Riders of the Realm #3

by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  Fresh tears glimmered in Drael’s eyes. “My boy was not a warrior when I escaped with Reyella. He slept in my stall and spent half his day staring at clouds.” Drael nickered, amused. “Much has changed.”

  Echofrost nodded, because it was true. Much had changed.

  Inside Darthan’s hut, breakfast was over and I’Lenna watched Rahkki’s sister produce a letter. She handed it to Brauk. “Our mother wrote this.”

  Brauk stared at it, his dark hair framing his cheeks, his golden eyes bright and unreadable against his black lashes.

  Mut, Tam, and Ossi stood as one person. “We’ll go check on the wild herd,” Ossi said, and they left, giving the Stormrunners their privacy.

  I’Lenna rose to join them, but Darthan shook his head. “Stay, I’Lenna.”

  She didn’t want to stay—no good could come from this letter for her. It was like resurrecting a ghost. But there was no malice in Darthan’s eyes, so she stayed.

  “Our mom wrote it after I was born,” Feylah said to Brauk, “right before she died. She instructed Tully to deliver it to Darthan when I turned twelve.” Feylah pushed back her dark hair, a gesture that was exactly Brauk. “But when he saw Rahkki’s name on that receipt, he knew he couldn’t wait for me to turn twelve. Read it,” she said.

  Brauk handed it back, looking nervous. “Will you?”

  “I’ll read it,” Darthan said, taking the letter. He broke the wax seal, opened the parchment, and paused at the sight of his sister’s handwriting.

  I’Lenna’s breath came faster. The final words of the Pantheress breathed on that piece of yellowed parchment. Would she write about Lilliam—her killer? I’Lenna shivered, imagining Reyella’s condemnation and fury spilling from the letter and into Darthan’s hut. It would resurrect all the bad feelings that perhaps still bubbled below her truce with Brauk. I’Lenna felt sick. She wanted to say: Don’t read it. Please. Not while I’m here. But she had no right to say anything.

  She glanced at Brauk’s flushed face. He seemed eager, heartbroken, and scared all at once.

  “Hurry, Uncle,” Brauk urged. The waiting was unbearable.

  Holding the parchment close to the firelight, Darthan cleared his throat, and began.

  My sons,

  If you are reading this letter, then you are alive and my soul is singing. If the worst has befallen you, then we are together in the life-after-life, because by this time, I have passed over. And I’m sorry, my sons, to have failed you with such horrific splendor. As weakness shakes my fingers, I implore you to read my words and heed them.

  Six days have passed since Lilliam stole my throne, and I am in Daakur. Thaan and Tully are turncoats, loyal to me. Please extend every kindness to them, my protectors. After Lilliam’s attack, Thaan and Tully carried me into the jungle, where we searched and searched for you, my children. We found Drael, spun into the silk of those wretched spiders. Tully cut him loose, but you boys were gone. Simply gone.

  I will die not knowing where you are or what happened to you. These tears you see on the parchment are caused by fury, bitterness, and desolation. My sons! My beautiful princes! Brauk the Fighter and Rahkki the Clever. I see your faces, your eyes, even now. You remain with me always.

  My birthing time has come and gone and in my arms I hold your bloodborn sister, my heir, the Crown Princess of the Fifth Clan. She is a ferocious golden-eyed babe, my sweet boys, but I am wounded, dying, and as I fall to dust, your sister will rise. I call her Feylah and the people will call her Feylah Stormrunner, Queen of the Fifth.

  If you are alive, I know my brother will protect you and ask you not to seek revenge. I know these things as I know my brother. He will raise you to be noble and loyal to the crown, but I am your mother and I offer fresh counsel. Princes, you must fight back! Lilliam of the Second Clan will destroy the Fifth. She is a stringed doll, played by others to do great harm to our clan.

  I know not who is controlling her, but I see their hand at work. You must cut the strings. Stand up, my princes, for your clan and for your sister. If your lives were spared in the jungle, then it was for this very purpose—to sit Feylah on my throne and to rid the Fifth Clan of my rival and my assassin, Queen Lilliam!

  Heed my command, my princes, and forgive my bitter failings. Rahkki, my sweet, my stallion, Drael, belongs to you. Brauk, I bequeath you my sword. To Feylah, orphan babe, I leave you my crown.

  Yours always and forever,

  your mother of highest love and devotion,

  Reyella Stormrunner

  I’Lenna sank into her chair, her body cold to her toes. The letter was worse than what she’d imagined. Reyella had not only ranted about Lilliam and encouraged revenge, but she knew that someone was controlling I’Lenna’s mother, just not who. I’Lenna tensed for interrogation, realizing that Lilliam’s secret was going to come out, and soon—but Reyella’s words had not completely sunk in yet with the people in the room.

  Brauk sat back on his heels, his face stark. Darthan inhaled as though smoking a pipe, slow and thoughtful. “Read it again,” Brauk said, and Darthan did, this time with tears streaming down his cheeks. When he finished, no one spoke for a long while.

  Thaan, who wore two swords, unbuckled one. “This belongs to you,” he said, bowing his head and offering the sheathed blade to Brauk.

  Darthan’s fire popped sparks as Brauk slid the weapon from its scabbard. His chest heaved. “Mother’s sword. I remember it.”

  “It’s a songsword,” Feylah said. “Forged of Daakuran steel by the legendary Ruehem.”

  Brauk studied the markings engraved on the handle, and the runes on the blade. “I thought the Ruehem had all been destroyed.”

  “They were driven from the Culpash Mountains,” Thaan answered. “And probably exterminated, but this is an old blade, infused with magic.”

  “Alchemy,” Feylah corrected, smiling.

  “What’s the difference?” Thaan asked. “Anyway, it sings a nice tune in battle and it’ll never need sharpening.”

  Brauk nodded to Thaan and buckled the sword to his waist. “This songsword didn’t save my mother,” he whispered, an afterthought that silenced everyone.

  Ossi knocked on the door. “Can we come inside? It’s raining again.”

  “Sure,” Darthan answered, rising to meet them. Only then did I’Lenna notice the raindrops hitting Darthan’s roof, smacking it like gigantic tears. Darthan shut the door and sat, studying the parchment, rereading it.

  I’Lenna felt the hair on her neck rise when he glanced at her. “This letter implies a worse threat, I’Lenna,” he said. “Who is pulling Lilliam’s strings; do you have any idea what Reyella is talking about?”

  Brauk, Feylah, and her guardians turned their attention to I’Lenna. She exhaled and nodded. It was time to confess everything. “It’s my grandmother, Queen Tavara Whitehall of the Second. She sent Lilliam to the Fifth Clan to take the throne . . . and the treasury. My mother sends half your tithes to the Second Clan.”

  Stunned rage filled the shelter.

  “She’s robbing us?” Mut cried.

  I’Lenna nodded.

  Brauk rose to his feet, his golden eyes blazing. “She can’t do that. She swore her loyalty to the Fifth. This is treason.”

  “This is why I started the rebellion,” I’Lenna explained, finally justified. “To stop my mother and my grandmother.”

  “Did General Tsun know about this?” Ossi asked.

  “Yes, but he agreed to keep it quiet if I helped him usurp her. I feared the clan would kill her if they found out.”

  Brauk rose to his feet, his face pinched with anger. He turned to his uncle. “My mother is right—it’s time to fight back. Lilliam has been here too long. She took everything from us and she keeps on taking. She is not fit and not authorized to rule. Feylah is home, our rightful queen.” He turned to his sister.

  “Why fight Lilliam at all?” Ossi interjected. “When the people see Feylah, Lilliam will be marked as a false queen.”

  Dart
han shook his head. “Harak and Lilliam have stolen the people’s personal weapons and broken Clan Law. What’s to stop them from denying Feylah, or killing her? They’re in too deep to give up, and we can’t protect her from Harak’s army.”

  I’Lenna chewed the inside of her cheek, guessing he was right. “We need an army of our own to finish this,” she said.

  All eyes turned to her. “You don’t have to fight your mother,” Darthan said. “You can stay out of this.”

  I’Lenna rose from her chair. “I will help if you promise to banish my mother and not kill her. Please.”

  Brauk dropped his eyes. He clearly wasn’t ready to promise anything, and I’Lenna felt a stab of fear.

  “Where are we going to get an army?” Mut asked, glossing over their exchange. “The rebel warriors are locked in the Eighth Tower and the villagers don’t have any weapons. If we could just get the rebels out,” he mused.

  “Maybe we can,” I’Lenna said, a plan forming in her mind. “If we can get to the fortress without being seen, I can get us inside and, I think, to the Eighth Tower. We can free the rebels through the secret passageways.” Harak and his soldiers didn’t know how to access the secret tunnels, only I’Lenna knew the trick. Her thoughts raced. The Eighth Tower had been a residence tower before Lilliam converted it to a prison; surely the tunnels reached it. I’Lenna could only hope.

  Brauk flushed, warming to the idea. “Tuni’s in the Eighth Tower. I’d love to fight Harak with her by my side.” Ossi’s eyes darted quickly toward Brauk, but he didn’t notice. He paced, exercising his legs. “Maybe we can also free the Fliers that Harak locked in the Ruk. Then we’d have a winged army.”

  Darthan lit his pipe. “Let’s focus on freeing the rebels first. We should go tonight, as soon as it’s dark.”

  “We can try,” I’Lenna said, listening to the pounding rain, “but this storm—the lower tunnels will be completely flooded. Perhaps we should wait until it’s over.”

  “This is a monsoon, not a storm, and we don’t have time to wait,” Darthan said as he lipped his pipe. “We’ll have to swim through, but this is good. A real plan is forming.”

  It was good, I’Lenna thought, for everyone except the Whitehalls. What would happen to her siblings—Rayni, Jor, and K’Lar—if Lilliam didn’t survive this battle? Would the Fifth Clan let the children stay? Or would I’Lenna be forced to raise them in Daakur by herself? At least she was educated; she could work at a museum or maybe as a teacher. She sighed; it was too much to think about. As Darthan had said, they needed to focus on freeing the rebels first.

  As the Stormrunners and their friends collected supplies and decided on the most hidden jungle route to Fort Prowl, I’Lenna wondered what Rahkki was doing. His sister was alive! She wanted to tell him the good news, to watch his entire face light up. Rahkki deserved this and needed it. He’d never given up on his lost family. “Wherever you are,” she whispered, “hang on. Your family is coming for you.”

  17

  The Bet

  BY EVENING, THE PEGASI HAD GROWN IMPATIENT and grumbling. “We can’t stand in this rain another night,” said Dewberry. “A dry Kihlara stall and a bucket of grain sound pretty good right now.”

  Kol brightened. “Yes, let’s go to the barn!”

  “I’m joking,” Dewberry said, but Echofrost read the misery on her face. The twins were nursing all the nutrition right out of her. Dewberry ate voraciously but appeared thinner each day. Her sopping hair and feathers only added to her crankiness. “How long are we going to wait for these Landwalkers to do something? We should head to the jungle, to shelter.”

  “Just a bit longer,” Echofrost nickered. “Please.”

  Dewberry whistled for her twins and moved them into Darthan’s barn. The foals had spent the afternoon there also, avoiding the rain. Dewberry didn’t care much for the structure, but her foals loved the barn.

  Echofrost had watched the twins earlier. They delighted in the scent of Darthan’s pigs and fowl, and they adored Lutegar, the swamp buffalo. Lutegar, who feared absolutely nothing, seemed as fascinated by the young pegasi as they were of her. She lured them into her stall by exchanging breath with them and then, once they were close enough, she nuzzled them like a mother.

  When the twins fell asleep earlier today, curled against Lutegar’s warm back, Dewberry had given up on trying to keep them away from the massive creature. She’d trotted out of the barn, her mane in disarray, and shrugged her wings. “Those two will make friends with anybody,” she’d complained. “They’re just like their sire.”

  Her statement had at first stunned Echofrost and then amused her, because it was true. Bumblewind had grown into a large, strong stallion, but his friendly, noncompetitive nature had set even foreign pegasi at ease. He’d fought side by side with Star in Anok, but that violence hadn’t touched his gentle spirit. When the pegasi warriors weren’t fighting, Bumblewind had always been the first to play a game or tell a joke. Echofrost snorted. Her brother was Dewberry’s complete opposite, but their foals, especially Thornblaze, seemed to take after him.

  Hazelwind and Shysong trotted to Echofrost’s side, breaking into her thoughts. “Redfire should have returned from scouting by now,” Hazelwind nickered.

  Echofrost glanced at the eastern sky. “Maybe he’s sheltering to avoid the lightning?”

  “I hadn’t considered that,” said Hazelwind.

  “I think Echofrost is right,” Shysong agreed. “He’s probably grounded somewhere or still scouting. If I know Redfire, he won’t come back until he has some information about Rahkki, or what the giants are doing.”

  Hazelwind was not mollified. “I don’t like it. We said we wouldn’t split up.”

  “This is different,” Echofrost said. “He’s on a mission that only he can accomplish. None of us has learned to ride the jet streams.”

  “True,” said Hazelwind. His long black forelock covered half his face and fresh rain droplets skidded across his curved muzzle. Her eyes traveled up his jawline and she saw that he was staring at her. Echofrost quickly looked away, feeling oddly pleased and nervous.

  The friends huddled closer together, and Kol and Drael joined them. While they waited for the Landwalkers to act, the pegasi shared stories about Anok, Kol shared stories about the Sky Guard, and Drael spoke fondly about Rahkki.

  Echofrost was surprised to learn that her cub had loved to fly when he was a young child. “Rahkki was terrified of heights when I met him,” she nickered.

  Drael cocked his head. “My last flight with him was pretty terrifying. I almost died. I guess he thought I was dead.”

  “Everyone did,” Kol confirmed.

  Drael flicked the water off his wings. Even though he was soaked to the bone, Echofrost admired Drael’s immaculate conformation, musculature, and coloring. Sandwen breeding at its best, she thought, feeling slightly sick about it. “Well, Rahkki is over his fears now,” she said, as if she could take credit for the change in him.

  Hot energy pulsed between her and Drael, and Echofrost realized they were jealous of each other. By the Ancestors, she thought, shaking her head, I’m possessive over a Landwalker!

  Hazelwind nickered, his mirth shining in his dark eyes. He was laughing at her; she knew it. She nudged him with her wing and he nudged her back.

  Just then Darthan’s door popped open, spilling light and Landwalkers into the evening air. The group was dressed for travel, wearing boots and cloaks and carrying satchels brimming with supplies. It appeared to Echofrost that I’Lenna had borrowed Rahkki’s clothing. She recognized his trousers and shirt, and his old, worn boots. Each Sandwen also wore a hooded rain cloak. Brauk whistled for Kol, and Feylah called for Drael.

  “We’ll travel overland to Fort Prowl through the jungle,” Brauk said to the group.

  Bedrest had thinned his legs and body, but he was young, and Echofrost guessed he’d recover quickly. She didn’t know how he’d gone from paralyzed to walking so quickly, but it didn’t surprise her
. The Landwalkers were excellent healers, Brim had proved that when she repaired Echofrost’s torn hide. The wound ached and itched in this awful rain, but not enough to impede her.

  “Finally, something is happening,” Dewberry muttered. She collected her twins from Lutegar. The foals whinnied with hunger and nursed off Dewberry from the air, hovering and stabbing at her like hummingbirds.

  Brauk and his sister saddled and bridled their Kihlari and fixed their supplies and weapons behind their saddles. They held the reins, ready to leave on foot. “Who will take care of your animals and crops?” Feylah asked her uncle.

  “I hired an apprentice after Rahkki became a Rider,” he said. “We’ll be passing the village tonight; I’ll get word to the girl to feed the animals tomorrow.”

  “And what about this wild herd?” I’Lenna asked, her eyes drifting to Echofrost. “Do we just leave them here?”

  Brauk laughed. “I guess we’ll find out right now if they’re here to help us or if they’re just hungry,” he said. “I bet they stay and eat all Darthan’s grain as soon as we’re gone.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Ossi teased. “I bet you two dramals they follow us.”

  “You’re on.” Brauk and Ossi slapped hands and everyone laughed.

  The group trekked off the porch and headed into the trees with Kol and Drael in tow.

  Echofrost watched them go, feeling at a cross path. Rahkki’s family was not walking east toward Mount Crim; they were heading toward the populated area of the Fifth Clan settlement, and some of them were armed. She had not changed her mind about helping them rescue Rahkki, but she felt more and more restless.

  She’d come to this continent with a mission and had become entangled with Landwalkers and giants, but the urge to find a home was growing stronger every day, perhaps because of Dewberry’s twins, perhaps because of her growing fondness for Hazelwind. She wondered what it would be like to fly with the buckskin stallion for any reason other than fear, battle, or escape. What would it be like to have a little fun?