Horizon

by Fran Wilde

  “Stay as centered as possible,” a crewperson from Bissel tried to direct the twenty citizens in our kite. A young man began to weep silently, mouth open, tears streaming, while he worked the pulleys.

  The gray, biting cloud surrounded us, nearly as hard and impassable as the ground. I squinted through my thin silk robe. Tried to see what lay ahead. We battled to keep the kite upright on the buffeting air.

  The seams of the silk boxes frayed in the dust, thinned at the corners, and readied to tear.

  “There’s clear air!” Lari, a guard originally from Mondarath, shouted, and our windbeaters, on my command, used the scoop to row us towards the clearer sky.

  But the windscoop wasn’t enough.

  “Do what I do,” I said, and tied a tether around my waist. Lari didn’t question, just looped a harness of her own. She began tying knots.

  On the next kite over, I heard Rya shouting for her blackwings to row the air faster, to crank the propeller Djonn had installed on their kite.

  If I leapt into the wind, holding a tether, I wouldn’t do anything more than drag the kite down faster. That was not a solution. But there were other ways.

  “Here,” I said, pulling a small sack of lighter-than-air from the kite beams and handing it to Lari. “Take this.” I took one too.

  We could float and pull the kite.

  Lari stared at me as if I were insane.

  “Do you want to live?” I shouted.

  She nodded. Then she attached the lighter-than-air to her wings, and we prepared to leap from the leading edge of the kite.

  “Go!” I shouted. The wind that would normally buoy me up wasn’t there, and my stomach dropped in anticipation of the fall and at the thought of dragging the kite down.

  Instead, the drop was only a dip. My momentum drove us forward on the thinner air. Behind us, the kite jerked and began to budge.

  Others, also winged, took our example, and as we reeled back in, they launched in twos and threes, until we had a rotation of flying wings that yanked the enormous kite across the sky.

  Sweat mingled with the dust in my hair and on my face, turning to paste into my eyes and mouth. I couldn’t stop. The kite had to get out of the cloud. Lari retched, but she too kept flying.

  Somewhere out there, Moc and Macal, Aliati, and Raq all steered their kites, hopefully in safety. We hadn’t prepared for the cloud, or the impact. No one from the towers would have experienced this kind of impact and lived. Not before Kirit, Wik, Ciel, and I had.

  For a moment, the sole kite I could see was Rya’s. A cloud of dust passed between us and then I saw only shadows and heard echoes of her commands.

  Then we were clear of the dust and into the open air. As we drifted free, we emerged far over the desert. Much closer to Corat’s remains and the other cities than I would have liked.

  Behind us, our city’s collapse had settled to a rumble. I couldn’t see anyone on the ground until my eyes stopped watering from the dust. Where was my family? Had they gone far enough away?

  Now I could only hope.

  Our crews reeled us back to the kites, and we began to let down our ladders.

  Below, a large group huddled on a hill beyond the dust, their robes caked with grit. That they’d gotten well out of the way was a relief. That they’d been on the right side of the city, away from the towerfall, even more so. But the dust had lapped at their heels. I heard coughing and retching.

  Another kite emerged from the cloud, its box-wings gray with dust. Two fliers, buoyed as we’d been with lighter-than-air, tried to drag the kite, while others rowed from behind. The huge wing lumbered forward.

  “I hope no one was still above,” said a young blackwing from Grigrit beside me.

  All I could do was stare. “We got as many away as we could.” We hadn’t done near enough.

  Twenty kites in the air right now, more on the ground. Still more had come down over the past days. There were a few kites still above, I knew. Had they begun their descent? How many people had been left behind?

  With the dust, we couldn’t see the city. Not yet.

  The young blackwing readied his wings in order to fly from the kite down to the people below.

  “Don’t!” I said, my hand on his shoulder, tight.

  Confused, he asked, “Why not?”

  “Djonn told everyone to stay in the kites before we left,” I said. The young man blinked, not understanding. I fought the controls for a moment, and tried to explain. “Stay in the kites until you can go down the ropes or are on the ground.”

  The blackwing glared. “You can’t tell me what to do, Brokenwings.”

  I shrugged. “True. But now that I have, I might not feel as bad when you get hurt.”

  That was a lie. But my words worked. The blackwing stood down.

  On the ground, a small group moved away from the unfurling dust, towards the group on the hill. I watched as they raced before, then beside the dust cloud. Then it engulfed them. My stomach dropped with fear. It was all I could do not to jump the impossible distance to help them myself. If I’d had wings and wind, I would have.

  Instead, we worked the kites hard to stay on the edge of the driving dust, falling ever lower, until we were racing along the ground, our tethers dragging. We braced for impact.

  I hated falling.

  “Hold on!” I shouted. Everyone grabbed for the handgrips we’d sewn into the kite.

  In the next closest kite, Rya’s assistants shouted, “Brace!” When their kite hit, pieces of the bone frame snapped and a wing crumpled.

  Then the ground came up fast for us too. Battens broke and silk tore, but the kite’s main frame held. Skidding to a stop, we stayed safe in the inner nest that Djonn had designed. Then the kite flipped and we tumbled out. I landed hard on my side, knocking the wind from me. I heard a cry of pain next to me: the young blackwing.

  Unlike the last time the ground and I met, I stayed conscious. I did not break.

  Behind us, two more kites came crashing and thudding down. I rolled to my knees, surveying the damage. Torn silk hung from kite frames. Crews splayed on the ground, some already rolling to their knees. Struggling to my feet, I ran to help those who’d been injured in the fall, Lari on my heels.

  We used broken battens and torn silk as bandages and splints for as many as we could, but what we needed most were blankets to keep the injured from shivering from shock in the hot sun, and time to get everyone to shelter. We had neither, not at first.

  Where was my family? They’d made it to the ground, but now? I tried to focus on what was before me, what I could help fix. Hoped they were helping others, or someone was helping them. Which kites had brought blankets? Which had water or food? I could not tell anymore. Kite crews were picking through supplies spilled at the crash sites, shouting when they found what they needed.

  On the ground, we were all scavengers.

  And although my kite had crashed, many stayed aloft, as Djonn had meant them to. Dozens of kites hung in the weak air, buoyed by their clusters of lighter-than-air sacks. A few had whirlwind propellers that Djonn built before the end. One of the windscoop kites was still in the air also.

  “Should we stay up there or come down?” one crewman asked from a kite still in the air.

  I stumbled. I’d focused on getting everyone to the ground safely.

  But then Rya was by my side, giving orders. “Come down however you can.”

  I interrupted, shouting before anyone could be injured. “Bring everyone down the ladders. Don’t try to fly.”

  A ripple of quiet came after that last phrase. A child asked, “Why not?” Their voice pierced the quiet.

  I took a deep breath. “Because the wind is not as strong down here. There’s no updraft.”

  Rya looked at me hard, realizing now what I had known all along. She opened her mouth to accuse me, but before she could, I continued, telling everyone within earshot the truth, “There’s not enough wind down here to fly. But you will not fall.”

>   The quiet grew. I was encircled by it. A ripple of muttering and whispers emerged from the quiet. People began to step closer.

  Then Rya groaned. “Lawsbreaker. You lied to us all!”

  Her guards closed once again around me.

  * * *

  When the dust began to subside, those who had boarded kites in the final panic began searching for their loved ones.

  A jumbled refuge rose on the safe side of the fallen city. I peered into makeshift silk and bone tents as Rya pulled me through our city’s temporary shelters. As we walked past kite groups, I looked for Ceetcee and Beliak. I tried to spot Ciel. Or Elna. Rya spoke to survivors and climbed to the kites still aloft to talk to the crews there.

  She would not let me out of her sight. Even as she sent her Aivans with messages to those still in distant kites: “Use ropes to descend. Don’t fly.”

  “I can help with this,” I said.

  “You’ve done enough, liar,” a blackwing said.

  Instead of quieting him, Rya smiled, her eyes angry and hard. “That’s as good a name as any.”

  Word spread, too late for some.

  A young man tried to fly from his kite, against orders. He crashed to the ground near us. When I tried to help, his family shouted until Rya pulled me away.

  “They do not want you anymore, Liar. They don’t trust you.”

  From their perspective, I’d caused this. I wouldn’t trust me either.

  Without much breeze, the dust settled very slowly. Tempers rose. And worry with it. No one was able to get too close to the city because of it, but people began to come out of the cloud. Everyone sought someone they’d lost.

  When I found Ceetcee and Beliak, they’d draped damp silk rags over their faces, and over the baby’s. She rode in a sling tucked tight against Beliak’s chest.

  “You’re safe.” I stumbled, knees weak, eyes blurring.

  Beliak caught my arm. “We’re fine.” He paused and coughed. “There’s news.”

  I braced myself, my eyes scanning for the others who’d descended with him. I already knew the name he would say.

  “Elna’s alive, but ill, Nat. She’s worse from the landing and the dust. You should come.” He pointed back into the dust.

  “You left her alone?” I broke into a run, with Ceetcee at my side. Rya allowed it, waving off her guards.

  The dust hit hard the first time I took a breath. Bone and dirt filled my mouth, abraded my throat. I choked, then coughed until I was nearly sick. Fighting through it, I spotted a tent in the dim light, made from several pairs of useless wings and a tarp. “How could you leave her here?”

  Inside, Ciel knelt on the ground beside Elna’s litter. “We couldn’t move her.”

  Elna’s skin had the texture of beeswax, her thin, pale hair lay plastered to her forehead, and her breath was so shallow it was almost not there. I knelt next to Ciel and took my mother’s hand. Squeezed it. I never wanted to let go.

  A slight pressure in return meant everything, even as she struggled to breathe.

  “I’m here. I’m back.” I hoped she’d hear my voice and wake. For now, her hand on mine was enough. Her breath in the tent, the soft whistles and wheezes. I held on to her for a long time as the dust settled around the tent. And she continued to hold on to me.

  * * *

  When the Aivans caught up with me, they brought medicine and Rya’s demands.

  They would move Elna to a tent near Rya where a healer had set up a small station. They would move me too, into what Rya called “a protective wing.”

  When my mother’s breathing had steadied, I did not fight the move.

  The four of us—Ceetcee, Beliak, Ciel, and I—carried Elna into the dust, her litter tented with silk.

  After she was settled on a clean mat, the Aivan healer made a poultice from their precious stores. I relaxed a little. Ceetcee and Beliak stayed close.

  I’d imagined our greeting on the ground for so long, all through the time we’d worked to evacuate the city. I’d imagined, also, telling them what I’d done. How I’d become Lawsbreaker again. Now, Ceetcee hugged me, hard, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. “The Aivans say you must stay here with them.”

  With mixed relief and dismay, I realized the look in her eyes wasn’t anger; it was fear. “Rya says it’s for your safety, and also because you made an offering?”

  “It was the price of hope,” I said. “Elna’s safer, and my family too.” I was less so, and that was all right. Rya’s guards took my elbows to reinforce the message.

  “You didn’t ask us what we wanted,” Beliak said. Ceetcee held on to my hand.

  I struggled against the parting. Each time was harder, not easier.

  “We remind you of the promises you made. And your family. We know you sometimes leave out facts,” one blackwing said. Ceetcee winced, her arm still around my waist, the baby now slung on her back.

  “Your family will be well cared for. Rya’s promise,” the guard repeated.

  “He’ll go with you. Just give us a moment.” Ceetcee coughed to cover the crack in her voice. She leaned on my shoulder, and we let the baby kick at us. Nothing felt safe, but for a moment, I felt slightly better. She said, “We’ll stay with Elna, in shifts.”

  That helped.

  The baby kicked again, and I cupped my hand around a tiny, soft foot. A foot that hadn’t yet touched the ground.

  I had no more tears left, only dust.

  * * *

  The blackwings led me to Rya, pulling me forward, since I couldn’t turn my eyes away from Elna, from Ceetcee, from the tent silk swinging closed behind us.

  Ceetcee and Ciel followed for a short way, along the path from their shelter. They lifted healer supplies and tucked them into their robes. They began moving through the tents and shelters, looking for injured to help.

  Sidra wove in and out of the crash sites, handing out strips of silk for bandages. Asking questions. Her voice was hoarse. All our voices were.

  I could barely breathe. It wasn’t the dust or the smell. The Aivans’ hands at my elbows kept me moving forward while I looked back.

  As the blackwings led me away, I heard Sidra ask, “Has anyone seen Macal?”

  31

  KIRIT, BELOW

  While the Skyshouter found the ground hard and vast.

  “Kirit, wait!” Dix stumbled after me.

  I would not wait. Could not.

  I ran towards the ridgeline to catch the escaping kites. If I couldn’t help my city, I could at least help those right in front of me.

  My steps took me away from our collapsed city and the dust cloud that surrounded it, but I couldn’t turn back. The runaway kites drifted closer to the ridge.

  Dix dropped farther behind with each step. “Kirit! I can’t run.”

  “You have to!” Leaving her wasn’t an option. She’d head right back to our city. I couldn’t let her do that. Liope, who’d been keeping pace with me, slowed for Dix. She gestured to me to go on.

  I’d climbed an incline that would take Dix some time to navigate, even with Liope’s assistance. My leg ached, but I didn’t care. From my vantage point, I could see the collapsed city better. I could see many more kites floating nearby, survivors descending from them to the ground. Worse, I saw crumpled piles of silk and bone on the ground.

  Sounds of crying came from one of the two kites floating towards the ridge. People were still on these kites, that was for sure. “I’m coming!” I yelled. My voice cracked. I don’t know if they heard me.

  The distance over the tumultuous earth was much farther and more complicated than if I could fly it. No. I wasn’t going to waste time wishing for wings and wind. I’d get there as best I could, and I’d help them.

  One kite moved erratically to the north, and one floated straight enough that I imagined it was being steered.

  “Lighter-than-air,” Dix panted as she and Liope reached my side. “We did it.”

  We. She’d been part of the original draining of the Sp
ire’s heartbone to make lighter-than-air. She’d used fledges to do the work. She’d been ruthless. And now? Now she was here with me.

  I shook my head. “There’s no ‘we.’”

  Scrambling up over the ridge, Liope and Dix still in tow, I let my anger build. Dix had helped kill the city too, by draining the heartbone. She’d sped up the process as much as I had.

  Lighter-than-air was helping to save tower residents now. At least, it was keeping them in the air, away from the sharp rocks on the ground. The kites bucked and wobbled as they neared the ridgeline.

  If Wik had been with us, we might have moved faster. Gotten there sooner.

  I’d sent him away.

  The strain on my leg was searing. The terrain abraded my blistered feet, and I had to slow. The healer caught up with me and offered their shoulder. I leaned on it and we moved faster together.

  “Liope, thank you,” I whispered. “For helping.”

  They smiled at me over their mask. Tilted their head in what seemed like a “what are you waiting for?” gesture.

  Dix, unwilling to be left behind, stood in our way. “Don’t you want my help?”

  The healer and I moved around her and began to walk the ridgeline, moving higher. “You didn’t offer.”

  “I’ve been offering,” Dix said.

  “Stealing. Nagging. I should have left you in the desert.” She’d end up tormenting another city.

  She sighed, a long, tortured sound that matched the breeze on the ridgeline. “I can help too.”

  Fine. “You follow, and help if you can. My sort of help, not yours. I think we can catch the northern kite if we go farther up the ridgeline.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Dix looked more than doubtful. “You can’t fly.”

  I could barely run, though with Liope’s help, I was faster.

  “Wish you had a bone eater now?” Dix asked. Was she heckling again? Or sincerely wishing for one? Either way, her words were no help. We didn’t have wings or a bird.

  Sometimes you need to find the right question.

  My mother’s words. I wasn’t hearing them in a fever, or in a panic. They were just there, calm and clear. Out here on the ridgeline, her words meant something different than they had in the bone towers. They inspired me.