Flight of the King (21 page)

Hal nodded. “I know—I just wish I knew what we're going to do when we find her. This could be a trap.”

“There isn't another way,” Bailey said, and pushed past Hal to continue on the path.

As the sun set that night, the boys had reached the other side of the valley. The Dust Plains stretched out beyond the next hill, flat and spotted with patches of dried, dead grass poking up
through the crusty dirt. Bailey's chest thudded with knowledge of Taleth's presence. Standing on the crest of the last of the Red Hills, he felt pulled to her as he looked out over the
moonlit plain.

“She's somewhere close,” he told Hal. “If we keep going, we can find her by morning.”

“We're not going down the side of the hill in the dark.” Hal said. “We'd be safer setting up camp. We can head into the Plains at daybreak.”

“But we're so close,” said Bailey. “And I have the claw.”

“We're
not
close—not by a long shot. We're still half a day from the Plains if we follow the path!” Hal exclaimed. “And the point is to stay safe so
we don't
have
to use weapons. What exactly do you propose to do? Lunge at an assassin with a single tiger claw?”

Bailey tossed his knapsack down.

“We're going to have to be ready for a fight at some point, Hal,” he said. “Like you said, it won't be easy.”

“But you're so eager for a fight all the time,” said Hal. “We don't know what's going to happen, so that's all the more reason not to go looking for
trouble
now
. Seriously, you've almost been killed how many times in the last six months?”

Bailey clenched his fists.

“If that's how you feel, then why bother coming with me?”

“Because you need someone to protect you—” Hal began.

“And that's
you
?” scoffed Bailey.

“I mean, someone to protect you from getting yourself in trouble!” said Hal. “You're going to wind up getting killed unless you start thinking things through!”

“
I
follow my instincts,” snapped Bailey. “Maybe you should try it. Who wants to be around someone who's afraid of everything? I bet Tori doesn't. In fact,
I
know
she doesn't.”

Hal was silent for a moment, and Bailey could almost feel the workings of Hal's rational brain trying to come up with the perfect comeback.

“Do whatever you want” was all Hal said. Then he turned and walked heavily over to a tree to set up camp.

Bailey didn't follow. He felt tired in more ways than one. He was tired of worrying and feeling watched, tired of being told what to do—
be careful, stay hidden, be on guard
.
Of course, it had been sound advice—but he wondered how much longer he could go on like this, hiding and ducking attention, only to end up in more trouble.

Bailey began to walk down the path. He kept an eye on the stars to the northeast, trying to memorize them in case he needed to cut away from the trail to get to Taleth. Still, his mind wandered
back to Hal. Bailey never would've made it this far—or still be alive—if not for his friend. He stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back toward his camp.

At first, he thought that the faint whispering sound he heard was the wind—but he'd soon realized that the noise was the beating of small leathery wings. The hillside was full of
lively bats. Bailey reached the top of the hill, and from there, he could just make out the fluttering shapes that flew from branch to branch across the treetops. Up in a gnarled old oak in the
middle was Hal, hanging upside down.

Quietly, Bailey hiked a little ways over the hill. Hal watched as he climbed up to his branch and awkwardly hooked his knees over it.

“What do you want?” asked Hal.

Hanging upside down, Bailey felt his blood run down—or rather, up—his whole body.

“Why are you hanging like this?” he asked. “Doesn't it make your head hurt?”

“No, it helps me think,” Hal said curtly. He wouldn't look at Bailey. Bailey sighed. They had enough to worry about already without him saying things he didn't mean.

“I'm sorry I said that about Tori,” he confessed. “It isn't true. Tori really cares about you.”

“Now I know you're just trying to make me feel better,” said Hal.

“She does!” said Bailey. “In her way.”

The two boys hung there for a moment in silence, looking up at the moon.

“You did mean part of it, though,” Hal said, not unkindly. “I don't follow my instincts. I think about every angle, calculate every possibility—and then the moment
passes. I never take action. Not like you.”

“That's not true,” said Bailey. “You're the one who found Lyle's secret meeting—and you always stand up to Taylor when he's being a jerk. And
besides, you're here, aren't you? You packed your bags, got me on a boat, and led me to the Dust Plains.…”

Hal laughed. “I guess so.”

Just then, Bailey felt a sensation different from just the rush of blood coursing upside through his body—he felt a twinge in his chest and a heightened sense of alertness.

He swung himself up and hopped into a crouching position on the tree branch.

“Someone's here,” he said quickly. Whoever it was, was close by, dangerously close.

“Shh,”
said Hal, putting a finger to his lips. “I hear them, over by that tree.”

Bailey bent down to follow where Hal pointed. A branch moved a few yards away.

Hal did as Bailey had done and swung himself up. Bailey gripped the tiger claw tucked in his belt.

The branch moved again, and a deer—a dark-eyed doe—ran out from behind the bushes.

Bailey relaxed until he realized the doe was followed by a man in shabby, dark clothing. He carried a crossbow, ready to shoot. A poacher.

A young coyote prowled behind the man, and its ears perked in Bailey and Hal's direction. The man, distracted from his prey, turned and searched the trees where the boys were hidden.
Bailey felt his entire body go numb as the poacher's eyes met his own. The poacher, surprised, swung his crossbow around and took aim. Hal's grip on Bailey's arm tightened.

The valley was suddenly filled with the sound of baying and yipping—at least five doglike animals bounded out of the trees and attacked the hunter. He dropped the crossbow and yelled as
the beasts bit and tore at him. Shocked, Bailey looked in the direction the doe had run. A pack of dogs huddled around the fallen deer. They weren't like any dogs Bailey had seen in the
Lowlands or at Fairmount. But he'd seen pictures of them, with their long snouts and ragged yellow-brown fur—in his History textbook, he'd seen these same dogs at the side of a
False King. Jackals.

Out of the trees walked a man—older, with broad, imposing shoulders. He wore a peaked cap with a black visor, and what looked like a military coat covered in shiny buttons; a metal cane
swung at his side. He surveyed the jackals, who continued attacking the hunter and the deer ravenously. Then he lifted a silver whistle to his lips. Bailey heard nothing, but the jackals rolled
their heads as though in pain, and backed away from their prey like dutiful beasts.

“Bailey…” Hal gasped. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Bailey whispered. He had assumed that this man was dead, but it was clear Bailey had been wrong. He was looking at the man who'd ordered his real parents, along with the
rest of the Velyn, killed. He'd murdered King Melore, sending Tremelo and Viviana into the night. The kingdom had endured nearly thirty years of chaos because of this man.

The Jackal pulled back his coat and dropped the whistle into an inside pocket. Two attendants followed him up the hill, and lifted the wounded poacher between them.

“Get rid of him,” the Jackal said. As the attendants carried the poacher down the hill, back into the bristly foliage of the valley, the Jackal stood and sniffed the crisp night air.
The moonlight shone on the buttons of his uniform as he straightened his shoulders. He caressed the top of his metal cane with his thumb, and lightly licked his lips. Bailey noticed a scar running
in a menacing curve across his cheek and down to his chin.

The Jackal breathed in deeply, as though savoring the night chill.

“You can come down from that tree now, boys,” he said.

THAT SAME NIGHT, GWEN
made her campfire on a wide, flat rock. She was closer to the tallest peak, the place where the Elder had told her to seek the
Instrument of Change, but she felt sure someone was pursuing her—and that they were very close behind. She knew she was exposed out here, with no place to hide—but the open space made
it impossible for anyone to sneak up on her. She stayed awake, sitting cross-legged with her bow in her hand.

Sure enough, just after sunset, she saw the figure of a large bird flying low over the trees. This was it. Her hand closed tightly over the bow as she stood to get a better look. The tawny owlet
hopped on its branch behind Gwen, shuffling its feathers with anticipation. As the bird swooped closer, Gwen felt jittery.

Whit whit whoo
came a call from the trees, and Gwen recognized Carin the falcon as she landed on the edge of the flat rock.

Gwen echoed the call, and saw the silhouette of someone climbing over the rocks in the waning light: someone with a small, delicate frame and a head full of curly, windswept hair.

“Phi!” Gwen cried, dropping the bow and rushing forward to meet her friend.

Phi rushed forward as well, and the two girls hugged.

“You're fast!” said Phi. “It's taken me ages to catch up to you!” Phi looked tired and flushed, and a little cold under her thin secondhand coat. She dropped
her pack and reached around her shoulder—she carried Gwen's pack too. Gwen laughed with relief as Phi handed her the rucksack: inside, safe, was the Seers' Glass.

“Carin sensed how worried I was about the Glass. She brought it back to me.…” Phi said apologetically. “I wanted her to leave it with you, but I can't communicate with
her perfectly. It meant I had to catch up even more quickly!”

“How did you find me?” Gwen asked.

They reached the glow of the campfire, and Phi sat down, leaning on her pack with a tired sigh. Gwen held the Seers' Glass, wrapped in its piece of wolf pelt, tightly in her hands.

“I sent Carin to look for you after you disappeared,” she said. “We saw you heading from the Gray to the Velyn Peaks.”

“But why? What are you doing here?”

Phi looked away and folded her hands inside her long coat sleeves.

“I wanted to help,” she said. “You had the Seers' Glass, and that meant you'd be in danger. I left Fairmount as soon as I knew where you were. The others
wouldn't have understood.”

Gwen studied Phi as she gazed into the campfire. She wondered if Phi was telling the entire truth, but she pushed aside the thought for now. She was only glad to have a companion.

The girls relocated their camp under the overhang of a large boulder, facing the open mountain field. They relit their campfire as the sun set completely, and cooked a meal of grains, flavored
with wild hackleberries.

After supper, Phi and Gwen curled near each other with their rucksacks as pillows, pulling their coats around themselves for warmth.

“Why'd you come out here?” asked Phi. “Did the RATS send you to hide?”

“No, it was the Elder who sent me here, to find something called the Instrument of Change. He left a message for me with the RATS before he died. I don't know what I'm actually
looking for, but it must be something that can help convince Tremelo that his rightful place is on the throne.”
Without its help, our True King cannot find the strength in his heart to
lead.
Whatever this Instrument was, Tremelo needed her to find it.

“The Elder—that reminds me, I have something else for you,” said Phi. She fished in her coat pocket, then placed Melore's harmonica, in its worn leather box, in
Gwen's open hand. “I figured you'd want this back someday.”

Gwen closed her fingers over the familiar gift.

“Thank you,” she said. “I sort of missed it.” She smiled, remembering how the Elder had grinned when he'd first presented it to her.

Phi continued to look up at the stars, as if studying them.

“I wish school were like this,” she said. “Having adventures, being in the mountains…Sometimes I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin at Fairmount.”

“It doesn't feel like an adventure, does it? Sometimes I wish things could go back to the way they were before,” said Gwen. Her eyes stung as she thought of the Elder.
“Now I'm always afraid.”

“We're going to be okay,” said Phi firmly, pulling the collar of her coat up close to her face.

Gwen was glad to have her friend here, but the feeling of being watched hadn't gone away. She took the Seers' Glass out of her pack. After believing she'd lost it forever, she
couldn't resist the urge to hold it in her hands and feel its smoothness. As she unfolded the wolf pelt around the Glass, she felt a sliver of fear stab at her heart—the Glass was
glowing. It emitted a faint shimmer, like rippling water.