by K. L. Gee
He wouldn’t risk the vengeance of these villagers’ blood, but he wanted to leave them with fear. “Wound them only. Until all the slaves are free,” he shouted. Turning to the boys with ziffs, he said, “Open these other huts! Kill guards or soldiers on sight.” Two boys ran toward the other huts, where some of the group was already headed. Skeet gestured to three others, and they ran toward the villagers.
He sliced into the first man he saw, jabbing his dagger along the side of his torso. It made the man drop, but it wouldn’t kill him. Hopefully, Skeet thought. He kicked back a woman carrying a pitchfork, causing her to fall into a child behind her. Skeet hated when they brought children out with them—it just showed how selfish they were, the Alem, the air people. They hoped to strike pity in their hearts with innocent children, so they wouldn’t hurt the adults.
It didn’t work. The Terra did not feel a great amount of pity.
Skeet jabbed a free arrow in another man’s arm. He bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt. A man swung a sword at him, but he wasn’t strong enough to pierce through Skeet’s thick furs. Skeet grabbed the man and ported behind his own back, to a place he couldn’t see. He aimed low, hoping that when he vanished, the man would be ported into the earth. Skeet’s aim had worked, and the man’s feet were trapped in the earth, while the remainder of his body remained above ground. The man gave a shout of pain and terror. Now his feet were gone, taken by the earth that killed them.
Skeet heard a cry behind him—it was one of his own men. He spun and saw one of his brothers getting jammed by a sword along his side. Skeet ran through the crowd of villagers, swinging carelessly as he went, cutting the surface of faces and arms and hearing screams as he ran. He reached his brother and turned on the attacker, an elderly man with a rusted sword.
Skeet swung and grabbed the elderly man close in a strong hold. “Life for life. Wound for wound. Give for take,” Skeet said ceremoniously. He kicked the man behind the knees, causing him to fall. Skeet wrenched the man’s sword from his hands and lifted it high.
“You animals will pay for this,” the old man said with surprising courage. Around him, the screams and cries of his fellow villagers broke the quiet of the morning. “We will destroy you.”
Skeet let his sword fall, letting it slice through the side of the man’s torso and into the earth, pinning him to the ground. “Blood for blood,” Skeet said. He removed the sword, grabbed his brother, and ran toward the remainder of the pack. All the huts were opened, and the last of the slaves were being zipped back along the path deep into the forest. Skeet grabbed a zipper’s arm, and vanished with his wounded companion back through the forest to the horses. They were already departing with the other slaves.
Skeet examined the wounds of the boy. They were deep, but there was hope for him. Skeet sighed. Even though these small raids did little to decrease the air people’s oppression, and they couldn’t hope to free all of the captured Terra, it did good to hope. Hope was enough for now.
CHAPTER FOUR
“I know he’s still alive,” Queen Sabola said softly, looking at Kara, pleading. She had a feeling, that familiar knowing that she felt when she thought of her children. She would know when one of them had died. Kara looked at her with skepticism. Sabola was sure Kara felt nothing for her older brother—he was gone. She had never known him. Perhaps she missed him in her imagination, but not in reality. He was a phantom that haunted the past, this entire house, and this entire kingdom.
Sabola held her stomach unconsciously, rubbing her hand across her belly, the way many pregnant women do. She thought of her unborn child—the child she knew was a boy. Her mother had said she had the gift of foresight. It was always in little things, nothing truly prophetic, if anyone believed in the prophets anymore. The Keepers of the Future had verified her gift long ago, naming her part of their order—though they believed it had little bearing on the affairs of the kingdom. She had known her oldest son, Hakon, would be a boy, just as she had known Kara would be a girl. And she knew the baby now in her womb would be a boy as well.
That would upset things.
King Arden had been in mourning for almost nineteen years. A cruel and angry mourning that had brought more death than Sabola was comfortable thinking about. Over the past decade, he had appeared to move on. He had stopped the war, content to punish the Terra as slaves. He had trained Kara as if she were a boy, and he concerned himself more with the future affairs of the kingdom than his poisonous revenge. But Sabola understood his grief wasn’t just rooted in sentimentality; it was about hierarchy as well. The laws were strict, and if Arden did not have a son, his kingdom would be forfeited, would fall into the hands of someone outside his direct bloodline. It wouldn’t be long before the line of Arden would become a thing of history. Sabola had always thought these rules of succession were stiff and cruel, but she began to understand them now. The ability to port, whether by zipping or vanishing, was decreasing in every generation of the Alem. King Arden was a direct descendent of the air conquerors, those who traveled from the homeland to settle here. The closer an Alem was to a direct descendent of that first royal line, the greater the likelihood that they would have the gift, the power to port.
Kara was still staring at Sabola, emotions spread across her face like the untrained royalty she was.
“You mustn’t display your emotions so greatly, Kara. It’s not appropriate etiquette.”
Kara started, then nodded, turning stoic. She learned fast. Kara was independent, but she did aim to please.
“But still, Mother, if I may speak my mind.”
“You may.”
“How do you know? How do you know Hakon is alive?”
Sabola frowned. She didn’t care to explain knowing to her daughter, but she suspected that Kara was asking a different question. What difference did it make that she knew he was alive? She had tried to reassure the king again and again, but it only fueled his mad quest to find him, and when he had finally given up, he had considered her insistence to be the aching of a mother’s heart, not the sign of prophecy. He believed in the Keepers of the Future about as much as everyone else, which was very little.
Kara had been born during the Second Vengeance, right in the middle of that awful war, just two years after Hakon had been stolen. By then, Arden had lost so many men to the forest, he was starting to suspect that this was the Terra’s intent all along: to drive them into an impossible war. A war that had never really ended, even when the Alem retreated, and they had captured enough Terra to fill every village and city with working slaves. There hadn’t been an all–out war in a decade, but still the enemy was there, and the threat of them was always on the mind of the Alem. They attacked villages in small numbers occasionally, like constant pests. Arden kept saying the earth people would not defeat them—how could they? But perhaps they had undermined them in significant ways. Ways that were only beginning to show. A few hundred villages, a few thousand slaves—each had a small impact on their kingdom’s prosperity.
Yet the king wouldn’t let go completely. The code hung over him—he must avenge his son’s death. It was the greatest cause for revenge, after a mother’s death and then a father’s. His disappearance had brought shame, and her husband’s pride wouldn’t allow him to bow down in this war of attrition. Even when I insist his son lives, Sabola thought.
This was why it was so important for them to gain the coastal kingdom’s aid. Why it was so important that Kara finally become a proper princess.
“Mother, how do you know?” Kara asked again, taking the queen’s silence as a sign she hadn’t heard.
Sabola turned to her daughter, ignoring her question. “You know why you are betrothed, Kara?”
Kara nodded. “Political reasons.”
“Yes, but do you know why?”
“They want to take our kingdom.”
Smart girl. “Yes, eventually, that is probably what King Darr wants. Your father is no fool—he knows his intent.”
Kara’
s face turned ashen. “Does he wish to have Father assassinated?”
Queen Sabola shook her head. “No… we don’t know for sure. His motivation is strange, which is what troubles me about this whole arrangement. He might be securing the throne for his line, but then I don’t understand why he would engage you to his sixth son and not his heir.” Sabola had been offended by the kings’ decision. They might both think of Kara as a pawn, but her daughter deserved a higher ranked son than the sixth! “We do have some leverage. If the Terra break our hold, they will only spread and terrorize the coastal kingdoms as well.”
“Like insects without a predator,” Kara quoted solemnly.
“Exactly.”
Kara shuddered, but Sabola could see it wasn’t really the Terra that bothered her at the moment.
“Must I really marry him, Mother? Really?”
Sabola smiled, thinking of her many betrothals. “Whom else would you marry?”
Kara looked surprised. She hadn’t ever considered that question. She stumbled her way through a response. “I don’t know… I thought I would be older, have more time.”
“Oh, you will have time. This is merely an engagement, not a marriage.”
“How long?”
The queen stood up and picked up her cloak. “As long as it takes. As long as you are bound to their kingdom, you are their kin. No treaty is as strong as that.”
“When would we get married?” Kara stood to help her up.
“I don’t think you’ll need to. Your father and King Darr made this arrangement hoping you would birth an heir. And…” Sabola hesitated. Should she tell Kara the truth? It would be better if her daughter knew everything, should something terrible happen. “Kara, the child I carry is a boy…”
“How do you—”
“I know.”
Kara nodded, skepticism showing on her face. Then hope. Then relief.
“You really must hide those emotions, Kara.”
“I understand. By Air, if it’s true, Mother, this can be good for us. King Darr will have a hold on the kingdom only if I have a child, yet he will stay in the war if his kingdom is threatened.”
Sabola hid her frown. Was that the only reason King Darr had committed himself to the fight? The coastal kingdoms were still a ways beyond the mountains. If he didn’t have a hold on Atmen, would he drop out of the war?
Kara sighed. “And then I wouldn’t have to get married.”
Sabola laughed, letting her emotions loosen around her daughter. “You must play the part, Kara. I have kept you hidden, and I did not keep up your training of etiquette, as I should have. You must forgive your foolish parents for that.” Sabola stood, facing her daughter directly. “Make a game of it tonight. Be respectful and act engaged. Do not speak, but act demure. That is the proper place for a woman.”
“My Breath, that sounds awful. I’ll choke to death on the words I might say.”
“Chew first, then swallow,” Sabola said. She called to Sarita, who stood in the shadows. Kara helped put on Queen Sabola’s cape, and Sarita helped her to the door. “Let’s visit the keepers’ temple while we wait for the king and your prince.”
“Please don’t call him my prince!”
“Shush.”
Azure was still waiting outside the door. He still didn’t smile. Kara wanted to call to him, ask him the question that burned in her mind, but instead she tried to follow her mother’s advice. Her face remained stoic.
***
The temple was colder than the corridors. The keepers liked it that way for some reason. Kara gathered her cape around her and shivered. She watched her mother, who stood before the large scrolls and tapestries hanging on the wall. They were covered in writing and beautiful paintings—all written and drawn by truthsingers. Kara thought how serene the queen looked in her white cloak, her hand resting on her belly. She wasn’t quite large enough to show she was pregnant, but Kara thought it was quite obvious considering how much her mother loved to keep her hand on her belly. Like she was protecting it.
In a way, she was. The king had insisted her pregnancy be kept a secret, just like all the others that had come before. Kara wondered if she would soon have a secret little brother.
“Princess?” Sarita asked behind her.
“Yes?”
“May I ask your leave for a few minutes while I check on the kitchens?”
“Of course,” Kara said with the wave of a hand. She had the sudden urge to join Sarita in the kitchens, steal a few plums, and then go climbing in the mountains. The stiffness of her dress reminded her that wasn’t possible.
She watched Sarita as she left, envious of her freedom, and noticed that Azure was glaring after Sarita. Kara walked to Azure. “Something wrong, Azure?”
“No, Princess. But Sarita shouldn’t leave your company.”
“She just went off to the kitchens.” Kara looked at Azure, knowing his eyes and his expressions. “You don’t trust her? It’s Sarita!”
Azure’s face was stone. “I don’t trust much of my kind.”
Kara laughed. “You sound like a Terra, thinking all Su are traitors.”
“Kara.” The queen called to her.
Kara turned away from Azure and joined the queen beside the tapestries. The queen was frowning. I’m not supposed to be conversing with the guards. Kara nodded, understanding the lesson her mother told with her eyes. They both turned to the paintings. A few keepers wandered past, nodding and slightly bowing to the queen.
“This is very old,” her mother said, pointing to a painting. “It tells the story of the future, that one day we’ll discover the bond that allows men to zip and vanish through space, cutting distances with their sight, and adding years to their lives.”
Kara regarded the tapestry. She hadn’t really looked at this one before—hadn’t even noticed it out of the hundreds that hung in the temple. She preferred the brighter, newer ones. The tapestry was faded. It was in an ancient form of drawing, less realistic and lifelike than the one artists drew now. The lines were jagged and hard. He appeared to be split in half, with either half of his body on opposite ends of the tapestry. This was probably a crude illustration of porting. His two faces were drawn like squares, contorted as if to look to the side. On his brow sat a crown and the intricate tattoo of a firstborn prince marked his forehead.
“Who is that man?”
“No one real. He’s symbolic. In this painting, he represents the bond between the air and time, the Master and the power.”
“The power to port?”
The queen nodded, moving to another painting. “See, here he is again.” She pointed to another man, but this time he carried a sword in one hand and a stone in another. He still bore the tattoo on his forehead.
“He looks different.”
“Well, now it’s a figure that represents the code, the duties of justice, the bridge between blood of the dead and the road to the freedom of souls.”
“If a body should die unavenged, his blood will cry till his soul is made free with vengeance,” Kara quoted from her lessons. “Why didn’t I learn these symbols in school?”
“Oh you have. These are just older drawings that depict the code, the power, and the bond as a man. The Keepers of the Future believe it might be a real man who may come… one day.”
Kara remembered the secret stories. “The legend! The man with two gifts.” She looked at the tapestries in a new way. Were the stories just symbolic or were they real prophecies? “For what? Why would he come?”
The queen shrugged, moving on to look at some paintings and tapestries of ships that sailed from the home of the air people to this land. Kara remained, staring at the tapestries, thinking of her brother.
“Mother, do you really believe he’s alive?”
“He is alive.”
“Then what… what will we do?”
Kara watched as her mother turned back toward the large windows that overlooked the Northern Passage through the Glacier Mountains. Kara joined he
r, staring out. She could just make out the flags and banners of King Darr. An entire entourage of horses, carriages, and wagons was exiting the pass and heading toward the citadel. Kara felt her heart leap into her throat. She tried to swallow it down.
“I don’t know, Kara.” the queen said beside her. “I don’t know.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Don’t close your eyes!”
“I think better with my eyes closed,” Hakon snapped, opening his eyes and looking at Gage. The boy’s gray eyes and defiant stare immediately reminded Gage of the enemy, King Arden. Hakon was a good boy, a good Terra even, but he had inherited the pride and stubbornness of his people.
“That’s how you end up being blindsided by a tiger,” Gage snapped back. He stared coldly at Hakon. He yanked harder on the thread he was sewing through Hakon’s wound, causing Hakon to flinch. The boy wasn’t as scarred as many his age, partly due to Gage’s training and Hakon’s own natural abilities, but his skin wasn’t as calloused or as naturally rough as Terra youth, so when he did get hurt, it was bad. Fortunately, like most born with the power, Hakon was a fast healer. The greater the power, the faster one healed. Gage knew the power was strong in Hakon, even for an Alem. Though his wounds were deeper and more severe, he still healed twice as fast as a boy with no gift at all. His skin may be thin, but at least his will is tough, Gage thought. It had to be.
Gage’s own face was lined with scars and wounds—some fresh. As a trainer and guardian, fighting to survive was his very essence. Gage always dressed to fight, as did most Terra. He was in full battle gear, even though they were safe within the caves and shelters of Kaldin. He had an ax at his belt, rocks and dirt in an open pouch at his waist, daggers in both his boots, and a spear strapped to his back. As a guardian, a master and trainer to a pack of boys within the tribe, he also carried with him a survival pack. It contained everything one needed to survive if they were stuck out in the forest alone.
