Daemon reached the end of the main street and nudged their way through a particularly dense curtain of vines. There was nothing but steep mountain ahead of them.
“I guess the Society building isn’t as easy to find as I thought,” Daemon said, kicking at the rocks at his feet.
But Sora reached over and touched his arm. “Look up.”
Above them, platforms spanned the arms of half a dozen trees. A series of black buildings with black thatched roofs traversed them.
“It’s a tenderfoot’s dream post,” Daemon said, staring in wonder at what was essentially a giant treehouse. A very well-constructed one. The Society outpost here was as unique as the rest of Paro Village.
At that moment, a little face popped up in one of the open windows. “Oh no, it’s the enemy!” he cried out. “Sound the alarm!”
A handful of other children peeked out from various windows. They were just boys and girls playing. Real tenderfoots all lived and trained at the Citadel. But where were the taiga warriors who were supposed to be here? They wouldn’t have let their post be overrun like this.
“Attack!” one of the children yelled.
Acorns hailed down at Sora and Daemon. “Stop!” Sora shouted. “We’re taigas!”
“It’s the enemy! Empress Aki’s taigas are here!” the first boy cried. “Show no mercy!”
The enemy?
More acorns.
“Stand down!” Daemon yelled. “We must speak to the taiga warriors and send a message to the Citadel.”
“The dragonflies are all dead!” a girl from the highest platform shouted. She whirled to the other children. “Keep fighting, everybody!”
A storm of rocks pummeled down from the treehouse this time. They were a lot harder than acorns.
“This is ridiculous,” Sora said, as she ran for cover. Daemon was right behind her. They plowed through the curtain of greenery that had initially blocked their view of the outpost.
When they were shielded from the acorns and rocks, Daemon said, “What in all hells is going on here?”
Sora’s skin crawled as if there were ants beneath the surface. Where had the Paro Village taigas gone in the short span of days between when they sent the dragonfly to the Citadel and now? And why were the people here so fiercely dedicated to Prince Gin?
Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be a way to get any of that information from here.
“Come on,” Sora said, heading back toward their horses.
“Where are we going?” Daemon asked, falling into step beside her.
“Kaede City.” It was south, on the tiger’s leg of Kichona. They’d be able to send off a message to the Citadel. Sand Mine was technically the closer Society outpost, but it was difficult to get to. So Sora chose Kaede City. “Hopefully Prince Gin hasn’t been there already too.”
Chapter Nineteen
What do you think Fairy and Broomstick are up to right now?” Sora asked as they rode along a dirt road. They were halfway to Kaede City and a long way from the Citadel. She was really beginning to miss their friends.
“Fairy has probably accidentally gassed the girls’ dormitory a couple times with experiments gone awry, and Broomstick might have blown another hole in the wall of his room.”
Sora smiled, but then grew serious again. “Do you think they’re worried about us?”
Daemon went serious too. “Yeah. I’m sure they’re worried sick and trying to keep themselves occupied so they don’t have to think about it. But we’ll—”
“Shh.” Sora stuck out her arm to stop him and his horse. There were voices in the distance, and hooves. Lots of them. “Quick, into the woods,” she said.
They yanked their horses into the trees just in time. A caravan of a hundred or so people appeared on the dirt road coming from somewhere inland.
While Daemon hid the horses farther in the forest, Sora crept back out close to the road, staying hidden in the low shrubbery. She lay on her belly as she pulled out a spyglass.
“Is that them?” Daemon asked, when he crawled up beside her.
Sora trained her glass on the banners above the wagons. They were the yellow-and-green flags they’d spied last time at the Takish Gorge camp. Red canvas peeked out from the carts, possibly tents.
“Yes,” Sora said. “It’s them.”
She moved her spyglass to the people then, part of her hoping to see mere dancers, prancing around as if celebrating by a fire. But instead, she saw actual fire. A sphere of it, nearly eight feet tall, rolling at the head of the caravan.
Her mouth hung open. “Gods . . .”
“What is it?”
Sora let her arm drop and held the spyglass limply to Daemon.
He took