“This is ridiculous,” she spoke aloud to herself—or the pin. She wasn’t sure which, and it didn’t matter. “What am I doing out here, anyway?”
“I believe Wizard White Beard referred to it as your ‘duty.’”
“The duty of a wizard. Hmph. When I get back, I expect a passing grade.”
“You tell him, sweetie!”
Margo smiled, feeling strangely at ease in the pin’s company. Just maybe, she thought, this competition wasn’t as dangerous as she’d made it out to be.
Then the deer lifted its head. It flashed the white of its tail before bounding off in a flash, taking with it every good feeling Margo had left.
Darkness surrounded Margo, obscuring everything. Even the normal forest sounds became subdued, except for the rustling of leaves. Then from the shadows emerged the ragged remains of the king’s guard. Quickly, Margo hid behind a nearby tree.
“Footprints,” one of them said in a low voice. “A lone traveler.”
“The mongrel?” asked a woman’s voice.
“No,” he replied. “These belong to a woman.”
Oh, no. Margo clutched her robes at the neckline. The tracks would lead the elves right to her. Frantically, she tried in vain to recall the invisibility spell Wizard White Beard had taught her several months ago. When the spell wouldn’t come to her, she knew she was doomed. Maybe she could run. Wizard White Beard had suggested it, but they were surrounding her. There was no escape.
Just before the elves spotted her, the faint sound of slipper-clad feet on dry leaves drew their attention elsewhere. Margo watched from ther corner of her eye as Empress Eiko strode toward them. Her long robes dragged behind her, collecting leaves along the way.
“What’s this?” the first woman’s voice asked mockingly. “A little old woman out on a late night stroll?”
Eiko’s laughter echoed in the cold air. “Where I come from, little girls show reverence to their elders.”
“Then you should bow your head, for I am at least one hundred years your senior,” the elf replied. The others chuckled at the comment.
Eiko was no longer laughing, but Margo sensed a smile on her painted face. “There are other ways of achieving longevity,” she said. “Elves are not the only ones who know the secret.”
“And what is that?”
“Magic.”
Margo peeked around the tree just as Eiko produced a talisman from within her innermost layer of robes. Magic filled the air, metallic and tingling, as she summoned its powers to restore her youthful energy. Margo gasped. Even the lines on her face diminished, and she stood straighter. She smiled her bright-red smile.
The elf eyed the talisman hungrily, no doubt anxious for its powers. But she stood back, waving the others to attack. With unnatural speed and agility, Empress Eiko avoided their blows and knocked them out with unexpected strength. There was a moment of silence before the women matched blows. Margo marveled at their speed and swiftness. Both women proved equally skillful, but only one of them would come away from the fight victorious, of that Margo was certain. And her bet was on Empress Eiko.
Good thing she hadn’t bet real coins, for no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the talisman was cut loose from Eiko’s throat. It fell to the ground with a dull thud. Eiko dropped to her knees, exhausted and suddenly drained. The elf bent down and picked it up. She straightened herself and held it up to the moonlight.
“Completely useless,” she said, frowning. “And here I thought it would benefit me. The power has left it.”
Eiko laughed, a raspy sound. “There is no power in it other than what the wielder possesses.”
“So it’s just a crutch for magic users.” The elf’s frown became more prominent. “I have no need of such a thing. Or you.”
Eiko was bleeding where the elf’s blade had cut her throat; it was not a deep wound, but the moonlight glistened off the blood. The sight of it caused Margo to shudder.
The elf noticed it too and knelt down beside Eiko. With one hand, she took Eiko by the throat and held her until the life drained from her body. Margo sensed the stir of magic, dark and volatile. It was unlike anything she’d ever sensed before or hoped to sense again.
Finally, the elf stood. The wind caught her hair, blowing it back. Eiko lay motionless at her feet. A single nudge told her the woman would not be getting back up, unlike her guardsmen, who groaned as they peeled themselves off of the ground. She glared at them, and they fell into place behind her.
“Look alive,” she told them as she led them back into the shadows. “The traitor and his group could be nearby.”
Margo pressed her back against the tree and closed her eyes, trying to control her breaths. The elves could still spot her and then—
“What have we here?” It was the voice of a man, gravelly and deep. Margo held her breath as Walder entered the clearing, leading a new horse behind him.
“Taking a nap, are we?”
She breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t been spotted, not yet anyway.
“Go on, get up. You’re not fooling me twice with that feeble old lady act,” he said after a brief pause. “Come on, you silly old woman. Quit playing games.”
There was a long, quiet pause. Then the man snorted.
“Suit yourself,” he said, walking off and leaving Eiko’s body to lie under a giant oak tree. Margo thought it kind of sad that the great Empress should end her life this way, but fear took hold once more, choking out all feelings of sympathy, leaving her only with a strong urge to run.
As fast as she could, and as quietly as she could, Margo fled the scene. She only hoped she’d find Mongrel before it was too late . . . or before she encountered more danger.
Confound it, where was that girl? Wizard White Beard willed the ball to show him, but it only produced static. After one or two good shakes didn’t clear it, he called it quits to the uproar of everyone present. Warhammer, as always, could be heard above the others, but King Lindolyn, too, had been quite vocal since the betrayal of his future son-in-law and the death of his son, claiming the competition was rigged.
Served the old king right, thought Wizard White Beard, since he’d fought so hard to send them all in the first place. Then there was Buziba, who was still nursing his embarrassment at Ajani’s revelation. And being the overly proud man that he was, Buziba masked his humiliation behind anger. Combined, their voices buzzed like a beehive. But noise didn’t bother Wizard White Beard. True, it made it difficult to think, but noise in its own right was quite harmless. It was the silence of Empress Eiko’s daughters that unnerved him.
They had watched every second of the fight to the end with blank faces and hard eyes. They had yet to make comment. Surely they were just shocked. Why not? Wizard White Beard was. Somehow, despite all of the rule breaking, he had not expected one of the contestants to practice dark magic. If he had, he never would have gone through with the competition. Okay, maybe he would have, but with some caution. He worried what would happen if Aerin won—she couldn’t win. Margo would see to it . . . or would she? And to make matters worse, the eastern kingdom now had no representative in the competition. Mongrel’s little alliance would be incomplete without Empress Eiko.
Without a word, the two princesses rose from their seats and headed to the door. Minutes later, through the window, he watched them leave the gate and head into the wilds.
“So, it seems we’ve had some late entries.” Wizard White Beard chuckled nervously and braced himself for the onslaught that was sure to follow. He did his best to tune it out. Inside the gazing ball, the static cleared, honing in on Mongrel’s group as they made ready for the day.
“All right, guys, listen up,” Mongrel addressed the group. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover in very little time, so I’m going to break us up into teams. Let’s start with Littlehammer.” He gave this the appropriate consideration before deciding. “How about you pair off with Laerilas?”
“What?” they both asked in uniso
n.
Tikaani breathed a sigh of relief. Then Mongrel turned to her.
She gulped.
“Tikaani, how about we place you with . . .”
Please not the ogre . . . please not the ogre . . . please not the ogre . . .
“Grrargh,” he said as though her thoughts had influenced his decision. “And, Ajani, you’ll come with me.”
“Can I ask the wolves for help?” Tikaani asked, clutching her amulet.
Mongrel shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”
Good, she thought. At least she’d have some protection from the ogre.
Ignoring his friends’ dissatisfaction, or being oblivious to it, Mongrel set about assigning each pair an area to search. They agreed to regroup at sunset. Then he released them to their task. He and Ajani headed north toward the river. Laerilas and Littlehammer started east, which left Tikaani and Grrargh with the southwest section of the woods.
Tikaani walked ahead, keeping a safe distance between herself and the ogre. And by the softening sound of his footfalls, she could tell that he was falling farther and farther behind. Eventually, she looked back to find he wasn’t there.
“Ogre?”
Only the sounds of birds in the treetops.
“I know you’re there.”
Still no sign of the ogre.
A cold sweat broke over her, and she took hold of her amulet. In the distance, the wolves howled. They’d made a fresh kill. Surely the power of the amulet outweighed their hunger. They’d be coming to her aid soon . . . or would they?
At least for the moment, she was all alone in the dark woods, except for the ogre, who she imagined was preparing to strike.
“Mequssuk!” she cried, knowing he was too far away to hear but desperate that he would. Her brother could be nearby. “Kavik! Somebody help me!”
The heavy footfalls of the ogre answered her call. Grrargh emerged from the foliage. He curled his lip and growled.
Screaming, Tikaani took off as fast as her legs would carry her in the direction of the campsite, leaving the ogre far behind.
In the opposite direction, Littlehammer struggled to keep up with Laerilas, who, being accustomed to and having the figure of a tree, navigated the forest with ease. She loathed him: his litheness, his height, and his pointed ears. Even his name: Larry-a-las . . . Larril-las . . . Whatever it was, made her cringe. No proud mother would ever name her son something ending in las. Laerilad would have been a better name, she thought, but looking at him, all thin and dainty and such, she decided the name suited him just fine. Perhaps what she despised most about him was his arrogance, which he demonstrated in every gesture, every eye roll, and every word he spoke. Not that they’d exchanged many words—well, pleasant ones anyway.
“Hurry, dwarf,” he said, continuing at his ridiculous rate. Never mind that her short legs couldn’t keep up.
“Daen’t ye hurry me, Longbow.” She grunted as she hiked her leg over a log, one of which he’d surmounted with ease.
“Laerilas,” he corrected her.
“Whatever.”
He narrowed his eyes and brought his hand up, lifting a root from the ground. Littlehammer tripped and fell face-first into a mud puddle. The root returned to the ground. Fire leapt to her eyes.
“Knock ’at aff. Ah’m warnin’ ye.”
He continued on, ignoring her.
She bristled. Her fingers dug into the earth. Finding a hard clod of dirt, she stood up and threw it at the back of his head. It struck with a satisfying thud.
He spun around.
“I wouldn’t do that again if I were you.”
“Ur yoo’ll do whit?”
“I’ll—” He turned and walked away.
“’At’s whit Ah thooght,” she said, chasing after him. “Let’s jist fin’ thes rin’ an’ be dain wi’ it awreddy. Ah want tae go haem.”
No response from the elf. Then she remembered. “’At’s reit. Ye daen’t hae a haem tae go back tae, dae ye, Longbow?”
His shoulders stiffened, but he continued in silence.
“Ah doobt anyain misses ye anyway.”
The hair on the back of his neck bristled. His fingers balled into little fists. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ah daen’t?” Littlehammer scoffed. “Mah mummy raised me reit. She taught me abit th’ importance ay family an’ loyalty, an’ ye, elf, daen’t knoo th’ meanin’ ay either.”
He spun around once more. “And you, dwarf, don’t know when to shut your mouth!”
“Whit did ye say?”
“You heard me.” He stared her down, most literally. “Or are dwarves deaf and stupid?”
“Nae as stupid as elves,” she said, popping her knuckles.
Mongrel learned while spending the afternoon with Ajani that the people of the southern plains were not the barbaric savages Jared had described. Rather, they were a proud and spiritual people who valued the earth and, above all, tradition. Women, on the other hand, were as difficult as Jared had described.
“This way,” he coaxed her, but she would not move.
She crossed her arms and planted her feet.
“Why not?” he asked her.
“Because I don’t trust you to lead,” she said. Another thing he learned about her people was they were brutally honest. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and tried again.
“Like it or not, I’m the leader, so you’re going to have to trust me.”
“Why are you the leader?” she asked. “Why isn’t Littlehammer or Tikaani the leader? Or me? Hmm?”
“Because—”
“We’re women?”
“No.” Mongrel sighed. “I’m the leader because it just sort of happened that way.”
By the pinched look on Ajani’s face, he could tell his answer did not satisfy her.
She huffed. “How come in groups such as these, the leader is always a man?”
“Oh, come on. I’m sure there’s at least one.” He scratched the top of his head.
“Exactly,” she said. “You can’t think of a single example, and neither can I.”
“Well, not at the moment, but I’m sure—”
“There isn’t one,” she snapped. “Because men rule this world. Dark, tan, or white. Elf, dwarf, or human, it’s all the same.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true if I say it is,” she said, cocking her head. “Or do you know better than me?”
“I never—”
“Because you don’t.”
How did the conversation come to this? He had no idea. He changed the subject.
“Where do you think Wizard White Beard hid that ring, huh? Up in a tree? Low to the ground? Inside a beehive?”
“Don’t you think if I knew, I would’ve found it for myself already?”
“Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Good for us that we have an ogre who can search up high, a dwarf who can search down low, and a bunch of people in between to look everywhere else.”
“Do you honestly think they are looking?” she asked him. “If I had to take a guess, I’d say they are too busy trying to kill each other to search for that stupid thing. Sending them off by themselves was a terrible decision, and if I were the leader—”
“But you’re not!”
He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to throw that in her face, only she’d goaded him.
“Listen, Ajani—”
“No, you listen.” She jabbed his chest with one long finger. “Unlike the rest of you, I earned my right to compete, so don’t think you’ve got anything over me. The only thing you’ve got that I don’t have is—”
Static. For several hours the orb showed nothing but static. And no manner of shaking, rolling, or cursing at the darn thing would make a difference. When it finally cleared, it focused on a campsite where Mongrel and his group reconvened for dinner. And by the looks of it, they were not having a peaceful meal. Littlehammer was determined t
o pick a fight with, well, almost everyone—especially the elf, whose name Wizard White Beard had long given up trying to pronounce. Then there was the little girl, Tikaani, who screamed every time the ogre so much as moved a finger. But Mongrel could do little to intervene with Ajani challenging his every order.
This wasn’t the alliance Wizard White Beard had hoped for, and he was forced to consider the possibility that his plan wouldn’t work after all. The thought alone caused him to shudder. But he trusted Mongrel would find a way to bring them together. He had to. The fate of every kingdom rested on him . . . and on Margo, wherever she was.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning, right after an unpleasant breakfast of cooked squirrel and bitter words, Mongrel split his group back up and sent them out in search of the hidden item. Once again, Tikaani was paired off with Grrargh. And once again, she ran ahead to avoid being eaten. Except this time her wolves were with her, and for that, she was grateful.
“Little girl, you walk too fast.”
“Don’t talk to me, monster,” she said. “And don’t even think I’m letting you get close enough to make a snack out of me like you did that horse guy.”
“I no eat him,” said Grrargh.
“That’s right,” Tikaani scoffed. “You used him as a toothpick.”
“What a toothpick?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” she said. “I am Tikaani, daughter of . . . What are you doing?”
Grrargh was standing before a giant oak tree, staring at a pair of doves nestled high in the branches. His eyes were bright with hunger, and his lips curled back, revealing giant teeth. Slowly, he reached up to them.
“No, don’t hurt them!” Tikaani cried, startling the birds.
Grrargh frowned. “Pretty birds fly away.”
“What?”
He pointed at them, just small black shapes in the sky. Then he looked at the empty tree branch and sighed.
Tikaani gave him a puzzled look.
“The birds were pretty,” he said.
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