Heart of the Land Read online

  To all the Greencloak readers and your spirit animal companions.

  —S.P.

  Contents

  Gila Monster Symbol

  Greencloak Letter

  Quote Page

  Title Page

  Map

  Dedication

  1: PRINCESS SONG

  2: THE CITADEL

  3: A MESSAGE

  4: THE EMPEROR

  5: BETRAYAL

  6: VENOM

  7: ANKA

  8: SECRETS REVEALED

  9: WIKAM THE JUST

  10: THE TORCH

  11: NIGHTMARES

  12: PREY

  13: AMBUSH

  14: HERO

  15: GLUE

  16: SNEAK ATTACK

  17: HIGHNESS

  18: THE WAVE

  19: STORM

  20: HEART OF THE LAND

  21: THE HAMMER

  22: BLOOD AND ARROWS

  23: BLOOD AND AX BLADES

  24: BLOOD AND AMULET

  25: REDCLOAKS

  26: WORTHY

  About the Author

  Online Game Code

  Sneak Peek

  Spirit Animals Game

  Copyright

  PRINCESS SONG, DAUGHTER OF THE EMPEROR OF ZHONG, paced her chamber in the Council Citadel. Soon the leaders of the four main governments of Erdas, plus Stetriol, would meet for the first time since they’d gone into hiding during the turmoils of the Devourer’s invasions and the Wyrm’s attack.

  A certain princess had not been invited to this meeting.

  She was not happy about it.

  Song remembered to make her steps small and dainty, not the sweeping strides she felt like taking. From the outside, she knew she looked serene, her black hair braided and held in place with jewel-tipped pins, her robe exquisitely embroidered in the colors of deep ocean green and rich emerald. Inside, her heart fluttered. She wanted to be more than decorative. She was determined to be a princess in deed and not just in name.

  From the hallway came the sound of heavy footsteps, a guard speaking, and then the heavy door of Song’s chamber swung open. The Emperor of Zhong entered, followed by two of his Oathbound guards, both wearing plain black uniforms with brass wrist protectors and brass neck-collars that kept their chins held high. The blank-faced Oathbound took up their stations on either side of the door.

  The emperor was a big man dressed in ceremonial armor made of lacquered and gilded bamboo. It clattered when he walked. He wore his hair long in a warrior’s braid, even though, Song knew, he hadn’t fought in the war against the Devourer. He had been in hiding, guarded by his loyal Oathbound, just as the Queen of Eura, the Prime Minister of Amaya, and the High Chieftain of Nilo had been. Now that the danger had passed, they all had taken up their old positions again, ruling the world.

  “Daughter,” the emperor said in a deep, commanding voice.

  Song lowered her eyes, folded her hands gracefully together, and bowed low, showing deep respect. “Father,” she said softly.

  As she straightened, her father’s sharp eyes studied her, looking for any fault, any blemish. Song held herself still under his gaze. His eyes narrowed as he saw the emerald and ocean of her embroidered robe—green was not a favored color at the moment. “I understand you wished to speak with me,” he said.

  Song bowed again. “Yes, honored Father. With your permission, I would like to attend the meeting of the Council tomorrow.”

  “The meeting is for the leaders of Erdas,” he responded.

  Song clenched her hands together, then forced herself to relax. She couldn’t let him see how much this meant to her. “Please, Father,” she begged.

  The emperor observed her again for a long, judging moment. His mouth settled into a strict line, and Song knew what his answer would be before he spoke. “No,” he said. No further explanation, no justification.

  “But—” Song blurted.

  Her father raised a hand, silencing her. “The meeting is no place for a dutiful daughter.”

  “I will not speak,” Song promised. “I will only be an observer.”

  His face stayed as still as if it had been carved out of jade. Song knew that look. He was angry.

  “It will be good,” she said quietly, “if the other leaders of Erdas can see that your daughter survived the recent conflicts. Thanks to your care and foresight.” She glanced quickly at the guards who flanked the door. “And the loyalty of the Oathbound.”

  The straight line of his mouth relaxed. Slowly the emperor nodded. “Very well. But you will remain silent and standing behind my chair.” His gaze flicked over her again. “And you will wear a robe of a more suitable color.”

  Song lowered her eyes so he would not see the sudden wave of fury that had risen in her. Always he treated her this way, as if she were an object—a beautiful doll—but not his living, breathing daughter. Carefully she bowed. “It will be as you say, Father.”

  As the emperor turned and left the room, Song held her bow until she heard the Oathbound guards close the door behind him. Then she straightened. If she could have seen her face in a mirror, she would have noticed that her mouth was set in the same straight line as her father’s.

  She would attend the meeting, but not as mere observer. She would not stay silent. The Council—and her father—would hear what she had to say.

  “I DON’T LIKE THE LOOK OF THIS PLACE,” ROLLAN SAID, gazing up at the Council Citadel. It was a massive castle built of dark-gray stone, quarried from the Petral Mountains, which loomed behind it like a bank of storm clouds.

  From the road where she stood with Rollan, Meilin, and Conor, Abeke could see that the Citadel consisted of a huge central tower; jutting out from it were four “wings,” each built in the style of one of the four main lands of Erdas. The brightly colored flags of Nilo, Zhong, Eura, and Amaya hung from a wide gateway in the main tower, but they couldn’t hide the fact that half the Citadel’s windows were broken. Moss encrusted the slate roofs, and several of the walls looked ready to buckle under their own weight.

  To Abeke, the Citadel looked like what it was: an important building that had been neglected for a long time.

  Meilin’s nose wrinkled. “It is a little run-down, isn’t it?” She stood next to Rollan. Jhi was a furry black-and-white boulder at Meilin’s other side.

  “More than a little,” Abeke said. She pointed at the part of the Citadel that had been built in the blocky style of a Niloan fortress. “Do you see the holes in the roof there? If it rains, anybody sleeping in those rooms will wake up in a wet bed.” She glanced over her shoulder at Conor, who stood half a pace behind the other three.

  Abeke waited for him to add something, to make a comment about the Council Citadel. But he did not speak. The fight against the Wyrm had ended months ago, but it was clear to her that Conor was still gripped by the horror of what the Wyrm’s parasite had done to him. The Wyrm had affected many of the Greencloaks. She and Uraza had been marked by it, too, but somehow it had been worse for Conor. At least he had the strong, steadfast support of Briggan, who never left his side.

  Just as she had Uraza. Abeke felt the leopard sitting close beside her—closer than usual, trying to reassure her that their bond held, after it had been so cruelly ripped apart by Zerif. Uraza’s ears were pricked, and her long, fluffy tail curled around Abeke’s ankles. Abeke smiled at Conor, trying to get a smile from him in response.

  Conor looked away, rubbing his forehead as if it ached. Maybe it does, Abeke thought. The Wyrm’s hideous black spiral had pulsed on Conor’s brow for many days. The mark was faded now, but Abeke knew better than any of them that the horrors of the Wyrm could not be easily forgotten. If Conor needed her, she vowed to herself, she would be there for hi
m.

  “We’d better go inside,” Meilin said. “We don’t want to be late.”

  “We already are late,” Rollan added. Overhead, Essix flew in a wide circle, a distant shape against a cloudy gray sky.

  “Olvan and Lenori and the rest of the Greencloak contingent must be here already,” Abeke said.

  “And we would’ve been on time,” Rollan put in, “if a certain black-and-white bear hadn’t stuffed herself with an entire forest of bamboo and then needed three days to recover.”

  “It’s not Jhi’s fault her favorite food just happened to be growing beside that inn,” Meilin protested.

  When they’d received the summons from Olvan, Meilin and Rollan had been traveling together to see Jano Rion, the city where Meilin had grown up. Conor, Abeke knew, had been with his family near Trunswick. She hoped they had taken good care of him, but she knew the simple shepherds couldn’t really understand everything that had happened to him. After re-bonding with Uraza in Stetriol, Abeke had gone to see Kirat and Cabaro in Nilo.

  She had missed her friends, but it had been good to have a rest—and to go out with Uraza and her bow and a quiver of obsidian-tipped arrows, hunting for gazelle. She and Uraza had been about to travel farther south to visit her family in Okaihee when the summons had arrived. As eager as she’d been to see her friends again, she had enjoyed a little time without the excitement and worry that came with being a Greencloak. And not just any Greencloak—one of the Four Heroes of Erdas.

  Obeying Olvan’s summons, the four of them had met up at Greenhaven, but they had arrived too late to travel with the rest of the Greencloaks. After hurrying to cross Eura, they had taken a coach that left them a mile down the road from their destination, to give their animals some time to stretch their legs (or wings, in Essix’s case) before they were cooped up in the Citadel.

  The Four Heroes of Erdas, along with Briggan, Jhi, Uraza, and Essix overhead, headed for the Citadel’s main gate, a stone arch with a raised portcullis that looked like a row of iron teeth. The flags of the four lands fluttered in the breeze.

  “No Greencloak flag,” Meilin observed.

  Abeke wasn’t sure what to think of that.

  Five guards dressed all in black, armored with brass vambraces and collars, watched as the four kids approached. All the guards wore swords sheathed at their hips, but only one of them was Marked, a big woman with pale blond hair cut very short. Around her upper arm was coiled a slim brown snake. As the leader of the guards, she held up a hand, stopping them. The snake twined down her arm and threaded itself through her fingers. Its tongue flickered, tasting the air.

  Conor stepped up beside Abeke. “I know that kind of snake,” he whispered to her. “It’s from Eura, a stone viper.”

  “Is it dangerous?” Abeke asked.

  Conor nodded. “It’s not often seen. It hides under rocks, but its bite is deadly poisonous. Its venom turns its victims into stone, and they can only be saved by an antidote.”

  “Halt,” ordered the Marked woman. “I’m Brunhild the Merry.” The woman’s already sour face deepened into a frown. Abeke wondered if perhaps “merry” was a family name. This person certainly didn’t look very happy to see them. “I demand that you state your business,” Brunhild barked.

  Meilin pointed at her green cloak, then at Jhi. “These make our business pretty obvious, don’t you think? We’re here as part of the Greencloak contingent.”

  “The Greencloaks arrived yesterday,” the woman named Brunhild said. Her voice sounded slithery, almost like a snake’s. “They didn’t say anything about a bunch of kids joining them. This is a gathering of the leaders of Erdas. You have no standing here.”

  “Excuse me?” Rollan said, folding his arms. “We’re not just a bunch of kids. We saved the world.”

  “Twice,” Abeke said.

  “Heroes of Erdas,” Rollan added. “Maybe you’ve heard of us?”

  “You think I’ve heard of four sniveling brats?” the guard sneered.

  “I’m not a brat,” Rollan said. He glanced aside at Abeke. “Are you a brat?”

  “No,” Abeke answered. “And I don’t snivel, either.” She had a bad feeling about this. Clearly Uraza did, too; she felt the leopard grow tense, ready to pounce. She laid a hand on her spirit animal’s head, steadying her.

  Meilin sighed loudly. “Enough. We don’t want a fight.” Jhi lumbered to her side and sat, as immovable as a wall. “The Greencloak leader, Olvan, summoned us. Whether he left word about us or not, we’re supposed to be here.”

  “I don’t think so,” snapped Brunhild the Merry. She put a hand to her sword and took a swaggering step forward. “You may not enter. Now leave here, Greencloaks.” She hissed the last word as if it were a curse.

  Beside Conor, Briggan emitted a low, rumbling growl. The thick ruff of fur at his neck bristled.

  In response, the guard held out her hand; the snake that was coiled around her wrist reared back as if ready to strike. Abeke saw the glint of poison dripping from its retractable fangs.

  Conor’s hand was on his ax. Meilin drew her own sword and took up a fighting stance. Abeke fixed her eyes on the snake, ready to use her bow to block its strike if it came for any of them.

  “Don’t let them enter the Citadel!” Brunhild the Merry ordered. The other four guards surged forward, drawing their swords.

  “No blood!” Meilin warned as Abeke nocked an arrow. Abeke nodded, understanding. They were not going to gain entrance to the Citadel by wounding or killing its guards. They had been invited; they shouldn’t have to invade!

  With a yell, one of the guards chopped a sword at Meilin, who coolly sidestepped it and nodded for Briggan and Conor to deal with him. Three more guards converged on her. Abeke saw Meilin smile slightly, and then suddenly she laughed and tossed her sword straight up into the air. As it spun upward, flashing in the light, Meilin elbowed one of the charging guards in the head, whirled to duck a sword thrust and swept the legs from a second guard, and then, as her sword reached the top of its arc and began to fall, she used a palm-strike to the chest to take out the third guard. The sword fell. As it reached her, Meilin snatched it out of the air by the hilt and waved its point threateningly over the three guards who writhed in pain at her feet.

  Meanwhile Briggan had his powerful jaws clenched around the leg of a fourth guard—not enough to draw blood, but enough to make her screech and try to wriggle away. And Uraza had flattened Brunhild the Merry with one leap. The leopard had her front paws on the woman’s chest, so she couldn’t get up. Brunhild’s stone viper was nowhere to be seen.

  Abeke wanted to laugh. The entire fight had taken less than ten seconds, and she hadn’t had to fire a single arrow.

  “Look out!” she heard Rollan shout, and turned to see ten more black-clad figures armed with swords and spears pour out of a guard house next to the Citadel gate.

  Uraza snarled, and Abeke drew back her bowstring. There was going to be blood after all.

  Abeke was about to let an arrow fly when she heard a high voice call, “Stop!” She saw a swirl of green silk as a black-haired girl strode from the gateway and stepped between the Citadel guards and the four Greencloaks and their spirit animals. She was tiny, no taller than a ten-year-old child, but her face was very beautiful and she looked their own age, or maybe a little older. When she spoke, her voice was commanding. “Stand down,” she ordered the guards. To Abeke’s astonishment, they immediately sheathed their swords and grounded their spears. The guards the Greencloaks had defeated scrambled away, picking up the weapons they’d dropped during the fight.

  Brunhild the Merry climbed to her feet, then stepped back and bowed her head. There was still no sign of her stone viper. “Your Highness,” she murmured.

  The girl nodded briskly, then turned to face the four Greencloaks. For a moment Abeke caught a glimpse of something in the girl’s face besides beauty—power, maybe, and determination or anger—and then whatever it was became hidden as the girl placed her tiny
feet together, primly folded her hands, and nodded gracefully.

  “I, Princess Song, daughter of the Emperor of Zhong, welcome you. I beg you to forgive these guards. They are Oathbound, and thus are sworn to protect the leaders of the four lands, and so they acted hastily, seeking to bar you from the Citadel.”

  Abeke lowered her bow. She, Conor, and Rollan all looked at Meilin, hoping she would respond. Not because she was from Zhong, like Princess Song, but because she had been trained in etiquette and knew best what to say in situations like this.

  Meilin straightened and sheathed her sword. Looking every inch the daughter of a high-ranking Zhongese general, she nodded to the princess. “They did act too fast. As you saw, we had no trouble with the first five guards. We could have easily taken the rest of them, too.”

  Abeke heard Brunhild the Merry give a derisive snort.

  “It may be so,” Princess Song said. She turned a frowning gaze on the guards. “These are the Heroes of Erdas,” she explained to them. “They are the young Greencloaks who so bravely fought the Devourer and helped save us all from the Wyrm. Brunhild, you and the other Oathbound were in hiding with the leaders, so you did not witness their acts of bravery. You should do these young people honor.”

  Reluctantly the Oathbound guards bowed.

  “Now,” Princess Song added, “I will bring the young Greencloaks to their chambers.” She turned to lead the way into the Citadel.

  But before they could follow, Brunhild raised her hand, stopped them. “A moment, Your Highness,” she interrupted. “Perhaps you forget the rules of this place.” Her mouth stretched into an ugly, particularly un-merry smile. “The Greencloaks cannot bring their spirit animals inside.”

  “What?” Abeke asked, not understanding. They couldn’t exactly leave their spirit animals outside, while they went in.

  Brunhild folded her brawny arms across her chest; her snake, which had remained hidden during the fight, slithered onto her shoulder, where it rested its slim head, watching them with slitted red eyes. “To be admitted to the Citadel, you Greencloaks must put your animals into their passive states.”