Across the Dark Water

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  “Something’s in there,” Shysong warned.

  Echofrost panted, feeling dizzy. Then she heard a shocking but familiar sound: the call of an over-stallion to battle. She blinked, thunderstruck. “Who’s calling pegasi to fight?”

  Hazelwind caught her eye, looking equally baffled. The challenging bray hadn’t come from their group. Echofrost scanned the sky. It was empty except for the Storm Herd steeds. Then she peered down again, and suddenly she knew.

  The sound had come from within the wooden den.

  The Landwalkers gave a final pull, and the ceiling slid wider apart. Then, up from the darkness sprang an army of foreign pegasi with their legs coiled tight, their eyes narrowed, and their wings pumping.

  Sitting astride their backs were Landwalkers, riding them like horses and looking as fierce as their winged mounts.

  Echofrost sputtered, breathless.

  Then Dewberry’s sharp whinny pierced the silence. “FLEE!”

  7

  Flying Free

  RAHKKI SHOVED OPEN HIS BEDROOM DOOR AND skipped down the tower stairs two at a time. Today he was supposed to start his apprenticeship on the rice farm, but the clanging of alarm bells had woken him from a thick sleep. Off-duty land soldiers and Riders poured out of their rooms and into the stairwell, shouting.

  What’s happening?

  It’s the giants!

  Nay, it’s just a drill.

  No one knew for sure, that was clear. Rahkki had thrown on his tunic, but forgotten his boots, so he slid into the courtyard barefoot. Around him, his clansfolk stood frozen, as if under a magic spell, their eyes turned toward

  the sky. He peered into the gray dawn. Over a hundred Kihlari soared overhead, riderless. He blinked in disbelief. Winged horses didn’t fly without their Riders.

  “Which clan is that?” one soldier asked another.

  The woman slowly shook her head. “There are no people on those Kihlari and they’re not branded—they’re not from any clan.”

  “But—” The first speaker broke off because there was no obvious explanation for over a hundred free-flying horses.

  Queen Lilliam burst from the hall that led to her private quarters. “Where is General Tsun?” She was wrapped in a Daakuran silk dressing gown, her hair disheveled, her belly extended with her unborn child. Her daughters tiptoed along behind her, and Rahkki glimpsed I’Lenna, the crown princess, but Lilliam spotted the girls too. “Back to bed,” she snapped, and the girls retreated. Quickly, her eyes swept the courtyard, then the sky. She gasped. “Are those our Kihlari?”

  General Tsun appeared beside her. “We don’t know where they’re from, my queen.”

  Lilliam’s dark-blue eyes glittered, her mouth set in a firm line. Four hundred years ago, the first flying horses had mysteriously appeared on Sandwen shores. As lovers of horses, the Sandwen people had tamed them and divided them among the seven clans, naming them Kihlari.

  But not much time passed before they realized that their new winged pets were braver and more aggressive than warhorses. The Sandwens trained them for battle. Once the Fifth Clan was equipped with a flying army, their Sky Guard easily beat the flame-haired Gorlanders out of the lowland valleys and into the mountains for good.

  No wild Kihlari had been spotted since. All were bred and foaled at the Sandwen’s Ruks. Until today.

  “Those Kihlari are worth thousands of dramals,” Queen Lilliam said. She shoved her general’s thick chest. “Catch them. Don’t let them get away.”

  “The Sky Guard is already airborne, my queen. They’ll bring the winged steeds down.”

  Rahkki peered at the Kihlari stable and spotted his brother and Kol hurtling out of the split ceiling. Beyond them, one of the foreign steeds, a blue roan, was struggling to fly. An arrow, shot up from the vicinity of the Fifth Clan village, had struck her wing.

  “Mushkas, idiots!” The queen had also spotted the wounded creature. “Who shot that arrow?”

  “It’s a wing shot,” reported General Tsun. “The villagers don’t want the herd to escape either.”

  Lilliam braced, angling her thin arms. “I can’t sell wounded steeds.”

  “Yes, my queen. I’ll quiet the villagers.” The platinum-haired general bowed his head to her and departed.

  She was about to move on when her gaze landed on Rahkki. They stared at each other across the courtyard and he winced at a flash of memory—Queen Lilliam’s cold hands around his throat. He’d been four years old when she’d snuck into Fort Prowl, killed his mother, and then gone after him—and that awful evening remained a muddy blur in his mind. But then another memory struck him: his mother’s rounding belly. She’d been pregnant too when Lilliam had assassinated her. Rahkki bent over and sucked for air.

  Lilliam smirked at him and strode back to her quarters.

  The clansfolk closest to Rahkki threw him apologetic glances and went about their business. They’d loved his mother, and the tension between the Stormrunners and the Whitehalls hung heavy in the clan, but Queen Lilliam was their monarch now. Though she was untrained, inexperienced, and insatiably greedy, Clan Law demanded loyalty to her. If only Reyella Stormrunner had birthed an heir, a daughter. But there was nothing to be done about

  that now, and so nothing was.

  Rahkki recovered himself and passed through the fortress gates, which had opened to release the Riders. Down the hill from Fort Prowl, the grooms had slid open the Kihlari stable ceiling and the Sky Guard had exited, soaring toward the riderless herd.

  Soon they disappeared from view, leaving Rahkki wondering—Where did the strange Kihlari come from? Why didn’t they wear halters or saddles? And why weren’t they branded?

  His mind answered for him: Because they’re wild.

  Rahkki’s lips curved with pleasure. Wild Kihlari? There was no such thing; the elders said so. The Sand-wens had tamed them all. Yet an entire herd had just glided past. And if they existed, then what else lived out in the woods, in the world? Instead of frightening Rahkki, his thoughts excited him. Suddenly his bleak future seemed full of possibilities, and he let his imagination fly, like those wild winged horses, soaring into the endless blue.

  8

  Kihlari

  THE STORM HERD STEEDS BLASTED TOWARD THE clouds, their feathers a blur. Behind Echofrost, she heard the whoosh of wings and the snapping of jaws. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the foreign pegasi racing toward her, their tails lashing and their ears pricked forward.

  The Landwalkers kicked their mounts in the ribs and jerked on the long straps connected to their mouths, turning the pegasi right or left. Bright stones decorated the pegasi’s manes and tails, and each steed had a symbol burned onto his or her right shoulder. Dark curiosity glittered in the foreign steeds’ eyes, and Echofrost felt the same curiosity for them. She had not expected to find pegasi living outside of Anok. “Who are you?” she whinnied.

  A fiery chestnut stallion flying in the lead answered her. “I’m Kol, and we’re the Kihlari Fliers of the Fifth Clan Sky Guard,” he neighed. “And you’re trespassing.”

  Echofrost understood him, but barely. His accent was thick and slow, so unlike any in Anok.

  “Come to me,” he drawled, “and I’ll tell you more.”

  Her blood surged.

  Hazelwind dropped toward Echofrost and glared back at the chestnut. “The Landwalkers are drawing their weapons,” he brayed. “Scatter!”

  The Storm Herd steeds splintered off in different directions. Hazelwind flew beside Echofrost.

  The Landwalkers swung braided ropes over their heads, and a red-haired female screamed instructions to the others. “Don’t shoot. Lasso them.”

  “They’re too fast,” a male shouted back.

  “We can’t risk hurting them,” she answered. “Look, those villagers already shot one, trying to ground her. Just be careful.”

  The Landwalker noises meant nothing to Echofrost, but she understood that they were speaking to one another—not like the howling of wolves o
r the chuffing of bears, but in a real language. She bent her wings and flew faster. “They’re communicating!”

  The Storm Herd steeds surged higher. “Hide in the clouds,” brayed Graystone.

  Echofrost found a large puff of mist and flew inside it, instantly shivering as her wings beaded with moisture. Hazelwind dived in next to her. “They don’t mean to kill us,” he said.

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know. I think they’re trying to catch us alive.”

  Echofrost heard an agonized squeal. She nose-dived out of her cloud, followed quickly by Hazelwind.

  “There!” she whinnied. Below the clouds, some of the foreign pegasi, the Kihlari, as they called themselves, had formed a circle. In the center Echofrost saw a roan mare with dusty-blue feathers edged in black. “They’ve got Shysong!”

  The Storm Herd steeds hurtled toward the circle. Several lashings were looped around Shysong’s neck and legs. The mare bucked and kicked, but the Landwalkers steered their mounts out of her reach, keeping an equidistant circle around her body.

  “Get out of here,” Shysong neighed to her friends when she saw them coming. “Save yourselves!” Tears streamed down her face.

  Echofrost ignited. “I won’t let them take you, Shysong. No pegasus will endure captivity again, not while I’m alive. I promise.” She rammed the closest enemy pegasus, a palomino pinto mare. The golden steed faltered, and her rider lost her balance, almost falling off. But the red-haired female righted herself quickly and spoke to her mare. “Steady, Rizah!”

  Echofrost flew closer and bit into the woody rope that was tied to Shysong at one end and to the golden pinto at the other. She snapped it in half.

  “Back off,” whinnied the foreign mare. She kicked Echofrost in the flank and sent her spiraling toward land.

  Hazelwind and Graystone teamed up, trying to bite the remaining lashings that held Shysong. Redfire battled the chestnut stallion named Kol, and Dewberry darted quickly in and out, kicking the foreign steeds.

  The Landwalkers unstrapped clubs from their backs and swung them at the Storm Herd pegasi. The female aboard the pinto mare shouted, “Careful, don’t damage them!”

  Hazelwind snatched a Landwalker male by his arm and dragged him off his mount.

  “Bloody rain, they’re attacking us!” the male shouted. He whacked Hazelwind in the knee with his club. Hazelwind whinnied and let go. The green-eyed rider fell toward land, screaming, “Ilan, help me!”

  His mount, a white stallion with black spots, charged after the falling Landwalker, coasted beneath him, and then caught him on his back, dropping his altitude to absorb the speed of the fall without breaking his rider’s bones.

  Once safe, the Landwalker wrapped his legs around the steed’s ribs and stroked his neck. The stallion nickered with pleasure, and Echofrost faltered. These pegasi liked their riders. Then the pair charged toward Hazelwind with murder in their eyes.

  Every instinct told Echofrost to retreat, but she couldn’t. She’d promised Shysong that she wouldn’t be captured—yet there the roan was, trussed up like a fly in a web.

  Dewberry blasted across the sky, wings pinned, eyes blazing. “Playtime is over,” she whinnied. And then she flew in a fast circle, kicking each foreign steed in the flank. Redfire and Graystone rallied and joined her. Hazelwind and the rest attacked from the rear, and Echofrost helped, striking steeds from above. The rebel pegasi from Anok charged in full force, and one by one, the rest of Shysong’s lashings fell away.

  But the Landwalkers urged their steeds forward

  and tossed more ropes at the Storm Herd steeds. One fell around Echofrost’s neck and then tightened around her throat. She reared back, and it clamped tighter, like the constricting grip of a snake. She opened her mouth to scream, but the noise came out a strangled gasp. The Landwalker who’d caught her yanked hard, pulling her closer. She saw up close his short white teeth and green eyes, and his grimace of effort. Sweat rolled down his whiskered chin. He was the one who’d fallen off the black-spotted stallion. As he tugged Echofrost closer, his eyes glowed with triumph.

  Echofrost couldn’t breathe, and she became dizzy, confused. I’m panicking, she thought.

  Hazelwind charged toward her and whinnied to the spotted stallion. “Why are you helping the Landwalkers catch us?” The wind carried off his words, and the clouds drifted overhead, spurting warm rain.

  “Don’t talk to him,” Echofrost rasped. “Just get me loose.”

  Hazelwind bit through the rope holding her, and she was free.

  The Storm Herd pegasi pulled away from the Kihlari steeds. They’d released Shysong too, but her injured wing had begun to swell. She quickly lost altitude.

  The chestnut Kihlara named Kol turned his head and brayed toward land, calling for reinforcements. Then he stared at her, his black eyes gleaming. “You won’t escape us.”

  Her belly flipped.

  “Look! More are coming,” Graystone whinnied. Echofrost glanced toward the huge wooden den with the retractable ceiling in the far distance, and she saw hundreds more Kihlari pouring out of it.

  “Retreat,” Redfire brayed. The Storm Herd pegasi, including Shysong, gathered and fled.

  “Stay together,” Echofrost neighed, but she didn’t look back. None of them did. They flew in a tight group like they had when they crossed the Dark Water, but unease tugged at Echofrost’s heart.

  Storm Herd was outnumbered, and the Kihlari steeds were large and energetic. They had clean, glossy coats and plump, well-fed muscles. By comparison her group looked ragged, dirty, and starved. They were in sorry shape for battle, that much was clear.

  “They’re gaining on us,” Dewberry whinnied.

  “Fly higher,” ordered Redfire. “As high as you can. I doubt the Landwalkers can breathe well in the heights.”

  Hope surged, because Echofrost believed Redfire was

  correct. She’d noticed the Landwalkers’ shallow breathing when they’d reached the level of the clouds, but she’d been too busy freeing Shysong to consider the implications. The Kihlari army had a weakness—and it was their riders. The Landwalkers slid off their mounts easily, had small, inefficient lungs, and their pegasi would abandon a fight to save them if they fell.

  As she and her friends glided toward the sun, flying higher and higher, Echofrost glanced down. Several Landwalkers went limp and fell, and their mounts dived down after them. “It’s working!” she whinnied. The Kihlari army halted and hovered, realizing their riders could fly no higher.

  “They’ve stopped following us,” Redfire whinnied.

  But Echofrost’s uneasy feeling returned. She scanned her herd, counting them, and then dread seized her. “Where’s Shysong?”

  Storm Herd paused, hovering in place. “She was just behind me,” neighed Dewberry.

  Echofrost peered far below, where the Kihlari were circling. She squinted at them through the swift, wet winds that tousled her mane, and her vision grew sharper as she focused. The winged army was gliding toward land, but they had a blue roan pegasus with them. They’d

  thrown new lashings around her legs and neck, and they were dragging her away. Echofrost’s heart sank—it was Shysong. The one mare she’d promised to keep free was captured.

  9

  Breakdown

  “WHERE DID THOSE PEGASI COME FROM?” GRAYSTONE asked, wheezing for air. “And how did they get here?” The Storm Herd pegasi had retreated to the southern mountains and were hiding under a massive overcropping of limestone. Colorful parrots swooped through the surrounding trees, feeding.

  “There are no legends about pegasi living in other lands,” Dewberry said. The battle mare appeared tired and thin to Echofrost, except for her distended belly. Storm Herd needed to find a home and settle, to regain the muscle and fat they’d lost crossing the Dark Water.

  Hazelwind unfolded his jade wings, drawing everyone’s attention. “There is one legend.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  “The Lake H
erd pegasi who’d once lived in the interior of Anok disappeared four hundred years ago. My sire believed a massive tornado destroyed the herd, but some elders claim they fled during the first reign of Nightwing. So it’s possible they landed here.”

  Echofrost lashed her tail, agitated and concerned about Shysong. “No. I don’t believe it,” she whinnied. “A pegasus from Anok would never allow a Landwalker on his back. Those steeds came from somewhere else.”

  Hazelwind stamped the ledge. “None of this matters right now. I mean, it matters—but we don’t know the truth. All we know is that we need to get off this continent before the Landwalkers try to catch us again.”

  “What about Shysong?” Echofrost asked. “We can’t leave her behind.”

  “We can’t save her either,” said Dewberry.

  “We have to try.”

  “We can’t lose track of our mission,” Hazelwind interrupted. “We must spread our kind out of Anok; otherwise we risk extinction from destroyers, plagues, and disasters. You each knew that when you agreed to this, right?” He stared at the pegasi, and they nodded. Hazelwind continued. “So we owe it to those we left behind to finish what

  we started. We can’t lose sight of our goal over the life of one captured steed.” He stood beneath the overhang in the shadows, looking dejected. “I don’t like it either, but this place isn’t safe. We have to leave before more of us are taken.”

  “But what if they try to ride Shysong?” Echofrost had been captured twice in her life. The first time was when she was a weanling. She’d trespassed into Mountain Herd’s territory with her friends. A patrol had spotted them and had taken her and another weanling hostage. She’d been tortured and kicked. Yearlings had made a sport of yanking out her mane and tail hairs by the roots. She’d eventually been released, but hatred and fear had haunted her until she’d finally let it go and took sharp control over her life, and her feelings.