Page 19

J ai crouched in the long grass, Zayn’s fingers tight upon the nape of his neck. He listened to the chirr of insects around him, the grind of the khiroi chewing and the crackle of their signal fire. The air was tinged with smoke, billowing above them in a dark cloud, as a Valor squire tossed on fresh handfuls of dewed grass.

Dawn had hardly broken, but already the majority of the tribe had departed, leaving only the warriors and their bull khiroi behind.

But for their saddles, the remaining Valor had only their weapons and armour, in case they had to flee. Jai guessed for the same reason, the khiroi were fed grain-meal dumplings and watered-down milk before they too had made their way to the rendezvous.

Now they waited, with only Kiran standing, gazing out at the yellow haze that was passing them by. Their khiroi lay down, coaxed onto their bellies by their riders, a bucket of tubers laid beside their snouts.

‘They’re not coming,’ Zayn growled. ‘That coward has abandoned us.’

Sindri hushed him with a barbed curse. Alongside her, Winter mewled pitifully, from where she had been chained to Sindri’s khiro’s horn. Today, they were taking no chances. Even Feng’s sister had been brought, a small, wide-eyed girl, watched over by Kiran.

Jai gritted his teeth, his eyes swivelling to see the falx clutched in Zayn’s hand. He had no doubt for whom it was intended. This exchange was with a khan. Not a small tribe with a self-proclaimed ruler, like Sindri. If things went south, only a blade to Jai’s throat would give them a chance at escape.

For a tribe of the Kidara’s size would have enough riders to run them down. And more likely than not, at least a handful of soulbound warriors – more than a match for Zayn and Kiran if things went wrong.

Kiran let out a high, keening note, trilling between her fingers. Zayn spat, then mumbled.

‘The little runt made it.’

Jai lifted his head, just a fraction, and Zayn relented, easing the pressure on Jai’s neck as he craned to see for himself. Jai caught sight of the blot on the horizon. Riders. Coming straight for them.

‘There are twenty of them,’ Zayn called. ‘Twice what we told Feng to agree to.’

‘Do we hold?’ Sindri called out.

Zayn sniffed deep, standing and cracking his back.

‘He’d be a fool to send less.’

‘That’s not an answer, Zayn.’

Zayn lifted Jai to his feet, then clucked. His Alkhara grunted and rolled onto its feet, casting Jai in shadow as it shook its dark fur free of dust.

‘Mount up!’ Zayn called, taking control. ‘Be ready to flee on my command.’

It was clear that in these exchanges, it was Zayn they deferred to, Sindri included. Jai felt sweat trickle down his back as the other khiroi stood, Zayn lifting him in front by the back of his shirt.

Sindri clomped a few steps ahead of them, the white flag clasped in her grip.

‘Remember, Jai,’ she said, her voice firm but low, ‘you are a bargaining chip, nothing more. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.’

Jai nodded, swallowing hard as he settled onto the Alkhara’s back. The other warriors mounted their khiroi, tension hanging thick in the air.

The approaching riders grew larger on the horizon, their figures becoming distinct as they closed the distance. They were heavily armed and armoured, the blues and silvers of the Kidara visible on their banners. The foremost banner, held high upon a bamboo frame, was unmistakable. The great horned form of an Alkhara. His father’s sigil.

As they neared, Jai could see the concern etched on the faces of the Valor warriors. It was clear they were outmatched, yet they held their ground, waiting for Zayn’s command.

The Kidara riders finally halted, forming a solid line ahead, so close Jai could see the armour that adorned their khiroi, and the dark, humped outlines of at least two Alkharas. In the centre, a figure on horseback held up a white scrap of cloth, signalling for a parlay.

‘Wait for my signal,’ Sindri hissed, her eyes never leaving the Kidara leader.

Zayn and the other warriors tensed, hands gripping their weapons tightly. The air felt charged, a dark storm cloud waiting to break.

Jai’s heart pounded in his chest as the seconds ticked by, the stand-off between the two tribes hanging in the balance. Finally, Sindri raised her white flag high, jerking it, once.

Ahead, a white flag bobbed back, twice.

‘Together, then,’ Sindri said. ‘Slowly!’

Jai felt the flat of Zayn’s blade slap against his throat as the Alkhara surged forward, and the two lines approached. Equal numbers, but far from equals.

The Kidara were of another class entirely. Dressed for war... yet they would not go amiss in the halls of the imperial palace.

Their eyes were darkened with kohl, men and women both, with the regalia of their status on full display. Personal sigils were emblazoned upon pennants, from animals of the steppe, even birds and insects, to the tools, weapons and favoured plants of the Sithia.

They wore lamellar armour, composed of small, overlapping leather plates meticulously laced together, dyed in blues so deep, it was as if they wore the very sky itself. Even from a stone’s throw away, Jai could hear the leather creaking, and the scrape of blades being loosened in their scabbards.

The hilts of their falxes, for they all bore them, were engraved and studded with garnets – more than just tools of war, but symbols of status and heritage.

Their khiroi were no less impressive, each animal groomed beyond even the primped puppies Jai had seen at the palace, coveted by Latium’s dandies. Their manes and tails were braided, clipped and shaved into intricate patterns that stirred Jai’s heart – flowing rivers, leafy branches and curling vines.

Though Jai had no grasp of the meaning behind these symbols and adornments, he could imagine their significance. The Kidara were a tribe steeped in tradition and hierarchy, and it was clear that every aspect of their appearance had been carefully chosen to reflect that.

The Valor were being told, in no uncertain terms, where in this hierarchy they lay.

Jai saw Feng, among them. Riding upon Navi, almost hidden by the hulking bull khiroi that all the Kidara rode.

A barked order from one of the Kidara stopped the approach. It required no order from Sindri or Zayn for the Valor to do the same.

Every one of the Kidara were fixated on Jai, and the score of eyes scrutinising him made his face burn. Still, he lifted his chin, trying to convey a courage he did not feel.

From the opposing line, a man emerged, riding out alongside two bodyguards. Jai noted the wealth of the man, for he had golden jewellery that seemed to weigh down his fingers, ears and neck. Thick golden bangles encircled his wrists, and a heavy gold pendant hung from a chain around his throat, emblazoned with a jackal. The man seemed less of a warrior, short and portly, with a little potbelly and beady eyes that darted between the Valor warriors, sizing them up.

‘Bring out their negotiator,’ he demanded, a smirk playing on his lips.

Feng trotted out, Navi’s reins yanked to encourage her, and Jai could see a dark bruise on his face, and shadows beneath his friend’s eyes. Despite the injury, Feng flashed Jai an encouraging smile, seemingly to reassure him. It decidedly did not.

The man looked Jai up and down, his eyes narrowing with doubt. For a moment, Jai wondered if this was his uncle. But he saw no resemblance. Indeed, the man had a round, almost babyish face, and yellow-tinged, baleful eyes whose gaze Jai found hard to maintain.

‘I have my reservations about this boy’s authenticity,’ the man said, his voice dripping with disdain. ‘Only on this eastern boy’s insistence, even in the face of our... encouragement, have we come here today. That, and rumours from the west.’ He cast a suspicious glance towards Sindri and the other Valor. ‘But perhaps you’ve heard these same rumours.’

He spat, off to the side, his eyes never leaving Sindri’s face. Finally, he looked down, reaching for something, setting hands to hilts up and down the Valor lines.

He tutted at the response, and slowly pulled out a small sack, which jingled with the sound of coins.

‘This is all you’ll get for the boy,’ he said, tossing the sack at Sindri. ‘There’s no way of proving who he is, after all. And my king won’t stoop so low as to trade directly with you. The coins are for Feng. You are just holding them.’

Zayn ripped open Jai’s shirt with a swift, savage jerk, leaving him shivering in the cold morning air. The gorget Sindri had placed around his neck that morning was there for all to see.

Sindri brandished the diary in one hand and yanked Winter’s chain forward with the other. The sight of Jai’s dragon made the man’s eyes bulge in shock, for until now Winter had been hidden by the grass. Undoubtedly, Feng would have already told them about her – it was clear they had not believed him.

‘You dare doubt us?’ Sindri snarled, her voice barely controlled. ‘I have your proof, here in the diary of the conqueror himself. Rohan’s heir sits before you in his father’s armour, soulbound to a stolen dragon from the royal court he was raised in. Here he sits, with a Tainted’s blade to his throat. Yet you dare insult us. You will pay more than this pittance, or you will leave empty-handed.’

The man’s eyes were bulging, and it was clear that he was not used to being spoken to that way. Particularly by a woman , Jai thought.

The man turned, looking at the nobles that had accompanied him. Gauging their reactions.

He went to his pocket once more, but Sindri held up a finger.

‘Your coins are no good to the Tainted. We’ve no need to buy trinkets from the east. We need khiroi does. That’s all we will accept.’

The man glanced back at the Kidaran nobles once more. Clearly, he cared about what they thought. Their faces, however, were inscrutable, their eyes flicking from Jai, to Winter, to Sindri.

Finally, the man sighed, and snapped his fingers.

One of the squires lifted a khiro horn to his mouth and let out a short series of notes.

‘We wait, then,’ the man said.