by Amanda Sun
“Things are tense there,” he says. “If the Elite Guard fired on you, you can be sure your return won’t be welcomed with open arms.”
“I just need to get to my father,” I insist. “It has to be a misunderstanding. The Elite Guard has always protected my family.”
“We’re going to find a way, no matter what,” Griffin says. “So it’ll save us a lot of time if you could just help us.”
Tash sighs, rubbing his forehead. Then he nods. “Pax and I can fly you two up to the airship near the coast of Burumu, and from there you must make your way to our allies. But it will be up to you to get to Ashra safely.”
“Thank you,” I say, knowing how much they’re risking to take us.
“There have been too many airships lately,” he warns. “Our allies have reported that new recruits are flooding in to the Elite Guard to deal with the rebellion. They’re growing their numbers for what I only hope isn’t a full-scale civil war.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll stop it in its tracks,” I promise.
We must fly up to Burumu during the day, because at night the Benu’s wings glow and spark with endless flame. I have to leave my red dress behind because it’s too easy to recognize. Lilia has given me a plain olive jerkin and the cream-colored leggings she was wearing when she was thrown from the continent. I have to leave my laced leather boots behind, too—they’d raise suspicion—so I wear a pair of flat sandals that Tash has woven from dried palm branches. I tie Griffin’s shell necklace around my neck, and Lilia cuts my hair short with my dagger. Griffin, too, is given clothes from Burumu—a plain leather jerkin, black leggings and boots. He’s allowed to keep his bow and arrows—hunting is common on the floating islands—and a row of daggers fastened under the hem of his jerkin. We must go unnoticed through the crowds, not only to prevent mass panic, but also to avoid any extremists who might use the opportunity to hold me hostage.
A few weeks ago I never would’ve dreamed the people of the floating lands were capable of these things. The whole world has changed around me, or perhaps I am the one who sees it with new eyes.
Pax and Tash wait indoors with the rest of us until another Benu waiting on the mountaintop spots an airship puttering toward Ashra. Once it’s near the mountain range, we walk onto the shore. Burumu floats high above, casting its shadow on the ocean.
Tash and Pax have tied a rope in an X across their chests, and now they wrap the cords around our waists, as well. They don’t think their arms will fail, but if they falter midair, the ropes will stop us from falling to our deaths.
I wrap my arms around Tash’s neck, and Griffin wraps his around Pax’s. Lilia stands at the edge of the tiny village, her eyes bright and worried. She knows their village could be in jeopardy if we’re caught, but she also knows I’ve promised to save them from the threat of the Elite Guard.
Tash loosens his seal cloak to the shore, his wings spreading out behind him like a wildfire. He flaps, and the salty ocean air wafts into my lungs. One flutter, and another, and slowly my feet lift from the ground. I hang on to him with all my strength.
It’s like falling upside down—now the floating islands are the earth I once feared. Burumu is so far above that I can’t imagine how long it will take us to get there, or if Tash’s wings will hold out. He tries not to speak; it’s taking all his energy to fly us upward. I watch our shadows as they drift over the ocean, as the village huts and Benu living there become as small as red bees buzzing around clusters of flowers. There’s a dark, curling shape threading through the ocean waves below—the giant loops of a Dark Leviathan prowling the waters.
Tash’s forehead is dripping with sweat. I reach for the flask around his neck and tip the water into his mouth, the rope keeping us tightly linked. We’ve passed the summit of the mountain range now, and I can see across to the plains and marshlands on the other side. The shadow of Burumu still seems so far up, but the airship is nearly above us.
There’s nowhere to hide in the sky, but the layer of clouds is thick, and the hope is that no one will see us out the narrow airship windows. Pax and Tash both turn so only their wings face the airship, and we hover far below its path, trying to imitate hazu and dragons and other sky beasts that might be overlooked.
When the airship is directly above, the Benu beat their wings furiously. We rise up with a speed and urgency that our lives depend on. The plum balloon of the airship draws nearer and nearer, and finally we’re hovering just below the belly of the wobbling vessel. Tash flaps carefully as I take another length of rope and thread it through the wooden braces on the bottom of the airship. I tie the knot with trembling fingers, then tie the other end around myself. Tash unties the rope that attaches us together, and with his help I carefully slide onto the wooden railing, the soft fabric of the airship fluttering in the wind above us. The railing is like a bench in the sky as I cling to it, the ocean sparkling far below me. I can’t even make out the shadows of the trolling Leviathans from here.
Beside us, Griffin and Pax have done the same at the other railing. The plan is to wait for the landing gear to descend, which the pilot lowers as he reaches the continent’s edge. Then we’ll have to drop down from our ropes and hope for a safe landing opportunity before the ship reaches the centralized city of Burumu. Usually the airship flies over a lake, which is our best bet, but sometimes they circle across the fields, and that will be a bumpier landing.
Tash pulls a bag over his shoulder and passes it to me. He flies beside me for a minute, his face full of concern. “Be safe, Kallima,” he says. “Remember that the barrier will catch you if you fall from Burumu. We’ll keep watch for the lights above the water. Jump if you need to save your life.”
“Thank you for everything, Tash. But I’m afraid you won’t see me again until I’ve stopped this war from happening.”
He smiles, and then he folds his wings behind himself, dropping so rapidly through the sky that my stomach knots just watching him. A moment later his wings spread out and he glides across the skies above the ocean, looking every bit like another circling monster. A moment later Pax is by his side, and then it’s just Griffin and me on our tiny trapeze in the sky, waiting for the airship to float us to Burumu.
It’s another hour of lifting upward and bumping forward until the edge of Burumu comes into view. A tiny azure eye glitters among the emerald grass, and I realize we’re coming up over the lake. I look at Griffin, who nods, holding tightly to the rope as we wait for our chance.
Slowly we putter over the lake. The landing gear whirs and clicks into place, our tiny benches lowering toward the water. It’s smaller than Lake Agur, but it’s a softer landing than the fields. Griffin holds up three fingers, then two, then one. I fight every instinct flaring in my body and climb down from the wooden brace, swaying from the rope I’ve tied around it. We lower ourselves in unison, unsure if our body weight will tip the unstable airship and alert the crew on board. We move carefully, but we’re nearly past the small lake, and we’ll miss our chance if we don’t descend a little faster.
I reach the end of the rope and wish immediately we’d brought a longer one. It’s still quite a drop from here, my legs dangling over the crystal waters teeming with tiny fish. Griffin looks at me, but I can’t hear him over the choppy wind.
Be strong, I think to myself. You’ve survived chimeras, Dream Catchers and hazus. You’ve bested karus, Leviathans and basilisks. You’ve fallen from the edge of the world to another, and it was full of brilliance. What’s one more fall?
I look at Griffin, my jaw set, my chin high.
I let go of the rope.
The wind rushes in my ears, and it snaps back the memory of falling from Ashra. But this fall only lasts fifteen seconds, and then a foam of bubbles blasts into my ears and nose and the world turns liquid blue. A moment later Griffin shoots into the water across from me, surrounded by bubbling foam. We spread our arms
and kick our way to the glittering surface.
I gasp in the cool air as Griffin surfaces beside me, and we swim toward the rocky shore. The stones slip as my sandaled feet crunch against them, and I collapse on the shore, completely drenched. The air is cold as it whips through my wet hair. The tiny hairs on my arms stand on edge.
Griffin is still panting from the effort, which surprises me. I’ve seen him run and tackle monsters and not even break a sweat. “Are you all right?”
He puts a hand on his forehead. “I feel dizzy,” he says. “Like I can’t get enough air.”
The cool sky breeze presses against us, and I realize the problem. “It’s the altitude,” I say. “You’re not used to it.”
“I’ll be okay,” he huffs. “Just...just a minute.” He sways a little as he walks toward the edge of the forest by the lake.
I look down at the bag Tash gave me and pull open the flap. Inside are directions to the allies’ house and a patched lavender cloak. I unfold the wrinkled fabric and fit it around my shoulders, tying the strings in a bow. The hems are puckered and ripped, smooth sealskin sewn over the moth-eaten holes and tears.
I hear Griffin retching into the bushes, and I whirl around, the cloak twirling in a circle around me. “Hey.” I touch his back gently until he’s finished. “Do you need to sit down?”
He tries feebly to laugh it off. “Nah,” he pants. “Never felt better. Although...let’s get to the allies. The sooner I can lie down, the better.”
But he takes another step and falters, and I convince him to rest for a moment before we go on.
I pull my knees up to my chin and study the directions Tash has given us, and then I slip them into the bag and stare across the water’s surface. It glitters in the sunlight, but it’s nothing like the sight of the ocean spread out as far as I could see. It was as if the whole horizon had drowned in the rich, deep waters, like they had no end.
After a few minutes, Griffin forces himself up. “We don’t have time,” he says, his voice faint. “Let’s get going.”
“Are you sure?” But a little color has returned to his face, and he looks determined. It reminds me of all the times I was stubborn on the earth, when he knew I wasn’t capable, but he let me do things anyway. I nod, and we start down the path toward the city.
Burumu is the second largest of the floating continents. Nartu and the Floating Isles aren’t even half the size, and the fragments are far too small or inhospitable for anyone to live on. But even as the second largest island, Burumu was only a piece torn from Ashra’s side long ago. And so the population is forced into a very dense city surrounded by the small lake and forest. There are a handful of farms, whose harvest is supplemented by Ashra’s crops, the iron mills, and the caves and mines. They have to be careful not to mine too deeply, or they’ll go right through the bottom of the continent. So far we still have resources, but we know they’re limited. So we try to use renewable ones as much as possible, which is why I’m stunned that the airships have been equipped with metal pipes and ammunition. How can we afford the use of iron as weapons? How far has the Sargon let things get out of hand?
The pathway is short, and we soon arrive at Burumu’s towering city. It gleams in the low afternoon sun. The buildings are pressed together and several stories high, each housing several families. To compensate for the claustrophobic feel of the city, most of the buildings are painted in vibrant reds and oranges, like the wings of the Phoenix. Others are blue like the lake, and most are made of wood siding, a resource we can regrow, but one that’s dangerous kindling waiting to spark. The city also has something Ulan does not—lampposts, set at intervals down the street. Most of them are painted crimson poles, with a lantern at the top and candles made of beeswax and goat’s milk. The lanterns have swirling patterns of plumes and stars cut into them that remind me of Elisha’s lantern, but the cutouts are much larger to keep the streets well lit at night.
I lift the cloak’s hood over my face and keep my eyes downcast as much as possible as Griffin and I navigate the narrow, busy streets. There’s so much noise here in Burumu. Everything feels cramped and uneasy. People are shouting in alleyways while merchants shove the first of the summer plums and peaches in our faces. A vendor calls about his honeyed ale as we turn the corner to a quieter street, heading for the neighborhood Tash has instructed us to find.
When we arrive, the house looks like all the others. It’s four stories tall and painted a vibrant orange, with tiny red plumes running in a border along the base of the wall. I look at Griffin, and he nods. I reach a nervous hand out and rap against the planks of the door.
The voices inside go quiet. I wait a moment, then knock again.
The door creaks open and I look down, frightened to be identified if we have the wrong address. A slender man steps out, his hands on his hips and a golden necklace sparkling against his dark skin.
His voice is gruff. “Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for friends of Tashiltu,” Griffin says quietly.
The man says nothing, but looks up and down the street before stepping away from the door. “Welcome,” he says then, and we step into the tiny room as he closes the door behind us.
The curtains are drawn over the windows, and slowly our eyes adjust to the light. And that’s when I see the black-haired, olive-skinned girl at the table, a map laid out in front of her.
Her eyes meet mine, and despite my cloak and cropped hair, there’s no mistake that she knows me, or that I know her.
“Elisha,” I breathe, and her eyes fill with tears as she stumbles over the bench and into my arms.
TWENTY-ONE
I HOLD MY best friend tightly as the tears blur in both of our eyes.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispers.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I answer, and for a moment everything else is forgotten. I can’t believe she’s here, and we’re together again.
She leans back to look at me, her arms still grasping mine. Her eyes are wide and confused, like she’s looking at a ghost. She speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “How? How did you come back?”
Where to start? “There’s a barrier,” I explain. “To save those who fall off the edge. It broke my fall.”
“They’ve told me about the barrier,” she says, looking at the man who opened the door for us.
“I’m Aksel,” the man tells us, while the others put water and food on the table. Griffin sits down shakily, his head in his hands.
“This is Griffin,” I say. “He’s the one who saved me on the surface.”
“A fallen?” Elisha asks. How does she know about the fallen? And why is she here?
“He’s the one from Ulan, Elisha. He’s the child that fell when we were kids.”
Her eyes turn round and wide, staring at him with disbelief. “But...”
“Now he’s a monster hunter on earth. And he...he saved me.” I wonder if Elisha hears the tenderness in my voice. Self-conscious, suddenly, I feel the heat rise to my cheeks as I turn to Aksel. “Can you help him? He’s having some kind of reaction to being on Burumu.”
“Altitude sickness,” Aksel says. “Come with me. You can lie down in the back.” He leads him away, and from the other room I hear him add, “We owe you a great debt for saving the heir.”
They know, then. Even with my hair cut and the cloak over my face, they recognized me. I knew from the way he looked at me outside the door.
“I don’t understand,” I say to Elisha. “Why are you here in Burumu?”
“To find you,” she says, and she pulls me over to the table where I gulp down a glass of water. “At least, I held out hope. So much has happened since you’ve been gone.”
“Then...you thought it was possible I survived?”
“With the monsters, I...I didn’t think...”
/> I grab her hands with urgency. “My father. Does he think I’m dead? Is he looking for me?”
“I don’t think he could come to terms with it,” she said. “He’s in denial.”
“Please, Elisha. Tell me everything.”
She nods. “That night, when you fell off the edge, Jonash just about lost his mind. He was shouting about how you’d tried to throw him over the side, but that you’d fallen instead, and how he couldn’t save you. He was weeping and ranting, and I could barely understand him.”
“What? I never tried to throw him over the side. He was walking too close to the edge. I ran to save him.”
“I knew you didn’t like him much, but as if you would do something horrible like that. It was ridiculous. I tried to calm him down. He said how you accused him of some kind of conspiracy with Elder Aban and the lieutenant. I was confused, because you had been talking about it, but not about him being involved.”
Is that why he had fired on me from the airship? Did he really believe I was a threat? That seemed too far-fetched to be true.
“Your father didn’t believe it, either,” Elisha said. “He accused Jonash of conspiring against you, but when Jonash started sobbing in the audience hall I think the Monarch didn’t know what to believe. He sent out airships to search, but no one believed you could have survived the fall. It was... It was a mission to recover your body. But it was no use, because the airships can’t fly that low.”
I shiver to think of my father ordering a search for my body. I long to tell him I’m alive, and that will be the first thing I’ll do.
“Jonash headed the search, but after a week, the efforts were given up. There was so little they could see from up here. Jonash came back to Burumu, and then the Sargon accused the Monarch of sabotaging the engagement by attempted assassination of his son.”
