The Endless Skies

by Shannon Price

  The rain from the night means mud sticks to our boots with every step, but I don’t slow. In the patchy sunlight, the land looks less foreboding than it did the day before. I squint as I take in the sea behind us and the rolling hills ahead that lead to Ramsgate.

  “How often do you go to town?” I ask.

  “Only when I need to,” she says. “I prefer to visit traders at the outpost where the train stops, but sometimes we need things that are only found in the city.”

  “Does Isla come with you?”

  “Not often.” The rest of her words string themselves between us—it is safer for her to stay because the city is a danger. “I wish it were different. She should be around children her own age.”

  A light wind carries over the landscape as we walk together, eventually finding a road that cuts toward the city. The trees lining the forest whisper and sigh to one another as they’re rocked by the wind. It’s a strange sound, both new and comforting at once. The sky above us is a subdued gray blue. Ellian sees me looking up and then does the same.

  “I miss it,” she says. “All these years, I thought I might forget what it’s like to go up there. To be free.”

  “Do you ever get lonely?” I ask.

  “Yes” is her reply. “But less often now. I’ve come to terms with my life. The followers of the goddess are kind and visit when they can. Isla keeps me so busy, sometimes it feels like a whole day has passed before I get a chance to sit down. And, of course, for years, I wasn’t alone.”

  I fall quiet again, focusing hard on the road at our feet. I’m not ready to hear about her love for the human man. I still don’t want to believe it is possible. Then again, there is so much I’ve learned in the past days that I barely believe the sky is blue anymore. I know as well as anyone that you can’t fight where your heart wanders. First, mine went to Callen. Then, years later, it fell for Ox.

  Both are one year older than me, and while I’d known Callen for years, I met Ox on the training grounds our cohorts shared. I was so proud of Callen when he was chosen to help mentor the trainees specializing in axe fighting, and Ox, too, returned to train the archers.

  Six months ago, there was a dance to celebrate High Winter. As with High Summer, many Leonodai try to stay up the entire night. Vera and I had napped most of the afternoon for that exact purpose. The dance was lively, with pairs of dancers entwining themselves in each other’s arms and exchanging glances that were hot with longing. Vera was whisked away by a handsome partner, and I excused myself to find some water. As I poured a glass, Ox came up beside me. He wore a long-sleeved blue tunic with a darker vest over it. I remember because I’d never seen him in something so formal before.

  “Hey,” he said. “Happy High Winter.”

  “Hi, Ox. Thanks. You too,” I had replied, trying to catch my breath. The music reached a crescendo as the song neared its end. “Are you having fun?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m not usually a High Winter celebration kind of guy.”

  I cocked my head to the side. “No?”

  “I love getting a good night’s sleep,” he said. “But I’m glad I made an exception tonight.”

  I smile. “Why’s that?”

  “So I could ask if you want to dance.”

  “Right now?”

  “Right now.” He motioned to the glass of water in my hand. “Unless that cup is your dance partner. In which case, I’ll back off.”

  I can only imagine my confused look—I wasn’t used to Ox’s humor yet. “Somehow I think he’ll manage,” I replied, setting the cup down and following Ox to the dance floor.

  I wish I remembered the next minutes better: Ox’s first gentle touch on the small of my back, the flushed expression on his face as the dance went on and we both were out of breath.

  When the music died down, Ox returned to his friends and I to mine. When dawn broke across the horizon and cheers erupted from across the city, I flew back to my room without remembering to say good night to Vera. I was dizzy from the dancing and breathless because I couldn’t get Ox out of my mind. I couldn’t think of sleep, either. I was too busy trying to remember if any of the other girls ever talked about him when we gossiped together, or if I’d seen him ask anyone else to dance.

  “No,” I whispered into the dark. He had sat the rest out.

  From then on, we flirted secretly, as if the challenge was to not let anyone know what was going on. He’d steal kisses on the back of my neck under the guise of a hug. We made bets on who could fly faster than the other, and raced until we were even, pretending to lament that we’d have to try again the next day. A few times, I was late to my drills just as I had been as a first-year trainee. But it was fun—it is fun—to have someone like that.

  So what about Callen, who’s been my anchor all these years? I feel horrible now, knowing how he felt all those months. Those times I was with Ox, and he was still swept up in his own feelings that he failed to notice what was happening. Just as I failed to notice that he was in love with me. I didn’t want to hurt either of them or lose one for the other. It is all maddening, girly silliness that Vera would have reveled in were I able to share all this with her.

  But she’s at home, probably alongside the rest of our cohort, gathering resources from Vyrinterra and bolstering our defenses. Maybe she’s taking commands from my sister and the other sentinels, trying to keep ahead of the humans’ next attack.

  Both of them are where I should be. There is no way I wouldn’t have been noticed missing now. News of my desertion would ripple from the Underbelly to the Glass Tower. I cringe at the thought of someone telling Shirene. On top of everything, she’ll have to deal with the shame of having a deserter for a sister.

  My hands go to my bag’s strap lying securely across my chest. I have the cure, and I am headed back. I have to believe that it will be enough for the king to pardon me.

  A moment later, just as a wind picks up from the north, Ellian and I crest a hill, and I know the time for selfish thought has ended. The enemy’s capital city lies in wait before me, and I am headed into its heart.

  34

  CALLEN

  In the morning, more food is brought to us. Last night, I recounted what General Marchess told me, from the flying machines to the supposed famine, to giving us anything we wanted. It was the last of these that forced Sethran, Ox, and me to come to the same conclusion: Marchess wanted us at our best so that when he broke us, he’d get the most satisfaction.

  “Who do you think we’ll be against?” I ask Sethran.

  “Some of their soldiers, probably. Even if we win, we don’t have the cure. We don’t have time.” He puts his fist to the wall, pushing against it as if he could break it. “We will fight as long and as hard as we can. That’s our role now.”

  “Not to them,” Ox says. “To them, we’re entertainment.”

  I close my eyes, letting that sink in. Warriors are trained to never give up. In reassessing our mission, Sethran isn’t giving in. He’s embracing the reality that our path ends here, in the jaws of our enemy.

  So when the soldiers come to get us, we go. When I’m pulled forward for walking too slowly, I quicken my step and focus every breath on whatever we are about to face. I am ready. This far from the prince, and without Rowan, I have nothing left to lose.

  One of the soldiers in front of us grunts as he adjusts the large bundle carried in his arms. As he stops to shift the weight, I see a flash of a Leonodai sword hilt reflecting in the light. At least the humans had the decency to give us our own weapons back.

  We round a corner, and it all makes sense. I don’t know whether I should be excited to see something so familiar in such a strange place or if I should be afraid. But an arena is an arena, and I know it well.

  We’re shoved, chains and all, into a holding cell. After locking the cell behind us, one of the humans motions for us to put our hands through. I do as I’m told, my eyes tracking the human with our swords. The chains clang to the ground, their sound m
uffled by the increasingly loud cheers from the crowd that’s gathering in the stands above.

  Guns pointed, the soldiers motion for us to back up, and Sethran mutters for us to do as they say. Once our backs are to the far side of the cell, the humans toss our weapons and shields haphazardly onto the ground. I hand Ox his bow, and he trades it for my axe.

  “We can fight for her,” he says. “Both of us.”

  I touch his shoulder in respect, and he returns the gesture.

  The humans guarding us snap to attention as General Marchess approaches. Like yesterday, he wears black from head to toe, only this time, he also wears a bright purple cape. The colors scream against the grayness of the city around us. It is meant to show his wealth. To give his people someone to put their hope in.

  If they are truly starving, I think, why wouldn’t they put their faith in a man like this?

  “Leonodai,” General Marchess says, “I will enjoy watching you die.”

  Sethran spits on the ground at General Marchess’s feet, catching the human’s immaculately clean boot. Our commander straightens up, raising his sword into a fighting position. “You are confident we will,” Sethran fires back. “Do not underestimate us.”

  Marchess turns away just as foot soldier runs up, breathless. I don’t catch all he says, just part of the humans’ language that sounds like a Leonodai name, Ellia or Ellian.

  “Whatever happens, fight like hell,” Sethran says, drawing my attention back. “My order stands. If you see a way out—any way that might help us find the cure—take it.”

  The heavy thud of boots on the arena stairs above us creates a rhythm like the beat of a musician’s drum, and I fall into it. The only exits will be out through one of these passageways or straight up. I wonder if Marchess purposely designed this arena thinking we’d be here someday. I wonder if he knew how cruel it’d be to put us under the open skies we can’t fly home to.

  I don’t have much fight left in me, but I’ve got some. Tightening and untightening the grip on my axe, I try to focus on what’s forward, not behind. The gate in front of us rattles as it’s pulled up.

  The crowd roars, eager for us to die.

  35

  ROWAN

  Minutes after getting into town, and I’m already very much over that I have to bunch up my dress to keep the hem out of the muck on the street. Skies alive, I miss being in clothing that’s meant for agility. Ellian sets the pace next to me, one hand on her basket and one on her own skirts.

  “There’s a market just ahead,” she whispers. “It’s always my first stop. The people there see and hear everything.”

  I avoid the gazes of the humans lining the streets, especially the soldiers. Even after all these years, Ellian seems only slightly more at ease than I am. She’s evaded their detection for so long. My being here could ruin it for her for good. Lowering my head submissively as she suggested, I follow where she leads.

  In the humans’ city, there is no music, just the steady sound of humans conversing with one another, and the clicking of gear on their horses’ saddles. Women in dresses like my own walk in pairs or beside their men, their arms linked. At any moment, I expect to hear the shout of someone sounding an alarm, but the townsfolk are wrapped up in their own business, and no one pays us any mind.

  It’s a relief when Ellian finally turns and we enter a tiny market. Here and there, a rooster crows madly, and dogs bark as they dart between the legs of vendors and customers alike. The sight of the latter makes me tense—but these are not hunting dogs. From the looks of the ribs showing through their fur, I could outrun them even in my human form, bunched dress and all.

  After talking to a shopkeeper and purchasing a pair of woolen socks, Ellian takes my arm, pulling me aside.

  “That man saw them bringing three strange men in yesterday morning. They were placed in the custody of General Marchess.”

  I swallow. “Do you think they’re alive?”

  “Yes.”

  I want to grab Ellian by the shoulders and hug her. “Where?”

  “Somewhere in the fort,” she replies. She swallows. “But…”

  A cheer rises up from the distance, followed by the low groan of the humans booing.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “What I feared,” she says. “It sounds like it came from the arena, which means he’s fighting them.” My heart lifts—Leonodai can handle battle—but Ellian shakes her head. “It’s not like that, Rowan. The general only sends men to the arena when he is done with them. He’ll be the victor once the others are dead.”

  “Let’s go,” I say, but Ellian hesitates. Isla. She’s risked so much for me already. I know where Ox and the others are. I can take it from here.

  Around us, humans are hurrying toward the arena. Another mix of cheers and roars flares up from the distance. Roars? How is that possible? I focus on my magic and try to call it—but of course it doesn’t work. But I know the sounds of lions fighting as surely as my own voice. What in the skies is going on?

  “Ellian, you should stay,” I tell her, pulling her off to the side of the road. “Think of Isla. The war with the humans denied me a father. I won’t let my fight deny Isla her mother.”

  She starts to cry. “Rowan, I don’t deserve your kindness.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No, I do not.”

  Then she looks away from me. Takes a step back. I hear the movement behind me a moment too late.

  An unforgiving hand grasps me from behind and forces my arms down. Reflexively, I reach for a knife, and curse when I remember I can’t reach them under the dress. The strap of my bag is drawn taut across my neck as someone pulls it from my person without any care for my ability to breathe. The feeling awakens something in me, and I start to scream and scream and scream.

  “No!” I shout as the bag is pulled free, taking all of my hope with it.

  “I’m sorry!” It’s Ellian’s voice. I’m whipped around until I’m staring at her again, my blood boiling as desperate tears well up in my eyes. Cold metal snaps down on my wrists. There must be a dozen soldiers surrounding us, each twice my size and fully armored. The black-and-silver insignia I’d seen on the soldiers who ambushed our team yesterday is on their uniforms, too.

  “How could you?” I shriek at Ellian. “You are one of us.”

  She shakes her head. “That was so long ago, Rowan. I loved a human, that was true. But the rest … I lied, Rowan. They know about Isla. They have always known.”

  I try to twist away from my captor and only succeed in falling to my knees. Beneath my dress, the hilt of my sword jabs into my side. “What?”

  “After I gave birth to her, they poisoned me for weeks. They said it was medicine at first, and I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. They said they’d do the same to her unless I taught them everything I knew.”

  The soldiers drag me out of the main street and closer to the sounds of the arena. I twist and kick my legs out, but the small satisfaction of meeting what I hope is some human’s rib cage is quickly doused by the panic of someone tightening their grip around my neck. I swivel around as best I can, trying to find which of the humans took the cure. Instead, I see it lying in the street, forgotten.

  Ellian’s desperate voice sounds from my right. “Rowan, I couldn’t … I can’t lose her. I was nearly dead. So I agreed. They showed pictures, and I told them the words. I have for years now. I was so afraid they’d kill her. I couldn’t stop. Once, I tried to run, and when they caught us, they took Isla from me for days. Gave her back to me starving. It was the most horrible … my poor Islaine. I vowed to never, ever do anything to put her in danger again.”

  Islaine. In hearing the name, my mind is whisked back to the Heroes’ Path, the statue of Scholar Islaine and her golden hand before me. A child named for a scholar who ensured the longevity of our culture. It’s all so backward, and my body reacts on instinct—kicking and screaming, howling curses at the humans until all eyes are on m
e and my struggle.

  One of the soldiers pushes Ellian back, but her words keep spilling from her in a rushed avalanche of pain. “The humans heard of the attack at the coast. They sent lookouts everywhere. I promised long ago to turn in any Leonodai I met. Isla—she didn’t know that I was going to turn you in. She doesn’t know what the humans did to me when she was born. I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

  A rough cloth bag is shoved over my head, and I’m carried away as Ellian continues to beg for my forgiveness. Then her voice is gone.

  I can’t stop the tears from forming at my eyes and streaming down my cheeks. Ellian lied to me. She betrayed her fellow warriors, her own race, for the life of one. Is that selfishness? Is that weakness?

  It’s human, I think bitterly.

  The human holding me tightens his grip as we go, and when I protest, he feels me up, roughly, hands lingering in places where only a lover’s should go. Fear slices through me. I know what humans do to Leonodai women. I have heard the stories.

  But in irons, and trapped in a city I don’t know, I have no idea how to get out of this. I can’t think of any options, any observations that would save me. There is a clang of metal, and I flinch. My mother’s earring catches on the rough cloth of the bag as it bunches at my neck. Something triggers at the back of my mind.

  I’m scared.

  I’m scared, and I want Callen.

  I want him here with me, comforting me as he has for years. Between the bad sparring matches and the lost competitions, from my father’s death to having my dream of being a warrior put on hold—it was always Callen. He was there at my side because he cared. Because he loves me.

  And skies be damned. I love him, too.

  As the hood is pulled back from my head, I find myself face-to-face with a human standing prouder than the rest. Tall with dark hair and a beard that’s meticulously cut, his whole demeanor screams wealth, and the silver bird emblazoned on his chest tells me this is exactly the human Noam first warned me about. The people’s king, the leader they chose: General Marchess.