Journey Across the Hidden Islands

by Sarah Beth Durst

  Alejan obeyed, and they ramped up. The valraven twisted in the air. She saw it directly beneath her—​and jumped. She landed on its back.

  The monster bucked.

  Rocking backward, she grabbed a fistful of feathers. It curled its body, and she slid. She felt like she was trying to ride a snake. Snarling, it bit at the air, bending its neck to try to reach her. She tried to regain her balance—​it was harder, far harder, than she’d imagined. All the practice with Alejan . . . that was nothing like trying to ride a real koji who really wanted to kill her.

  It flipped in the air, and she clung to its back. Distantly, she heard her sister and Alejan screaming, but she didn’t have time to think about them. All she could think about was holding on. Don’t fall, don’t fall, you cannot fall!

  Wind whipped around her, and she felt her stomach plummet as the valraven flipped again, corkscrewing through the air. Her every muscle strained to hold on. She squeezed tight with her legs and raised her sword with both hands.

  As hard as she could, she plunged her sword between its shoulder blades. She did not pull the sword out.

  The koji dove through the clouds, still bucking, but she clung to the sword hilt. She didn’t think it had penetrated anything vital, just the scales, but it was enough to hurt the koji.

  She yanked it to the left, and the koji flew left, screaming, to ease the pressure of the sword. She tried twisting it right—​the valraven flew right. I can steer! she thought.

  Ahead was the volcano island of Kazan, home of the dragon. The very next island! They’d nearly made it! She saw the rocky shore—​far away and very, very far down. Seika will make it, Ji-Lin promised.

  “Ji-Lin!” Seika called. They were flying beside the valraven, parallel to Ji-Lin. Wind streamed between them. “Jump on!”

  “Get them to safety!” Ji-Lin called to Alejan. If she released the valraven, it would attack. She didn’t have a choice. She had to ride it down. “Alejan, it’s time for you to be the hero! Save my sister! Fly!”

  Alejan hesitated. “Ji-Lin—​”

  “You promised! Fly!”

  He veered away as Seika continued to shout. Ji-Lin saw her sister pounding ineffectually at Alejan’s back, shouting at him to turn around, to go back for her. But soon they were out of sight, lost between the clouds. Safe.

  Ji-Lin concentrated on steering the koji lower. It was going to crash. Its wings weren’t working properly. She’d damaged something in its spine. It flapped, then faltered. Flapped, then faltered.

  It began to spiral, and she felt her stomach flop. Uh-oh, I need a new plan. She yanked the sword hard, and the koji writhed in the air, close to the ocean. Waves rolled beneath them. She was going for a swim.

  Close.

  Closer.

  Too close!

  Ji-Lin jerked the sword out of the koji’s back and ducked behind its wing, letting its body take the force of the hit, and then she was underwater. She kicked toward the surface, and the koji’s talon wrapped around her ankle. She felt it pull her farther under. Her lungs felt tight, burning. She needed air! Now!

  Swinging down with her sword, she struck at the talon. It released, and she swam up, bursting out of the waves—​her sword still in her hand, as promised. She gasped in air just before another wave closed over her head.

  Clutching Alejan’s mane in her fists, Seika scanned the waves beneath them. “Ji-Lin!” She’d seen the valraven fall, tumbling through the sky. She’d been too far away to see Ji-Lin when they fell, but she had to be there; she had to be okay. She’d defeated the koji! “Lower,” she told Alejan.

  “Is that . . . ?” Kirro pointed, and then his hand fell. “No. Just a buoy.”

  Alejan cried, “Ji-Lin! Where are you? I did what you asked. Now please . . . let us save you! Call to me!”

  He circled lower, against the wind, and Seika squinted as the spray from the water hit her eyes. The waves pounded on the gray-rock shore of the island, crashing into spectacular plumes of white foam before sweeping back out again. If Ji-Lin had landed on the rocks . . . “Ji-Lin!”

  Her eyes felt damp, and she didn’t think it was just from the sea spray. When the valraven fell from the sky, she’d felt as if all her insides had been ripped out. She’d wanted to cheer—​victory!—​but where was Ji-Lin? They’d fallen from so high!

  “The tales never said that doing the right thing would feel so wrong.” Alejan’s voice broke into a sob.

  The ocean pummeled the rocks. Seika tried not to imagine how far Ji-Lin could have fallen if she’d slipped off the koji, or how hard she could have hit the sea. She tried not to picture her on those rocks, crashing with the waves.

  “The worst part is that I wanted this,” Seika said. “I wanted to come. I was happy when Father told me we were taking the Emperor’s Journey. I thought we were doing the right thing, and that if we did all the right things and said all the right words and danced all the right steps and sang all the right songs, then nothing could go wrong.” So long as she did the right things, everything was supposed to work out fine, and they’d go on to be constant companions, heir and guardian. They were supposed to be together, a team, roving all over the palace, laughing at the courtiers, sneaking treats from the kitchens. Exploring the islands! Ji-Lin had said they’d explore together. There was so much they hadn’t seen!

  “I feel the same,” Alejan confided. “I wanted this too. She wanted this. But it wasn’t supposed to feel this way! In the tales, it sounds so glorious! But all I feel is afraid and sad and small and not heroic.”

  Leaning forward, Seika hugged the lion’s neck. She rested her cheek on his mane. Behind her, she felt Kirro awkwardly patting her shoulder.

  “She’ll be all right,” Kirro said.

  “You don’t know that.” Seika didn’t move. Alejan’s fur was comfortingly warm, like hugging the world’s softest blanket. She’d been a little jealous of him when they’d first started out—​Ji-Lin’s new companion—​but at some point along the way, he’d become her friend too. She was very glad he was here. “You saw its teeth, its claws!”

  “I know her,” Kirro said. “Maybe not as well as you do, but I know she won’t give up.”

  “It’s my fault. She was protecting me,” Seika said. She was never going to forgive herself, even though she knew there was nothing she could have done. She wasn’t the warrior. “Me. I don’t—​”

  “She’s strong,” Kirro said loudly in her ear. “She’ll be all right. She’s probably tamed the dolphins, ridden to shore on their backs, and is lounging on the beach, waiting for us.”

  It was the nicest thing he could have said. She swallowed a thick lump in her throat. “You’re right. She’s a good swimmer. She used to race the waterfolk in the canals. Sometimes she almost won. Until the court ladies saw us, and they told Father. She only raced one more time after that. But she won.” Ji-Lin wouldn’t give up. She was strong. She was—​

  There!

  “Alejan! Down, look there!” Seika lunged forward, pointing past his face toward a shape in the water, small against the dark, deep blue.

  He dove, flattening his wings against his side. She heard the whoosh of wind and felt it batter her face, but she kept her eyes open.

  Below, with waves roiling around her, Ji-Lin was trying to swim. Kicking through the water, she surfaced, and then another wave crashed around her and Seika lost sight of her. “Ji-Lin!”

  And then she was up again, her eyes fixed on the rocky shore, one arm reaching out. She was swimming to shore! But why was she . . . Her sword! She still held it tight against her as she swam with one arm against the waves.

  Alejan extended his paws as they dove toward the water, and then he plucked Ji-Lin out, wrapping her in his paws. She struggled, clutching her sword as if it were a part of her. “Ji-Lin, it is me,” he said. “You’re safe.”

  “Seika?” Her voice was a croak.

  “I’m here!” Seika called. “I’m all right. Are you okay?”

 
; “Very, very wet,” Ji-Lin said.

  “You did not drop your sword,” Alejan said in a proud purr. He cuddled her close to his chest, warming her.

  Teeth chattering, Ji-Lin said, “I told you I wouldn’t, ever again.”

  Seika felt her heart soar. She was okay! The koji was defeated, Ji-Lin was all right, and the volcano island was before them. They’d done it!

  The fortress of Kazan. Made of gray stone, it was built into the mountainside, with many levels jutting out of the rock to create a terrace of roofs and a maze of stairs. Below it was a village, huddled against the side of the volcano, housing the people who supported the fortress. Above it, Seika could see a narrow, winding path that led to a red shrine.

  This was it: the end of their journey.

  And they’d made it before sundown on Himit’s Day.

  Nothing would stop them now. She’d talk to the dragon, the dragon would fix the barrier, and then it would be over. No more koji. No more sleeping out in the open. No more hiding in caves. No more fishing her sister out of the ocean. No more being afraid.

  No more adventures, she thought. No more late-night stories under the stars. No more unicorns on mountaintops, or mer-minnows in waterfalls . . .

  Alejan landed before the fortress. Guards poured down a set of steps. She should have been afraid, or at least nervous. But she wasn’t. We made it here, against odds we didn’t even know were against us.

  The captain of the guard, a man in armor carrying a spear, strode toward them. He was imposingly large, with muscles that bulged against his chain mail. Stopping in front of them, he looked over Seika in her bedraggled dress, Ji-Lin wet and shivering, Kirro in his foreign sailor clothes. And then, to her relief, he bowed. “The Guardians of the Shrine bid you welcome to the island of Kazan, home of the dragon.”

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  UGH. JI-LIN WISHED everyone would quit shouting. Her head was throbbing worse than her muscles. She felt as if she’d been pounded on with a mallet. They’d made it to the volcano island, but all she wanted to do was sleep. And get warm. And dry. Just show me a bed.

  She’d defeated the koji. Its body should wash up on the rocks, proof of her first real victory. She should feel proud, but instead, she felt drained. Her limbs felt as soggy and limp as seaweed.

  Sagging against Alejan, Ji-Lin dripped on the marble floor as they entered the fortress and were ushered into the Great Hall, a room that resembled a colossal cave, with gray stone walls, floor, and ceiling. Lanterns on hooks lit the corners. One wall was covered with a massive tapestry that depicted glorious koji battles and had a large gash across it. But the opposite wall had a hearth with a fire roaring inside the fireplace, and that was all she cared about.

  Fire! Warmth!

  Seika swept forward and executed one of her perfect bows. “Uncle Balez, we have come to complete the Emperor’s Journey.”

  Their uncle stepped forward out of the shadows, and he spread his arms. His sleeves billowed. “Welcome, my nieces! We have been expecting you. We are so pleased you’ve made it here safely.”

  Uncle Balez was beaming at them with such a friendly smile that Ji-Lin felt as if they’d come home. He looked exactly as she’d remembered. His cheeks were round and soft, his eyes crinkled as he smiled, and his white hair stuck out in wisps. She’d always thought he looked like a happy potato. Crossing to them, he kissed Seika’s cheeks, then Ji-Lin’s. “You are most welcome here, my dears.”

  Seika pushed Kirro forward. “This is Kirro, a boy from Zemyla. We hope you’ll welcome him as your guest as well.”

  His broad smile vanished. “Zemyla! But—​”

  Seika interrupted him. “The story will take some time to tell. In the meantime, my sister is cold and wet. She fell into the ocean after defeating a koji over your shores.” She sounded so royal! Ji-Lin wanted to cheer. And sink into the nearest chair.

  “Of course. Anything you need is yours.” He clapped his hands, and a man in a servant’s uniform appeared. “Blankets, warm drinks, and food. Please”—​he gestured to one of the chairs by the fire—​“rest and be comfortable. We will see to it you are well taken care of.”

  Ji-Lin decided he was the best uncle ever.

  “And then we wish to be brought to the shrine,” Seika said. “There is no time to waste. The longer the barrier is weak, the more koji will come to Himitsu.”

  Really, Seika? Ji-Lin wanted to say. Now? Of course now. It was Himit’s Day, and they’d promised. More than that, any delay meant more monsters.

  She was happy, though, when a string of servants marched into the hall carrying trays of food and pitchers of water. One positioned a table in front of the hearth, and another spread four chairs around it. Food was placed on the table with a flourish. Ji-Lin sank into one of the chairs as a huge, beautiful lioness flew in through one of the larger windows.

  Alejan immediately dipped his head. “Ji-Lin, it’s her! Master Shai! Oh, oh, she’s here! She’s real!”

  Ji-Lin straightened. Master Shai! “We are honored,” she said. She wanted to say more, but she started shivering and couldn’t stop. One of the servants placed a blanket around her shoulders. Another pressed a cup into her hands and laid a plate full of candied fruits on her lap. They bowed as they backed away.

  Uncle Balez served hot kimi juice in golden cups. The sweet scent filled the air, and Ji-Lin thought of the last time she’d tasted the delicacy, after she’d passed her first exams. Flecks of spices had floated in it. The court lady who’d delivered it had said it was courtesy of her father as congratulations, and Ji-Lin had spent the entire next day hoping he’d visit. He hadn’t. Here, the juice had a swirl of honey in it.

  “We are honored by your presence, Your Highnesses,” Master Shai said. Her voice rang as clear as a bell, echoing through the hall. She was a regal lioness, with a silken pelt and an elegant muzzle. She looked like a statue come to life, all muscle and fur. Alejan looked very young in comparison—​Ji-Lin made a mental note never to say that out loud. “Your esteemed father has often spoken of you both with pride,” Master Shai continued. “It seems he does not overvalue you.”

  He did? Both of them?

  “Is Father here?” Seika asked.

  “Not yet,” their uncle said. “But his ship is expected at dawn tomorrow.”

  Ji-Lin wondered what Father would think of their untraditional Journey. Would he be proud of how they’d evaded the valravens, or upset that they’d veered off course? We made it, she thought. That has to be enough.

  Uncle Balez tilted the crystal pot and filled another cup for Kirro. The sailor boy was already stuffing dried dates and caramel-soaked banana slices into his mouth. Ji-Lin set down her drink and exhaled, finally warmer. She decided she was not on the verge of death anymore. She even felt like she could stand and walk.

  “Are you ready?” the lioness asked.

  No, Ji-Lin wanted to say. She wasn’t ready. She’d fought a koji. She’d swum through the ocean. She could have died. But that wasn’t the answer she was supposed to give, the one tradition expected of her. “Yes?”

  “My sister will require dry clothes,” Seika said.

  “All will be provided,” the lioness said.

  Uncle Balez clapped his hands again, and the servants returned. “Prepare them,” he said. To Kirro, he said, “If you would stay and tell us your story, we would like to hear it. I’d love to hear more about life in Zemyla and how you came here.” He smiled again, crinkling his eyes.

  Kirro shot Seika and Ji-Lin a look. “Uh, all right. Um, I mean, yes, of course, Prince Balez.”

  The servants escorted Ji-Lin, Seika, and Alejan into a narrow corridor, past a study and a music room, to the bathing rooms.

  The baths were cold, though better than the ocean. Ji-Lin washed with as much soap as she could as quickly as she could and came out smelling more like a flower than like a filleted cod, which was an improvement. She dressed, adding the soft leather armor she’d worn at the begin
ning of their journey.

  And now we’re at the end, she thought. She was . . . strangely sad. Her first adventure, almost done. Now that it was nearly over, she could think of it like a story, glossing over the bad parts and remembering the best.

  One of the servants brushed her hair, braided it, and secured it with a black ribbon. Another affixed her sword belt around her. She thanked them, and they bowed in response.

  Freshly dressed, she felt stronger. And cleaner. She strode out of the bathing area, and a flock of servants followed her. Alejan was already in the Great Hall, by the fire. His fur was damp, and he had his wings spread out for the feathers to dry.

  His hero, the lioness Master Shai, sat beside him, her wings neatly folded. She was talking in a hushed voice, and he was staring at her with a dopey, adoring expression. When Ji-Lin came closer, the lioness stood and nudged her forehead against Alejan’s. She then walked out past Ji-Lin, nodding once, graciously, at Ji-Lin.

  Alejan sighed happily. “Isn’t she magnificent?”

  “You are too,” Ji-Lin told him. “What was she saying to you?”

  “Nice things. She thinks I’m brave for bringing two children across the islands, especially in such dangerous times. She thinks I have potential!”

  “She’s right,” Ji-Lin said. “You’re going to be an amazing imperial guardian.”

  “And you will be an excellent imperial warrior.”

  Ji-Lin scratched behind Alejan’s ears. He leaned against her. “We won’t be going back to the temple after this,” Ji-Lin said. Their lives were going to change. They’ve already changed, she thought.

  “I know. But we’ll be together.” He nudged her hand with his forehead. “And you’ll be with your sister—​after this, your father won’t have any reason to keep you two apart. You’re both done with training. I like her, Ji-Lin. I think we’re friends now.” Ji-Lin turned to see Seika walk through the hall. She wore a ceremonial dress embroidered with island birds and flowers, and she’d had her hair dressed like one of the ladies at a masquerade ball, with elaborate braids on top of her head. Her expression was a mix of determination and fear.