Riders of the Realm #3 Read online

  “Are we following them or not?” Graystone asked.

  Echofrost pinned her ears. “We are.” She was getting ahead of herself. She would see Rahkki safely home, then she would find a home of her own.

  “Anything is better than waiting in this rain,” Dewberry nickered.

  The pegasi turned as one and followed the Landwalkers into the jungle. Echofrost felt good; they were taking action and they were together.

  Ossi Finn glanced back, saw the wild herd trailing them, and shoved Brauk. “You owe me two dramals.”

  18

  Dragonfire

  AFTER ESCAPING THE WARREN, RAHKKI HAD trekked all day, camped overnight, and now it was daylight again. His ankle had begun to throb, he still hadn’t found a Sandwen travelway home, and the clouds were still dumping rain. “I’m lost,” he moaned to Tak.

  The little dragon hummed as Rahkki absently stroked him. Rahkki was no longer afraid of the dragon’s sharp teeth or barbed tail. Tak was annoying—he often nipped Rahkki for attention—but he was also affectionate. Tak pressed into the boy’s fingers, his eyes drowsy with pleasure.

  Rahkki sat on a log, frustrated and wet. The monsoon rains hadn’t let up long enough for the sun to dry him since he’d left the warren. His fingers and toes were soggy. His clothes had begun to fray and tear at the seams. Thankfully, Tak’s dragonfire was impervious to water. He cooked Rahkki’s food and, last night, he lit a small, warming campfire out of a pile of moist sticks that Rahkki had stacked.

  “Sandwens don’t get lost,” Rahkki complained as he rested. The incessant clouds shielded the stars, and the tall trees blocked his view of landmarks. Rahkki hadn’t traveled much as a kid, and when he had gone anywhere, it had been aboard Kol with Brauk. Navigating was easy in the heights, where he could see everything spread below him like a living map.

  A map! Rahkki decided to draw one from memory. It might help him decide which way to walk. He grabbed a fallen branch, smoothed the soil below his bare feet, and began to draw.

  Mount Crim, the River Tsallan, Cinder Bay, and the travelways. He placed a mark where he thought he was right now, and then looked around and sighed. He still had no idea which direction to go.

  Tak winged overhead, gliding between the trees like a tiny Kihlara, and Rahkki got another idea. “Mushka!” he said, idiot. If he climbed the highest tree, he might be able to see a travelway.

  As he searched for the best climbing tree, the hairs on his arms lifted. He paused. Other than the soft pelting rain, utter silence had befallen the jungle—it was so out of place that the quiet seemed louder than the usual noise. He closed his eyes and sent his ears out into the jungle, listening.

  Clack. Clackety-clack. Clack.

  He recognized the soft clapping of hard-shelled legs—an ant army. Rahkki normally might have ignored this—ant armies were easily avoided—but this one was gigantic; he could tell by the sheer volume of noise building in the distance.

  He spun in a circle—how far away were they?

  Then, to his horror, the soil around him shifted and a red, antennae-crowned head emerged from the mud. The rat-sized ant dragged itself out of the dirt and clapped its legs. The jungle floor seemed to roll as a thousand more ants hatched, full grown and starving. They snapped their sharp jaws and reached their razor-haired legs toward him.

  Bile filled Rahkki’s mouth. These weren’t regular ants; they were monsoon ants! The eggs lay dormant all year until the monsoon rains flooded the soil and activated them to hatch. Rahkki must have stumbled upon one of their birthing grounds. Hundreds, maybe thousands, were erupting out of the dirt all around this part of the jungle. No creature was too large for the army to swarm and eat. They turned their bright heads toward Rahkki.

  He leaped to the nearest branch and pulled himself into a tree, his heart galloping. Rahkki despised ants, but monsoon ants were the worst. “Tak!” he cried in a panic.

  The dragon landed on his head and screeched angrily at the insects.

  The jungle floor heaved and shifted as even more hibernating ants awakened. Decaying plants, carcasses, and living creatures—everything in their path would be devoured by morning.

  Rahkki was about to climb higher when a soft growl reached his ears. Peeking through his lashes, he spotted a frightened panther crouched above him. She was small, probably a female, and also hiding from the ants. Her yellow eyes narrowed in warning. Her jaws parted in a silent hiss.

  Tak flapped off Rahkki’s shoulder and spit hot flames at the cat while Rahkki eased his way down the tree trunk. The panther swiped at the dragon and missed. She stepped down one branch and whipped her tail, her muscles rippling beneath her wet fur. Her eyes locked on Rahkki.

  Bloody rain, he thought. The cat wiggled slightly, testing the steadiness of the tree, preparing to pounce.

  Below marched thousands of the huge aggressive ants.

  Rahkki would have to choose—die by fang and claw, or get chewed to death by ants the size of his fist? The panther sprang. Rahkki let go and fell toward the jungle floor. The panther’s claws raked his outer tunic, ripping the fabric.

  Rahkki landed on top of the ants. His foot squashed one and slid across another. A shrill, primal scream rose in his throat. The ant tide turned toward him. Rahkki sprinted away, his heart pounding faster than his bare feet. Tak glided overhead, chortling at the insects as if scolding them.

  Rahkki’s eyes swept the muddy terrain and he skipped over as many ants as he could. A female emerged right in front of him, her spiked legs straining as she pulled herself headfirst out of the ground. Swiveling her shiny antennae, she spotted Rahkki and began a ferocious clapping with her front legs. The jungle floor bubbled and more giant ants pushed out.

  Disgust churned his gut. “Help me, Tak!”

  The golden burner soared through the raindrops and dived toward the insects, shooting blue flames, his hottest. Ants caught fire and exploded. Their disembodied legs and shells spiraled into the sky.

  A jointed leg stuck to Rahkki’s wet skin and he had to swipe it off with his hand. Bile rose again in his throat, but he gagged it back down. Meanwhile, Tak scorched the earth. His golden eyes turned black and his juvenile barbs glowed. Panting, he fed his fire with the jungle air, creating hotter and hotter flames and sending the ants scurrying into retreat.

  “Good boy, Tak!” Rahkki cried. The burner puffed his chest and extended his frills.

  Rahkki sprinted through the trees, leaping over ants as they continued to shove out of the dirt, their jaws gaping for food. Tak glided lower, shooting firebolts at them when they popped out of the ground. The jungle filled with smoke, broken red shells, and sizzling flames.

  But for all that, the ants caught up to Rahkki and swarmed his legs. He drew Miah’s dagger and attacked, knocking the ants off his skin and skewering them. Tak squalled, flaming the brush around Rahkki, creating smoke that confused the swarm. The rain and fire formed hot steam that rose like tendrils toward the sky.

  The ants kept coming. They scurried up Rahkki’s legs, clamped their mandibles around his flesh, and then jammed him with their stingers. The venom burned as it shot through his body. Land to skies, why ants! Is this a nightmare? Am I still asleep? Rahkki became disoriented. The hungry insects reared up and rubbed their front legs together, calling more ants to the meal. Thousands of shiny heads streamed toward the boy from every direction.

  Climb! Get off the ground, Rahkki’s mind screamed. The panther had driven him out of one tree, but there were others! He leaped onto a banyan, a desperate cry rising in his throat. But a gang of monkeys had already claimed this tree. They screamed at Rahkki and rattled the branches. He tried another—it housed a viper. He ran, panic swelling. Tak followed, shooting flames.

  The ants flowed faster toward him, their antennae circling, their legs blurring, their jaws clacking. He leaped onto another tree, this one full of vultures. They hissed and spread their wings.

  “Let me up!” he screamed at them, spurting saliva. “I’m n
ot leaving this tree.”

  The vultures attacked and pecked his arms.

  Rahkki fell backward and slammed onto the ground again. The savage ants flowed over him. He flailed. His death would be painful but quick, like a piranha attack.

  Suddenly, wingbeats whooshed overhead and a shadow fell over the boy.

  He peered up. A copper-coated Kihlara stallion dived from the clouds, ears pricked forward.

  “Here, I’m here!” Rahkki cried.

  The stallion spotted him and angled his wings. Rahkki rolled out of the way as the Kihlara landed and stomped the ants surrounding him. Tak helped by singeing the squished insects.

  Rahkki dimly recognized the stallion as belonging to Sula’s herd. The giants had brought him to their parlay with the Fifth Clan. He dragged himself onto the stallion’s back like a sailor onto a life raft. The wild Kihlara lifted off and flapped toward the clouds with Tak trailing behind him. Rahkki used Miah’s dagger to flick off the last remaining ants. Once free of them, he pulled himself tight against the stallion’s dark-gold wings.

  The wild steed swiveled his neck to look at Rahkki, and he nickered, as if in greeting.

  “Th-thanks,” Rahkki stuttered. The ant’s venom flowed through his veins, making everything blurry. Welts appeared across his arms and legs. His lips felt numb. Rahkki leaned over the stallion’s neck, oblivious to where they were going, and not caring. His chest hurt and he felt dizzy.

  They flew for what seemed a long time. When the stallion needed to rest, he sank toward a lake and plunked into it, spreading his wings and paddling to stay afloat. Tak joined them, swimming with only his eyes and nostrils showing above the water, like a crocodile.

  Rahkki slipped into the lake and allowed the water to clean and soothe his bites, but he was clumsy and couldn’t stay afloat. As he began to sink, the stallion’s gentle jaws gripped his collar and tugged him to the surface. Rahkki crawled back aboard and closed his eyes. Cold sweat leaked from his skin.

  The monsoon ants surrounded the lake, scavenging and devouring plants, eggshells, reptiles, and other insects. As they scoured, they left behind picked-clean skeletons and a path devoid of debris and rot.

  Rahkki and the battle-scarred stallion floated until the ant swarm had passed them by. Then the Kihlara paddled to shore and walked out of the lake with Rahkki seated haphazardly on his back. He trotted overland, perhaps sensing that his rider was not stable enough to fly. When Rahkki almost bounced off his back, the winged horse shifted into a smoother gait, a slow, rolling lope. His hooves slapped the muddy trails and the rain continued to fall. Tak followed them, gliding easily and trailing twin lines of smoke from his nostrils.

  Feeling hot but shivering violently, Rahkki gripped the stallion’s red mane as tight as he could. His welts itched to the point of maddening him, his stomach had soured, and dehydration cramps gripped his legs so hard he had to bite his lip to keep from calling out. The ride on the winged horse was torture with every hoof fall.

  When Tak grew tired, he rode on the winged steed’s neck. The copper stallion didn’t like that. He snorted and shook his mane, but Tak just batted at the flying hair as if it were a game. After a time, the steed accepted the young dragon.

  Now the wild Kihlara nickered and Rahkki heard an urgent tone to his voice. The exhausted boy lifted his head and was shocked to see they’d arrived at the edge of the fallows in the Fifth Clan territory. It was early afternoon and Rahkki was almost home.

  His stomach lurched and saliva flooded his mouth. He slid off the stallion and vomited into the bushes. The copper steed pranced, seeming upset. Rahkki wiped his mouth, fell over, and stared up at the sky. He couldn’t stand without retching. The stallion nuzzled him, his dark eyes round with concern. He tried to lift the boy, and Rahkki spewed bile all over him. “I’m sorry,” Rahkki whispered.

  The stallion glanced toward the Fifth Clan settlement, then back at Rahkki, and then he lifted off and flew away. Rahkki sank into the dirt, unable to move. The ants had already passed through this area and Rahkki was as safe as anyone could be in the jungle. Tak remained with him, nestled against his chest.

  Rahkki must have slept for a long time, because when he woke, it was evening and the nausea had passed. But something had wakened him, a noise. Rahkki stilled, again sending his ears into the forest.

  Voices wafted toward him. “You hear that?” asked a man.

  A woman answered. “If you’re talking about your grumbling belly, yeah, I hear it.”

  Between the trees, Rahkki glimpsed two Fifth Clan soldiers walking through the forest. He clutched Tak, willing the little dragon to be quiet. When Tak began to struggle, Rahkki let him go. Tak tore into the night sky and disappeared.

  The soldiers strolled closer.

  Rahkki spread himself flat in the mud and let the thick evening mist roll over him like a blanket. He concentrated on becoming invisible, on blending into his surroundings, a trick he’d learned when he was a stable groom.

  “How are we supposed to patrol when our queen barely feeds us?” the male soldier asked.

  The woman snorted. “Harak Nightseer eats well enough. Saw him gulping down a bowl of buffalo stew on my way to the armory.”

  “General Tsun would have shared his rations. Harak cares only about himself.”

  “And Lilliam.”

  “I don’t know about that,” said the man. “I wonder if he’s using her too. Charmed her like a snake, he did.”

  “Or she charmed him,” the woman countered. “Two of a kind, they are.”

  The male clucked his tongue. “The queen should worry more about feeding us. We’re all that’s keeping her safe from the villagers. They’re starting to turn against her, you know. Started as soon as the food stores and the croplands flooded, just like I said it would. Land to skies, this early monsoon is killing us.”

  The soldiers paused and Rahkki heard one pull an arrow from a quiver. “Shh.” It was the female soldier. “Just ahead, you see that?” she whispered.

  “Yeah, I see him,” the man whispered back.

  Rahkki held his breath. Had they spotted him? He heard the creaking of a bow drawn tight. The two soldiers crept closer and Rahkki braced. Their footsteps sent beetles scuttling his way. One crawled into his trousers and marched up his bare leg, inflaming his welts. He squeezed shut his eyes. The soldiers were so close that he could hear the male’s rumbling belly and the woman’s soft breaths. They halted right beside him.

  “Shoot him in the neck,” the woman commanded.

  Rahkki’s gut clenched. Should he beg for mercy or run?

  The man loosed the arrow. Twang!

  The shaft shot from its bow, whistled through the air, and then the squeal of a wild boar rang through the trees.

  “Got him!” cheered the male soldier.

  The two ran past him and one of their boots clunked Rahkki in the head. They were so focused on the boar that neither noticed the hiding boy. Rahkki exhaled and scooted out of the mud. The injured boar stumbled away, chased by the soldiers. Seconds later, a sharp oink marked the end of the pig’s life. He heard the soldiers gutting it right where it had fallen.

  Urgency shoved Rahkki to his feet. He had to get out of the jungle, now. Odds were that boar had been hunting him. Rahkki wiped the rain from his eyes and the bugs from his body. Ducking low, he skirted the path, waded through the flooded fallows, and wound his way toward his settlement.

  Tak returned and landed on his arm with a satisfied, smoky burp. Rahkki needed to get to Darthan’s farm, but he knew he’d never make it that far. The ant venom had numbed his tongue and made breathing difficult. Brim Carver’s animal clinic loomed into view.

  He dropped and crawled toward it. Upon reaching her shed, Rahkki stopped and listened. He heard her humming and shuffling around inside. Deciding she was alone, he pushed her door open without knocking.

  “Oh!” She whirled around, holding a pot of batter in her hands.

  Rahkki stared back at her, suddenly diz
zy with hunger.

  “Rahkki!” Brim dropped her pot and grabbed him, keeping a wary eye on the small fire-breathing dragon perched upon his arm. “You’re okay, you’re safe,” she breathed.

  “I—I.” He collapsed into her open arms just as his throat closed shut.

  19

  No Mercy

  BRIM CLAMPED HER STRONG ARMS AROUND Rahkki’s body and dragged him onto a cot. She spied the welts on his lower legs. “Monsoon ants,” she stated, shaking her head.

  He flailed his arms as he tried to take a breath.

  “All right, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine. I have an antidote, don’t move!”

  Rahkki swatted and struck Tak. The burner hissed and fired green smoke, filling the hut. Rahkki heard Brim cough as she shuffled through her medicine jars.

  “Up, up,” she said, lifting Rahkki’s torso off the cot. “Drink.” She forced a cup to his lips and lukewarm liquid seeped into his mouth. He choked. “Relax and drink,” she said, tilting back his head. He fought her, but Brim had a grip like a python.

  Some liquid dribbled down his throat and his airway began to open. He drank more and his vision cleared. He lay back and let his eyes drift closed.

  He didn’t sleep. He listened to Brim work and as he began to feel better, he slowly opened his eyes and looked out the window. The birds had stopped singing for the night and moonlight streaked between the clouds in silver stripes. He smacked his lips and wiped his face. “I’m thirsty,” he rasped.

  Brim brought him a mug of juice and a bowl of soup. He drank, but just stared at the soup. The memory of what he’d done to Fire Horde reared in his mind.

  Stroking his hand, Brim prodded him with questions. “Did you escape from the giants, Rahkki, or did they let you go?”

  “I escaped.” Rahkki’s palms turned clammy. “Is I’Lenna home? Is she okay?”

  “You haven’t heard?”

  “I don’t know anything. I just got back.”