Leaving Barb behind felt like giving up. Of course, it wasn’t. If she were giving up, she’d have stayed with her. If she were giving up, there was no point in marching alone into the forest in search of help. But leaving Barb to shiver in pain and suffer through those horrifying seizures alone—Jenny shook herself.
It had to be done.
They couldn’t continue together. Not if Barb was going to keep collapsing like that. Jenny couldn’t carry her. So the only solution had been to leave her behind.
Alone.
With the threat of further seizures looming as the gaja venom worked deeper and deeper into her system. If another one struck, she’d have to fight through the terrifying moments of writhing and gasping for breath by herself.
Barb could do it. Barb was the strongest person Jenny had ever met, other than Meg. Barb would be fine. But she wouldn’t last long on her own.
Jenny squared her shoulders and pressed forward through the driving rain. The forest canopy must have thinned because the rain fell heavier than before. She’d already been soaked to the skin. Now she felt like she’d been swimming in a lake. Water ran in rivulets down her arms and legs, the charred remnants of her kurti clung to her body, and her hair dripped ugly black and gray-brown water into her eyes.
At least she was getting a shower.
Maybe she’d smell better by the time she reached the Crescent Canyon.
The muted sunlight, hidden behind the clouds, grew a bit brighter, and the downpour lessened somewhat as she approached a small clearing in the forest. Jenny stepped out of the thick grove of trunks and into a grassy area where the sky was in full view, cloudy and gray and moody.
Even with the rain gently pattering against her face, Jenny turned her eyes to the clouds.
She could laugh about her conversation with trees and flowers all day long. She could kid with people about her archery skills or how she looked a lot more helpless than she seemed. But this? How was she supposed to do this? Atama Village was still days away. She could forage for food along the way. She could wrap her feet again. But that wouldn’t reduce the number of leagues between her and the Crescent Canyon.
Even if Barb didn’t have another seizure, even if she didn’t run out of food and water, even if by some miracle Barb survived the next few days, she couldn’t last long enough for Jenny to get back with help.
They both knew it.
Jenny had seen it in Barb’s eyes as she left her behind.
Goodbye.
Barb wouldn’t make it. Not without immediate help.
Tears welled in her eyes as she blinked at the clouds. This couldn’t happen. She had to do something. She had to find a way to make this right, to make it work, to save Barb. But how?
A dark smudge sailed overhead, black against the boiling gray rainclouds.
Jenny scowled.
One of the Centaur dragons?
As the smudge flapped its feathered wings, it began a rapid descent from the heavens and shot toward the canopy of treetops. As it flew closer, Jenny could make out talons and a sharp beak. Black feathers.
A black falcon.
Is it possible? She caught her breath.
Jenny bolted forward, heedless of how the rough ground tore open the skin of her bare feet.
Ahead of her, the black falcon descended into the forest, still sailing lazily overhead, maneuvering around the tree trunks. Jenny raced after it, keeping her eyes on the falcon as it flew.
Anywhere else, it wouldn’t have just been a black falcon. But there was only one black falcon in all of Andaria. They weren’t native here, at least not that Velanna could tell. The only black falcon in the whole dimension lived at Prism Castle, a messenger bird in Efram’s aviary. The only falcon he had capable of taking messages between the high council and the yodha.
If Efram’s black falcon was flying in the forests around Centaur Mount, that meant it was going to one of the yodha’s secret villages. The yodha had villages all over the Andarian Peninsula, tucked away in mountain caves, concealed in deep dark forests. Rumor had it that there was even one under water, though Jenny wasn’t sure how that was possible.
No one knew where all the secret villages were except the Yodha High Chief, and only the black falcon knew how to find the Yodha High Chief.
It was the sort of internal radar Jenny had always wished for personally. Having such a thing would have made searching for eggs from the free range chickens so much easier.
Jenny ran as fast as her burned, scraped feet could carry her, keeping the low-flying falcon in sight. Beneath her feet the untraveled deer and sheep path within the forest grew more obvious. Less wild. As though more feet than an animals had traveled it.
Ahead, the trees thinned even more.
Above the scent of the rain against the dirt, campfire smoke smoldered in the air. A loud horn pierced the forest, and she froze. Had the yodha seen her?
Stop! She lifted her hands. Stop and think!
She couldn’t just run into a yodha village. They were completely different from other Josharons. The yodha were warriors. Fierce and territorial. They didn’t just let anyone stroll into their village boundaries.
Like Tzaitel. The last time Jenny had tried just running into her older, grouchier sister’s room without permission, she’d gotten a pillow straight to the face and a lecture that still made her ears ring.
She didn’t mess with Tzaitel.
Danny did. But he was an idiot.
Certainly the yodha would recognize her. All of the Josharon villages recognized the human wards of Velanna Ittai, although most were still learning what Mickey looked like. And while Jenny had no doubt the yodha would help her, she couldn’t just waltz in and ask for it.
That wasn’t how the yodha worked.
Yaasha had told her all sorts of stories about the yodha, the bold, ferocious defenders of Rainbow Valley. The Armor Bearers of the First Tribe. The Iron Skins.
Jenny blew out her breath and took a moment to calm down.
No further horn had sounded. No yodha soldier came running out with a spear. As far as she could tell, they hadn’t even noticed her approach yet.
Slowly, carefully, Jenny picked her way around a tree and walked toward the smell of the campfire. The falcon had long disappeared, but now that she had the scent of the fire on the wind, she could trace it back to where it began.
The path had become more of a road, rutted with wheel marks and dotted with the distinctive canine footprints of Josharon tribe members. A high pitched whistle shrieked over her head. Two short blasts and a longer, shriller warble.
That was no bird.
Sure, it sounded like one, but that song was way too moody and broody for a bird. Birds were usually cheerful unless you were talking about rain crows or Yaasha’s chickens.
Jenny stopped where she stood.
The yodha do not like strangers. Yaasha’s old creaky voice echoed in her ears. They will kill any who refuse to submit.
They’d found her. Great. Fine. Wonderful even. But it wouldn’t do any good if they killed her before she could ask for help, which was exactly what they were known for doing. So how did she submit? How did she show them that she wasn’t a threat? That she was willing to do what they asked?
An image of Meg flashed in her eyes.
When her cranky old Andai teacher came to give her a lesson, Meg had to be on her knees with her head bowed.
Why not?
Jenny dropped to her knees, bowed her head, and lifted her hands palms up.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Good grief, no wonder Meg was always so grumpy, if she had to sit like this whenever T’zuman started talking to her.
She swallowed hard, lower lip beginning to tremble. Yaasha’s black arrowhead felt cold against her skin. The sticks and rocks on the path dug into her bare knees. It was nice to not be on her feet, but if the yodha didn’t come to relieve her soon, she wasn’t going to make it with the sharp rocks trying to pierce her shins.
A rustle of clothing. A muted thud. Jenny risked opening her eyes, though she didn’t lift her head. Within the circle of her limited sight, a set of clawed Josharon feet perched on a pile of fallen leaves. The rasp of whispered dialog echoed around her. She caught a few words.
Stranger. Human. Darkblood’s daughter.
Well, at least one of them recognized her.
A sharp voice broke into her thoughts, brusque and commanding. “Speak, child.”
Here goes. “My name is Jenny Mitchell,” she said, voice trembling. “Daughter of Velanna Ittai of Prism Castle. I saw the black falcon and followed him here.”
Hushed whispers echoed around her, as though the trees were actually talking. They weren’t of course. That was a fun little story she told herself, having conversations with the trees. But these trees were full of yodha who were watching in the silent shadows, breath baited and curious about a human that could find their most secret village.
“There are many falcons in the Valley of Rainbows,” a resonant voice spoke in a clipped accent.
Jenny fought the need to lift her head, the desire for eye contact, and kept her gaze glued on the ground. “There is only one black falcon, and he answers only to Efram of the Harna who makes his home at Prism Castle.”
A different set of feet approached her and appeared within her vision. Black fur with scarred patches on the ankles. Silvered claws. The instinct was to look up, but she hadn’t been bidden to do so yet.
“You are familiar with our ways.” The male voice continued with some amount of warmth.
“I know your people well.”
The feet shifted in the way a stance changes when someone shouts over their shoulder. The voice issued an order in a commanding tone. Whoever he was, he was an authority among the yodha. They didn’t just let anyone speak for them. But he wasn’t the High Chief. He’d called the others to bring the High Chief.
Jenny stayed still, palms uplifted, knees stinging from the pressure of the sticks and stones she knelt on.
“Yes,” the voice continued. “You know our people, and you know of us as well.”
Jenny bowed her head lower. “I am honored to find you. And I promise not to speak of your village’s location.”
“You cannot speak of anything if you are dead.” A female voice rose above the harsh whispers, and a pair of brown-furred feet appeared in Jenny’s line of sight. The rustle of the female’s tails against the fallen leaves hissed and rattled, and she paused in front of Jenny’s bowed head. “It is death to any stranger who steps into a village of the iron skins.”
“Respectfully, I am no stranger,” Jenny said. “And I am not in your village.”
A rumble of laughter shook the air around them.
That was a good sign. Laughter was always a good sign. Right?
Jenny bowed her head deeper. “I am Jenny Mitchell, Daughter of Velanna Ittai of—”
“We know Velanna Ittai. We know her daughter. You are not her.” The voice snarled.
The forest fell silent.
“I am not her blood,” Jenny said. “But I am her family. I am hers, and she is mine.”
A quick, inaudible exchange of words around her only made her want to raise her head more, but she didn’t. She stayed still. Arms aching. Knees throbbing.
“We are the iron skins,” the female continued. “We are the secret of the valley of rainbows. How could a mere human kit like you discover us?”
“The messenger falcon.” Jenny shut her eyes and tried to keep her tone steady and respectful. “I saw her in the forest and followed her, because I knew she would lead me to you.”
“The falcon is male.”
Jenny scowled. “Respectfully, the falcon is female.”
Another round of muttered conversation, but this time it sounded—fond? Amused?
Oh, she really wanted to look!
“And what is a human doing in our forest?”
Jenny struggled to keep herself from fisting her hands shut. “My friend and I were taken from Chandan Village in the attack,” she said. “We were taken to Centaur Mount, and we escaped.” Jenny steadied herself. “My friend is in the forest. She’s badly hurt. We need your help.”
“We do not help strangers,” said the female.
“I am not a stranger.” Jenny tried to keep her voice from quivering.
The female circled her, tails dragging on the leaves. Once she had made a complete circle, the female paused in front of Jenny.
“Rise.”
Jenny sagged with relief and rocked back on her heels, standing slowly, feeling every ache and pain from the last several days in every joint and tendon. She kept her eyes glued on the ground until the female forced her chin upward.
Jenny met the High Chief’s eyes and froze.
She was definitely the High Chief. She wore a blood-red sash across her breastplate as an indication of her status. A gruesome scar slashed across her canine features, and one of her eyes was silver as though the slash that had cut her face open had allowed the color of the eye to leak out.
Her fur might have been fully brown at one point, but it was peppered with silver now. Her mane was silver too. She was missing an ear, but her three bushy tails were carefully tended and clean.
The moment they met eyes, Jenny glanced back at the ground.
It was rude to hold eye contact for too long.
The High Chief harrumphed and began to circle her again. “You are the false-kin of the Dark Blood, yes, but you are a stranger to us.” The female warrior stopped behind Jenny’s back. “I ask you again. What is a human doing in our forest?”
Jenny ground her teeth together. “We were taken from Chandan Village to the Mountain of Fire. We escaped.”
The High Chief snorted. “Escaped? Unlikely. They tired of you and let you go.”
“No, they tried to sacrifice us, and we escaped.”
The High Chief circled her and stopped in front of her. “Lies.”
Jenny snapped her head up and met the chief’s gaze. “I don’t lie.”
A hissing sound rippled through the forest.
So much for being civil.
To contradict the High Chief, and to hold eye contact with her to boot, was the same thing as casting a challenge. Jenny wished she had brought her bow and arrow.
The Chief Josharon began to speak and then froze, her eyes drawn to Jenny’s chest. Jenny looked down. Yaasha’s black arrowhead glinted in the dim light, speckled with droplets of rainwater.
“Where did you get that?” The High Chief pointed.
Jenny touched it. “It was a gift. From a friend.”
The High Chief wrinkled her lip until her sharp teeth showed. “This gift. I would touch it.”
Jenny furrowed her brow. Odd. Josharons didn’t usually make a habit of asking to see each other’s jewelry, but maybe this would be a way to form a bond. Jenny unfastened the clasp of the leather cord and pulled the necklace off. She held it out to the High Chief, and she snatched it away.
The High Chief stood with the arrowhead in her palm, turning it so that the dim light caught on the facets of the design. Finally, she lifted her head, teeth still showing. “That is the signet of Yaasha Four-Tails.”
The forest fell silent. It wasn’t amused this time. It was—shock? What was going on?
“Okay,” Jenny started slowly. “Well, Yaasha is the one who gave it to me.”
Gasps.
All around her, the collective intake of breath within the forest sounded like the wind had grown hoarse.
“Yaasha Four-Tails would not be friend to one like you.” The High Chief sneered.
Jenny screwed up her courage. If this was going to be a challenge, she’d meet it. “Yaasha is my friend.”
The chief uttered a low growl and spread her arms, spinning slowly to address the forest full of yodha. “Then finally she is blind in her mind as well as her eyes.”
A few sharp laughs broke out, but mostly silence greeted her declaration.
Okay. This is weird. How do they know Yaasha? Jenny took a slow, deep breath. It doesn’t matter. I need them to help me. Barb won’t survive without their help.
“I know I haven’t got much standing here.” Jenny bowed her head again. “But I beg you for your help. My friend will die if you don’t help us.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the forest.
“I’m just a human, but I know the stories of how the yodha have served the Josharon people for centuries.” Jenny smiled at the ground. “You are fierce warriors, but you are also compassionate allies. Please, help us.”
The silence grew deeper. No one was even breathing. Had she said something wrong? Sure, she knew nothing about their protocol or their customs. But if they were upset about it, the yodha in the trees would be reacting. As it was, it felt like everyone was just holding their breath.
“Yaasha Four-Tails told you these tales, did she?” The High Chief snarled, shaking Yaasha’s arrowhead fiercely. “She speaks the truth.” The High Chief circled again, her tails snapping with every step. “We are fierce warriors. We make our home within sight of the smoke of the Mountain of Fire. We have given our blood to protect our people. The yodha, the iron skins, are legendary among our enemies and our allies.”
The High Chief paused in front of Jenny again and lifted her face, claws on her chin. Jenny met her eyes, blinking. The High Chief held her gaze.
“And you believe you have the right to ask anything of us?”
The blow came so hard, so unexpectedly Jenny couldn’t guard against it. The High Chief struck her in the side of the head, and the forest reeled. Jenny crashed into the dirt, gasping for breath, four claw marks burning on the side of her face.
“Insolent.” The High Chief spit at her. “We are not your helpers. We are not servants to your will. We are not slaves to your protection. We are mighty warriors summoned only at the deepest of need.”
Enough.
She’d had enough of this. Barb was dying. The Centaurs had a horrible weapon that was going to rip Rainbow Valley apart piece by piece. It didn’t matter that this Josharon was the High Chief of the Yodha. No one had the authority to behave like a brute.
Jenny sat up and locked eyes with the High Chief. “You are needed desperately.”
The High Chief froze, blinking in shock. “You dare address me as an equal?”
Jenny stood, still holding the female’s eyes. “You say you don’t help, but you were protecting the memorial festival for Tolan Ittai.”
The High Chief spat. “Tolan Ittai was a great man.”
“He was my father!”
“Lies!”
“Truth!” Jenny squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “He wasn’t my father by blood, but he was in every other way that mattered, and you dishonor him when you say otherwise.” Jenny swallowed the emotion that rose in her throat, but her voice still sounded thick and tearful. “I’m not Josharon. I’m not trying to be. But I live among your people. I love your people. And as one who lives among you, I humbly ask that you help me save my friend.”
Jenny bowed her head again.
Chattering whispers began again, but it didn’t faze the High Chief. She closed the distance between them until she stood too close to Jenny. But Jenny didn’t back away. The claw marks on her face burned and oozed.
Part of her wanted to dare the high chief to strike her again.
Because when this was all over, Meg was going to ask where she got those marks, and Jenny would be very happy to tell her. And while the yodha were mighty warriors—they couldn’t hold a candle to Meg.
High Chief or not, this blustering Josharon female would end up with a mouthful of dirt and roots after Meg used her face as a shovel.
“We help those we value.” The High Chief sneered. “You have no value to us. Your friend has even less than no value.”
The whispers around them silenced.
“We will not help you.” The High Chief raised a hand, her claws red with the blood she’d drawn from Jenny’s face. “You must leave.” She nodded toward the forest. “We have heard the search cries.”
A rumble of agreement sounded around them.
“The search cries?” Jenny frowned. “The horn I heard?”
“It is the Centaurs. They are seeking you.” The High Chief turned away from her. “So you are valuable to them. At least, you are valuable to someone.”
Jenny gawked at her. “You’re—you’re really going to let them capture us?”
The High Chief didn’t answer.
“You could help us, but you’re going to let them take us prisoner again?” Jenny’s mouth hung open. “That’s—how can you justify that? Knowing who I am?”
“You are nothing.” The High Chief said. “And even if you mattered in some way, we can do nothing without the mandate of the council. And they have bid us be still. So still we shall be.”
Jenny glanced back at the forest.
If the High Chief was right, the Centaurs would be closing in on them soon. Barb wouldn’t be able to defend herself. Not that Jenny could help much, but she would be able to hold them off longer than Barb could alone.
Jenny met the High Chief’s glare again. “I thought more of your people.”
“Whatever foolish stories Yaasha Four-Tails has told you are myth and legend and nothing more. You are childish to believe them. Now, go. Return to your dying friend. Perhaps you shall reach her before the Centaurs do. It would dishonor you both for you to allow her to die alone.”
Jenny bit back tears and forced a smile. She bowed, feeling the blood dripping down the side of her face.
“I am honored to have spoken with you,” she said. Jenny rose from the bow and met the High Chief’s gaze again. “Respectfully, may I have my necklace back?”
The High Chief laughed.
Laughed.
Like it was the most foolish question she’d ever heard. Jenny’s heart dropped.
“It is not yours to demand.”
Jenny’s lip quivered. “It was a gift.”
The High Chief tucked the arrowhead into the bag at her waist. “You say Yaasha Four-Tails gave it to you. It was not hers to give. It is the heritage and birthright of our clan, and you are not our clan.” She snarled. “You are no one’s clan.”
The same horn from before rattled the air of the forest. The hidden yodha in the trees rustled and whispered and muttered, and the High Chief narrowed her eyes.
“Depart, stranger.” She glared. “Or we shall remove you.”
Whatever hope Jenny had been clinging to deflated, leaving her feeling hollow inside. She’d been overjoyed to see the falcon. She’d been excited to know that help was near. There had been some possibility of saving Barb.
Now?
Jenny stepped back, not pulling her eyes from the High Chief.
The female drew a sword and held it out to her. “Do you refuse?”
“I’m going,” Jenny said. She shook her head. “But I just want to say something. Respectfully.”
“Speak and then go.” The High Chief rolled her eyes.
Jenny threw her shoulders back and raised her head. “You’re a bad leader.”
Again, deafening silence fell over the forest. Not even the birds sang.
This was stupid. To be saying this was the worst idea in a long line of bad ideas, but someone had to say it. And odds were she’d be dead in less than an hour anyway. So she might as well speak her mind.
“You are great and mighty warriors, but even great and mighty warriors need friends,” Jenny said. “You had the chance to make a friend, but that’s not what you did. You—actually you made enemies. Because when Velanna finds out that you could have helped us and you didn’t, she won’t call you friend. When my sister finds out what you’ve done, she’ll kill you.”
The High Chief growled. “I will accept any challenge issued to me.”
“It won’t be a challenge for her,” Jenny said with a shrug. “All you had to do was be kind. We didn’t need anything special. Just medicine. Just help. You would have liked having us as friends.”
The High Chief raised her sword, and Jenny took another step back.
“We are warriors.” The Chief jerked her head toward the forest in silent command for Jenny to leave. “We do not have friends.”
Jenny bowed at the waist and gave her a sad smile. “High Chief, respectfully, that is what makes you a bad leader.”
She took another step back and turned, heading back into the forest the way she had come, leaving the yodha behind her whispering in the treetops, their ferocious glares burning against the back of her head.