Rahkki exhaled. At least he had permission, however painful. “There’s someone here to see you,” Rahkki said, changing the subject. With a sly smile at Darthan, Rahkki opened the front door and whistled for Kol. The bright stallion soared up from the river and coasted toward Rahkki. Upon landing, the large-boned Flier trotted into the hut and headed straight toward Brauk. Ossi dived out of the way.
“Land to skies, he’s big,” she said, laughing.
The stallion lowered his head, sniffing Brauk’s hair. “Kol . . . my boy.” Brauk’s eyes moistened as he scratched behind his stallion’s ears and stroked his round jaw. Kol nickered, filled with pleasure. “We’ll be flying again soon,” Brauk whispered into Kol’s pricked ear. “Just you, me, and the sky.”
Rahkki left the hut to check on Sula, and Darthan followed. The mare was in the barn, nickering to Lutegar, Uncle’s swamp buffalo. The two creatures had briefly shared a stall after giants had attacked the rice farm during the last raid. Sula arched her neck, her eyes luminous as she watched Rahkki and Darthan approach.
“She’s a fine braya,” Uncle said.
“You don’t hate her, do you?”
Darthan hunched to inspect Sula’s sharpened hooves. “She’s not mean, she’s wild,” he said. Then Darthan pointed. “How do the wild steeds know to sharpen their hooves? I think our steeds can learn from them.”
“I’m sure they can,” Rahkki said, happy his uncle felt the way he did—that the Kihlari were more intelligent than most Sandwens believed. He paused for a moment. “I’m flying to Mount Crim with the Sky Guard. I didn’t know if you’d heard.”
“I did.” Darthan nodded slowly. “The tension in our clan is about to snap, Rahkki. Perhaps this war with the giants will unite us—you know, common enemy?”
“Maybe.” Rahkki changed the subject. “When are you leaving for Daakur?”
“I’m packed and ready,” Darthan replied. “Catching the last ferry out tonight.”
Rahkki’s heart fluttered. “Thank you. I hope you find out something about Reyella.”
Clattering hooves caught their attention. Kol exited the hut and winged across the grass, whinnying to Sula. The silver mare left the barn and joined him. The two Fliers galloped into the sky just as the clouds shuddered and drizzled warm rain. Undaunted, the pair soared overhead, gliding and circling and nickering.
“She’s already teaching him,” Darthan said, his expression awed.
“Teaching him what?”
“Her ways.” Rahkki and his uncle retired to the porch and watched the two steeds fly, untethered and free.
17
Tack
THE NEXT MORNING, ECHOFROST AND KOL FOLLOWED Rahkki overland back to the Kihlari stable. “He better get over his fear of flying before the war,” Kol nickered.
Echofrost nodded, enjoying the truce between them. The joy of unencumbered flight had opened Kol’s mind last night, and he’d spent the evening drilling her with questions about living wild. He learned that a lead mare and an over-stallion governed a herd, but that Star had begun a new practice. The supernatural stallion had appointed a Council to make decisions. Kol learned that Anokian armies were sectioned into battalions led by captains; that herds utilized sky herders, agile mares who used speed and a secret language to confuse and drive their enemies into traps; that medicine mares treated the sick and injured; and that wild steeds mated for life. Under-stallions and mares raised their foals as a family. Kol also learned that wild Kihlari called themselves pegasi.
“You don’t live like wild horses at all,” Kol had commented.
“Why would we? We’re not horses,” Echofrost had whinnied, annoyed.
Now the shiny chestnut fluttered his feathers, looking happy for the first time since Echofrost had injured Brauk. “I want to learn more,” he said. “I want to fly higher, faster, farther. It’s so much easier without . . . without Brauk.” Kol’s voice faded, and Echofrost saw guilt tumbling in his eyes, and perhaps possibilities.
She eyed his muscle tone, his plumage, his hooves; and she guessed he was fourteen years old, maybe older, but still quite young for a pegasus. He had plenty of time to learn, to start a herd of his own, or to join hers. But she wouldn’t press him, not today.
Now, they arrived at the Kihlari stable amid much neighing and questioning from Kol’s friends.
Where have you been?
What did Sula do to you?
“I’m fine,” Kol resounded. He stared across the rows and rows of stalls. “Why are we kept locked up?” he asked aloud, and this began a heated debate that swept through the barn like a wildfire.
Rahkki had disappeared into the tack room, returning with an old bridle dangling from his fingertips. Echofrost spied it and backed away. She and Rahkki had been managing just fine without any Landwalker entrapments.
“I’m sorry,” the boy said, “but it’s time you got used to this. I oiled the leather; it’s soft now.” He brought the bridle closer, and the shiny metal bit glinted in the sunrays that streamed through the barn window. He tried to slide it in Echofrost’s mouth.
She reared, and Rahkki covered his head as her sharp hooves ripped the bridle out of his hands. It fell onto the straw, where she thrashed it like a snake. When she finished, she was shaking.
Kol nudged Echofrost. “If you want to fly with the Sky Guard, you have to wear that, and a saddle, and armor. You’re teaching me to be wild; let me teach you how to be tame.”
Rahkki bent over, breathing through his nose and clenching his fists. “I’m trying to help you,” he said, lifting the bridle out of the straw.
Tears filled Echofrost’s eyes. She glanced at Kol, “I think it’s easier to go from tame to free than the other way around.”
“I know Rahkki well,” Kol nickered. “He’s cared for me since I Paired with Brauk. The boy is gentle. He won’t hurt you. Just trust him.”
Echofrost glared at the bit, then peered out the barn window toward Mount Crim and Storm Herd, exhaling a mighty breath. She would wear this contraption if it helped save her brother’s unborn foals and her best friend, Hazelwind. She lowered her head.
Rahkki slid the cold metal into her mouth. The bit clanged against her teeth and then settled into the wide space between them. Rahkki left and returned with a saddle and saddle pad that he placed on her back.
“You look pretty,” Kol whinnied.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless, you know that?” But when Rahkki tightened the girth around her barrel, Echofrost bucked in shock and accidentally knocked her Rider into the wall.
“Careful!” Kol scolded.
Rahkki rolled to his feet, finished buckling her tack with trembling fingers, and led her into the Sky Guard training yard. Kol remained behind to devour his hay and grain. The other Riders quieted at the sight of Echofrost wearing tack.
Tuni, who sat in the shade playing stones with a friend, stood up. “Ay, ay, Stormrunner!” she called, smiling. “Look at Sula!” Tuni walked across the trampled yard and inspected Echofrost.
“The bridle is scratched already,” Rahkki said, looking embarrassed.
Tuni grinned. “So what? She’s wearing it! Well done.” Tuni removed one of Rizah’s pink-and-gold feathers from her wrist and tied it to Rahkki’s belt. “We haven’t formally welcomed you,” she said, dipping her head. “Congratulations to the new Pair.”
Harak approached next. His green eyes were as sinister as ever as he tied one of Ilan’s feathers next to Rizah’s on Rahkki’s belt. Then he smacked Rahkki, making him stumble. “Welcome to the rest of your life.” He tossed Echofrost a ferocious glare and glided away.
Then the Riders who weren’t on patrol or practicing drills fell in line. They tied the feathers of their mounts onto her cub’s belt and murmured words to them both.
Afterward, Rahkki led Echofrost out of the yard and placed one hand on the saddle, one on her mane, and one booted foot into her saddle stirrup. “Don’t move,” he pleaded as he hauled himself onto her bac
k.
Echofrost flinched, but soon noticed that her cub felt more stable in a saddle than he did bareback. I don’t like it, but this tack helps him, she decided.
Rahkki clutched her shining white mane and took up the reins, holding them loosely. “Let’s fly,” he said, nudging her skyward. Echofrost whinnied and flared her wings. Her purple-hued feathers glistened in the sunlight as she kicked off the grass.
Using his legs and leaving the reins alone, Rahkki guided Echofrost southeast toward the beach at Cinder Bay, home of the trading post. The Fifth Clan settlement shrank as they soared away.
Echofrost inhaled, long and deep, drinking in the swirling scents of jungle mulch, salted air, and mist-laden clouds. The rain forest spread below, an undulating, screeching blanket of green leaves. To the north, she spied the glimmering Dark Water ocean, and to the east rose Mount Crim. She glided effortlessly, growing quickly accustomed to Rahkki’s slight weight as he stroked her neck. She allowed his touch without flinching, surprised that it didn’t annoy her.
After a short while, a figure appeared below, flying between the trees. “Who’s that?” Rahkki wondered.
Rahkki and Echofrost were not alone.
18
The Crown Princess
A MOMENT AFTER SPOTTING THE INTERLOPERS, Rahkki recognized them, and his heart quickened. “Ay, I’Lenna!” he called to the princess and her winged mount. Sula nickered a joyful greeting to I’Lenna’s mare, Firo.
“Fly down here,” the princess shouted, her voice jingling like the charms on her anklets.
Rahkki leaned eagerly over Sula’s neck, and his mare sank toward the jungle, leaving his belly floating behind him. Sula angled her purple feathers and glided slowly next to her wild friend. They whinnied to each other in excited conversation.
“I need to fly low so the Sky Guard doesn’t spot me,” I’Lenna explained. “I’m supposed to be in my room ‘resting.’” The princess grimaced. “Whenever my mom is tired, she makes me rest. It’s annoying.”
Rahkki laughed.
“But when Firo and I saw you from my bedroom window, we had to join you.” She eyed his silver mare. “Saddle and bridle, I’m impressed. You two are having a good day.”
“I am,” Rahkki agreed. “But Sula’s not happy.”
“She’ll get used to it. Firo did.” I’Lenna patted her roan’s shiny neck, her adoration beaming from her eyes, and Rahkki wondered how it would feel to have I’Lenna look at him like that.
“So where are you two going?” she asked.
“To the trading post. I need armor before we leave tomorrow.” He nodded toward Sula. “We both do.”
“You’re going shopping?” I’Lenna asked, eyes widening. “That’s perfect. I need a few things myself.” The princess stretched tall and watched the trees blur past them. Her skinny sun-tanned arms guided Firo with sure gentleness, and Rahkki noticed that she’d changed from her usual dress into smooth leather riding breeches and a blue silk blouse—expensive clothes from Daakur. As usual, her jasmine perfume floated behind her, and an exotic blackstone necklace dangled around her neck.
He studied her. When had I’Lenna started wearing perfume and jewelry? He remembered the days when they were younger, when they were dirt smudged, scab kneed, and poorly shod. He glanced at the threads unwinding from his cotton shirt and his rough boots. He smoothed his hair, wondering when he’d last combed it. But instead of feeling abandoned by I’Lenna’s sleek composure, he felt a sudden, urgent desire to keep up with her.
As they flew in companionable silence, Rahkki realized this was a good time to ask I’Lenna about her conversation with General Tsun. “I saw you with the general yesterday,” he started.
“What? You couldn’t have.” I’Lenna’s grin faltered. “I stay far away from all that business, Rahkki.”
“But—but I saw you,” he said. “The general—”
“Sun and stars, Rahkki! The general wants to oust my mother. He’s my enemy.” She shook her head. “You must be confused.”
“Oh, okay,” Rahkki said, but he knew it was her. His thoughts screeched: I’Lenna just lied to me! Why? Doesn’t she trust me? As his mind swirled, he studied her with fresh eyes. How much did he really know about the crown princess? She had access to secret tunnels, she stole candy and medicine for the villagers, she disobeyed her mother, and she snuck into his bedroom.
And when he thought back, I’Lenna and General Tsun had been relaxed during their conversation by the river, their expressions pleasant. But General Tsun wanted to overthrow Queen Lilliam, and I’Lenna knew it, so why had she been so calm with him? Was she spying on him? Or was she helping him? Goose bumps erupted down Rahkki’s arms. Land to skies, could he trust I’Lenna?
The two fell silent as they glided between the trees. Occasionally a large branch forced Sula to duck or twirl, making Rahkki’s head spin; but the jungle here was not dense, and the small mares fit well enough between the palms. Tiny golden monkeys shrieked at them as they passed by.
Rahkki broke the silence first. “So you know all about the rebellion?” he asked.
“Of course.” I’Lenna reached between their flying mares and took Rahkki’s hand, her fingers hot on his palm. “My mother believes we’re plotting to kill her.” She said this as casually as one asks for extra nutmeg on their rice.
“She thinks we’re plotting—you and I?” Rahkki cried. “You’re serious?”
“As a dragon.”
“But you don’t want your mother’s throne, do you?”
“Want it?” I’Lenna snorted. “Absolutely not, but I am the crown princess. Authority falls to me if anything happens to her.”
Rahkki felt sullen. “General Tsun is the one actually plotting against her. He’s the real threat.”
I’Lenna ignored Rahkki’s comment. “The people of the clan loved your mother, but they hate mine. You and Brauk threaten her. You always have. Be careful on the march to Mount Crim. I don’t believe my mother intends for you to come home alive.”
Rahkki stared at her. “I hear you, I’Lenna, but if your mother thinks you and I are plotting, then I’m not sure that this is being careful.” He glanced at her hand, which was still holding his.
I’Lenna let go of him, and her brown eyes slid from his head to his boots and then settled back on his face. “Trust me, Rahkki—if I’m caught with you again, I’ll be the one who pays.”
“I’Lenna!”
“Don’t worry, I can handle my mother.” I’Lenna’s voice was firm.
Rahkki believed I’Lenna would have better luck handling a poisonous jellyfish than her mother. His eyes searched her face. “I don’t understand. If our friendship is so dangerous, then why are you here with me?”
Her expression softened. “Because you’re the only kid my age who owns a flying horse. Who else can I do this with?” She grinned and kicked Firo forward. “Race you to the trading post!”
Rahkki leaned into Sula’s mane and clucked at her like she was a horse. But Sula didn’t need any encouragement. She pinned her wings and blasted after her wild friend.
19
The Trading Post
MOMENTS LATER, RAHKKI AND SULA BURST OUT of the rain forest. His mare flapped her wings, coasting toward the southeastern shoreline of Cinder Bay. The emerald inlet glittered in the sunlight, and a light breeze prickled the surface. Stingrays glided in the shallows, elegant and wing shaped. Farther out, curling waves broke against protective reefs. Seabirds soared on updrafts, then dived down, beaks open.
The sand here was fine and light, unlike the black sand in the north. The cooling breeze that wafted across the bay provided Rahkki a welcome relief from the inland heat. Several boats from Daakur floated dreamily, moored in the shallows. Sula and Firo flared their nostrils, drinking in the scents from far away.
The trading post, a small expanse of shacks and colorful tents, flickered like a mirage on the hot sand. Rahkki hadn’t been here in over a year. Everything was too expensive, and most of w
hat he needed he was able to make himself. For the rest, he darted silvery fish in the river, caught fighting beetles in the jungle, or whittled toys and tools and then traded them for the things he could not make or sew.
The Daakuran merchants, who dressed in soft cloths like I’Lenna’s silk, paused their activities to stare in admiration at the winged steeds as they coasted closer. Since the empire protected the sacred Kihlari, no amount of coin could purchase one from the Sandwen clans, but that didn’t stop the Daakuran people from wishing.
Sula and Firo dropped toward the beach, speeding in so fast that a concerned outlander shrieked and ran for cover. I’Lenna smirked as the dazzling mares angled their wings, caught the wind, and braked with a loud, feathery snap. Then they alighted onto the sand, as silent and as gentle as butterflies.
Several merchants clapped, and Rahkki wiped his mouth as saliva flooded it. Don’t throw up, he told himself.
He and I’Lenna dismounted and led their winged mares toward the trading tents, taking stock of the wares on display. Items hung on racks, tinkling softly in the breeze, or rested on shelves inside the tents—the goods were spotless and undented, seams were tight, and edges were sharp. There was pottery, Daakuran forged iron, wooden carvings, hearth goods, bright fabrics, spices, shining armor, books, weapons, and artwork. The scent of new leather, fragrant oils, and exotic meats filled Rahkki’s nostrils, and Sula’s too. His mare skittered sideways, bobbing her head and snorting at the strange place. “Shh,” he said, resting his hand on her mane.
Rather than shrugging him off, Sula quieted, and Rahkki felt a rush of pleasure at the progress they’d made together. “Come on,” he said to I’Lenna, and they walked toward the tents.
Overwhelmed by the foreign finery, doubts began filling Rahkki’s mind. Drael’s beautiful Kihlara blanket morphed in his imagination—changing from a precious artifact into a sodden, frayed, and smelly Sandwen relic. How many dramals would it fetch? Too few, he guessed.
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