“Yes,” I’Lenna answered. “It’s the Queen’s Elixir, the one and only dose.” She glanced at Brauk.
His back had gone rigid. His golden eyes latched onto the vial, blazing with hunger for it. Ossi wrung her hands.
“Where did you get that?” Darthan asked.
“I stole it for Brauk,” she answered. Brauk flicked his eyes to hers and I’Lenna met his gaze. “Whether or not you decide to help me,” she said, her voice husky, “you will walk again.”
10
The Queen’s Elixir
“PRAISE THE WIND!” OSSI CRIED, HER TEARS SPLATTERING the dusty floor.
I’Lenna uncorked the vial of elixir. Each Sandwen Clan kept a dose of black magna spider venom on hand for its queen. Unlike most poisonous creatures, this spider’s venom didn’t injure or kill—it healed its prey, rapidly curing diseases, knitting broken bones, and restoring damaged tissue and organs. Black magna spiderlings were sensitive, picky eaters and, in this way, the adults ensured healthy, disease-free meals for their young.
The Sandwen clans could only collect the healing elixir from live spiders, and since it was almost impossible to capture a black magna alive, most clans owned only a single dose, which was reserved for their queen. Were she to become terminally ill or mortally wounded, the potent elixir would restore the monarch’s health. “It’s yours,” I’Lenna said, reaching the vial toward Brauk.
He recoiled from it.
I’Lenna frowned, her hand wavering. “What’s wrong?”
Trembles racked his body as hope and then disbelief slid across his features. “Gah, I’Lenna, does this mean I’ll owe you?”
“Brauk!” Ossi scolded.
He lifted his chin. “What I mean—” He struggled for words. “What I’m saying is that she’s a Whitehall and I’m still a Stormrunner. We’re enemies.”
I’Lenna understood—healing Brauk didn’t fix the wrong her mother had done to his. “You won’t owe me anything,” she promised.
“Good then,” he grumbled.
Ossi and Darthan exchanged a glance.
I’Lenna moved to Brauk’s side and handed him the vial. “Drink.”
Taking the crimson glass, Brauk stared at the liquid inside, swirling it. Doubt etched his features. “You must want something in return.”
Ossi groaned and threw her hands over her face. “Just drink it!”
Frustrated, I’Lenna pursed her lips. She and Brauk locked eyes, the past swirling between them. The others quieted, as if Brauk and I’Lenna were deciding the fate of the Realm.
I’Lenna blinked first and dropped her eyes. “Maybe I am hoping for something in return,” she admitted. “Maybe if I heal you, you’ll stop running from what happened eight years ago and help your clan and your brother.”
Brauk’s torso lunged at her and Darthan leaped to his feet. “Don’t talk to me like that,” Brauk spit at her. “You’ve no right.”
I’Lenna leaned toward him, their faces a handspan apart. “This is the truth, Brauk. You and Darthan wanted no part in the uprising. I know General Tsun approached you to help us. I asked him not to, but he believed the entire clan would fight for the Stormrunners. All you had to do was ask them.” Her voice rose and she ignored the warning glance from Ossi.
“But you both refused him. Why?” I’Lenna wiped her eyes. “Why do you hide on your farm?” she asked Darthan. “And why do you battle every living creature except my mother?” she asked Brauk. She stood, feeling angry, dizzy, and weak all at once. “The rebellion failed because only half the clan would fight for me. I don’t know if you Stormrunners are afraid or if you just don’t care, but at least I’m trying to put things right.”
“Afraid?” Brauk’s eyes bored into hers. “This is the truth: I stayed out of the rebellion for Rahkki’s sake. I did a poor job of raising him, I’Lenna. Always fighting, never home . . . ah, bloody rain, just being a rotten brother.”
I’Lenna remembered Brauk’s dark days. He’d frightened her then, always strutting through the fortress on the balls of his feet, scrapping with soldiers and laughing like a madman whether he lost or won. Back then he was always yelling at young Rahkki for crying, or spilling his juice, or running from Mut and his gang. Brauk was rough, trying to teach his little brother to fight and forcing him to eat second helpings so he’d grow bigger. Brauk blasted through their inheritance, spending their last dramals on the stallion Kol. I’Lenna could smell his regret. It fluttered around him like a cape.
Brauk’s voice softened as he continued. “I came around after a while, tried to do right by him. But if your mom had gotten wind that Darthan and I were helping to oust her—she’d have ordered Harak to slit our throats and toss us to the pigs. Then where would Rahkki be?”
I’Lenna sagged into her chair. It had never occurred to her that Brauk and Darthan had been protecting Rahkki. “You did the right thing then,” she said.
Brauk cut his eyes away as tension eased from the hut. “I don’t need your pardon, I’Lenna, or anyone’s.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Convincing Brauk to help her was going to be more difficult than she’d imagined—unless she revealed the fact that Lilliam was stealing clan tithes. She’d told General Tsun, and that’s why he’d broken his oath to his monarch. Now she’d have to tell the Stormrunners—but if they knew the truth, would they be content to banish her mother, or would they seek to destroy her? She sighed. She wasn’t ready to tell them, not yet.
Brauk continued. “Nothing we do will bring my mother back,” he said.
“Then consider the elixir a gift,” I’Lenna offered. “If you decide to help me, I’ll be grateful. If you don’t, at least you’ll be healthy again. But either way, you won’t owe me. I’ll never ask you for a favor. I promise.”
Brauk studied the princess, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll drink it.” He pulled the stopper out of the vial and tossed back the venom in one greedy gulp.
A long moment passed. “I don’t feel anything,” he said.
Ossi crossed the room to hold his hand.
“Don’t,” I’Lenna warned. “Once it starts, I’m not sure how he’ll react.”
Ossi paused, studying Brauk and feeling his forehead. She peered back at I’Lenna, confused. “I thought the elixir worked fast.”
Just then Brauk’s torso flattened out and he began to shake. His arm flailed, striking Ossi, and Mut snatched his sister away.
“Oh, I think it’s working now,” Ossi cried.
As quickly as they had started, Brauk’s convulsions ceased. His body suddenly stilled. His eyelids closed and he relaxed, looking asleep.
“What happened?” Mut asked as Ossi struggled in his arms.
“He’s fainted,” I’Lenna said, stifling a deep yawn. “The venom is healing him, but it’s not immediate. Now we wait.”
Darthan stoked the fire and replaced Brauk’s blanket across his body. “You need to sleep,” he said to I’Lenna. “We should all get some rest.”
Ossi pulled a chair up to Brauk’s cot. “I’m staying awake.”
Darthan retreated to his room and returned with an armload of furs and blankets. “We’ll take turns watching him. Here.” He handed out the coverings and each person made up a bed on a chair or on the floor. I’Lenna spread a wool blanket by the window. Peering outside, she saw the wild herd huddled beneath a cluster of gigantic palms in Darthan’s field. Kol stood off by himself.
As she collapsed onto the blanket, she remembered what Mut had told her about the trading post. “Darthan?” she asked. “Do you know why a Daakuran trader or merchant would be looking for Rahkki? Mut said a man was asking questions at the trading post.”
“That’s right,” Mut said. “He was in Willa Green’s tent, talking to her, and I thought it was strange. It’s not like Rahkki is known outside of the Fifth Clan. He’s just a kid.”
I’Lenna smirked because Mut was also “just a kid.”
Darthan drew on his pipe and when he spoke, soft sweet smoke rolle
d out with his words. “Maybe this man has news of his mother,” he offered. “I was in Daakur recently, walking the docks and asking questions about Reyella.”
Mut frowned. “Maybe, but I didn’t hear her name and the man didn’t leave any kind of message. Just wanted to know where to find Rahkki.”
I’Lenna interrupted. “I think he’s a collector and wants another Kihlara ceremonial blanket, like the one Rahkki sold Willa.”
Darthan tapped his pipe. “That makes sense. Ceremonial blankets of that quality are rare on either shore.” His creased face looked sad in the firelight. “It’s strange, but probably nothing to worry about.”
I’Lenna nodded, but unease soured her gut. Something about this man searching for Rahkki bothered her. And she worried that even if she saved Rahkki from the giants, more trouble could be lurking.
11
A Way Home
“WATCH ME,” MIAH SIGNED AFTER CATCHING Rahkki’s attention with a gentle roar.
He waved at her from his position on the bamboo bridge. Four days had passed since the rains began and the Great Cave Horde envoy had arrived. Rahkki had expected the horde meeting to take place immediately, but the giants had a long agenda of ceremonial activities planned first.
The heavy rains had continued and kept the hordes corralled underground and, all over the warren, tempers flared among the giants. Rahkki’s skin crawled with impatience. He had no way of knowing if Tuni’s Flier was still healing or had succumbed to her wounds, and he was worried about I’Lenna. Who had control of the Fifth—his best friend or her mother?
With his frustration mounting, Rahkki watched the Gorlish children play a game called Blast, a favorite of the giants. It involved charging through the warren and kicking a ball that was really a white mass of dried rubberwood sap. The object of Blast was to count the number of ricochets before the ball hit the floor or sank into a rivulet of lava. The giants played in teams and the team with the most ricochets after three rounds was the winner. Rahkki leaned against the bamboo bridge and tried to stay out of the way.
“Play with us,” Drake signed.
Rahkki gaped up at the teen. “Me?”
Drake grabbed Rahkki’s arm and dragged him across the bridge. Rahkki had abandoned his cast and crutch the day before. He attributed his rapid recovery to the soup. He felt stronger, healthier, and even taller since he’d begun eating it. His ankle still felt a bit weak, but it carried his weight.
“You’re on my team,” Drake gestured, using Rahkki’s Gorlish name, a shrug and helpless hands.
A player on the other team ratcheted back his leg and drove it into the sticky spiral. The ball winged across the cavern, slammed into the stone, bounced off, and careened into three more walls before it landed.
Everyone raced toward it, roaring and shoving, including Miah. She never reached the ball first, every single player could outrun her, but that never stopped her from trying.
Drake reached the ball, kicked, and it zoomed toward Rahkki.
The opposing team galloped to intercept it. Rahkki dodged between their thick legs like a rabbit. “Don’t step on me!” he shouted in Sandwen, but the cavern was so full of growls and snarls that no one heard him.
The ball spiraled over the river of lava and struck the opposite wall, hitting at a crazy angle. There was no predicting where it would land.
But it never hit the ground. A very bored saber cat that had traveled to the warren with the Great Cave envoy had been watching them. Now it leaped off its rock ledge, caught the ball in its jaws, and landed facing the charging giants.
They skidded to a halt.
With a threatening growl, it walked away with its prize and the game was over.
The teams sat to collect their breath and Miah inspected Rahkki’s ankle.
“I’m okay,” he signed. Then Tak, who’d been perched on a stalagmite watching the game, swooped down and landed on Rahkki’s shoulder.
As they all wiped their sweating faces, Rahkki thought of home. His friends and family probably believed he was dead, drowned in the soup. They would never guess he was living underground and playing Blast with kids the size of trees.
As Rahkki drank goat milk from Miah’s waterskin, the sharp whistling of reed pipes breezed through the warren.
“It’s time for the horde meeting,” Drake signed, standing up.
“Finally,” Rahkki gestured.
As the group made their way back toward the main cavern, Rahkki studied the walkways, trying to map the warren in his head. He didn’t recognize this path that Drake had chosen. Bright blue and red veins ran through the rocks and sparkling crystals had sprouted from fissures in the stone. Tak soared overhead, shooting white flames at insects, sizzling them in midair and swallowing them.
They rounded a bend and Rahkki gasped. Before him was a vast, sunlit cavern. The sunlight filtered through a gash in the crust high above their heads and was dimmed by the clouds. From this gash, a waterfall also poured into the cavern and splashed into a wide blue river that flowed below.
Rahkki couldn’t remember the last time he’d bathed. His body was sticky and sweat matted his hair, making his scalp itch something awful. If Prince Daanath kept his promise and took Rahkki home after the meeting, he wanted to be clean.
“I wash up,” he signed, pointing at the water. “I’ll be quick.”
The four young giants stared at him as if they hadn’t understood.
Rahkki ripped off his tunic and dived in. His head cut the water first, then the rest of him sliced through like an arrow. He dived deep and swam somersaults. The cold water soothed the aches and bruises he’d acquired from living with giants. Dirt lifted from his hair.
He kicked to the surface, laughing, ready to invite the giants to join him, but they were screaming in alarm. Miah was bawling.
“What’s wrong?” he forgot himself and spoke in Sandwen.
Krell snarled at him, his blue eyes squinting hard. “Get out of the water,” he signed.
“Get out,” Miah gestured, her eyes round with terror.
Panic bloomed. What was in the water? Rahkki kicked hard toward the channel’s ledge.
Krell reached down and Rahkki lunged for his hand. Something slithered past, touching his belly. He yelped and Miah cried harder. Krell about ripped Rahkki’s arm off as he dragged the boy out of the water and tossed him onto the rocks.
Rahkki inspected his skin for bites or leeches. “What’s in there?” he asked. “Why did you pull me out?” He slid on his tunic, his body shaking.
“It’s deep,” Miah gestured, squeezing Rahkki to her chest. “You could have drowned.”
Rahkki chuckled, relieved. “No,” he assured. “I can swim.”
Miah peered at him doubtfully. “It’s very deep,” she insisted.
“Doesn’t matter,” Rahkki gestured. “I can swim in the ocean if I want.”
Miah’s eyes popped, and she shook her head. She didn’t believe him.
Drake shook his head too, glancing fearfully at the river, and Rahkki remembered something his brother had once told him: Gorlanders were terrible swimmers. But he hadn’t realized they couldn’t swim at all.
Rahkki’s mind seized on that: giants can’t swim—but I can! When he was in the river, he’d spied more natural daylight downstream. It was possibly an exit, a way out. A way home!
Rahkki grinned. If the giants had lied about escorting him safely home after the meeting, he now knew how to escape the warren—and no giant could follow him or stop him. He’d swim out.
Drake led Rahkki and his siblings into the largest of the underground caverns. It housed their soup cauldron and served as their communal gathering place. The three princes from each horde sat cross-legged on the grimy stone floor, waiting for the Fire king. The Highland envoy and the Great Cave envoy squatted behind their respective princes, and most of Fire Horde’s giants filled the empty spaces. The cavern had grown steamy with hot breath and bubbling soup.
Rahkki followed Miah tow
ard the back of the chamber. She chuffed and gently shoved him toward her sire. “You sit with the princes.”
Rahkki’s heart sped as he approached the thick-bodied leaders. They filled the room like planets and their hordemates orbited them like moons. Daanath, the Highland prince, slapped the rock floor, indicating that Rahkki should sit beside him. His half wreath of elephant tusks rattled around his neck. The python’s arched bite still showed as divots in his flesh.
Rahkki folded onto the stone and stared up at the three Gorlan leaders. Their faces had pulled into dark scowls; their eyes had narrowed with focus. This meeting was about his clan, and Rahkki was the sole representative of his people. He sat taller and stilled his breathing. Don’t mess this up, he thought.
The Fire king arrived to observe the meeting, but the Gorlan princes would conduct it. When the room had settled, the Great Cave prince gestured to Rahkki. “We want our land back.” This prince was the largest of the three. A thick, jagged scar ran from his temple, across one eye, and ended at his lower jaw. He curled his lip, fully revealing chipped, yellowed tusks. The Great Cave giants were aloof and were believed to be the most aggressive of the three hordes.
“I know,” Rahkki signed, not sure what else to say.
The giant snorted and shifted his eyes to the Highland prince. “How is this boy supposed to help us?” he signed with a snarl.
Prince Daanath turned to Rahkki. “Your queen refused our soup at the parlay. Why?”
Rahkki’s mouth opened and closed. How could he speak for Lilliam? He wasn’t one of her advisers. But with all three hordes staring at him, he had to say something. He signed the truth, as best he could. “Our queen—she can’t speak Gorlish. She’s uneducated.”
The princes grunted, becoming angry. They gestured to one another.
“My people want peace,” Rahkki assured them quickly.
Prince Daanath nodded. “What does your clan want in exchange for the land?”
What did Lilliam want most? Rahkki wondered and the answer came easily; Lilliam loved wealth. “Our queen will sell the land for gems and furs, maybe a few elephants.” Rahkki had no authority to bargain—but he believed Lilliam would sell her children for the right price.
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