Endure - Sara B. Larson Page 0,34
fire.
“And that” — Eljin cut into my thoughts — “is the wall I told you about.”
“So that means …”
“Yes.”
I stared at the wall, and the tiny figures of men walking back and forth across the spiked top. They almost looked like toys from here. Harmless. But I knew better.
“We didn’t catch them in time.” Deflated, I forced myself to look away from the wall before I started to cry. I was beyond exhausted and practically starving. I’d left Damian behind to make this wild dash through the jungle in hopes of saving Rylan before he was taken out of our reach, and I’d failed.
“What now?” Eljin asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.
I stared at the Naswais Mountains, willing myself to regain control. I breathed in deeply through my nose and out through my mouth, pushing my trembling hands into Mira’s mane. She craned her neck to look back at me with one wise eye, and then gave a little toss of her head, whinnying softly. Almost as if she knew what I was feeling and was trying to make me feel better. I rubbed one fist along her neck, shocked to realize how connected to each other we had become. My fear of riding was definitely gone, replaced by a surprisingly strong attachment to Mira. Despite the horrible circumstances, riding her had become a comfort to me. My fingers tangled in her mane, and I lifted my head to the surprisingly fresh breeze that drifted in from the northeast, and I closed my eyes.
“Alexa?”
Finally, I turned to Eljin.
“I’m going after him. I’m going to Dansii.”
It was afternoon when we’d emerged from the jungle, but we waited until the sun had set, dropping below the edge of the horizon where the massive mountains and the jungle met and then faded away into the darkness. The night was stifling as we drew closer to the city that butted up against the Dansiian wall. It was called Bikoro, according to the weather-ravaged carved sign I’d spotted near the road just before we guided our horses off the well-worn path and out into the brush of the plains leading to the wall. The earlier breeze had disappeared. Nothing moved the air, so that the heat swelled, a fetid, oppressive weight as we urged Mira and Gusto forward slowly. Their hooves squelched on the moist soil beneath us, still damp from the earlier storms.
We’d debated for a short time about whether we should try to sneak through the city undetected or make our presence as King Damian’s personal guard and advisor known. Finally, we’d agreed to wait until the cover of night and skirt the city, heading straight for the wall. Surely, everyone in Antion had heard the story of Damian’s scarred female guard defeating Iker and helping place him on the throne by now. If anyone did recognize me, and tried to help — or stop — us, it could end badly for them. Especially if things didn’t go well once we made it to Dansii. Better to leave the people of this city alone and hurry on our way.
I looked toward Bikoro. It was even bigger than Tubatse, the capital city that had been carved out from the bowels of the jungle in the small valley below where the palace stood, surrounded by its protective walls. In Tubatse the houses and buildings were crammed together, using every available inch of space stolen from the forest. Vines and the creeping, relentless tentacles of the jungle were constantly pressing forward, reaching up the edges of the structures, choking the roads and paths if those responsible for maintaining them got behind on their work by even a few days. People struggled just to keep their existence out of the jungle’s grasp.
In comparison, Bikoro’s buildings were taller, and built from stone and wood. The homes closest to us were bigger than any I’d seen in my own village or in Tubatse. Large, overflowing gardens stretched out into the fields surrounding the city. The flickering glow of firelight warmed the windows of nearly every structure. We were too far away for me to spot any of the people, but I wondered about them. About their lives. Were they all Antionese? Or had this once been a Dansiian city that Antion had claimed?
It was frustrating to know so little of my own kingdom’s history, but other than teaching us the basics of how to read and write, Papa hadn’t made our education a priority. Our ability to defend our lives