Riders of the Realm #3 Read online

  Dedication

  FOR HORSES,

  WILD AND TAME,

  WISHING YOU PEACE

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Sandwen Clans

  Kihlari

  Storm Herd

  Gorlan Hordes

  Maps

  1.The Soup

  2.The Fifth Clan

  3.Trial

  4.The Warren

  5.Big Rain

  6.The Plan

  7.Rice Farm

  8.The Dragon

  9.Guilt

  10.The Queen’s Elixir

  11.A Way Home

  12.Strangers

  13.Queen of the Fifth

  14.Guest

  15.The Chute

  16.The Letter

  17.The Bet

  18.Dragonfire

  19.No Mercy

  20.Darthan’s Question

  21.The Eighth Tower

  22.Rescue

  23.The Team

  24.Western Wilds

  25.Redfire’s Discovery

  26.The Pond

  27.Scout

  28.Reunited

  29.The River

  30.Dawn

  31.The Ruk

  32.Descent

  33.Storm Herd

  34.Chase

  35.Showdown

  36.Trapped

  37.The Last Dose

  38.Three Hordes

  39.Waterbringer

  40.Home

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Praise

  Books by Jennifer Lynn Alvarez

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Epigraph

  Neither friend nor foe

  Where giants go.

  Deep, deep in the jungle keep.

  Neither man nor beast

  Where giants feast.

  Deep, deep in the jungle keep.

  —Fire Horde song

  Sandwen Clans

  Humans

  BRIM CARVER—animal doctor of the Fifth Clan

  KOKO DALE—age fifteen; head groom of the Kihlari stable of the Fifth Clan Sky Guard

  MUT FINN—age fifteen; leader of the Sandwen teens, kids too old for games but too young for war

  OSSI FINN—caretaker of Brauk Stormrunner. Sister to Mut Finn

  WILLA GREEN—Daakuran merchant, operates a tent at the trading post

  KASHIK HIGHTOWER—operates a food kiosk at the trading post. Mother to Tuni Hightower. Nickname: Kashi

  TUNI HIGHTOWER—Headwind of Dusk Patrol, member of the Fifth Clan Sky Guard. Kihlara mount: Rizah

  HARAK NIGHTSEER—Headwind of Day Patrol, member of the Fifth Clan Sky Guard. Kihlara mount: Ilan

  JUL RANGER—age fourteen; Meela Swift’s apprentice

  BRAUK STORMRUNNER—Rahkki’s brother, Headwind of Dawn Patrol, member of the Fifth Clan Sky Guard. Kihlari mount: Kol

  UNCLE DARTHAN STORMRUNNER—rice farmer of the Fifth Clan. Uncle to Brauk and Rahkki on their mother’s side

  RAHKKI STORMRUNNER—age thirteen; Rider in the Sky Guard army. Kihlara mount: Sula

  REYELLA STORMRUNNER—past queen of the Fifth Clan, supplanted by Lilliam Whitehall. Mother to Rahkki and Brauk. Kihlara mount: Drael

  MEELA SWIFT—provisional Headwind of Dawn Patrol. Kihlara mount: Jax

  GENERAL AKMID TSUN—commander of the Land Guard army. Deceased

  PRINCESS I’LENNA WHITEHALL—age twelve; eldest daughter of Queen Lilliam. Crown Princess of the Fifth Clan. Kihlara mount: Firo

  PRINCESS JOR WHITEHALL—age five; youngest daughter of Queen Lilliam

  PRINCE K’LAR WHITEHALL—newborn son of Queen Lilliam

  PRINCESS RAYNI WHITEHALL—age eight; middle daughter of Queen Lilliam

  QUEEN LILLIAM WHITEHALL—leader of the Fifth Clan, prior princess of the Second Clan. Also referred to as Queen of the Fifth. Kihlara mount: Mahrsan

  QUEEN TAVARA WHITEHALL—leader of the Second Clan. Mother to Queen Lilliam

  TAMBOR WOODSON—age fifteen; Mut Finn’s best friend

  Places

  DAAKURAN EMPIRE—across the bay from the Sandwen Realm is the empire, a highly populated land of commerce, academics, and magic. Common language of the empire: Talu

  SANDWEN CLANS—seven clans of people founded by the Seven Sisters, each ruled by a monarch queen. Clan language: Sandwen

  Sandwen Clan Divinities

  GRANAK—“Father of Dragons,” guardian mascot of the Fifth Clan. Sixteen-foot-tall, thirty-three-foot-long drooling lizard called a spit dragon

  KAJI (sing.), KAJIES (pl.)—troublesome or playful spirits

  THE SEVEN SISTERS—the royal founders of the seven Sandwen clans

  SULA—“Mother of Serpents,” guardian mascot of the Second Clan. Forty-two-foot jungle python

  SUNCHASER—the moon

  Kihlari

  (KEE-lar-ee) (pl.), Kihlara (sing.)

  Translation: “Children of the Wind”

  Tame pegasi of the Sandwen Clans

  DRAEL—Queen Reyella’s Chosen stallion. Small bay with black-tipped dark-amber feathers, fluffy black mane and tail, white muzzle, four white socks

  ILAN—white stallion with black spots, black mane and tail, dark-silver wings edged in black

  JAX—gold dun stallion, dark-orange wings at the mantle changing to midnight-blue toward the ends, black mane and tail, white snip on muzzle

  KOL—shiny chestnut stallion with bright-yellow feathers, yellow-streaked red mane and tail, white blaze, two white hind socks

  MAHRSAN—Queen Lilliam’s Chosen stallion. Blood-bay with sapphire-blue feathers edged in white, black mane and tail, jagged white blaze, four white socks

  RIZAH—golden palomino pinto mare with dark-pink feathers edged in gold, white-and-gold mixed mane and tail

  TOR—Drael’s identical twin. Belonged to Uncle Darthan Stormrunner. Deceased

  Storm Herd

  Wild pegasi from Anok

  DEWBERRY—bay pinto mare with emerald feathers, black mane and tail, thin blaze on forehead, two white hind anklets

  ECHOFROST—sleek silver mare with a mix of dark- and light-purple feathers, white mane and tail, one white sock

  GRAYSTONE—white stallion with pale-yellow feathers each with a silver center, blue eyes, silver mane and tail

  HAZELWIND—buckskin stallion with jade feathers, black mane and tail, big white blaze, two white hind socks

  REDFIRE—tall copper chestnut stallion with dark-gold feathers, dark-red mane and tail, white star on forehead

  SHYSONG—blue roan mare with dusty-blue feathers edged in black, ice-blue eyes, black mane and tail, jagged blaze, two hind socks

  Gorlan Hordes

  Giant Folk

  Living in the mountains in three separate hordes—Highland Horde, Fire Horde, and Great Cave Horde. They stand from eleven to fourteen feet tall. All have red hair, pale skin, and a double set of tusks. Language: Gorlish, a form of sign language

  PRINCE DAANATH—prince of Highland Horde. Father to Drake, Fallon, Krell, and Miah

  Maps

  1

  The Soup

  “LET ME GO,” RAHKKI SIGNED. HIS MOTHER HAD taught him the silent language of the giants when he was a toddler, and he was grateful for it now. The Highland prince had captured him and was taking Rahkki to his soup cauldron—whether to feed him or eat him, Rahkki wasn’t sure.

  The prince ignored Rahkki’s plea as they traversed a weed-strewn plateau aboard an elephant. Rahkki peered over the bull’s head. Jagged peaks sawed the skyline that surrounded the Highland encampment, which was a flat mesa sliced across otherwise rugged terrain. Beyond the
camp, tame elephants foraged in a trampled clearing and the sky spanned overhead, a smear of blue between the mountains.

  “I saved your life,” Rahkki mumbled. The giants didn’t understand his Sandwen language, but just yesterday Rahkki had saved this Gorlan prince from being eaten by a snake. He should be grateful!

  The prince’s blue eyes narrowed. His breath whooshed in a rumbling snarl.

  Highland Horde had just returned from war with Rahkki’s clan over the release of the wild Kihlari steeds. Queen Lilliam had dispatched the Fifth Clan armies to rescue the rare animals so she could sell them. However, the wild herd had escaped during the battle and flown away. Rahkki was glad about this. His Flier, Sula, was finally free.

  But the wild herd’s freedom was the only good thing that had come from that battle. In the middle of it, civil war had erupted between the Sandwens loyal to Queen Lilliam and the rebels who were loyal to her eldest daughter, Princess I’Lenna. I’Lenna’s side had lost and Harak had arrested her after killing her most loyal supporter, General Tsun.

  Rahkki sighed. Everything had gone wrong and he had to get home. He turned his golden eyes toward the Highland prince. “Let me go,” he repeated. “Please.”

  The prince chuffed, sounding to Rahkki like a jungle tiger. They entered the Highland camp and giants approached from every direction when they spied their prince. They beat the mossy stone and roared like thunderclouds, gesturing to one another in rapid Gorlish.

  Rahkki flinched, and sparkling pain shot through his injured ankle. Fire Horde giants had fractured it when he’d tried to protect I’Lenna from them, and Sula had been injured too. She’d taken an arrow meant for Rahkki. Truly, nothing had gone as he’d expected.

  He scanned the patchy blue skies, hoping Sula’s injury wouldn’t prevent her from leaving the Realm with her wild herd. His belly tightened with worry.

  Trailing behind Rahkki and the prince were wounded Highland warriors and their elephants, straggling into camp. Several giants ran to help their hordemates while the prince continued on with Rahkki. Soon they arrived at the massive cauldron of soup that simmered over a low flame. A huge shade structure loomed above it, protecting the broth from rain and sun.

  “Daanath! Daanath!” the giants signed in Gorlish. Rahkki didn’t know what the word meant, but understood that it was the Highland prince’s name or title, or both.

  Daanath curled his lips, showing the full length of his yellowed tusks. His horde gathered closer, growing silent and expectant. Some drooled, others licked their lips. Rahkki, who had been raised on Fifth Clan warnings, feared the worst.

  Be home by dark or the giants will eat you.

  Take your bath or the giants will smell you.

  Go to sleep or the giants will hear you.

  Next, the Highland king emerged from his tent and a hush fell over the encampment. Rahkki knew from listening to his brother, Brauk, that Gorlan princes led raids and commanded warriors under the watchful eyes of their kings. Kings also enforced horde laws.

  Prince Daanath dipped his head toward his gigantic sire, and Rahkki’s eyes drifted up the king’s wide girth and thick chest, to his graying red hair. The Highland leader plodded across the flat mesa, tusks bared, and sank his heavy body onto a seat that had been carved from a great boulder. He turned his attention to the soup.

  Bubbles popped on the surface of the broth, releasing a scent that, surprisingly, wasn’t awful. How will it taste with me in it, Rahkki wondered. A light breeze ruffled his hair, carrying the faint scent of rain.

  The horde passed stacks of empty bowls to one another, forming a circle around the cauldron. The toddlers, some as tall as Rahkki, leaped up and down, rumbling happily and clutching their bowls to their chests.

  They’re excited to eat me, Rahkki thought. Fresh pain erupted from his injured ankle and crackled up his leg. He flopped over and vomited all over the prince’s callused fingers.

  The Gorlander swapped Rahkki to his cleaner hand and wiped the dirty one on his loincloth. But he continued stomping toward the soup.

  “Stop,” Rahkki gestured.

  They reached the rim of the pot. The chuffing and roaring ceased.

  “Help me,” Rahkki signed, throwing the same words at the prince that the prince had used when the python had attacked him.

  Daanath didn’t respond.

  Land to skies! Rahkki had saved countless lives—both human and giant—during the day’s battle. He’d shot the giants using darts treated with powerful medicine. He’d fooled everyone into thinking he was a mighty warrior by putting Gorlan warriors temporarily to sleep. This had prevented much bloodshed, and when the quick-acting sedative wore off, the giants had risen, unharmed.

  But, as usual, Rahkki’s plans seemed to have backfired. His clan had called him a Deathlifter, the most terrifying type of sorcerer, and they’d abandoned him. And now this horde wanted to eat him. It didn’t seem fair, honestly. Don’t wish for life to be fair, Rahkki—this was one of his uncle’s favorite sayings, and Rahkki sighed because he couldn’t stop wishing it.

  The youngest giants grew restless and began slapping their hands against the bottoms of their carved wooden soup bowls, creating a unique and complicated rhythm. The beat swelled as each member of the horde drummed, adding to the song until it culminated in a deafening crescendo that abruptly ended. The giants plopped down all at once.

  Just get it over with and toss me into the soup, Rahkki wanted to shout. Large logs glowed red beneath the cauldron and the steady heat warmed his face.

  Prince Daanath finally set Rahkki down. Rahkki peeked at the rain forest that surrounded the mesa. If his ankle weren’t busted, he’d run for it.

  Six lanky Gorlanders approached the cauldron, wielding ladles. They dipped them into the soup and then trod around the circle, filling the bowls.

  Rahkki stared at his human-sized serving, exhaling in relief and horror. They weren’t going to eat him; they were going to feed him. Neither option was ideal. Green and brown lumps floated on the surface of the yellow broth. Rahkki couldn’t make out if the lumps were flesh, roots, vegetables, or all of that. What if there were Sandwens in this soup? His belly shrank, but his mouth watered. He’d missed lunch, after all, and the soup’s scent was surprisingly good.

  The prince motioned toward his mouth, and Rahkki recognized the Gorlish word eat. His mother had used it often when Rahkki was young.

  He shook his head. “No, thank you.” Perhaps if he refused it, they’d offer him something else. Something less . . . disgusting.

  The prince snarled at Rahkki so loudly that the boy covered his ears. “Eat,” he repeated.

  Rahkki’s blood drained toward his toes. Suddenly he understood why Queen Lilliam had refused her portion when the Gorlanders had come to parlay for their ancient farmland. Maybe it wasn’t because Lilliam didn’t speak Gorlish, maybe it was because the soup was bloody disgusting and she didn’t want to be a cannibal! “No eat,” he signed, wishing he knew their language better.

  The prince slammed the mesa with both fists. The black cauldron rocked and the horde screeched. Rahkki scooted away from Daanath, crawling like a three-legged crab.

  Signing fluidly, the prince spoke to him while the horde waited. Rahkki stared at the prince’s fingers, trying to understand. Around him stomachs grumbled and drool seeped, but not one Gorlander touched the soup. It dawned on him that the horde would not eat until he did. They’re trying to honor me, he realized.

  Rahkki knew his mother, Reyella Stormrunner, the past Queen of the Fifth, would never refuse this honor. He inched closer to his bowl, glancing up at Prince Daanath. The beast curled his lips again, showing the full length of his sharp tusks. Was he smiling or snarling? Did it matter? If Rahkki didn’t eat the soup, the horde would only get hungrier waiting on him. They might change their minds and toss him into the pot after all.

  “Okay,” he said, breathing through his mouth. He lifted the bowl to his lips, and the entire horde leaned closer and excited
grumbling buzzed around the circle.

  Warm soup flowed toward Rahkki’s throat. He slurped a mouthful, chewed the lumps, and swallowed. He’d expected to vomit, but instead wonderful flavors burst across his tongue, making him gasp.

  The horde exhaled in a collective sigh of satisfaction.

  Rahkki drank more. Delicate seasonings spiced the savory broth and it slid smoothly down his gullet, causing his eyes to roll with pleasure. Never in his life had he tasted anything so good, so comforting.

  All around him the giants roared their approval and tipped their bowls to their mouths.

  The more Rahkki drank, the more he wanted, and his entire body hummed as the nutrition flooded his bloodstream and raced through his limbs. The pain in his ankle subsided and contentment filled him. He finished the entire bowl and then licked the side. When he was finished, he reclined on the stone, lost in a stupor of satisfaction.

  The horde also finished and then broke their circle to return to their camp duties. The children gathered around Rahkki, breathing loudly. He recognized the prince’s flame-haired daughter. She and her brothers had attended the Sandwen parlay with their sire. That peace negotiation had failed as miserably as I’Lenna’s more recent one.

  Rahkki shifted his attention back to the prince. “I go home now?” he signed.

  The giant shook his head. “The three hordes are meeting to discuss your clan. You will attend the meeting.”

  Rahkki didn’t catch every word, but he understood well enough and melted into the stone. “Why? When?”

  “Soon,” the prince answered without further elaboration.

  “But I can’t wait.”

  The prince slammed down his fist. “You can wait.”

  Rahkki narrowed his eyes. Why did the hordes want to meet with him? He had no power, nothing to say.

  Daanath’s clawed hand swept toward him and, moments later, he deposited Rahkki into what appeared to be a Gorlish healing tent. Everything inside was Gorlan sized—the tools, the containers, the cabinets, and the wooden cots. Rahkki recognized special herbs hanging from the ceiling and rolled bandages, supplies similar to those used by Brim Carver, the Fifth Clan’s healer. Wounded warriors lay strewn on cots and across the floor. They grunted at Rahkki, not quite as accepting of the Sandwen boy as their unscathed hordemates.