She used to, Seika remembered. Loudly and off-pitch. It used to drive the court ladies crazy when she bellowed out ballads, mangling the words. “Remember this one?” Seika sang the melody softly:
“When twisted gray the morning, the riders started out.
The wind was strong, the sea was deep, there was danger about.
When dark and cold the afternoon, the sailors raised their sail.
The sea was rough, the wind was fierce, the waterfolk did wail . . .”
It was the tale of the Tragedy of the Deep, when the largest kraken ever seen attacked a ship off the coast of Zemyla, centuries before Himitsu was born. Six warriors and twenty sailors lost their lives.
Ji-Lin joined in, taking the lower harmony.
And then Alejan, his voice deep beneath theirs.
“Hey, I know that one,” Kirro said. “Even know the same words. Everyone dies, right?”
“It’s sung on the darkest day of the year at the Temple of the Sun, to remind riders and lions of the risk we all may be asked to take in defense of the innocent,” Alejan said. “The kraken was defeated, though at great cost.”
“We’re better at it now,” Kirro said. “All our ships carry cannons.”
“As I remember it, you still needed our help,” Ji-Lin said.
“And I did say thanks, didn’t I? If not . . . thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
They sang together softly as they walked through the darkness, until they saw a speck of light ahead. It was a splash of amber at first, but it grew into a glow. They quieted, shuffling toward the light in silence, until they could see the walls of the tunnel.
The cave floor rose, and Seika thought the path looked worn. She saw a child’s shoe wedged between two rocks, and then a shard of pottery. “People were here,” Seika said quietly. She picked up the shoe. Its leather was still soft, and it wasn’t covered in dust. “Recently.”
After many minutes of walking, the tunnel widened. Sconces shed amber light all around them. Cots lined the walls, and piles of crates filled the center of a vast hall. One crate was busted open, and a set of shelves had fallen over. Dishes were broken on the floor, and a jar of rice had spilled—all caused, Seika guessed, by the latest tremor. But the walls seemed sturdy. And more importantly, it felt safe. “It’s a koji shelter!” she said.
“Then there must be a village nearby,” Ji-Lin said.
“There must be food,” Alejan said.
Looking around, Kirro said, “This is much nicer than that dark tunnel. Can we stay here? Whoa, are those diamonds?” He pointed toward the ceiling. Seika looked up and saw glittering stones inlaid in the black ceiling, in the shape of stars, to make it look as if they were walking beneath the night sky.
Alejan was already trotting toward some of the shelves, helping himself to a string of dried fish. The others dug into the stores. There was water. And food! Seika ate until her sides hurt.
A scrape echoed through the hall.
“Was that you?” Kirro asked.
“Someone is here,” Alejan said.
“You heard it too?” Kirro asked.
Alejan sniffed the air. “I smell them.”
“That’s freaky,” Kirro said. “Unless they need baths. Then it’s just disgusting.”
A scrape, then a thud. Scrape, thud. Scrape, thud. Quickly, Ji-Lin replaced the lids on the jars they’d been eating from. They crouched together behind a collection of crates.
Peeking out, Seika saw a woman step out of a patch of darkness—through a door they hadn’t seen before. She wore a blue silk dress covered in flecks of gold and had her silver hair piled on top of her head and filled with jewels. One of her legs was made of silver. She walked toward where they were hidden, her silver leg dragging with a scrape and a thud. She wore a caller’s pendant. “Come out,” the woman said. “I know you’re there.”
They looked at one another.
“She doesn’t sound friendly,” Kirro whispered. “Maybe we should go back.”
Seika knew she should let Ji-Lin step out first—she was her guard. But this woman was one of their people. And Seika was the heir. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Wait—she could be dangerous,” Kirro said. “Not all people are nice.”
“It’s traditional for the islanders to help us on the Journey,” Seika said. “Besides, I trust our people. They want us to succeed. They need us to succeed.”
Seika emerged from behind the crate, and whatever she was going to say fled from her mind. The woman was beautiful. She rivaled the portraits of their mother. Her face looked as if it had been carved and polished by a master artist and then painted. She even frowned beautifully, her lips in a perfect rainbow shape. Seika felt grubby and flawed in front of her. Worse, she couldn’t think of what to say.
Ji-Lin hissed, “Seika!”
Now was the time to speak, not to be shy! Seika reminded herself she was a princess. She’d had lessons on poise and proper manners. She’d survived a weneb, a Zemylan ship, and a flock of valravens. But before she could gather her nerves, she realized the woman was not alone. She turned her head. People were in the shadows, skulking at the edges of the light. Dozens of them, maybe even a hundred, watched them from all around their hiding place. “I am Princess Seika d’Orina Amatimara Himit-Re, and we are on the Emperor’s Journey. My companions and I seek your help.”
Grumbling, Ji-Lin stepped out from behind the crate, as did Alejan and Kirro.
The woman bowed deeply. “Your Highnesses!”
“See?” Seika said to Ji-Lin. “They’re friendly.” She knew her people. She had to trust that—the way they trusted her. I won’t let our people down.
“We received the emperor’s messenger bird and expected you in Doskaki before nightfall—but then the monsters came. We feared the worst.” The caller had a tear in her eye. It crept down her cheek. “I speak for all of us when I say we are so happy to see you safe and unharmed, and we swear we will protect you to the best of our ability, until the lions and riders come to rid us of this scourge.”
“We haven’t come for protection,” Seika said as firmly as she could. “Today is Himit’s Day. We must reach the volcano island and complete the Journey as quickly as possible.”
She heard the gasps from the shadows.
“Oh no, you cannot leave! Please, Your Highnesses! There are valravens on the island.” Wringing her hands, the beautiful caller bowed again. “Forgive me, but your safety is important to all of us.”
“The safety of our people is what’s important,” Seika said. She knew she’d never sounded so much like her father’s heir, but then she’d never been so convinced she was right. After Uncle Biy’s disastrous meeting with the dragon, Father had completed the ritual and it had fixed everything. Once she completed the ritual, everything would be fixed again. That’s why Father sent us, she thought. “Our quest cannot be delayed. We must escape the valravens.”
“There are two, and they fly fast,” Alejan said.
“If the valravens could be distracted,” Ji-Lin said thoughtfully, “we could slip past them.” She met Seika’s eyes as she added, “It’s not running away; it’s running toward.”
“You are asking me to place you, our princesses, in danger!” The caller looked distressed. “You cannot ask me to do that.”
“We are asking you,” Seika said. She raised her voice so all the hidden, watching people could hear. This was her responsibility, and she was not going to let anyone, no matter how well-intentioned, prevent her from doing what she knew was right.
Chapter
Seventeen
ON THE OTHER side of Seika, Kirro raised his hand. “I might have a suggestion.”
Everyone turned to look at him.
“You do?” Ji-Lin asked. She didn’t mean to sound quite so incredulous. “Sorry. Go ahead. What’s your idea, Kirro?”
He was blushing bright red. “The towns in . . . well, where I come from . . . we have a trick for
trapping valravens. It doesn’t always work, but it should hold them at least temporarily, and then you could clobber them or whatever. But you need nets.”
Huh, he’s actually useful, Ji-Lin thought. “It’s a fishing village. They have nets.”
The caller nodded in agreement. “Continue, please.”
Kirro explained: The trick was to lure the valravens into a canyon and then trap them in nets. Loud noises were used to draw them, and then you had to distract them with barrels full of fish—or they also loved octopi, he said—while you threw the nets on them. The bait was key. He knew many stories of failed attempts when the valravens just snacked on the villagers instead. But if all worked as planned, then while the monsters were being held, Alejan could fly to safety, straight up into the clouds. They’d escape, and the islanders could destroy the koji.
Ji-Lin didn’t like the plan. It put the villagers in danger while the princesses ran away. I would rather fight, she thought. But it didn’t matter what she wanted. What mattered was getting Seika to the dragon as quickly as possible. They were running out of time.
The caller showed them a map of the island, and Ji-Lin pored over it with her. The caves had two exits: the one on the beach, and one that opened onto a rocky canyon not far from the village. Led by the caller, several of the villagers would make noise on the canyon floor: bash pots, sing loudly, throw rocks, anything to draw the two koji. Other villagers would be silently waiting, hidden at the top of the canyon walls. When the valravens flew into the canyon, the villagers would drop weighted nets on the koji from above, capturing the valravens before they could harm anyone. Meanwhile, the princesses would fly out the beach exit.
“How strong are your nets?” Kirro asked.
“Our nets are not rope,” one of the fishermen said. “We mine the metal the princess’s sword is forged from. They will hold.”
“The nets should tangle their wings so they can’t fly or fight,” Kirro said. “But if you want to make extra sure, you could stick the valravens with harpoons. That’s what we used to do, before we had the cannons.”
“Please be careful,” Seika said. “We don’t want anyone hurt.”
“We will take every precaution,” the caller reassured her. “Wait at the mouth of the cave by the shore and listen for our signal.”
Seika bowed to the villagers. “Thank you, all of you.”
The caller bowed back, and so did the villagers. “Good luck, Your Highnesses.” She also bowed to Kirro. “And thank you. We will speak of you in our tales.”
Ji-Lin wished that didn’t sound so ominous.
This will work, she thought. I hope.
Leaving the caller and villagers, they headed back through the caves to get into position by the beach exit. A few villagers escorted them, carrying lanterns to light the way. As they reached the cave opening, Ji-Lin asked Seika, “Are you ready for this?”
Kirro raised his hand. “I’m not.”
“You don’t get a vote, sailor boy,” Ji-Lin said. “Unless you’re ready to abandon your loyalty to Zemyla and swear allegiance to Himitsu.”
“Sure. Yay, Himitsu! Does that mean I don’t have to go out there?”
“No. As a newly sworn subject, it’s your loyal duty to Himitsu to help your princesses,” Ji-Lin said. “You won’t be in any danger. Or minimal danger. Or at least, we’ll try to make sure you don’t die.”
“I hate this plan.”
“It’s your plan!” Seika said.
“So?”
Ji-Lin climbed into Alejan’s saddle. Her heart was beating fast, and her palms had started to sweat. She felt like she was back on top of the Temple of the Sun, waiting for an attack, except this time she’d agreed not to fight. “It will be all about timing.” As soon as the koji were in the canyon, Alejan would fly. Even if the nets didn’t hold, the distraction should give him enough of a head start. He just needed to reach the cloud cover before the valravens saw them.
“Hate, hate, hate this,” Kirro muttered, and Ji-Lin agreed—but she didn’t see a better way. With the barrier failing, her job was to get Seika to the shrine. Continuing to grumble, Kirro climbed onto Alejan. “Should have kept my mouth shut, but no, I had to be helpful.”
Seika mounted too. “We won’t be anywhere near the koji. The villagers will take care of them. All we have to do is flee.”
“Yeah, and if they miss? Or if the valravens escape? We’ll be in the air, looking edible. What I should have said is: let’s stay here until the koji go away on their own. Or let me stay.”
“We’d love to leave you,” Ji-Lin said, “but your father is sailing to the volcano island. You need to be there to meet him so he doesn’t fire that cannon of his at the Guardians of the Shrine.”
“He won’t like it if a valraven eats me.”
Swinging his head toward Kirro, Alejan licked the boy’s cheek with his massive tongue. Kirro squeaked, and Alejan said, “Don’t worry. You don’t taste good.”
Looking out, Ji-Lin saw that the valravens were still on the beach. One was poking its snout into a pile of seaweed, probably looking for food. The other was pacing, sniffing the wind and stretching its wings.
She heard drumming, then crashing, then shouting and singing.
On the beach, both valravens pivoted their heads. It’s working, Ji-Lin thought. The valravens spread their wings. One of them howled—an eerie, wolflike sound. The other echoed the howl, and then they both launched into the air.
“Be careful and be quick,” one of the villagers said.
All her muscles tensed, Ji-Lin waited for the signal . . .
Crash!
That was it!
Alejan shot out of the cave. Rising in the saddle, Ji-Lin looked toward the canyon as they flew higher and higher above the island.
Kirro pointed, excited. “They caught one!”
One of the valravens had been caught in a net. The other—yes, the net was around it! It was fighting, but the villagers were pulling it down. One wing burst through the net . . .
Flying skyward, Alejan plunged into the clouds.
“Did they get the second one?” Kirro asked. “I couldn’t see!”
“I think so,” Seika said.
Kirro squawked. “Think so? You mean it could have gotten away? Those things don’t give up. Once they’ve fixated on their prey . . .”
“Fly fast,” Ji-Lin told Alejan.
They flew away from the island. Ji-Lin kept looking down, trying to see through the clouds. Alejan rumbled, “One is following us, but I can outfly it.”
He kept flying, cocooned in clouds. Around them, all was peaceful and beautiful. Last night’s storm had dissolved into a mix of white-and-gray clouds. The air was chilled but smelled fresh and salty, like the sea. “Is it still behind us?” Seika asked, anxious.
Alejan didn’t answer at first. But then, “Yes. I can smell it. I’m certain it can smell me. Ji-Lin . . . I’m being heroic, aren’t I? When we reach Master Shai, you’ll tell her how fast and long I flew, how I outflew the valraven, how I saved you all?”
“Of course,” she promised.
They kept flying.
And flying.
And flying.
Seika noticed that Alejan began to slow. His wing beats were labored, and his breath came in great puffs. Behind them, she heard a howl.
“It’s closer,” Seika whispered.
Kirro twisted to one side and then the other, trying to see. He whispered too. “Where is it? There are too many clouds.” He was right: the valraven had to be hidden in the mass of clouds. Ji-Lin watched for any hint of movement.
“If we can’t see it, it can’t see us,” Ji-Lin said. But she drew her sword.
“Valravens have wolf heads,” Kirro said. “They can smell their prey from miles away.” He was still fidgeting, straining his neck.
“Alejan . . .” Ji-Lin began.
“I am flying as fast as I can,” the lion said.
Alejan flew on, each wing beat
pushing them forward. The sky was silent—the only sounds were the whoosh of wind and the heaving of the lion’s breath. The seabirds had scattered. Again, the valraven howled. Closer this time, below them. Ji-Lin gripped her sword harder.
And then Seika screamed.
The valraven was behind them!
Alejan veered to the right and then flew up. The valraven chased them. Its jaws were open. Its eyes were wild. It’s faster than us! Ji-Lin thought. It hadn’t gotten as tired as Alejan; it still seemed at full strength. They weren’t going to be able to outfly it. And if Kirro was right about its sense of smell, they wouldn’t be able to hide from it in the clouds either—it had already followed them for two hours without losing their trail. The odds of losing it in the next few minutes were very, very low.
At Ji-Lin’s urging, Alejan skimmed the tops of the clouds. The koji was getting closer. Think, Ji-Lin, she ordered herself. “Alejan, I’m going to try something stupid, okay? Take Seika to safety. She’s the one who has to make it to the dragon, not me.”
“She needs you. I need you. What kind of stupid?”
“Heroically stupid, the kind you tell tales about,” Ji-Lin said. “You have to promise to let me, okay? I won’t throw my sword this time.”
“I won’t let you get hurt,” Alejan said.
“We’re warriors,” Ji-Lin said. “We take risks.”
“Ji-Lin—”
“You swore to be my companion, to help me do what needs to be done. And this needs to be done. Just like in the tales. All of Himitsu depends on us.” Leaning forward, she hugged his mane. “Please, Alejan? Promise you’ll fly when I say fly?”
“I promise,” he rumbled.
“Ji-Lin!” Seika cried. “What are you doing?”
Ji-Lin unhooked herself from the strap and climbed so she was crouching on Alejan’s back. “Fly higher.” She held on to the saddle with one hand and her sword with the other. This was why she’d trained. For this moment. It was why she was here, what she was meant to do.
“No, Ji-Lin!” Seika shouted.
“Ji-Lin, the stories—” Alejan began.
“If this works, we’ll have our own story. Exactly as we always wanted. Just do as I say.” Ji-Lin saw the valraven through the clouds. “Get above it!” she ordered.
Journey Across the Hidden Islands Page 17
