Fallen Empire

Chapter 1

Paramonds

In the quiet of an overgrown orchard, Mako plucked an apricot from a branch, the slender limb bobbing as the fruit broke free. The apricot felt coarse and woody, a shade whiter than most of the others. A little bite confirmed the fruit tasted dry and bland—­he spat the unsavory fragment into the tall grass.

It was the middle of summer, three months after Mako, Arden, and Tuck had fled Pazzon in the night—­the right time of year for these pale apricots to get ripe and juicy. White apricot trees had been bred by Anoran arborists. The trees lived two or three times longer than standard apricot trees and yielded larger, tastier fruit. Not only was this orchard overgrown by blackberries and hawthorn, but maples and oaks had invaded, casting shade. The white apricot trees getting the most sunlight along the edge of the orchard should have been producing the best fruit. Instead even the choicest apricots of these trees were inedible.

The culprits were spindlepods. The parasitic creepers twined around the trunks and lower limbs of the healthiest apricot trees, leaching their strength. Mako crouched, searching under dark green leaves until he found a hidden cluster of pods. Careful to avoid the slender thorns, he picked a pod. The leathery husk looked unappetizing, but Mako carefully punctured the casing with his knife. Squeezing the oblong pod, he sucked out the gel inside.

Nectar!

He closed his eyes for a moment to relish the flavor of apricots blended with syrupy sweetness. Spindlepods adopted the flavors native to the trees they strangled. He started gathering pods. They were a good find. After discovering a couple of disappointing apple orchards earlier in the day, the fruit sparse and underripe, he knew that these spindlepods would turn his foraging expedition into a success.

He had picked about thirty pods when a pair of wild longneck turkeys flapped into the air across the adjoining field. A jolt went through him. Longnecks seldom took wing unless bothered. The duo flew low and fast, fleeing a stand of trees not far from where Tuck and Arden were encamped with the horses.

Go, a voice urged in his mind. Was it a message from his guardian, Narrix? Or just his instincts? Sometimes it was difficult to discern. With a chill he remembered the horror of coming across the bodies of Yori and his other friends that tragic night in Pazzon. Tuck and Arden were currently vulnerable. What if Vandriel or the giant who killed Master Rojan had decided to hunt them down? Mako, Tuck, and Arden had taken an oath to keep their involvement in the massacre a secret. So far, they had held true to the vow, but there was no way to ensure the Accursed would honor their promises.

Dumping the pods from his hands into his pouch, Mako sprinted back toward camp. He heard one of the mounts whinny. These were not just any horses. Mako and his friends were riding full-­blooded Paramonds. They were smart enough to only vocalize for a purpose.

Through the trees, Mako glimpsed the collapsed farmhouse and the stone outbuildings where many years ago fruit had been processed into preserves. Two of the outbuildings had survived the earthquake that had leveled the area more than sixty years ago. For the past two days, the horses had been sleeping in one of the buildings. Mako, Arden, and Tuck took shelter in the other.

Mako was relieved to see that Arden and Tuck already had bows in their hands as five men approached the ruins along a faint track. The strangers were dressed humbly, but they carried weapons, and three held coils of rope. A large man in a leather vest with a square dark beard sauntered ahead of the others.

The three Paramonds had apparently been grazing, but now all heads were up, ears forward. Intelligent, strong, fast, hearty—­Paramonds were the most sought-­after warhorses in the Tinvali Empire. When the garrison at Pazzon was wiped out by forces led by members of the Accursed, Mako and his friends had escaped with the best horses from the stables. Requiem, the midnight-­black steed, had belonged to Master Rojan. Sunrise, the golden stallion, had been ridden into battle by Master Sennick. And Ghost, the dappled gray mare, had once served as a mount to Master Thain.

Paramonds were fiercely loyal to their owners, but on the rainy night when Mako, Arden, and Tuck had sought them in the stables, the mighty horses had come willingly. Perhaps some aspect of their connections to their riders had informed them that their masters had perished.

Each of these horses was worth a pile of gold. Nobody was lining up to steal from an Anoran warmaster, but when three unaccompanied youths rode through town on invaluable livestock, their passing tended to attract unsavory attention. Anorans shaved their heads at the start of their apprenticeships, and boys kept their heads shaved for the duration. Mako raked his fingers through his brown hair. Since he and Tuck were letting their hair grow out, they no longer appeared to be Anoran.

Which was exactly what they had promised the towering man who’d spared them in Pazzon. They were allowed to remain alive only with the promise that they separate themselves from the Anoran people and live as exiles. To honor the oath, they tried to avoid attention as they moved from region to region, gradually planning how they might eventually fight back. The Paramonds made it hard, because astride such magnificent steeds, they appeared to be spoiled young teens who had wandered far from home.

There had already been three conflicts with would-­be thieves over the horses, easily resolved since the robbers had shown little competence. These strangers, however, looked more capable.

“Lonely out here,” Square Beard said with a forced smile. “Folks abandoned this area. The ground is unstable. Lots of sinkholes. No place for children.”

“We’re not exactly children,” Tuck replied. Tall and broad, he looked a couple of years older than Mako, though he would not be fifteen for a few months.

“I get it,” Square Beard said. “I was young once. You feel grown at every age past ten or so. But surely you’ve felt the tremors. They say we’re overdue for a big one.”

“The tremors don’t bother us,” Tuck said.

Leaving his sword sheathed, Mako continued to approach. He hadn’t called upon his spiritual guardian since the devastating attack in Pazzon. He remained furious at how following Narrix’s guidance had led to the horrific tragedy. But something about these people registered as real danger, and Narrix could elevate his fighting abilities. Above all, Mako wanted to protect his friends.

With great reluctance, Mako asked internally, Narrix, are you there?

No reply.

“Most of the little shakes don’t pose much threat, once you get used to them,” Square Beard explained. “My name is Hunley, by the way. In most other places, we assume the ground to be reliable. Constant. We talk about staying grounded to imply stability. Not around here, though. When the next big one hits, we’ll have fresh fissures opening up, and new sinkholes in these parts, you mark my words.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Tuck said, still holding his bow.

Mako halted beside Tuck.

Hunley glanced at Mako, then looked over at the horses. “It has to be a hard life, making your way with stolen horses at such a tender age.”

“The horses belong to our employers,” Mako said. “They were temporarily left in our care.”

Hunley cocked an eyebrow and glanced back at his men, as if sharing a joke. “What employers do you serve that sent you to a hazardous region two doors down from nowhere?”

“That’s our business,” Tuck said. “If you knew horses, you would know nobody steals a Paramond.”

“Nobody sensible,” Hunley admitted. “Which is why I suspect you youngsters would travel easier if we took these problems off your hands. We’re not going to involve the authorities. Live and let live. You relinquish the horses, and we go our separate ways.”

“Not true,” Arden said.

Hunley glowered. “You calling me a liar?”

“You lied when you claimed we would go our separate ways,” Arden said. “Whatever we do, you mean us harm.”

Mako knew he could rely on Arden’s ability to discern sincerity from deception. “Is that right?” he asked, laying a hand on the hilt of his sword. A fight now seemed inevitable.

Hunley’s expression hardened. “You don’t want to be out here with such large and dangerous animals. Accidents happen in these parts all the time.” He pointed beyond the collapsed farmhouse. “We have quite a sinkhole right over yonder. A body falls in there, you can’t extract it with a team of cavers, no matter how long their ropes reach. People just . . . disappear, with nobody the wiser.”

Mako frowned. He was pretty sure he could handle all five men with his sword alone, especially if Narrix helped. He also suspected Tuck and Arden could drop all of them with arrows. Only one of the strangers had a crossbow.

But Mako didn’t want to hurt anyone. Besides, he and his friends needed to avoid attention. They had to quietly survive until they were in a position to fight back against the Accursed.

“Do you know what our leaders will do to you if you lay a finger on those horses?” Mako asked.

“We’re ready to take that chance,” Hunley said. “What man who owns a Paramond undertakes a journey without it? You’ve been camped here for days.”

“Thanks for paying such close attention to our affairs,” Tuck said.

“Everyone will be noticing your business so long as you keep such fine steeds grazing in sinkhole country,” Hunley said. He turned his head and spat. “This area is sparsely inhabited. Those who live here notice who comes and goes. This is your last warning. The girl is jumping at shadows. Lay down your arms and let us round up the horses.”

“We’ll keep hold of our weapons,” Mako said. “You warned us, so I guess we should return the favor. We have survived a lot worse than you.” He drew his sword. Anyone who knew weapons would recognize it was of Anoran make.

Hunley paused, considered the weapon, then gave a little nod. “You have a blade to match your mounts. Lad, there are those with fancy training, and those who fight a lot. Bruisers who are used to breaking bones, ending lives. We try not to lead with bloodshed, but my boys and I will teach you how brutal life can get, if you insist on a lesson.”

“You might be surprised who does the teaching,” Mako said. “If any of you take another step closer, we’re going to kill you.” He watched the guy with the crossbow as Arden and Tuck nocked arrows.

“Arrows out?” Hunley asked, drawing his sword. “That’s an act of aggression.”

“What about marching into our camp to steal our horses?” Mako asked. “Look, you want the horses that bad, go take them. But we’re not laying down our weapons.”

Hunley narrowed his eyes. “You’re telling me we can take the horses?”

“I’m saying you are welcome to try,” Mako replied. “You obviously don’t know Paramonds.”

“We know plenty about horses,” Hunley said. He raised his voice to address his men. “Me and Skeet will tend to the youngsters. You three grab the palomino.”

The three men with ropes approached Sunrise, two of them fashioning loops at the ends of their ropes. The golden stallion snorted and stamped a hoof nearly the size of a bucket.

“Enemies,” Mako called. “Do what you must!”

Sunrise snorted. Requiem neighed.

“These Paramonds understand like people, do they?” Hunley asked with a snicker.

“Seems that way sometimes,” Mako said.

After edging closer to Sunrise, two of the men tossed their lassos. The horse bobbed his head out of the way, then rushed forward. Requiem and Ghost bolted as well, each trampling a man. Sunrise reared, heavy front hooves lashing, and caught the third thief in the head.

The stranger with the crossbow swung to aim at the horses. An arrow from Tuck pierced his arm, while the other from Arden ripped into his crossbow. He fired a bolt into the dirt as he went down cursing.

Hunley raised his sword and stared at his fallen comrades. Tuck and Arden each set another arrow to their bowstrings.

The horses trotted away from the men they had dropped.

One of the men who had been trampled struggled to his knees, looking rumpled and soiled. “My arm’s broke!” he called.

“What about the others?” Hunley asked.

The guy with the broken arm glanced at his nearest companion. “Vince is as dead as they get.” He scooted on his knees to the other man. “Carter is faring little better. My ankle is on fire. Broke or sprained.”

Turning to Mako, Hunley sheathed his sword with an apologetic smile. “It appears you have me at a disadvantage.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Mako asked. “You couldn’t take a single unwilling Paramond with five men. But now we have a problem. See, our leaders don’t want anyone knowing about us, or talking about us.”

“Come now,” Hunley said. “Be reasonable.”

“We tried that,” Tuck said.