area Toby had set up for them. The chickens roamed freely through the group, pecking and squawking as though in time to the music.
Juniper let herself relax. They’d made it through this. Things were going to be all right.
• • •
Gradually, the roar outside hushed. Inside was quiet, too—everybody was sung out, though several smaller groups had pulled out decks of cards or started coin-toss games. Erick was halfway through a book with print so small that Juniper’s eyes swam just looking his way.
Eventually, she pushed back through the vines to the outdoors. Staring out onto the valley, Juniper saw that the floodwaters—fierce and fast and hot as they still ran—had settled just below their cliffside trail. The worst of the flood seemed to be over.
It was time to assess the damage.
Glad that she was still wearing her tough traveling boots, Juniper stepped onto the drenched, steaming ledge outside the cave. Several others filed solemnly behind her, and together they took in the destruction of their beloved kingdom.
The waterfall still raged five or six times its usual size. The North Bank was so deeply submerged that the ground wasn’t even visible. On the opposite cliff, Juniper could just make out a small figure in a muddy orange coat. Juniper felt a pang for Cyril, weathering out the flood by himself on the far side of the mountain.
Princess Juniper of the Anju Page 16