Dinah wanted to stay forever, but she simply nodded. Her eyes took in every stem, every inch of the mushrooms. Together they walked silently through the field, the fungi stretching out in all directions, seemingly never ending. Dinah watched with fascination as they passed a pink-and white-striped mushroom with a black stem and yellow gills, a bright blue mushroom the color and depth of the sky, and a deep purple mushroom with a stem covered in a thousand tiny mushrooms of the same color. The light in the valley faded into a soothing glow. It was something otherworldly, the most extraordinary thing Dinah had ever seen, the exact opposite of the dark tunnel from which they had emerged. Sir Gorrann didn’t speak, but the Spade had drawn his sword for some reason that Dinah couldn’t fully comprehend. Morte walked behind them, eating everything in his sight. There was no way Dinah could stop him in this valley of rich food, and she watched him with envy as he gulped down a pure white mushroom that appeared to be made of frosting. Her steps fell silently on the soft lawn. Twisty tendrils curled up from the ground, as thick as a man’s arm, as they passed. The curls gave a tiny shake when her foot landed beside them, as if they were stirring from a dormant sleep.
I could stay here forever, thought Dinah. I could lie underneath the mushrooms and simply watch their colors pulse with this… enthralling life. Dinah let her eyes linger on a pink mushroom, its rich fuchsia the same color as the inside of a Julla fruit. Tiny glowing stars dotted its cap. “Oh,” breathed Dinah, amazed at the beauty of it all. She reached for the mushroom. An odd cry echoed through the valley, such an odd sound in this peaceful haven of light and warmth. It sounded like a crane. The cry was followed by another, and then she heard a whump. She knew that sound. Her face distorted with terror as she spun around. The first arrow took the Spade off his feet. He flew backward onto the grass, a white quivered arrow protruding from his chest. Two more arrows landed on either side of him. The valley grew lighter as all the mushrooms suddenly radiated with blinding white light. A second arrow landed just past her feet, another in front of her. She blinked in confusion.
Wake up! She screamed at herself. You are under attack! Her thoughts finally connected and then she was running blindly, arrows falling around her like rain. Dinah plunged through the mushrooms, ducking and bobbing as arrows whizzed past her face.
“Morte!” she screamed. “Morte! Morte!” Suddenly, he was upon her, his black hide rippling with excitement. He barely even stopped moving long enough for her to step onto his leg and vault herself onto the nape of his neck. Then, they were flying, his muscles pounding like thunder beneath her. Through the mushrooms they plunged, the rainbow light a colored blur that flashed past. Dinah watched with horror as a line of feathered warriors appeared before them. Hundreds deep, each holding notched bows and arrows, each one trained on her, on Morte. The Yurkei. Morte wheeled to the left, but they were there as well, and to the right, emerging from between the mushrooms like ghosts in the darkness. Had they been there the whole time? Morte whinnied and backstepped. Something was wrong with him. He was stumbling, jumping, falling over his feet. The warriors slowly moved toward them. Dinah and Morte were surrounded on all sides.
Morte began to buck, and Dinah clutched his mane to keep from falling off. When he landed, she nudged him forward. If there was no passage leading away from the Yurkei, she would go through them. Morte would crush them under his mighty hooves, even if he was acting strangely. Dinah drew her sword.
“DINAH, STOP!” The voice plowed through the valley, strong and deep. The light from the mushrooms dimmed at the sound. She turned her head in surprise. It was the first time Sir Gorrann had ever said her name. He stood a thousand yards away, looking very much alive in the midst of a thousand Yurkei warriors that surrounded him, their arrows drawn, all pointing at her, pointing at him. Blood leaked steadily from his shoulder, but the wound didn’t look terrible. There was no sign of a chest wound. Armor, she thought. He still has his Spade armor on. Thank the gods. The wild thudding of her heart shook her body as Morte wheeled and turned again.
Sir Gorrann raised his voice. “Dinah, do not fight! They will kill you with a hundred arrows before you cross their line. We are surrendering. Put down your sword.” The Spade took his sword and laid it on the ground before raising his arms above his head. There was a murmuring in the crowd, and Dinah’s eyes widened as the Yurkei parted like a sea. The mushrooms began to hum with light and sound. The warriors all extended their arms and pressed the base of their palms together, thumbs linked, fingers spread. Like wings. Dinah heard a familiar thudding, and her stomach clenched.
A tan Hornhoov emerged out of the dim light, and astride him, a fearsome-looking man. His hair was as white as snow, shaved back in a long strip that caressed his shoulder blades. Stripes of white paint covered his deeply tanned and muscular body, his radiant blue eyes visible even from a distance. On his head was a woven headdress of feathers, white and blue and gathered in a circle at the crown before cascading down his back. The rest of the Yurkei watched him with rapt attention, their hands still spread before themselves. He gave the slightest nod and their arms dropped back to their original position—aiming arrows at her and Morte. He was almost upon her now; Dinah was sure of his name. Mundoo, the Chief of the Yurkei.