across his face. When Rahkki finished crying, his uncle warmed up another cup of goat’s milk and sent him to bed.
“Uncle?” Rahkki asked. “What happened to Drael? I mean, I know he died too, but how? Why can’t I remember?”
Darthan’s expression tightened. “It happened the same night Reyella was assassinated. He died saving you and your brother.”
“Yes, but all I remember is riding him down the hall in the fortress and jumping out the window.” Rahkki hugged his warm cup to his chest. “How come Brauk doesn’t talk about it? How come I can’t remember anything else?”
“I suspect that Brauk doesn’t talk and you don’t remember for the same reason. You aren’t ready.”
“But I want to know.”
Uncle inhaled deeply, sitting taller. “Your mind will lift the veil when you’re strong enough to know the truth. Until then, that veil is a gift. Let it protect you.”
Rahkki wasn’t so sure, but he trudged up the ladder to his loft and lay in bed. He doubted he would sleep, but by the time he pulled the blankets to his chin, the world went black and he drifted into dreamlessness.
Two long days passed at Uncle’s farm. The Land Guard had banned all civilian ground travel and ordered Rahkki, Darthan, and the wildlings to stay put. The Sky Guard had finally driven the Gorlan horde back to their temporary camp at the base of Mount Crim, but no farther.
Messengers had been sent on winged broodmares to the traveling Sandwen clans to warn them again about the giants and to hurry them along the travelways to the annual Gathering. The approaching clans had weapons and Riders and land soldiers that would reinforce the armaments of the Fifth Clan if the giants attacked again.
Meanwhile, under the watchful eyes of the soldiers, Rahkki helped Darthan repair the damage to the fields. Many rice plants had been destroyed, and the harvest would be light this season, but the seeds were safe in Darthan’s mill. Rahkki also tended the animals and exercised the brayas.
It was evening now, and Rahkki was standing on the bank of River Tsallan watching Sula and Firo graze on water reeds. He skipped stones as the sun set in the west. Four soldiers stood near, guarding the valuable mares. They’d insisted Rahkki tie nooses around their necks so they could control the wildlings if they tried to run away.
As Rahkki studied Sula, she stopped grazing and watched the river. He had the eerie feeling she was thinking. “I wish we could talk,” he whispered to her.
She pricked her ears toward him.
He glanced at her flight feathers, noticing how much they’d grown. She’d fly soon. “I would buy you if I could,” he said, dreaming out loud. “I’d keep you as a pet, and we could live here together. I wouldn’t cut your feathers or tie you up. I’m not a Rider; I wouldn’t ask anything of you, just that you trust me.”
Although Sula had accepted his touch with less bitterness since they fought the giants, Rahkki knew she hadn’t truly changed. When he tried to stroke her soft hide or scratch behind her ears, she jerked away from him. Firo didn’t mind being petted, but he didn’t feel the same connection to the blue roan that he felt for Sula. It was something Rahkki couldn’t explain, but the longer he was around the wild mare, the louder he heard her heartbeat, the more familiar became her scent, and the more the sight of her filled his heart with happiness.
But soon he would lose her.
“You know I would help you if I could, right?”
Sula huffed and pawed the grass, snuffling for the sweetest blades. The sun dropped lower, setting her silver
hide aglow. The breeze cooled, and dozens of fireflies flew out of the jungle. They massed over Sula’s ears like a shining crown. She flared her nostrils and arched her neck, watching them swirl above her. Her white mane fluttered against her darker coat. Rahkki gazed into her eyes, and they were as deep and mysterious as the river. His heart swelled, and he exhaled with wonder.
“That’s enough grazing for tonight,” said a very bored-looking soldier. He and the others stood.
Rahkki skipped the rock he’d been holding, counting four strikes before it sank into the river. Time had passed too quickly. Between his days of training Sula in the yard and his time stuck here on the farm, there were now only five days left until the auction. Sula would be sold to a Rider, unless no one bid on her. In that case she’d be delivered to the Ruk to birth foals. Or maybe her friends would come back and free her. Maybe they too were just waiting for her feathers to grow back—but no matter what happened, she’d soon be gone. And although they hadn’t officially Paired, and never would or could, Rahkki knew he’d feel like a Half without her.
If only the future could stay in the future, he thought. Did Uncle or anyone know how to do that—to stop time? Rahkki doubted it. He and Sula would have to face it.
28
Destruction
ONE MORE DAY PASSED AND THEN BRAUK SENT a messenger. Rahkki and the soldiers could return the mares to the Kihlari barn.
“I’ll be back after they’re settled,” Rahkki said to Uncle.
Darthan leaned forward, his old chair creaking. “You can stay with them until the auction,” he said. “Don’t rush saying good-bye.” He winked, and Rahkki’s throat tightened. The auction was in four days and then Sula would be sold. He clenched his jaw, remembering his brother’s words, Don’t cry, don’t ever cry.
A few hours later Rahkki, the mares, and their armed escorts were marching down the packed road that led from Uncle’s farm to the Fifth Clan village. The messenger had brought an ill-tempered pony for Rahkki to ride home, a glistening steed who’d once belonged to Princess I’Lenna. The pony jerked her head up and down and pranced sideways, sometimes hopping like a crow or bucking. Rahkki knew he looked ridiculous sitting astride a small white pony that he could barely control, especially since they were flanked by ten magnificent and well-trained warhorses. Sula and Firo trotted behind him, attached to long lead ropes that were held by the soldiers. But as they crested a hill that overlooked the fallows, the Kihlari barn and training yard, and Fort Prowl, Rahkki paused, forgetting himself completely.
The yard had been destroyed, like a hurricane had blasted through it. Tree-sized spears were stuck into the sides of the barn; bloody armor, weapons, and saddles had been cut off the land horses right where they’d fallen; and long tracks showed where the bodies had been dragged away. The buckets, fences, tables, and wash racks had been splintered into kindling; and gray smoke drifted into the sky—something had caught fire.
“There’s still a lot of cleaning up to do,” said one soldier to the others.
“Bloody giants,” said another, and they all leaned over their horses’ necks and spit.
Kihlari Riders flew above the yard, some returning from patrol, some just heading out. They shouted instructions, warnings, and coordinates to one another. The clan Borla had set up extra tents to help the injured. The Kihlari Fliers and their Riders were treated side by side inside the tents—each refusing to leave the other. Several Riders sat in the shade, looking dead but breathing. Rahkki understood instantly that they had lost their winged steeds in battle and that they were now Halves, like Uncle.
A blond soldier kicked his horse closer to Rahkki, his face grim. “We should have been here helping our clan, not guarding you and those wildlings.”
Rahkki gaped at him. “I thought you were guarding the farm.”
The soldier narrowed his eyes. “It was both,” he admitted, slightly less angry.
Rahkki squinted at the mournful and furious faces around him as the soldiers watched their clansfolk scurry about, repairing the damage.
Glancing up from the yard to the fortress, Rahkki noticed that the gates had been bent and possibly breeched. “The queen?” he asked aloud, his tone hopeful and sad. He wanted Lilliam gone, but he didn’t wish her dead.
“The flag is at full mast. She’s alive,” said the blond soldier. “But look, the giants burned down the hay barn.”
“What will we do?” Rahkki asked, thinki
ng of all the Fifth Clan horses, the Kihlari steeds, the breeders at the Ruk, and the livestock.
“We’ll have to order from the trading post on the bay,” he answered.”
“Daakuran hay is too expensive,” mumbled another soldier.
The blond grunted. “What choice do we have? We need hay now and the Fourth Clan is here. We can’t buy from them until after the Gathering.”
Rahkki glanced toward the fallows. The Second through Fourth Sandwen clans had arrived and settled. Their traveling tents were staked, and their flags waved their colors. Makeshift corrals held their horses, and their well-trained Kihlari grazed free. The youngest Sandwen children played with abandon, ignoring the mess around them.
Traveling was hard on the clans, but now they were here and getting to visit with friends they hadn’t seen since last season’s Gathering. The elders collected in small groups and spoke heatedly—about the giants, Rahkki guessed—while the younger men and women sharpened their weapons. Cooking fires burned low, and delicious aromas scented the wind. Each encampment had one brightly colored tent, which belonged to its queen. The rest were gray or sun-bleached yellow.
The slapping sound of hoofbeats on mud echoed across the valley, and Rahkki turned toward the noise. He spotted the queen cantering Mahrsan across the fields. Her personal guards followed on their winged steeds. When Lilliam noticed Rahkki, the wild mares, and the soldiers standing on the hill, she dug her spiked heels deep into Mahrsan’s sides. He lifted off and sailed toward them.
Sula spotted them coming. She blew hard out her nostrils and stamped her hoof.
The queen landed her stallion near Rahkki, and her royal entourage halted. “Give your report of the farm,” she ordered the lead soldier.
“Secure, my queen. The seeds are safe, but many plants were lost.” He hesitated and glanced at Rahkki.
“What is it?” Lilliam pressed.
“The wild Kihlari herd showed up at the farm. They helped drive off the giants, and then this boy tried to set these two mares free. We trapped them before they could run away.”
Rahkki stared down at his toes, but he felt Lilliam’s gaze boring into his skin like a tic.
“The wildlings belong to the clan. Not to you,” she said to him, her voice lighter than the wind.
“Yes, my queen,” he mumbled. His body began to tremble.
Lilliam drove Mahrsan forward, threatening Rahkki. “Speak louder.”
Sula drew back her neck and whinnied a piercing warning.
“Easy, girl,” Rahkki said to her, touching her neck. For the first time his mare did not pull away from him. Rahkki dragged his eyes toward Lilliam’s face. “Yes, my queen.” He said it louder this time. Sula flattened her ears and edged closer to him, and he was stunned. The mare wanted to protect him—from Lilliam!
Mahrsan huffed, eyeing Sula warily.
Queen Lilliam’s jaw twitched as she spoke. “The punishment for losing or destroying clan property is tyran.”
“I know,” he said, gulping. But he hadn’t lost or destroyed property; the mares were right next to him.
“The auction is in four days, and the other clans have arrived. There is much excitement about these mares. Had you succeeded, Rahkki Stormrunner, you would have robbed our clan of their worth.”
He began to sweat through his cotton shirt.
Lilliam nodded to the soldiers. “Put the mares in the stable and assign a watch. They aren’t to leave their stalls for any reason until the auction.” The soldiers tugged on the wildlings.
Sula reared. Firo whinnied and tried to bolt.
“Please don’t hurt them,” Rahkki begged.
The soldiers tightened the nooses, subduing the mares quickly. Rahkki clenched his legs around his pony, causing her to buck and spin. Sula flew up a winglength but immediately fell back to land. Firo spun in a circle, kicking wildly. The soldiers used the strength of their horses to drag the wild mares toward the yard and the Kihlari barn.
When they were out of sight, Lilliam turned to Rahkki, looking as serene as a well-fed dragon. “Teach this runt a lesson,” she said to her personal guards.
“Please,” Rahkki gasped.
The queen’s guards tugged him off the pony, and he fell headfirst onto the ground. He flipped onto his back,
looking up at the stern faces of full-grown men. A guard lifted his club, his blue eyes flashing, and Rahkki threw his arms up to protect his face and head.
He didn’t see the blow, but he felt it. Once. Twice.
An earsplitting scream. That was him.
Then a command. “Leave him for the snakes.” That was the queen.
Then one more blow. And darkness.
29
Crumbling
ECHOFROST FOUGHT AGAINST THE ROPES THAT had closed around her neck. As the Landwalker soldiers guided her back to the barn, she tripped on rocks and slipped in muddy ditches. She swiveled her ears, listening for Rahkki, who was far behind her now. When she reached the yard, Tuni approached and touched her shoulder. For the second time today, the touch of a Landwalker didn’t anger Echofrost, because she was learning that some could be trusted and some could not. “What happened?” Tuni asked, sounding anxious.
A soldier answered. “Rahkki Stormrunner tried to set these mares free at his uncle’s farm. We’re bringing them back.”
“Where’s Rahkki?”
The soldiers glanced at each other, shifting nervously.
“Where is the boy?” Tuni asked again. Her voice was calm but full of static, like the clouds before a storm.
“With the queen,” one answered.
Echofrost watched Tuni’s white face turn whiter and her brown eyes burn brighter. She knew they were talking about Rahkki because they kept saying his name. She wondered if something had happened to him after she was dragged away.
“Where are they?” Tuni asked.
The lead soldier pointed north. “Yonder,” he said. “Past the fallows.” He grabbed Tuni’s arm. “But I wouldn’t interfere if I were you.”
She ripped her arm free. “You aren’t me, are you?” She turned on her heel and rushed out of the barn.
The soldiers locked Echofrost and Shysong in their stalls. Two stayed behind to watch them. Koko came out of the tack room. “Ay, what’s this?” she asked.
“We’ve been ordered to guard them. That runt prince tried to set them free.”
Koko glowered at the men. “Rahkki’s nah a runt.”
“He’s no prince either,” said the other soldier. “Not anymore.”
“But e’s still a bloodborn,” said Koko. “The mum dyin’ didn’ change nuthin’. Nah in ’is veins.”
“Semantics,” said the blond soldier.
Koko tilted her head. “What?”
The soldiers laughed at her, and she turned her back on them, peering at the mares. Echofrost stepped away from the girl who’d shot at Hazelwind. “There’s no food for yuh,” Koko said as if Echofrost could understand her. “Later this day maybe, but nah now. Yuh all rest, right? Right.” Koko shuffled away, tending to injured steeds.
Echofrost leaned against the wooden wall, her ears flicking back and forth. Her neck ached, scraped raw by the ropes. She was burning mad.
“How will we escape now?” Shysong whinnied. “They’re guarding us!”
“Don’t worry,” said Echofrost, “nothing will stop us from breaking free of this place.” But right now it was Rahkki she was worried about. The queen was furious with him, that much was obvious. And Echofrost guessed it was because he’d tried to free them. Had the queen punished him for it? Was Rahkki in danger? She threw back her head and whinnied for him.
But there was no answer. Just silence.
In the darkness that surrounded her, Echofrost confronted the truth. She wasn’t in control of anything.
30
Not a Dog
RAHKKI OPENED HIS EYES TO A BLURRY BLUE SKY and a mud-filled mouth. His left ear rang like an echoing bell, and he was sprawled on his
side. He lurched up to his hands and knees, feeling dizzy. Bright wings fanned his face, cooling him. Then he heard snuffling and felt hot breath on his cheeks. He blinked hard, clearing his vision.
Free-grazing Kihlari from the visiting clans had gathered around him in a circle, and some hovered overhead. They watched him with interest and sniffed at his body, nudging him to stand. He smiled at them then groaned when his head throbbed in angry response. He tried to rise up and fell back on the mud with a splat.
A little pinto braya knelt beside him, and he realized she was offering him a ride on her back.
“No thanks,” he whispered. The ground already felt like it was spinning, and the last thing he needed was a ride on a flying steed. “Just help me up, please.” He knew she couldn’t understand his words but hoped she would understand his intentions. He gripped her mane and she stood, pulling him up with her. Another Kihlara approached, and Rahkki wrapped his arm around him too. They supported his weight and walked with him slowly back to the yard. The other steeds went back to grazing.
Rahkki’s head pounded where the Royal Guard had struck him, and his right side hurt too. Hot, angry tears stung his eyes. The guards had dragged Sula away and locked her up, just as he’d begun to gain her trust. Besides that, the auction was in four days, and Sula would never be able to escape now—not with the soldiers keeping watch over her and Firo.
As Rahkki stumbled into the yard, he spotted Tuni rushing toward him. When she came closer, her eyes popped wide. She picked up her pace and everyone paused to watch the Headwind run.
Tuni reached him just as his legs buckled, and she swept him up into her arms. The two Kihlari steeds took
off to rejoin their friends in the fallows. Rahkki felt as light as a feather in Tuni’s embrace, and his cheeks burned at being carried in front of the Riders and grooms. “Put me down,” he said, his eyes pleading.
Across the Dark Water Page 17
