Rahkki wilted. How had he made such a mess of things? The song lyrics bubbled in his mind:
Neither man nor beast
Where giants feast.
Deep, deep in the jungle keep.
Was the song a rebuttal against the Realm’s image of flesh-eating giants? Neither people nor animals attended a giant feast—as the main course! Had he missed such an obvious clue about their culture? Shoulders drooping, he trod down the passageway, trailed by Miah and escorted by two adult Gorlanders. Tak was still inside his shirt, trembling against his skin. The growling had frightened him and Rahkki stroked his smooth golden scales.
Miah’s white face had turned pink and her blue eyes shone with unshed tears. She wrung her dress. “You’re in big trouble,” she signed.
When the hordes warred, they attacked one another’s cauldrons, tipping them over or spoiling the broth with wood ashes. There was nothing worse to the giants than losing an old soup. “I’m sorry,” he signed blindly. “I—I stupid.”
They passed a stairwell and Rahkki glanced up the stone stairs to the sky above. Fresh storm clouds had rolled over the jungle, moist and full of static. A deep rumble reverberated through the clouds, followed by a shock of white light. Rain dropped in sheets, like a thousand giants crying. Rahkki wished Sula were there—that she’d swoop down and rescue him.
One of the adult Gorlanders pushed Rahkki to walk faster, and when they reached his chamber, he shoved him inside. “Stay here,” the giant signed, and left. Miah retreated to her furs, ignoring him. Rahkki was a real prisoner this time, not a captured guest. He knew from his days in the warren that the giants tracked him by his scent, and their senses were so strong, they always knew where he was. Escape up the stairwells was impossible.
He wiped his face, appalled. He needed to warn his people that the giants were coming so they had time to prepare. He had to go immediately. I’m as bad as Lilliam, he thought. I ruined a chance at peace because I assumed I knew all about the giants, when in fact I knew nothing. I’m not smart like my mother or brave like my brother.
The blood of the Pantheress runs through you, Uncle Darthan had once said.
Tak flew out of Rahkki’s shirt as the boy paced his small cavern. He’d made a mistake, a horrible mistake, but he wasn’t giving up on his people, the giants, or himself. He knew how to get out of here; he just needed to find the underground river, but the horde would know the moment he left his chamber. Could he outrun them? No.
Rahkki glanced at Tak. Maybe he could outsmart them.
15
The Chute
GORLANDERS FALL ASLEEP LIKE STONES FALLING off cliffs; they crash onto their fur mattresses from upright positions and are instantly snoring. Rahkki had been fooled his first night in the warren, thinking that giants slept deeply, but in truth they roused faster than fleas. It wasn’t noises that drew them out of their dreams—it was smells. Their noses twitched manically all night. If rats infiltrated the warren, the giants knew immediately. If a toddler wandered away, they knew. If Rahkki exited his sleeping quarters, they knew.
But tonight would be different. Rahkki had a plan and an escape route—the underground river. He just had to get there.
Some hours had passed since he’d ruined Fire Horde’s soup, and the warren was still awake. Quiet crying and muffled footsteps echoed throughout the passageways. Miah sat silently beside him, hugging a Gorlish doll. When Prince Daanath passed by, holding a lantern full of glow stones, he paused at Rahkki’s chamber and grunted for his daughter.
Miah leaped off her bed. “Da!”
The prince bent to one knee and she climbed into his arms. They brushed noses and their contented rumbling filled the passageway. “Sleep safe,” the prince signed. He pushed her gently off his lap, flashed his tusks at Rahkki, and continued on his way.
Miah shuffled back to her bed and dropped face first onto her furs. Soon after, her loud snores filled the cavern.
While Rahkki waited for the rest of the warren to settle, he played with Tak, wiggling his fingers and enticing the little burner to chase his digits. Tak fluttered and dived, shooting his green, heatless flames at Rahkki’s hands. He needed Tak to fall asleep too, so he stood up and circled his arms, causing Tak to zip and zag in crazy loops. As he hoped, the young dragon tired fast. He plowed onto Rahkki’s furs and closed his golden eyes. Steam puffed evenly out his nostrils.
Rahkki quickly scanned the cavern, glancing from the burner to the giantess, and was surprised to feel sadness. He would miss them both, but he was also excited. Soon he’d be home!
During his short time with Tak, Rahkki had taught the dragon to deposit his smelly droppings in one pile. Now, he slipped out of bed and lifted a fistful of the dragon dung off the floor. It stank like rotten eggs. Here goes nothing, Rahkki thought. He removed his outer tunic and then smeared the dung onto his undershirt, his skin, and his hair. Gagging, he painted it onto his face last.
Next he tucked the outer tunic that still smelled like him beside Miah so that his scent would remain in the chamber. He spotted her wood-handled dagger. He would need it in the jungle. With remorse tugging at his heels, Rahkki stole the dagger and tiptoed out of the chamber.
Miah did not rouse. Tak rolled over and began to hum in his sleep, but neither woke. Rahkki had done it, he’d fooled them, but would his trick work as well on the adult giants?
Letting out his breath, he scampered along the curve of the rocky trail that wound through the underground caverns, trying to remember exactly where he’d spotted the underground river. He passed more sleeping chambers, but the giants didn’t stir. He’d masked his Sandwen scent so well in dragon dung that he was invisible.
With glow stones lighting his way, Rahkki reached a stone pathway that was worn smooth from years of use. It split off in three directions. Which way was the river? Rahkki closed his eyes, listening as Uncle had taught him, sending his ears out into the darkness. There it was—the faint trickle of moving water. The middle path was the one he wanted.
Picking up speed, Rahkki followed the walkway that curved up and down like a hunched spine. Long, bat-infested stalagmites hung overhead and shining crystals littered the trail, reflecting a gentle, pink-hued light. Soon, the steady cadence of falling water filled Rahkki’s ears.
He reached the edge of the sparkling blue river and enjoyed a huge burst of relief. Pitching forward, he dived into the cool water and kicked hard, swimming with the current. The water had etched away rocky protrusions and stalagmites in the channel, leaving Rahkki a swift smooth aqueduct. He traveled rapidly downriver.
Rounding a bend, the river widened, forming a dark pool. Disoriented, Rahkki surfaced to see bright shapes darting and shooting flames overhead. He’d drifted into the burners’ home den. Rahkki watched the tiny dragons dive and spin. Their noisy chortles and squeaks bounced off the wet cavern walls. A larger red-scaled female slept at the mouth of a cave, oblivious to the energetic males—their queen.
Very few Sandwens ever glimpsed a living burner queen. Sharp angles defined her triangular face, yellow spots faded down her back, and four poisonous white barbs spiked the end of her tail. Turquoise frills fanned her head and purple webbing lined her wings. She hissed a breath and her scales shimmered as her ribs expanded. A year of rest, followed by five days of mating, marked her life—the cycle repeating annually until she died.
Rahkki ducked silently beneath the water, afraid of what the males would do if they noticed a stranger in their den. Swiftly, he swam back into the main channel.
Coasting faster now, he paddled to align his body with the speeding current, scrambling to grab hold of something, anything, to slow himself. But the rock walls were too smooth.
The channel abruptly dipped and Rahkki was sucked into a narrow chute. His body slid across hard, smooth stone, pushed by the water. The chute curved and bent, bumping Rahkki as he shot through it. The water was shallow, leaving his head and chest in open air. A warm breeze struck him and he smelled the tart
mulch of the jungle. He braced, sensing the end.
Then he was airborne.
Rahkki’s body shot out of a hole in a cliff wall and he dropped through sheeting rain. Legs churning, arms pinwheeling, mouth screaming—he fell through dark space. One thought pulsed in his brain: This is going to hurt!
He dropped into a warm lake. The surface smacked his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He sank fast, his wet clothing dragging him toward the bottom. Since he’d screamed out most of his breath, his lungs burned and a few bubbles burst from his lips. He kicked hard off the bottom of the lake and swam toward the surface.
Almost to the top, his fingers scraped against a massive tree root. Grabbing it, Rahkki heaved and his head broke the surface. He inhaled and fresh air drove down his throat, tasting sweeter than candy. He spluttered onto the beach, sucking greedily.
“Crawwk!”
Rahkki peered up in time to see Tak waft out of the same cliff waterfall that had ejected him. The dragon cartwheeled across the sky, shooting white, blue, then purple flames in terrified jets until his instincts took over. His wings snapped from his sides, gripped the wind, and the agile little dragon righted himself. “Brrur, brrur,” he trilled.
“Quiet,” Rahkki hushed. To his surprise, it was not evening outside but late morning. He’d forgotten that Fire Horde slept during the day.
The golden dragon homed in on the boy’s voice, pinned his wings, and dropped into a swirling dive. Rahkki expected a scolding, but instead Tak landed on his shoulder and threw his wings around Rahkki’s neck.
“You thought I left you?” Rahkki hugged him, thinking, Actually, I did leave you. “I’m sorry, boy.”
Tak’s claws curled into Rahkki’s skin as he broke into a rumbling purr. Rahkki peered skyward to orient himself. He needed to get moving, but the storm clouds created a thick gray ceiling that obscured the sun. This was monsoon weather, come early to the Realm, and it was not good for Sandwen crops. Big rain, the giants had called it.
Using the volcanoes as landmarks, Rahkki determined the path home. If he had more time, he’d travel to Highland Horde and try to free Rizah, but with three Gorlan armies about to march on the Fifth Clan, he couldn’t risk failure. He had to warn his people, and now that he knew giants didn’t eat meat, he believed Rizah was safe with them. Besides, his ankle felt strong. The Gorlan soup had sped his healing, he was sure of it.
Rahkki felt for the dagger he’d stolen from Miah and found it still in his pocket. He sprinted west. Animals scurried out of his way and deep mud squelched between his toes.
Tak lifted off his shoulder and glided, snatching bugs out of the sky and swallowing them whole. “I guess you’re coming with me,” Rahkki said, and Tak hovered closer.
As Rahkki jogged through the brush, drawing farther away from the warren, his anxiety eased. It didn’t appear any giants were following him. He turned his attention to the jungle. Mindful of boy-eating plants, hiding jaguars, and ambushing serpents, he avoided the shadows and thick foliage.
Rain fell in frantic torrents, keeping Rahkki soaked from head to toe, but he was glad for it. Most of the predators would seek shelter, their senses dimmed by the falling water. Also, it washed the rest of the sticky dragon dung off his body. When a thunderous boom announced a heightened storm, Tak swooped to Rahkki’s shoulder and bobbed there, mantling his wings like a raptor.
The pair traveled like this for the rest of the day, and by afternoon, hunger bit at Rahkki’s belly and he wondered if he were lost. Every ridge, tree, and animal path looked the same. Why couldn’t he find the main trail home?
He paused to stretch and peer at the churning clouds. He belonged up there, on the back of a winged steed, but he’d lost everything: The boy’s Flier, his princess, and now his mighty allies—the giants.
Squirming, Tak peeked at Rahkki through the open neck of his shirt. He’d crawled inside for a nap, but now he was hungry too. “Crawk,” he screeched, and then he lunged upward and nipped Rahkki’s ear.
“Stop biting me.”
“Brrur, brrrur!” Tak answered.
“I know you’re hungry, so am I.” Rahkki stuffed the dragon back down, pulled his collar closed, and resumed his hike with Tak’s body pressed against his chest and the jungle hunching over them. Rahkki inhaled, drinking in the conflicting scents that marked the rain forest—rotting leaves and fragrant flowers, dried bones and fresh blood, old bark and soft saplings.
He walked all day until the final glow of sunlight made it too dark to see. “We’ll make camp here,” he said to Tak, who was sleeping. Rahkki was frustrated that they hadn’t reached a Sandwen travelway yet. He leaned against the colorful bark of a rainbow eucalyptus tree and woke Tak by lifting the young dragon out of his shirt and setting him on his shoulder.
Tak stretched his wings and coughed, clearing his lungs and spewing red sparks that sizzled when they met the falling rain. Then, with a forceful shove, the dragon pushed off. Worms had floated out of the saturated soil and Tak dived upon them, cooking them with his breath and swallowing them whole.
Saliva pooled in Rahkki’s mouth. The night was too wet to start a fire, so he pounced upon the worms and began shoving them into his mouth. Normally, he enjoyed worms, but after eight days of delicious Gorlan soup, they tasted worse than dirt.
After his snack, Rahkki began stripping broad-leafed branches off the nearest trees and making a shelter. Next, he found a toppled balsa-wood trunk. He wove the branches through a framework of balsa wood and vines, creating a thin ceiling that repelled water. Tak returned and hovered above the tent, a curious glint in his eyes.
With raindrops running down his face, Rahkki whittled a small spear to hunt larger game—tarantulas. The hairy spiders were big and easy to catch. They liked to hide beneath logs and large stones. Using his stick, Rahkki lifted up small trunks and rocks, moving quickly through the jungle before halting near a large gray boulder.
He rolled the stone just enough to startle out any snakes. When nothing emerged, he shoved the rock over. A thick-bodied, hairy tarantula skittered backward.
Rahkki stabbed, killing the spider instantly. “Yes,” he rasped, holding it up. Tak swooped down from the sky. Remembering how his dragon had stolen the first catfish, Rahkki blocked him. “No, Tak!”
The dragon buzzed past, scorching the meal anyway.
“Sun and stars,” Rahkki muttered, but then a slow smile etched his cheeks. “Hey, you cooked it!” Tak’s fire had burned off all the spider’s barb-like body hair. Rahkki tore off the crispy legs and plopped them into his mouth, chewing happily.
Prowling the undergrowth, he hunted and speared six more tarantulas, and Tak cooked those too. They shared the meal and settled beneath the woven leaves, listening to the rain.
Rahkki curled around his dragon, shivering from being wet all day. Tomorrow, he hoped to find a Sandwen travelway. The wide smooth path would speed his journey home. What mattered was beating the hordes to his territory to prepare his clan for war.
16
The Letter
ECHOFROST STUDIED THE NEW STALLION, DRAEL. He’d said little during the night, only that he’d brought Rahkki’s sister home and that the children’s mother was dead. Echofrost informed him that giants had captured Rahkki and then Drael had retreated to be alone, but now his curiosity about the wild steeds swelled. Drael trotted closer and Storm Herd faced him, wings lifted. Overhead, the clouds had recollected and darkened, and morning sunrays poked between them, stabbing the grass.
“Who owns you?” Drael blurted, his eyes skidding across their unkept hides and landing on the twin foals. “Why aren’t those two safe in the Ruk?”
Dewberry snorted. “Safe?” She stamped her hoof, glancing furiously at Drael. “We’re free pegasi. No one owns us.” She collected her twins beneath her wings. Windheart and Thornblaze peeked at the stranger through her emerald feathers.
Drael nodded, but didn’t seem to comprehend. “Did you escape from another clan?”
; Dewberry huffed and Hazelwind intervened, explaining that Storm Herd had fled from their homeland and landed here, believing they’d be safe. He spoke about their capture, the Sandwen uprising, the giants, and Echofrost’s Pairing with Rahkki.
Drael gaped at Echofrost. His feathers rattled softly, perhaps angrily. “You’re Rahkki’s Flier?”
She felt challenged and alarm rang through her muscles. “I am.” Storm Herd trotted closer to Echofrost, their wings flared. Her tension had alerted all of them.
Drael seemed to realize his threatening posture. He smoothed his dark-amber feathers and folded his wings. “I belonged to Rahkki’s mother, Reyella. I was her Flier.” He spoke slowly, with great pride. He cast a look at Dewberry that said, You will never understand. And her eyes reflected the exact same sentiment.
After Drael lowered his wings, Storm Herd did the same. “I took Rahkki on his first flight,” Drael continued. “And I thought I took him on his last, but he’s alive, you say?”
“He was when we last saw him,” Hazelwind corrected. “The giants captured him.”
Drael dipped his head and his light eyes glimmered. “I’ve come home too late.”
Echofrost reared back. “You’re not too late, you’re just in time. We’re going to rescue him.”
Drael pricked his ears. “How? Kol said the Sandwen queen won’t help Rahkki.”
“She won’t, but his family will, and they have us, and now you and Feylah.”
Drael considered this, perplexed. “All of you will fight for Rahkki? I don’t understand. If you’re . . . free . . . why would you? And how did you become his Flier if you aren’t a Sandwen steed?” Drael asked this without rancor.
“He won me in a contest,” Echofrost answered. “But Rahkki knows he cannot keep me.” Echofrost wasn’t sure Rahkki knew this, but she believed he did. He did not command her obedience or lock her in a stall like the other Riders did with their Fliers. He understood that he did not own her. “Rahkki led an army to Mount Crim to save Storm Herd,” Echofrost explained. “We aren’t Sandwen, but Rahkki—he’s one of us. We want to help him.”
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