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  “Where did you send Lakeo?” he asked after one such stop.

  You send? Yanko wasn’t sure if that implied that Dak knew they had been up there whispering about something. Why hadn’t he asked, where did Lakeo go?

  “She’s trying to find a way around the ravine,” Yanko said.

  Dak continued on without questioning him. Using his sword, he hacked at foliage choking the way. He hadn’t done that up above, but maybe he wasn’t worried about anyone tracking them through this. Who else would be foolish enough to fall—or rapidly descend—to the bottom of a ravine?

  “Looks like we can climb up here.” Dak pointed his sword up a slope that wasn’t as steep as most of them. Numerous roots and branches offered handholds.

  With some alarm, Yanko realized that by pushing inland, they should now be in a straight line with the waterfall. He had sent Lakeo on a path that would be easier to navigate, but it was also more roundabout. Dak wiped off his sword, sheathed it, and reached for the first handhold.

  “Dak?” Yanko asked, making him pause. “Are you worried about what we’ll do if Minark doesn’t come back?”

  “No.” Dak started climbing. Did he know Yanko was trying to delay him, or was he just being his usual, terse Turgonian self?

  “Because you think Arayevo will talk him into returning? Or because you think his greed for treasure will prompt him to check and see if we found it?”

  Dak was already disappearing up the slope, passing out of the influence of the mage light. Yanko sighed and started climbing too.

  “The Kyattese are out here too,” Dak said, his voice drifting down from above, along with dirt that smacked Yanko on the top of his head.

  “Your backup plan is to get a ride home with them? Are you sure they would have you?” Even as Yanko asked the questions, he wondered if that truly was Dak’s backup plan. What if sailing home with the Kyattese was his primary plan? He hadn’t seemed surprised by the underwater boat’s appearance. Maybe he had instructed the Kyattese to follow the Falcon’s Flight.

  “Why wouldn’t they have me?” Dak asked.

  “Uhm, you’re tall and big. Do you even fit in an underwater boat?”

  Dak was too far above him for Yanko to see the look he probably shot down, but he could imagine it.

  “Do they not care that you’re Turgonian and from a warrior culture?” Yanko asked, attempting a more serious question. “They seem very… Well, they claim to be pacifists, don’t they?”

  “They prefer peace. They’ll fight if you try to take over their islands.” More dirt trickled down. “I see the top.”

  Yanko climbed the rest of the way without asking further questions. He would assume that Dak had a way to get home if he found the lodestone. Yanko wished he could assume he did.

  By the time he reached the top, sweat trickled down Yanko’s spine. He flopped onto a boulder.

  “Can we rest for a second?” he asked.

  Dak had already started into the trees, but he paused. His face was masked as he gazed back, the mage light just illuminating him. Yanko looked down, trying not to feel like a wimp. He could have continued on, but more than ever, he felt it might be best if Lakeo got there first. What if that underwater boat could go right up the river to the pool and pick up Dak and his shiny new lodestone at the waterfall?

  “It’s hard work communicating with tortoises,” Yanko said, feeling the need to make an excuse for his supposed weariness.

  “Is it?”

  Yanko wasn’t sure whether that question indicated skepticism or if Dak honestly wondered.

  “Using the sciences for any extended period of time is, yes.” Yanko dragged his sleeve across his brow, wiping the sweat away. It did not cool off much here at night, not like in his mountain homeland.

  Dak kept looking to the west, clearly agitated by the delay.

  “What honor do you seek, Dak?” Yanko asked.

  “What?”

  “When I asked why you wanted to go on this treasure hunt, you told me, ‘You are not the only one who seeks honor.’”

  “You have a good memory.”

  “Should you sound so gruff and displeased when you give a compliment like that?”

  Dak snorted. “Probably not. Nobody’s ever accused me of being tactful.”

  “Do you have a father or someone who expects a great deal from you? A father who you’ve never been able to please?” It seemed strange asking someone with gray sprinkled in his hair if his parents’ good opinions still mattered, but Yanko couldn’t imagine that it ever stopped mattering. Maybe one eventually learned not to base one’s life around those opinions. He didn’t know yet.

  “My father sits in a rocking chair with his gun, looking out over the orchard and shooting coyotes that come too close to the chicken coop. Sometimes, he shoots people who come too close to him. All he expects is to be left alone. He’s not overly concerned about my career anymore.”

  “So… you inherited his grumpiness?”

  Dak gave him a flat look.

  Yanko probably deserved it. “Anymore, you said. Was there a time when he put pressure on you to be something other than what you wished to be?”

  “He wanted me to be a soldier. It was all I wanted too.”

  “And that’s what you are?”

  “Yes.”

  Prince Zirabo had implied that Dak was more than that, that he had some political or diplomatic significance. Yanko didn’t disbelieve Dak necessarily, but he doubted he was only a soldier. Turgonians had a warrior caste rather than honored families—it was their version of an aristocracy—and their military officers came out of it. At the least, Yanko suspected Dak was one of those people.

  “A soldier who seeks honor,” Yanko said, realizing Dak hadn’t answered his original question.

  “Yes.”

  “I want honor returned to my family, not just because it’s what my father wants, but because over many generations, we earned a place of trust with the government leaders and had a say in major decisions. It’s not right that my mother—that one person destroyed that for us. But I also… Dak, my people are in trouble. If this lodestone could lead us to a new fertile land… I have to recover it.” He wasn’t sure why he was still talking, except that he would prefer it if Dak did not fight him over the lodestone. Maybe somehow, he could persuade Dak to look the other way when Yanko took it.

  “I’m aware of the trouble of which you speak, but Nuria has been the predominant military power in the world for longer than my people have even had a homeland. I am skeptical that there truly is a lost continent—perhaps there is an island shrouded by magic somewhere—but if there is… Yanko, no other nation wants to see Nuria with more land that could be used to birth more armies, more mages. Turgonia isn’t the only nation that would fight to make sure that doesn’t come to pass.”

  Yanko clenched his jaw. He should have valued Dak’s honesty over secrecy and lies, but it was hard to accept the blunt words. “The rest of the world wants to see us starve and for our nation to collapse into civil war?”

  “My people would like to see Nuria cease to be a threat. How that happens doesn’t matter, just that it happens.”

  “But preferably with great violence and upheaval?” Yanko couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. He remembered being a boy, out in the woods with Great Uncle Lao Zun, and questioning why some loggers targeted the largest and oldest trees in the forest when lesser trunks could just as easily provide timber. His uncle had said that it was human nature to enjoy seeing the mighty fall. At the time, Yanko hadn’t applied it to more than trees.

  “It needn’t be,” Dak said, “though powerful nations rarely break up without violence. There’s too much of value that people will fight over.” After a moment’s pause, he added, “It’s unfortunate that you’re caught in the middle. No matter what your father says, this isn’t your war. Generations’ worth of self-centered human beings created the problems in the world that you were born into. Your elders owe you a
debt, not the other way around.”

  Yanko shook his head. “Sometimes, you’re born with obligations and don’t have a choice—that’s what it means to be moksu. It’s not—in my culture, you respect your elders and acknowledge the wisdom that comes from living many years. You don’t get the option to… condemn them. You do what your family needs you to do. There’s no other choice.”

  “You always have a choice, Yanko. To pretend you don’t is to make yourself a victim.”

  Yanko rubbed the back of his neck, weary from the long day and from the conversation. Perhaps it was time to end it. He didn’t need a Turgonian whispering insidious words in his ear, planting dangerous thoughts.

  “You have a choice, Dak? You’re here, dealing with a whiny Nurian kid, entirely because you want to be?”

  “Shocking, isn’t it?” Dak offered his hand. “Ready to continue? Someone else was here a week ago, remember. Delays may not work in our favor.”

  “Good point.” Yanko shouldn’t be worrying about Dak as competition until they were in the room—or secret waterfall cave—with what they sought. Until then, they had external competition to consider, others who could keep them both from their goal.

  Yanko did not need assistance to rise, but he accepted Dak’s hand. They headed into the brush, Dak again leading. Yanko did not try to delay him further, not after that reminder that Sun Dragon might be out there, and that, thanks to his tortoise friend, Yanko now knew that Pey Lu was in the area. What if she also sought the lodestone? If she did, she’d had a week longer to search the island.

  After twenty minutes of maneuvering through the rainforest, Dak halted, holding up his hand. Once Yanko stopped, he caught the sound of voices in the distance. Male voices. That meant it wasn’t Lakeo or Arayevo.

  “They’re on the beach to the south.” Dak veered from his course, heading toward a rocky summit that rose above the trees.

  Yanko hesitated, tempted to veer in the other direction, toward where he believed the pool lay. He wished Kei had stuck with him, but couldn’t blame the bird for avoiding the fall into the ravine. Besides, parrots were supposed to sleep at night. Kei might not reappear until dawn.

  Dak moved quickly, almost running, and Yanko decided to follow. He wanted to know who those voices belonged to. Besides, he had Lakeo looking for the pool.

  As they scrambled up a black rock slope, the vegetation thinned. The voices disappeared, replaced by the sound of the ocean. They climbed above the treetops, and Dak hunkered low. Feeling exposed, Yanko did the same thing, banging his knees and his sword scabbard on the harsh lava rocks.

  The sound of the ocean grew louder, seeming to come from both sides of him now. Dropping to all fours, Dak headed for a cliff. Yanko paused before following, reaching out with his mind to try and get a better feeling for what lay below their peak. The sound of water off to his right wasn’t from the ocean at all, but from a waterfall. The tortoise’s waterfall. Yanko could see the pool with his mind, perhaps six hundred feet to the side and a hundred feet below their position.

  He bit his lip and looked at Dak’s back. Might he sneak away and look behind the waterfall before Dak caught up?

  The sound of voices drifted up again, just audible above the ocean’s roar. Yanko had to know who was out there. He didn’t sense anyone by the pool yet, so there should still be time to investigate it. A quick peek at the beach wouldn’t hurt.

  Yanko crawled up to Dak, who now lay flat on his belly as he looked over the cliff. Following his example, Yanko pulled himself up to the edge on his elbows, the rock jabbing into his hipbones.

  They had reached the opposite end of the island. A ship was anchored beyond the reef, braving choppier waves. It had a dark hull, and Yanko could barely make it out against the black water. If not for a few lanterns along the railing, he would not have spotted it at all.

  Several rowboats had entered a lagoon and were pulled up on the beach. One held a crate or chest with something lumpy leaning against it under a tarp. It was too dark out to see what the cargo was.

  There was light farther up on the beach—mage light. Yellow and orange orbs floated in the air, highlighting weathered faces. Armed men and women were gathering around a man speaking and gesturing, giving orders. The pale-skinned, red-haired man wore travel clothing with numerous pockets, and he was waving something about. A map? The onlookers had a variety of hair and skin colors and wore a mixed collection of garments that represented the styles of numerous nations. Two of the men wore the orange robes of fire mages, but most looked like they had borrowed their clothes from friends—or enemies. The people reminded Yanko of those in the tortoise’s vision, and he shifted uncomfortably, rocks digging into his belly.

  Dak gazed intently down at them. Counting numbers?

  Yanko poked him in the shoulder and pointed back the way they had come. He crawled a dozen feet from the edge before standing, not wanting to risk being seen.

  Dak did not move to follow him. He pulled out a spyglass and peered at who knew what.

  “Dak,” Yanko whispered. “If they have mage lights, they have mages. Mages who might sense us.”

  He didn’t know if his soft words carried, but Dak collapsed the spyglass, returned it to his pocket, and scooted away from the edge.

  “They have a prisoner,” he said.

  “What? Where?”

  Lakeo? It had to be. Who else was on the island? Why hadn’t she gone to the pool? Why had she been out where pirates could capture her?

  “He or she is tied up in one of the boats, under a tarp. There’s just a hand sticking out. It’s hard to tell, even with a spyglass, but it looks like a woman’s hand.”

  Yanko groaned. That lumpy object next to the chest. It must have been Lakeo, tied up and taken prisoner.

  “We’ll never get her as long as they’re all on the beach,” Dak said.

  Yanko was relieved that Dak wanted to get her and wasn’t dismissing her as expendable, but he didn’t know how that helped them. “If we wait until they’re aboard their ship, we’ll never get her.”

  “I can go down, wait for them to disperse on their hunt, and retrieve her then,” Dak said. “But that leaves you without a bodyguard.”

  Yanko gazed in the direction of the waterfall. “I’ll go with you. I was the one to send Lakeo to this end of the island. I can’t leave her to pirates.”

  Dak held up a hand. “Just give me a distraction, if you can. Then go complete your mission.”

  He wanted Yanko to find the lodestone? Before him? Or was it just that he considered Nuria having the lodestone less troublesome than some pirates having it? Maybe he believed that if Yanko had it, he could more easily retrieve it for Turgonia later. Either way, Yanko would be foolish not to accept the offer. If anyone could rescue Lakeo alone, it would be Dak.

  “All right,” Yanko said. “Go down to the beach and hide. I’ll create a distraction, then check the waterfall.”

  “Good.” Dak waved his rifle, then jogged back the way they had come.

  Scaling the cliff would have been more direct, but would have left him in view of the beach. Yanko dropped to his belly to scoot close and look over the edge again. The meeting had dispersed, and most of the pirates were walking down the beach, following the man with the map. It wasn’t as direct a route as climbing over the cliff, but they would reach the river leading to the waterfall before long.

  At least Dak should have an easier time with most of the men gone, including the two wearing Nurian mage robes. There were still ten pirates on the beach, two standing guard next to the boat with the prisoner. Yanko groped for a distraction that might help him. Had there been great predators on the island, he might have convinced them to attack the pirates, but he hadn’t come across anything more ferocious than a mongoose.

  Yanko remembered the monkey that had howled down at him earlier and let his senses drift out as far as they could reach, checking the trees that grew along the beach below his cliff. Many birds roosting in the branches,
and yes, the trees also housed some monkeys.

  Keeping his touch subtle so the fire mages wouldn’t sense someone using power nearby, Yanko brushed the minds of the monkeys. As he woke them from their sleep, he pointed out that enemies had come to their beach, enemies with dangerous weapons. He felt guilty for bothering them when they were in no danger, but one look at the form slumped under the tarp reminded him that there was a good reason for this deception.

  One monkey howled a warning cry. It was soon taken up by others, up and down the beach. The monkeys leaped from branch to branch, knocking coconuts and leaf litter to the ground. The pirates watched the commotion, drawing closer together and pointing.

  Yanko hoped it was enough of a distraction for Dak. He couldn’t see the big Turgonian down there, but gave him a mental salute, then backed away from the edge of the cliff. He had a lodestone to find and not much time in which to do it.

  Chapter 6

  It took Yanko longer than he expected to scramble down from the rocky escarpment in the dark. He dared not create a light to guide him, not with so many people on the island now. He couldn’t be sure those pirates would stick to the beach. If they had a good map or knew where they were going, they might cut inland early.

  More than once, Yanko knocked rocks loose as he descended. Every time, he winced at the noise. He could see the pool through the trees, the roar of the waterfall growing louder. It lay entirely in darkness, no hint of lanterns or mage lights in sight. He hoped that meant he was alone, but before he stepped out of the trees, he forced himself to close his eyes and study the area with his mind.

  Here and there, birds and small animals snoozed in the bushes and treetops, but nothing larger lurked around the pool. The waterfall drowned out the noise of the ocean. It could drown out the sound of approaching voices or footfalls, too, so he stretched his awareness as far down the river as he could, figuring that was the most likely direction the pirates would come from. He did not sense any people approaching, but as he was withdrawing, he stumbled upon the unexpected.

  There was something in the water. It wasn’t a person or any form of life, but it wasn’t rock, either. He always struggled to feel non-living things, since they lacked the presence that people and animals had, but he slowly worked out the shape of the object. A metal cylinder. He crept forward, wondering if he could make it out with his eyes. Was it completely below the surface? Or had it—