“Mind you,” Farfalee inserted, “drinlings seldom live more than two years. So for them, it has been many generations since they have worked with Sakar or any of our people.”
“But they keep an extensive oral history,” Sakar said. “A necessity if they hope to preserve a group identity, in spite of their brief life spans.”
The undead horsemen came into view on the far side of the plain, riding hard. As Rachel watched from the top of the ridge, she thought surely there must be many more than a hundred. “What will happen?” Rachel asked, noticing that Jason and Ferrin had drifted over close enough to listen.
“They will talk,” Sakar said. “Ul will claim we are all in his custody. He will ask the sentinels of Ebera to leave the matter in his hands.”
“And if they refuse?” Rachel asked.
“The wild clan is ready and willing to fight,” Sakar said. “The result would be tragic. We need the sentinels of Ebera right where they are, doing just what they’re doing.”
“The drinlings could win?” Rachel asked.
“Drinlings were made to fight,” Farfalee said. “It’s like Eldrin somehow compressed eighty years of energy into two. The drinlings are strong, tireless warriors. They don’t die easily, and they heal very quickly. They’re immune to most sicknesses and toxins. They never sleep, not even in a trance. They can eat and digest almost anything—even soil. They supposedly can also draw energy from the air and the sun.”
“And there are more drinlings ready to take the field than a glance would suggest,” Sakar added. “Horses or not, the sentinels won’t stand a chance.”
“Why are the drinlings helping us?” Jason asked.
“The drinlings are not currently avoiding the war because they love Felrook,” Sakar answered. “On the contrary, for years the drinlings stood between Maldor and the east coast of Lyrian. They made the kingdom of Kadara untouchable and received aid from Kadara in the form of men and arms.
“As the conflict wore on, and as more kingdoms fell elsewhere, Maldor brought ever greater hosts against the drinlings. Eventually the drinlings’ numbers began to dwindle. The king of Kadara withdrew his support from the drinlings, choosing instead to fortify his defenses. Kadara and others had taken the fierce commitment of the drinlings for granted for ages, but in this instance, the drinlings surprised everyone. Instead of sacrificing themselves to buy Kadara more time to prepare, the drinlings quit the fight. They abruptly stopped resisting and turned their efforts to evading. They know the hills south of here like no other people, and eventually the hosts of Maldor gave up trying to chase them. The commanders opted to bypass the drinlings and engage Kadara.”
“Kadara definitely had it coming,” Ferrin murmured.
“So where do they stand now?” Rachel asked.
“In the years since quitting the fight, the numbers of the drinlings have made a significant recovery,” Sakar explained.
“It helps when pregnancy lasts little more than a week, and twins or triplets are common,” Farfalee commented.
Sakar nodded. “There has always been a high mortality rate with drinling women during childbirth. That rate is increasing. But they are doing their best. I told Ul about Galloran’s return and the possible involvement of the Amar Kabal against Felrook. He knows that once Kadara falls, the drinlings will be encompassed by enemies. If this rebellion comes to fruition, he pledged the involvement of his clan.”
“What of the other clans?” Ferrin asked.
“Ul and I will work to convince them,” Sakar said. “It may take some time. For now, he has vowed to intervene with the sentinels of Ebera on our behalf. It was he who warned me that the sentinels would never allow you to cross the Silver River. He brought his people across in unprecedented numbers to give you a chance.”
On the plain below the ridge, a detachment of riders approached Ul and a party of drinlings. Rachel was much too far away to catch any of the words. At one point, Ul turned and gave a signal with one arm. Hundreds of drinlings stood up along the ridge and on the plain, casting aside their camouflaged cloaks.
The discussion on the plain continued. Eventually, the detachment of riders turned and galloped back to their comrades. Within minutes, the undead horsemen were riding away to the east.
In time, Ul joined Sakar and Farfalee on the ridge. Three others came forward with him—a girl and a boy who looked not much older than Rachel or Jason, and an older man crisscrossed with scars, especially on the left side of his face and body. His left hand was missing, replaced by a sharp metal spike with a small hook affixed to one side.
The girl introduced herself as Nia, the boy as Io. “My father wishes us to speak for him,” the girl said in a clear voice with a slight accent. “He has little patience for a language so tedious as yours.”
“He means no offense,” Io clarified. “Our language, Ji, conveys information much more succinctly, although it lacks the variety and nuances of your tongue.” Rachel immediately liked Io. He seemed calm and considerate. And it didn’t hurt that he had handsome features—more boy band than rock star, but undeniably cute.
“Father negotiated your freedom,” Nia said. “We have a boat waiting to convey you to the south. We keep a few hidden along the river. You will officially remain under our vigilant watch for three days. If any of you have contracted the plague, you will be burned.”
Halco cleared his throat. “I’m infected.”
A brief patter of syllables flowed from Ul.
“Father says you can either perish by fire or seek to join the sentinels,” Io relayed.
Brow lowered, Halco thumbed a jagged scar on the back of one hand. He attempted to answer twice before the words came out. “I might prefer to join the sentinels. My hunger remains manageable, and I suppose they can find a use for every man they can get.”
The request was translated, and Ul favored Halco with a nodding smile of acknowledgment. Through Io, he assured Halco that his assistance would be valued.
“My father also desires to relate that my brother and I are intended as gifts to your cause,” Nia said. “He was informed that you would need representatives from his people to join you at Mianamon, to allow for a more accurate prophecy. Of all his children, we are the slowest.”
“Meaning we are most adept at conversing in your language,” Io added. “And we are young, so we still have much life ahead of us.”