Rahkki edged closer to his sister. “Put on your crown.” It was time for Feylah to take her place as queen, now, while they had the upper hand and before anyone got any other ideas.
To the shocked stares of the clan, Feylah reached into Drael’s saddlebag and withdrew her crown. Crafted of bone and yellowed dragon’s teeth, helmed by a gigantic black scale, and tipped in luminescent sea pearls, this was authentic. This was the original Fifth Clan headpiece, fashioned by the ancient Sister who’d founded their clan. It was Reyella’s crown, an artifact Lilliam had claimed to have burned on the funeral pyre. More proof of her lies. Feylah lowered it onto her head and the Fifth Clan understood: this was their true queen.
Rahkki glanced back to see that Lilliam had swallowed the healing venom. Darthan ordered her moved back into her chamber, under a team of guards selected by him. Harak was also put under guard, and then Darthan joined Rahkki, Brauk, and Feylah.
At the sight of the Stormrunners reunited, the Fifth Clan rose to their feet and cheered. Darthan raised his hands to speak, but he was interrupted.
A horse and rider galloped through the open iron gates and skidded to a halt in front of them. Rahkki gaped at the rider, a woman in a long skirt and no shoes, with disheveled gray hair. Her cheeks were bright red. It was Brim Carver.
“Giants!” she yelled. “The giants are here!”
38
Three Hordes
THUNDERING STEPS RATTLED THE GROUND AND Rahkki whirled. From the jungle lands south of Fort Prowl, saber cats leaped out of the trees and landed, blinking in the sun. Their teenage riders snarled, flashing their short tusks and waving their long spears. Elephants trotted out behind them, trunks raised and trumpeting.
And then huge dark shapes emerged, the adult Gorlan warriors. They were barefoot and draped in skins. Bulging muscles corded their legs. The three princes followed, one astride an elephant, one aboard a giant fanged cat, and the other walking with a flight of flame-breathing dragons circling his head.
Rahkki and the others sucked in their breath. His people rushed to close and lock the iron gates. Tak darted toward the sky, and the wild herd flew up the fortress walls to watch. Brim clamped one hand around the medicine satchel she’d brought with her.
The three Gorlan armies marched right past the Kihlari training yard and headed straight for Fort Prowl.
“Riders up!” Brauk cried, and whistled for Kol.
“No!” Rahkki roared, shaking his head. “Stand down!”
Brauk cocked his head.
I’Lenna grabbed Rahkki’s hand and peered up at him. “What are you doing? We can’t lose the clan now. We have to fight.”
I’Lenna’s sacrifices rushed across her face in waves of grief. She’d toppled her mother and thwarted her grandmother—she’d risked her own life and livelihood so that the Fifth Clan could live free of the Second. They’d just won, and now they stood to lose everything again. Rahkki hugged I’Lenna tight, crushing her against his chest. “We won’t lose the clan. Don’t worry.”
Rahkki leaped onto an unused wagon so everyone could see him. He lifted his hands. “Don’t fight the Gorlanders,” he said. “We cannot win a battle against three hordes and all their animals.”
His clanmates didn’t deny that. At least fifteen hundred giants stood outside their gates, three hordes working together. It was unprecedented. It was an impossible battle to win.
Prince Daanath spotted Rahkki and roared. The noise concussed the air, like an ancient tree falling, shocking Sandwen ears and rattling their brains.
“Granak protect us,” I’Lenna breathed.
“You lived with giants, right?” Feylah asked, breathless. “What do they want?”
Everyone crowded closer and Rahkki found himself standing in the center of a huge semicircle—tame steeds, Sandwen warriors, and his sister—each staring at the boy who had escaped the giants.
His eyes bounced across his people. “They want their ancient land back, and we’re going to give it to them.”
No one argued with Rahkki. In the face of three Gorlan armies, the land no longer seemed very important.
About fifty Gorlanders stormed toward Fort Prowl’s iron gates carrying a massive tree trunk.
Rahkki’s scalp tingled. “It’s a battering ram!” he shouted.
“Stinkin’ giants!” Brauk grumbled, spitting over his shoulder.
The Gorlanders carried the tree to the massive gates and swung it backward and then forward, ramming it into the iron. The gates shook and the people inside the courtyard flinched back.
“Hold steady!” Rahkki hollered. He approached the gates. Sula dived off the fortress wall, landed, and walked beside him. Rahkki touched her shoulder, grateful for her presence.
The giants rammed the gates again. Prince Daanath’s blue eyes met Rahkki’s through the iron bars.
“My people won’t fight you,” Rahkki signed.
“Good,” Daanath replied, flashing his tusks.
Rahkki grimaced. “We have a new queen. She’s my sister.” He pointed at Feylah, who was still wearing her dragon-tooth crown. “She will honor our bargain. She will share soup.”
The prince peered hard at Feylah. She met his gaze without wavering and Rahkki felt proud of her. Then Daanath returned his attention to Rahkki. “It’s too late.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Rahkki signed wildly.
The giants rammed their trunk again and Fort Prowl’s metal gates screamed like dying animals as they parted and fell, striking the soil. Sula flared her wings and Rahkki gripped her mane, ready to leap aboard if they had to flee.
The giants dropped their massive battering ram. It rolled down the hill, across the Kihlari training yard, and crashed into the stable, tearing down a section of the wall, where it shuddered to a halt. The Gorlanders stood on one side of the broken gates and the Sandwens stood on the other. They stared at one another for a heartbeat.
Then the Sandwens lunged for their weapons. The giants snarled.
“I said stand down!” Rahkki screamed.
Feylah leaped onto a large wagon. “You heard my brother. Stand down,” she commanded her people, and the Sandwens stilled.
Rahkki remembered words Brauk had once spoken. I’m a warrior, Rahkki, and I’ll die someday; but when it happens, it won’t be some stinking giant that does it. It will be something much grander. A vision of Brauk lying dead in this very courtyard flashed across his mind. His brother was right! It would not be a giant that killed him; it would be three hordes of giants if Rahkki didn’t do something! His gut thrashed. He’d caused this—somehow he had to fix it.
“We surrender,” Rahkki gestured. He hoped that his clan’s refusal to fight would disarm the giants. They wouldn’t massacre helpless Sandwens, would they?
Brauk strode across the courtyard. “Giants don’t believe in mercy, Rahkki. If we surrender, we die.”
“We’ve been wrong about the giants more than we’ve been right,” Rahkki argued, and Brauk had no response to that.
Sweat dribbled into Rahkki’s eyes. His silly trick with the hot pepper in Granak’s mouth and the darts treated with sleep medicine had won him some respect on both sides of this skirmish, but he doubted it would last long.
With his blood singing, Rahkki spoke to everyone in Sandwen and Gorlish at the same time. “My mother had a dream that Sandwens and Gorlanders could live in peace.” He swallowed. “I believe in this dream too.”
Rahkki pointed to the fallow farmland his clan used for Gatherings. “That land is sacred to the hordes,” he told his people. “Their founding king, Lazrah, made the first soup there and formed the three hordes. They will not rest until this land is returned to them.”
Rahkki turned to the three princes. “There is no reason to fight. Let’s make peace.”
The Fire Horde prince set his jaw. “No reason to fight? You ruined our soup, you’ve weakened my horde. I say, no more Fifth Clan!”
The other hordes roared their agreement. Even the an
imals responded, the saber cats snarling and the elephants trumpeting as if in approval. The giants encircled the weaponless Sandwens. The Fire prince flashed his tusks. “Your blood will appease our ancient king.” His eyes turned cold.
Hot anger shot through Rahkki’s veins. A lifetime of getting chased, dunked in pig slop, teased, robbed, dragged by his ears, and pushed around by kids—and adults like Harak—coursed through him. The giants were just bigger bullies! Rahkki had had enough.
He roared and beat the courtyard’s stone pavers. He did this three times. If the giants understood anything, it was a Gorlan fit, and Rahkki had learned how to throw one from a master—the young giantess named Miah.
The three princes gaped at him. Sula reared, alarmed.
Rahkki gestured in huge exaggerated hand movements. “I have shown mercy. I saved your prince from the snake. I woke your fallen warriors. You have not shown me the same. Let my people go or I will destroy you all!”
The Great Cave Horde prince snorted. “You can’t.”
Rahkki worked his jaw. It was true. He couldn’t. The giants had him and his clan right where they wanted him. Rahkki had lost, but he could not accept it. Angry tears collected in his eyes. He stared up at the sky and called on the guardian spirit of his people. “Granak! As a bloodborn prince of the Fifth Clan, I command you to protect us!”
Brauk sighed and shook his head.
But Rahkki believed in Granak. Why did his people feed the huge lizard if not for his protection? Please, Rahkki thought, hear my call!
His people glanced toward the jungle, as though Granak might appear. The giants flexed for attack.
And then Rahkki’s plea was answered.
39
Waterbringer
A THUNDEROUS CRACK RESOUNDED FROM THE north.
Brauk startled. “What’s that?”
“It’s Granak!” someone cried.
But it wasn’t the dragon. Instead, Rahkki heard a wall of water come rushing toward them. He smiled, having recognized the huge noise. “Our guardian spirit broke Darthan’s levy!” he shouted.
Rahkki met I’Lenna’s sharp glance. They’d seen the levy after she’d fallen into the River Tsallan. It was bulging then, barely able to hold the raging monsoon waters. Today’s rain had strained the levy too far, and the soil was too wet to soak up another drop. Every Sandwen knew what was coming next. Flood!
The village, the horse arena, the Ruk, the Kihlari stable, and the fallows would soon be doused in water. The fortress stood on a hill, so the Sandwens were safe. But the giants were not. The bulk of the Gorlan forces and animals were spread across the valley below—and giants couldn’t swim!
Rahkki reached out his hands. “Big water is coming,” he signed. “Because you refused to show us mercy.”
The princes scoffed at him. One glanced up. The rain had skidded into a light drizzle. A few sunrays poked through the dark clouds. They could not imagine where big water would come from.
Then the floodwaters appeared, rolling across the soil. They crashed through the valley, pushing down trees, sweeping up debris, and racing toward the giants. The first few Gorlanders spotted the water and rumbled in terror. It sped toward the lowland fields. Horror rooted the giants to the ground.
“RUN!” the three princes signed, adding sharp roars and chuffs, inflaming their hordes. They rushed down the hill to help their hordemates.
But it was too late. The floodwaters plowed into the lower valley and swept all the giants off their bare feet. Saber cats snarled and screeched. Elephants skidded across the terrain, their trunks reaching for the sky. The giants shrieked in alarm, choking when their mouths filled with water.
Brauk whistled for the Kihlari Fliers. They came and the Riders leaped aboard and flew toward the giants, attempting to rescue them, but the giants were too big.
The floodwaters flowed deep, reaching the giants’ chests and tumbling them. They floundered and sputtered, trying to swim, not realizing they could stand. They pounced on debris that sank under their weight, reached for hanging branches that snapped in their clawed hands, and sucked huge mouthfuls of water.
The elephants braced, some holding their ground as the waters split around them, others floating with the current. Saber cats struck out, swimming powerfully and furiously, their jaws hinged open, lips curled back. Some leaped onto the backs of the elephants, which caused more furious trumpeting.
Rahkki’s heart hammered as the waters reached their crescendo and then ebbed, spreading across the vast lowland valley. The giants lay fanned out in spluttering, heavy clumps, like beached whales. Sunbeams stretched from the sky, further confusing the hordes because they didn’t understand where the water had come from.
Prince Daanath pushed himself out of the mud, but remained squatting, disoriented. The Fire and Great Cave princes wobbled to their feet and lumbered to join their counterpart. The three horde armies choked and gasped all around them, the fight gone from their eyes. They turned their attention to Rahkki.
He was still angry at the Gorlanders for being unreasonable. He used that anger now. Leaping aboard Sula, Rahkki flew down and hovered above the princes. “The thousand-year war ends today,” he signed. “The sacred land is yours, always was yours.” He waved his hand over the balance of the Fifth Clan territory. “And this land is ours. You will not destroy it. You will not raid us. You will not hurt my people. If you do, I will call the water back.”
Rahkki glanced at his brother, who soared nearby, and they each smiled. Let your legend bloom remained the best and worst advice Rahkki had ever received from Brauk.
The three princes consulted. After some furious gesturing, they faced Rahkki and nodded agreement. Prince Daanath made a special signal with his hand, and the hordes repeated the motion. It was a clenched fist and then four fingers pointed down. Rahkki blinked, confused. That gesture was also the sign of the Sandwen rebellion. He’d seen General Tsun use it before he died.
I’Lenna had boarded Firo and she flew up beside him. Her dark eyes shone when she smiled. “General Tsun borrowed the signal from the giants. The gesture means peace in Gorlish,” she said. “But it also means family. Giants use the same word for both, and General Tsun felt it suited the purpose of the rebellion.”
Rahkki’s eyes stung with relief. It had taken Granak’s spirit, or perhaps very lucky timing, to terrify the Gorlanders into making peace, but it was done. He’d done it! He’d forged a lasting truce with all three hordes, the dream of his mother. He closed his eyes, turned his face to the peeking sun. Remember, you have your mother’s blood in your veins, Darthan had said, and Rahkki felt Reyella now, smiling upon him from above. Rahkki the Clever, her voice washed over him like wind.
He clasped I’Lenna’s hand and then Brauk’s. Brauk reached for Feylah, and Feylah reached for Darthan. They created a chain. “We’re stronger together,” Rahkki said.
Darthan grinned, eyes glimmering. “Your mother’s words.”
Sula nickered to him and Rahkki paused, dreading what he knew would happen next.
“It’s time to say good-bye,” I’Lenna whispered.
40
Home
ECHOFROST STUDIED RAHKKI AS HE BROKE FROM his family and ran to her, hugging her tight. She rested her head on his shoulder. Rahkki inhaled and his body shuddered.
“One last flight?” he whispered.
Echofrost felt his pulse thump harder and knew what he wanted. She slid her wing aside and Rahkki unbuckled and removed her bridle, saddle, and armor. Then he threw his leg over her bare back and settled behind her purple feathers. She didn’t understand how the Sandwens had made peace with the giants, but they had done it. Brim was with the Gorlanders now, brewing tea to relax them after the near drowning. The Sandwens had also overthrown Lilliam and the Fifth Clan was at peace. Echofrost pressed her forehead to Rahkki’s, proud that Storm Herd had helped his clan, but it was time to go. She sensed that Rahkki understood.
“I’m taking him up,” she nickered to Haz
elwind.
He nudged her. “Go on. We’re not leaving here until Dewberry convinces at least one mare and foal to come with us.”
Dewberry had flown to Darthan’s barn and collected her twins. Now she stood with the Ruk steeds and Fliers, nickering and fluttering her wings as she spoke about their ancestors, their legends, and why they should join Storm Herd and live wild. Windheart and Thornblaze played beside her, rearing and ramming each other.
Redfire interjected with stories of his own, and the calm, handsome stallion was winning the tame Kihlari over faster than Dewberry. Several Fliers and Ruk steeds charged forward, quickly followed by more, eager to join Storm Herd and raise their own families. Echofrost counted breeding stallions, brood mares, foals, elders, and warriors who’d recently lost their Riders. The sight of the foals and elders bolstered her good mood. They would be a real herd, not just a stranded group of young refugees from Anok.
Others, like Kol and Drael and Rizah, chose to remain with the Fifth Clan. The giants had brought Tuni’s mare with them and they released Rizah after the flood. Now the golden pinto stood with Tuni, reunited, and their bond was as powerful as any herd bond. Echofrost had ceased judging the foreign pegasi for their attachments to Landwalkers. Had she been raised with Rahkki from foalhood, she might not leave him either. The tame Kihlari were choosing to stay, and in that regard, they were free.
Hazelwind arched his neck, peering at her through his thick forelock. “We have a future now,” he nickered.
Happiness swept through Echofrost as she whinnied and lashed her tail. “Yes, a future together!” She kicked off the hard stone and spiraled toward the parting clouds.
“Yah, Sula!” Rahkki cheered, leaning over her neck.
This was their final flight, but Echofrost was no longer worried about leaving Rahkki a Half. Her cub had never been more whole! His clan was free of Lilliam, his brother could walk, and his sister was home.
Riders of the Realm #3 Page 22
