Something pricked at Echo’s arm. She slapped at the offending sensation, but it was too late. The mosquito had already bitten her, adding to the constellation of bug bites on her exposed arms. It was the first time Echo had visited the rain forest of Puerto Rico, and with luck, it would also be the last. The human family she had left as a child had been of Puerto Rican descent, but that part of her felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. She had memories of cuddling a stuffed coqui, the tiny frog native to the island, but her human ethnicity hadn’t mattered so much to the Avicen, and for the most part, Echo hadn’t given it much thought since the Ala had taken her in. Though she sometimes felt a faraway sadness for the heritage she knew so little about, she was finding it hard to appreciate Puerto Rico’s natural beauty at the moment. As picturesque as El Yunque National Forest was, Echo was too much of a city girl for all this greenery. And the mosquitoes. Good gods, the mosquitoes.
“I told you to wear long sleeves.” Rowan didn’t even bother trying to hide the smugness in his voice. While Echo couldn’t deny the satisfaction of an appropriately timed I told you so, she vastly preferred to be the one delivering it.
She shot him a scowl as they tramped through the undergrowth, mindful of the chaotic network of vines and roots that threatened to trip them with every step. They walked in single file – Sage and a few Warhawks in the lead; Echo in the center; Caius, Violet, and several Avicen mages behind her, with Dorian bringing up the rear – as it was easier to navigate the jungle that way. Echo had no idea where they were going, but she trusted Sage not to get them lost. An Avicen settlement was nestled deep in the jungle, seemingly as far from the cosmopolitan nest as one could possibly get, and conveniently located close to one of the seals on the map the Ala had made. Echo knew that such settlements existed, but she had never seen one herself; the Ala had told her of them in her youth when explaining the complex path of Avicen history. Most Avicen opted to live in human cities – the center of power was in New York, as it had been for centuries – but there were a few holdouts who preferred a life of solitude and isolation to the bustle and boisterousness of city life, even if said city provided a teeming mass of humanity to act as a shield against possible Drakharin aggression. Although, Echo thought as she surveyed the riotously colorful wilderness around them, perhaps isolation was its own protection. After all, the city had provided little deterrent when an attack had finally come, and the warning Sage had sternly delivered before they’d stepped through the gateway she and her mages held open ricocheted through Echo’s mind: Stay on the path. Do not stray. The jungle is filled with traps you won’t see until it’s too late. I’m not bringing any corpses back with me if you’re stupid enough to go off on your own.
Sage really did have a way with words.
In response to Echo’s vitriolic scowl, Rowan tossed a sweetly innocent smile at her over his shoulder. Which meant he wasn’t looking where he was going. Echo replied with a saccharine smile of her own as Rowan, blissfully ignorant of the dangers Echo saw fit not to warn him about, walked smack into a low-hanging tangle of vines and branches.
Echo stepped around Rowan as he struggled to free himself from the grasping vines.
“I do believe Sage told you to watch your step,” she said breezily.
Rowan swore in two languages – English and Avicet – as his shirt snagged on a thorn. With the animals scurrying to and fro, the cries of exotic birds, and the rustle of foliage, the jungle was far from quiet, but the sound of cotton ripping as Rowan struggled was loud enough to bring a smile to Echo’s lips. She could do smug just as well as – no, better than – Rowan ever could.
The Ala had sent them on their journey to the jungle settlement with a litany of instructions they were to follow to the letter, lest they risk being strung up from one of the towering canopy trees by their own intestines. Echo had started to say something flippant about the threat, but a pointed look from the Ala had said loud and clear that it was not mere hyperbole.
These are not like the Avicen you have come to know, the Ala had warned. They will not take kindly to a human in their midst. And they may even see an approach from their northern brethren as an unwelcome incursion into the territory they have so fiercely guarded.
A cheerful thought. Echo replayed the Ala’s instructions in her mind as she walked. Anything to distract her from the sweat beading on her brow and the ache in her muscles as she hiked through the jungle’s uneven, inhospitable terrain. El Toro, the forest’s highest mountain peak, was occasionally visible through the canopy. Like the rest of the rain forest, it was lovely, from afar. Echo slapped at another mosquito on her forearm, cursing it and its entire family.
The Ala’s first instruction: Get close to the camp, but let them find you. Do not enter their gates without an explicit invitation.
Echo had inquired as to what might happen should they simply walk through the settlement’s front door.
Their archers will strike you down before you’ve taken a single step over the threshold, the Ala had said. So don’t do it. Echo thought that last bit was specifically meant for her.
The second instruction: Be respectful. Show deference. And then, to Echo, she added: For the love of the gods, keep your mouth shut and let Sage do the talking.
Echo had bristled at that. Her smart mouth had gotten her out of as many scrapes as it had gotten her into, but the steely look in the Ala’s eyes made her think that, perhaps just this once, discretion would be the better part of valor.
The third instruction: Deliver this – the Ala had handed Echo a small package wrapped in plain brown paper – unopened to the head of the clan.
Echo had been on her best behavior and had not opened the package despite her burning curiosity. When the Ala had placed it in her hands for safekeeping, Echo had given the package a good shake, but no sound provided a clue as to the nature of its contents. When she had asked what it contained, the Ala brushed off her question and said simply, Something their leader greatly desires.
Cryptic, but so long as the package wasn’t ticking, Echo could live with mystery for a few more hours.
The package rested in her backpack, carefully arranged on top of her other belongings so that it didn’t get crushed. That had been the Ala’s final instruction to Echo: Do not damage this package. Your life may depend on it.
All in a day’s work. Echo would have felt downright bereft if she’d been packed off to the middle of the jungle without a single ominous warning. She was growing accustomed to them. Ominous warnings were a part of her routine now.
They trudged through the rain forest, brushing aside low-hanging vines and stumbling over roots hidden by the thick carpet of fallen leaves that squelched beneath their feet. It could have been two hours, or ten. Time ceased to have meaning. It passed in a haze of sweat and buzzing mosquitoes and the occasional screech of some unseen bird hopping around the network of entwined branches overhead.
Echo was just about ready to lie down and pray for the sweet oblivion of death’s embrace when Sage came to an abrupt stop.
The chatter down the line, which had been the only thing keeping Echo awake, grew quiet. The birds and beasts held their tongues. Even the drooping ferns ceased their susurrations. It was as if the jungle was holding its breath, waiting for something. Or someone.
Echo’s skin prickled at the nape of her neck. She could have sworn she felt a penetrating gaze marching along her flesh.
A sound broke the stillness as a figure materialized out of the indigo shadows. Footfalls, deliberately placed to snap dead twigs. Echo realized a moment too late that the approach was a distraction. Something sharp and solid pressed against the soft skin behind her ear. Like the head of an arrow, nocked and ready to sink into the vulnerable flesh of her throat. They’d all been so busy looking straight ahead they hadn’t bothered to check behind them.
Stupid, Echo thought.
Tired, her body reminded her.
Dorian swore in rapid Drakhar and the arrow pressed harder against Echo’s neck.
The person wielding the bow and arrow spoke in low, unhurried Avicet right into Echo’s ear but the dialect was unfamiliar to her. Without turning her head, she swiveled her gaze to Rowan, who was in much the same position, though the weapon held to his jugular was a wickedly curved blade. “Translation?”
Rowan swallowed, and then looked like he regretted the motion as the knife’s blade pressed deeper into his flesh. “She said, ‘We don’t take kindly to strangers in our land, even if they come wearing feathers.’”
Lovely. They were off to a fantastic start.
Sage and the person holding the arrow to Echo’s throat exchanged words in Avicet, and after a few tense minutes, the arrow retreated and Echo could breathe again. Someone prodded her in the back, ushering her forward.
“They’re taking us to their camp,” Sage called down the line. “Everyone be on your best behavior.”
“I’m always on my best behavior,” Echo said. She couldn’t help it.
Rowan snorted, Sage sighed, and the person behind Echo poked her even harder in the back. They trudged through the rain forest and into the settlement. Echo hoped whatever was in the package was enough to guarantee that they made it out alive.
An Avicen with the greenest feathers Echo had ever seen was sitting in the center of what she could only describe as a tree house. Or maybe a tree mansion. The Avicen of the rain forest didn’t live in huts on the ground, but in wood structures built into the trees like miniature palaces. Winding staircases wrapped around ancient trunks, and bridges made of rope and smooth wooden slats connected the dwellings, forming a complex network high above the ground.
The team of scouts they’d encountered in the wild had led them here, to the most elaborate of the dwellings, located in the center of the village. One of the scouts must have gone ahead to alert the Avicen of their return, because a party had been waiting for them, resplendent in armor suitable for hot, humid jungle terrain and with weapons polished to perfection: spears topped with wickedly curved blades, bows made of gleaming dark wood, more daggers than Echo could count.
In the center of it all was the green-feathered Avicen – the group’s matriarch, judging from the deference the others showed her. She studied Echo with eyes as black and as sharp as the Ala’s. When she spoke, her voice held all the authority of a queen comfortable with her power. “You dare bring a human into our home?” With a disdainful look at Caius, she added, “And two Drakharin?”
“The Ala has decreed that these Drakharin are our allies,” Sage replied. “At least for the time being. What could have possessed the Ala to bring them into the fold the gods only know, but I have no interest in breaking her oath of allegiance. She can be most fearsome when she wants to be.” Sage motioned Echo forward. “She is no mere human. She is the firebird, the one prophesied to bring an end to our troubles.”
An explosion of hushed whispers arose from the assembled Avicen, but the green-feathered one silenced them with an upraised hand. “I have heard speak of the one you claim is the firebird. Come here, child. Let me see you.”
Echo glanced at Sage, who offered a shrug that wasn’t particularly comforting. Gripping the package, Echo approached the clan’s matriarch. As soon as she was close enough, the Avicen’s hand shot out to grasp her chin. Echo held still as the woman tilted her face from side to side, examining her.
Whatever she saw must have met with approval, because a pleased smile flashed across her face like a whip. “And here I thought the Ala was spouting nonsense.” She let go of Echo’s chin and looked down at the package. “Tribute, I assume?”
Echo nodded mutely and held out the package.
The Avicen accepted the package and delicately opened the taped seams. When Echo saw what it was, she wanted to scream. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said.
It was a box of Twinkies. A box of goddamn Twinkies.
With a grin, the Avicen handed the box to one of her subordinates, a member of the scouting party that had led them to the camp. She nodded at Sage. “Your tribute is accepted and we offer you our hospitality,” she said. “You may call me Reina.”
Spanish for “queen.” It said a great deal about her, as the Avicen tended to choose their own names. Humble, Echo thought.
Sage responded with a short bow. “We have come about the seal. The Ala said you sent word that it had been compromised.”
Just like that, Reina’s smile vanished. “Compromised,” she said, her tone somber. “That is one way of putting it. Come, I will show you the seal myself.” She stood, and Echo noticed for the first time how tall she was. The top of her feathered head nearly brushed the ceiling. She had a warrior’s body, with long limbs and graceful strength. “The seal is indeed compromised, but I am afraid that is only half the problem.”