by Jodi Meadows
“Hopebearer!” they cried. Some lifted children onto their shoulders.
The noise went on and on as full darkness settled on the cliffside, with only a handful of campfires to illuminate the crowd. The whites of people’s eyes flashed as they stood on their toes to get a better look. Someone held a torch overhead; the orange fire rippled and curled against the night sky.
My heart lifted. This was what I loved about being the Hopebearer—helping people. Seeing their faces. Learning their stories. And maybe, if the gods were with me, giving people a bit of hope.
We couldn’t linger here, I knew that. But as the sister moons rose over the sea and I handed out the last of our game, a knot inside me began to tighten. Sharing what we’d caught was something, but it wasn’t enough. There were thousands of people here, and I couldn’t possibly feed all of them. Not even just the children.
I lifted my eyes to the starry sky and sighed. I wanted to help, but what more could I do?
Then I heard the answer.
Under the thanks and squeals of hungry children, seagulls called to the crashing of the sea. And, as though sensing my thoughts, LaLa stirred in my bag. Her slender body stretched and her wings fluttered, and she waited just long enough for me to open the bag wide before she leaped into the sky. Crystal followed a heartbeat later.
“What are they doing?” Chenda’s voice was strained from the way she’d dropped back her head.
She wasn’t the only one. When the small dragons took to the air, a haunting quiet followed the rippling path my title had taken. One by one, people pointed at the sky.
Shrieks erupted from above as the Drakontos raptuses stirred the flock of seagulls into a wild frenzy. Feathers fell like shredded clouds.
It was hard to tell what was happening in the dark, but against the backdrop of moons and stars, we could see silhouettes of wings and bursts of fire. LaLa and Crystal circled the flock, blowing flame to keep the white-feathered mass from escaping. The dragons took turns darting in to attack.
Then, a man shouted in alarm as a seagull dropped near his head. “What are they doing?”
From the other side of the crowd, someone else said, “They’re hunting for us.”
More seagulls fell, their necks twisted or their heads burned, and people began calling instructions for how to prepare the birds. “Pull out their entrails,” a woman called. “Soak the meat in seawater.”
“Seagulls?” Chenda looked at me, her face twisted with disgust. “Really?”
I shrugged. “They’re not ideal, but they are edible.”
“There’s hardly any meat on them,” Gerel said.
“Fortunately, there are a lot of seagulls.”
“That will feed a few people one meal. They’ll still be hungry after this.” Gerel glanced over her shoulder, worry plain on her face. She wasn’t upset about the seagulls, but something else.
For ten more minutes, we watched as LaLa and Crystal spit fire and seagulls rained from the sky. Arms reached into the air, catching the fallen birds. Family after family cried thanks to the dragons, and then dashed off to their tents, their faces lit with joy; no one took more than their fair share.
The excitement stirred Kelsine, and she darted through the flurry of feathers, playing and setting some on fire. Most people just watched in wonder, as though they’d never seen a dragon play before, but a few of the braver children came toward her, letting her light sticks on fire so they could take them back to their tents and cook pots.
By the time LaLa returned to my shoulder, sounding a pleased trill by my ear, the remaining seagulls had flown off, and people were gathering unburned feathers from the ground. Only nineteen people stayed nearby, all adults with ragged clothes and thin bodies. A middle-aged woman stepped forward. Moonlight gleamed over her dark skin, highlighting a delicate bone structure and kind smile; she had an inner beauty that shone through the grime and hunger of life in northern Lorn-tah.
“Thank you, Hopebearer.” Her voice was deep and melodic. Familiar, faintly. “You’ve done us an incredible service. None here will forget the day you and your friends brought food from the sky.”
“I wish I could have done more.” That was the truth.
Behind me, Gerel made a soft, shocked noise.
I turned, ready to tell her that I knew seagulls didn’t taste good, but she was staring at the woman, naked surprise on her face. That was when I saw it. The high cheekbones. The width of her nose. Even the set of her shoulders. And while Gerel’s hair was shorn, sharpening her features to knife blades, this woman was a painting of what Gerel might look like with tight curls that fell unbound around her face.
Ilina saw it, too. “Gerel, is this—”
Aaru straightened and cocked his head an instant before I felt thunder in the ground: a regular, rhythmic beating against the earth. Hooves.
“Someone’s coming.” The woman who might have been Gerel’s mother spun to face the dark road behind her, and so did everyone else. The adults in her group. The people picking feathers off the ground. Even those who’d settled in their tents to clean the gulls went quiet.
Voices rode on the air, above the crashing of the ocean below. I couldn’t understand what they said, but the tones were hard. Angry. They made my chest tighten with anxiety; my breath squeezed around knots of panic.
A hand brushed against mine. For a heartbeat, I thought it was Ilina’s, but the fingers that slid across mine were too rough, too long. I knew this hand from the dark.
Aaru sidestepped close to me, so our shoulders were just a breath apart. ::He’s coming,:: he tapped on my knuckles.
“Who?” Even to me, my voice sounded deep with dread.
::Altan.::
CHAPTER TEN
“WE HAVE TO RUN.” THE WORDS WERE OUT BEFORE I realized I was speaking. “Altan is coming.”
“Seven gods.” Gerel drew her knife and started marching toward the sound of hooves. “I’ll kill him.”
Ilina lurched forward and grabbed Gerel by the elbow. “No, we have to run. You might be the best and the strongest of all the warriors, but you haven’t slept a full night in nearly a decan. Altan and the others have definitely slept, definitely eaten well, and they have horses and weapons.”
Gerel heaved a long breath and narrowed her eyes at Ilina. “Then what do you suggest we do?”
“Come with me.” The woman who was probably Gerel’s mother looked from Ilina to Gerel, her face twisting with fear and hope. “I’ll hide you.”
“In a tent?” Hristo shook his head. “They’ll check the tents if they think there’s even a chance that Mira came through here.”
“Not a tent. Somewhere much more secure.”
The pounding hooves were growing closer. Altan would be on us within minutes. “Take us there,” I said.
And like that, we were off. Running. My lungs protested immediately, and LaLa’s talons dug into my shoulder, but the thrum of hooves was closing in and we had only two choices: run, or get caught.
Gerel’s (probably) mother guided us through a maze of tents and lean-tos. Fifty-seven strides. Seventy-three. One hundred and twenty. I gulped deep breaths, trying to time my inhales and exhales with my feet hitting the ground, but it was no use. I could hike all day. I could exercise and clean all day. But running for five minutes never failed to make me feel like death.
Kelsine galloped at my side, her wings tented open to give her lift.
Two hundred and five. Three hundred and twenty-six. Four hundred . . .
People stared as we passed by, their faces glowing in the firelight. “Where are you going?” someone asked, but we didn’t have time to answer questions.
“You never saw us,” Gerel’s mother called over her shoulder.
Immediately, people sprang up and began confusing the trail behind us, pressing their footprints into the mud, scattering brush and feathers.
Five hundred and seventeen. Seven hundred and forty-five.
She guided us around outcroppings o
f rock, pitifully small gardens, and racks of tanning leather. At eight hundred and ninety-three steps, she finally stopped running, and I bent over my knees and gasped for breath. LaLa fluttered and abandoned me to perch on Hristo, while Kelsine leaned against me, almost knocking me over.
Ilina rubbed my shoulders. “Now where?” she asked Gerel’s mother.
“Through there.” She held aside long strands of moss that shielded a small entrance to a cave. “You’ll have to bend over, but you’ll fit. It widens out farther in. You’ll find several branching tunnels, with noorestones at the entrances.”
“Thank you.” Gerel went first, with Chenda close behind her. I nudged Kelsine to go before me, then hauled myself straight, even though I hadn’t caught my breath (and maybe never would), and went in after her.
Protruding rocks caught my hair and clothes, and I couldn’t see much beyond Chenda and Gerel’s heads silhouetting a pale glow from ahead. Behind me, Hristo grumbled and struggled to make himself small enough to fit.
But Gerel’s mother was right; fifteen steps in, the passage opened into a space wide enough for Kelsine to stretch her wings.
The main tunnel split into seven more, two with wide openings, and five with narrower openings. Ensconced noorestones lit the entryways, revealing just how alone we were down here, in a domed cavern that felt like the belly of a great stone beast.
It felt like the Pit.
The sensation of being underground was overwhelming. The urge to escape made my heart thud even harder.
Six people. Three dragons. Eight noorestones.
One exit.
“Which tunnel?” Ilina asked.
“I don’t think it matters,” Hristo said. “We’re trapped here if anyone says anything about this cave, and Altan will send warriors through all the tunnels.”
“No one will reveal us, least of all Naran.” Gerel stood in the center of the main cavern, her eyes closed and her face lifted to the rocky ceiling. “They’re called the dishonored, but there’s more honor here than there has ever been in the Heart of the Great Warrior.”
“Naran is your mother?” It came out as a question, but it wasn’t. Not really.
“My aunt.” Gerel marched toward the third tunnel on the right. “Naran and my mother were twins. Together, they became warrior trainees and rose through the ranks quickly.”
“None could best them?” I guessed, following her lead through the tunnel. Deeper into the darkness.
Gerel shot an amused glance over her shoulder. “None.”
“But Naran ended up here. What happened?”
“My mother got pregnant.” Gerel’s voice lowered. “Khulan rarely calls warriors to choose between duty and family. To the warrior, they are equal, and pregnancy has never prevented a warrior from going into battle.”
Aaru gasped, and I didn’t have to ask to know that things were different on Idris.
“But completing warrior training requires certain tests of fitness and endurance. My mother wasn’t the first to enter the test so late in a pregnancy, but there were complications. The doctors knew, of course. They told her what might happen if she entered, but she took the risk in spite of that, because the alternative was certain failure.”
“They wouldn’t let her wait?” Ilina pressed her palms against her stomach. “Couldn’t she test later, once the danger had passed?”
Gerel shook her head. “They would not. As a result, she collapsed during the obstacle course, and began bleeding. Naran was also testing at the time. When she saw my mother fall, she abandoned her test and ran to aid her sister. It was too late, though. The doctors pulled me from my mother as she died, and my aunt was dismissed to the dishonored. She took me with her and raised me.”
“Here?” I asked.
“Here.” Gerel ducked around a low stalactite and into a wide cavern barely tall enough for Chenda and Hristo to walk straight. Five noorestones were placed around the perimeter, letting deep pockets of shadow grow throughout the spaces between. It was empty, besides the lights. No bedding or foodstuffs, no evidence of life. “Well, I lived out there, mostly.” Gerel glanced around the darkness. “The dishonored use this old mine for emergencies only: storms, raids, hiding people like us. Last I heard, the warriors don’t know about this place. And they never will. The dishonored would die to protect the secret.”
“Altan will stop at nothing to capture us.” I bit my lip. “Me. I could turn myself in—”
“No.” Ilina punched my shoulder softly. “Don’t even say those words. It won’t happen.”
“But like Hristo said, we’re trapped here if the warriors find the cave. If they even think we might be here, they’ll search every bit of land and they’ll kill any dishonored who get in their way. Maybe I can prevent that.” The thought of submitting myself to Altan’s harsh care once more made my entire body tense with terror, but I tried to shove the fear down deep. I’d sacrifice myself if it meant keeping my friends safe.
“You won’t have to do anything like that.” Gerel walked to the far wall, where a patch of the blackest shadows gathered. “There’s another tunnel back here. The entrance is small, but you can stand up straight on the other side.”
“Where does it go?” Chenda asked.
“It leads to a house near the port.” Gerel shot a smile over her shoulder. “Over the centuries, the dishonored have secretly expanded the mine to lead to different parts of the city, where sympathizers live, or to the wilderness.”
“Did you plan to come through here?” I asked.
She shook her head. “What I said before—about this part of the city being less patrolled—is usually true. On a normal day, we could have walked right into the city without anyone noticing, although the dragons would attract some attention. We’d have needed to hide them in a cart or something. But with the warriors on the lookout for us, I should have anticipated they’d guess our route.”
At this point, maybe Gerel was just as tired as the rest of us. That was a frightening thought.
“Lorn-tah isn’t the only port city on Khulan,” she said, “but it is the biggest.”
“How long does it take to get through that tunnel?” I asked.
Gerel pressed her mouth into a line while she thought. “Two hours. Maybe three.”
“And we need to assume Altan will find this mine and come after us.” Hristo’s tone was grave as he adjusted the strap of his sling over his shoulder. “We should leave immediately.”
He was right. My breath still rattled through my throat, and my legs felt ready to betray me, but if we left now, then we could walk. “Very well. Let’s—”
::Go.:: Aaru had been leaning against the wall, but abruptly he pushed off. And though I was the only one who understood the quiet code, his alarm was universal.
Everyone scrambled toward the small tunnel at once, just as the evidence of Altan’s presence became audible for the rest of us.
“Which way?” His voice was unmistakable, with the power to conjure every fear and feeling of helplessness I’d ever experienced in the Pit. But we weren’t in the Pit. Not anymore. I was not the same girl he’d met two months ago.
“I told you, there’s no one down here.” The voice belonged to a stranger, not Naran.
“You think we haven’t been aware of these tunnels for years?” Altan’s voice was a sneer. “I know all about this place.”
Gerel’s expression was a mask of fury. “I’ll kill him,” she hissed. Behind her, Chenda, then Aaru, crawled through the entryway. I motioned for Hristo to go next.
He crouched onto his elbows and knees and shimmied through the hole, quiet in spite of how uncomfortable it looked.
“Go,” I told Gerel.
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll go last.”
She wouldn’t be able to fight all the warriors, though. Not by herself. But there were five noorestones in this chamber, and the moment I became aware of them again, a low hum set in my bones. I could feel the energy of the crystals.
; “I have another idea.” I pushed her toward the tunnel. “Both of you, go. If they come this way, I can use the noorestones.”
Ilina shook her head. “Noorestones? What do you—”
I pushed her, too, causing Crystal to flap and jump to my upper arm. “We don’t have time to argue. Go.”
Scowls darkened their faces, but Ilina dropped to her hands and knees and began crawling. When she was on the other side, Gerel started to follow, but before she was even halfway in, boots pounded on stone and voices rose: “Through here!”
A mad scramble sounded from the other side of the entryway, where Aaru and the others helped pull Gerel through. “Come on, Mira!” Ilina called, but it was too late.
Seven mace-bearing warriors poured into the room, led by Altan.
His eyes were hooded. Angry. And when he looked at me, with a Drakontos raptus on each shoulder and a Drakontos ignitus at my side, his expression hardened into granite. “They said you were alive.”
They who? But all I said was, “I’m more alive than I’ve ever been,” and I raised my arms to the side, palms up as though I were lifting a heavy weight.
At my beckoning, five noorestones dimmed, and three dragons breathed hot orange flame.
“Capture them!” Altan thrust a finger at me, and six warriors rushed forward. “I want her alive. The dragons, too.”
Kelsine growled and charged, while LaLa and Crystal leaped off my shoulders, flew a pair of figure eights, and breathed fire across the warriors’ faces. Screams echoed through the room, and as the scent of burning flesh filled the cavern, I caught the forms of Naran and several other dishonored approaching after the warriors. Naran reached for a knife at her hip, but it was too late for them to help us, or for me to help them.
I had to save my group.
With a deep breath, I pulled more energy from the noorestones and cast the room into heavy twilight. Coils of blue illumination twisted around my arms, bright without heat, and for the first time since the Pit, I felt powerful. All I needed was for the dragons to get to safety. “Go to Ilina!” I called.
