Skyborn

by Eric Asher

  Furi looked up at the towers of Belldorn all around them. Alice suspected it was as jarring to Furi as it was to her to see those clean lines and sharp edges in almost every building. Where Ballern was graceful arcs and arches in the drawings she’d seen, Belldorn was a broken shard of glass cutting into the skies.

  “It’s not far to the library,” Alice said, “but we can take the long way around if you’d like.”

  Furi nodded, still looking up at the metal and stone and glass towers. She started counting the floors in the taller towers. “How can anyone build something so high and maintain stability?”

  In the distance, a familiar shadow loomed.

  “Is that their airship docks?” Furi asked, though Alice thought she already knew the answer. The outline of one of Belldorn’s dreaded warships, a Porcupine, darkened the horizon.

  “It is,” Alice said. “I find the dock at Bollwerk a bit more charming, honestly, but Belldorn’s is certainly imposing.”

  “What about Ancora?” Furi asked.

  “We don’t have a proper dock in Ancora. Archibald means to build one. He’s the Speaker of Bollwerk. He’s been helpful with the war against Fel, but he’s greedy.” Alice stopped talking and looked at Furi. “I probably shouldn’t say that about the man helping us rebuild.”

  Furi shrugged. “Everyone has an agenda. You just need to find the people who won’t ruin yours.”

  “Well, that’s practical.”

  They made their way past a handful of storefronts, and Alice was taken again by the sight of an upper-class shopping district nestled in beside a prison. One storefront had a window display filled with chocolate and fruits.

  “We may have to stop there on our way back,” Alice said. “I’d rather like to see if they have Cocoa Crunch.”

  “You have Cocoa Crunch in the east?”

  Alice nodded. “One of our favorite snacks. Me and Jacob, I mean.”

  “The tinker you mentioned?” Furi asked.

  “The same.”

  “It’s good to have friends in these times. I lost some when the Nightingale was shot down.”

  Alice’s steps stuttered. She hadn’t told Furi it was her and Jacob and the Skysworn that had shot down the destroyer. It didn’t seem like a good way to earn trust. But eventually, she wanted to tell her the truth. She needed to know the truth. Because as much as Ballern thought everyone from the East with evil, the East had the same upbringing as the West.

  “Are you okay?” Furi asked.

  Alice nodded. “Let’s get to the library.” She led the way around the next corner. It was right where Mary had said it would be. Soaring columns reached up toward tarnished gargoyles. They looked like something out of the old stories, as if they belonged on a large stone castle.

  The library wasn’t the tallest building before them, but it might have been the widest. Two towering windows sat to either side of the grand columns. If they had been in Bollwerk, Alice would’ve expected the doors themselves to be just as ornate as those columns and gargoyles. But here, in Belldorn, they were heavy bronze with broad bolts and rivets sunk into the edge of the doors.

  But all thought of those doors fell away as Furi and Alice pushed through and saw what waited beyond.

  A short gate framed by latticework and manned by four guards blocked entry to the library, but it did not block the view. Four floors stretched out above them, and it was only as they approached the gate that Alice realized several more floors descended into the earth. Dozens of citizens of Belldorn walked through those halls, but the space in the library made it seem as though it was all practically empty.

  Alice’s steps slowed as she reached the gate, watching a lift traverse one of the supporting pillars near the center of the room. And even there, built into the grooves near the track of the lifts, were more bookshelves. Everywhere she looked, books upon books. More than she thought could have existed in the entire world.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Furi said, the awe plain in her voice.

  Alice shook herself and led the way a few steps over to the nearest guard. “Hello. My friend and I would like to visit the library.”

  “Your friend is a prisoner.”

  Alice blinked at the guard. “That does not change the fact she is my friend.” She didn’t miss the searching look on Furi’s face.

  “No offense was meant. You both bear the pass of the lady. You are, of course, welcome inside the library. Please take care, and do not hesitate to ask if you need help navigating the tower. As I am sure you are aware, no manuscripts may be removed from this place, but you are welcome to all of them. The most fragile tomes are in the basement, under closer guard. You’re welcome to view them, but not alone.”

  With that, the guard opened the gate and allowed them through.

  Alice exchanged a grin with Furi. Part of her thought the stories of the library had to be a myth. Another part of her wished Jacob was here to see it.

  “Where do we even start?” Furi asked.

  Alice already knew where. Eva had told her that the histories of the Deadlands War were on the second floor. Alice relayed the information to Furi and led the way to the nearest staircase.

  “Okay, but what if the second floor is in the basement?”

  Alice pointed to a large numbered sign hanging above them. Furi followed the sign up to its sister on the next level, where a large number two had been engraved.

  Furi let out a quiet laugh. “You make a fair point.”

  “We don’t have anything like this in Ancora. A handful of bookstores, but the only real library is inside the castle.” Alice hesitated. “That’s what we call the building where Parliament is. Not just anyone can go inside.”

  “That’s sad,” Furi said. “Even the slums of Ballern have a library. Although I must admit, they don’t take as much care curating it. They allow too much propaganda to be filed away there.”

  The brass studs in the sides of Alice’s boots clicked against the stairs, echoing in the cavernous space around them. Alice paused when they reached the second story. Mary had told her every row inside the library was meticulously labeled and cataloged. But as she looked at the numbers and letters along the edge of each row, she wasn’t sure what they all meant.

  They were four rows deep when she found the legend, a simple brass plaque, etched with an explanation of all the abbreviations. An eight-digit code identified every book inside the library by title, subject, author, and year.

  With the identifier in hand for what she was looking for, Alice started down the next row. It didn’t take long for her to realize they were in the right spot. Nestled on a shelf, just above eye level, sat a gilded spine she was quite familiar with. She reached up and slid the book out, running a finger over the embellished skull.

  “This is only the third copy of The Dead Scourge I’ve ever seen.”

  “Three? Of the same book?” Furi raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t seem like a lot.”

  Alice shook her head. “It’s not. Most of them were destroyed. I’m surprised to find one here.”

  Furi ran her finger across the spines on the row closest to her. “Alice. Some of these are in a language I don’t know. Others … these are from Ballern!” She pointed to a spine with a strange eagle-headed lion on it. “The Griffin here, that’s one of our oldest publishing houses. What in the world are these doing here?”

  “They could have been seized in one of the battles?” Alice said. “But the books and documents I saw in the wreckage were all burned and damaged. These look like they have been taken care of for a very long time.”

  “It lends credence to a tale I heard on the docks a long time ago. That there was once open trade with Belldorn before the cities turned on one another. And after the wars began, a secret trade continued. A trade helmed by pirates.”

  Alice’s head snapped back like she’d been slapped. “Pirates? I have a friend that … I’m going to have to talk to her.”

  “You know a pirate?�
�

  Alice knew the curiosity in Furi’s voice. It was a curiosity she shared about a great many things. And sometimes, it was a curiosity that could be dangerous. She liked Furi. There were things about the Ballern soldier that reminded her very much of herself. But she didn’t know her well enough to trust her. She didn’t know if she’d ever truly be able to trust someone from Ballern.

  “I know someone who knows someone,” Alice said.

  “That’s amazing,” Furi whispered. “I’ve known crooks on the docks. Hustlers and thieves, but never a pirate. Most of the pirates in Ballern were executed before I was old enough to understand anything about them.”

  Alice couldn’t stop the small smile that twitched across her lips. “Only the ones who got caught.” She pulled two books down from the era she was looking for. The Failed Treatise and the Third War was a heavy tome with a faded blue cover.

  Perhaps the book she was most interested in was not entirely written in her language. Strange symbols and jagged lines formed what she assumed was an entirely different alphabet, with few similar letters. But this book alternated paragraphs between her own language and whatever the other script was. A translation built into the pages themselves. She’d never seen the like.

  “That’s Mokuskrit,” Furi said. “Can you read it?”

  “No.” Alice turned the page toward Furi. “Can you?”

  “Yes, but look! It’s translated. Brilliant!” Furi’s gaze roved down the page. “The beginning of the war. That’s what you’re looking for?”

  Alice nodded.

  “Here,” Furi said, pulling down a thin yellow volume Alice had barely glanced at. “We had to study this in school. Well, until they abolished school for the Skyborn, anyway.”

  “Abolished school?” Alice asked.

  Furi frowned and gave a slow nod. “Only the ruling class is allowed a formal education in Ballern.”

  “That’s awful,” Alice said.

  Furi stiffened. “Better than putting the lower class out as bait for the monsters.”

  Alice didn’t miss the heat in Furi’s words. Alice hadn’t meant it as an insult, but she had little doubt Furi had taken it that way. “I didn’t mean to say anything bad. Only that everyone should have school. How will your tinkers learn to build better things? How will you get more doctors? More architects?”

  “Our doctors come from family lines,” Furi said, rubbing the edge of the book in her hands. “You mean anyone in Ancora can become a doctor?”

  Alice nodded. “That’s simplifying it, but yes. If they study long enough. And that’s a commitment many would not make.”

  “But you tore down your walls and let your lower class die.”

  Alice blinked at Furi. “What?”

  “In the battle with Fel. It’s all people talked about in Ballern before … before we were shot down by Bollwerk.”

  “Furi, we didn’t tear down our own walls. The Butcher schemed with his brother to send an army of Red Death through our walls. That’s what tore down the walls to the Lowlands. I’m from the Lowlands. I was there when it happened. When …” Alice trailed off, remembering that shadowy mass of legs and wings and chitinous death as it stormed across the Lowlands.

  “Then it’s true,” Furi said, her voice barely a whisper. “I had a friend who always told me the queen was lying to us. That everything the criers shouted was propaganda to keep us in line. I just … I never thought it was that bad.”

  It was that moment, and the horror on Furi’s face, that led Alice to question everything she’d ever known about Ballern.

  * * *

  Alice sat on the floor, leaning back against the large cushioned chair where Furi combed through the Mokuskrit book. Alice paged deeper into The Failed Treatise and the Third War. A few sections had caught her eye, outliers in a history she knew was wrong. Or at least thought was wrong. How was she supposed to know if what Archibald wrote in The Dead Scourge was the lie, or if this was the lie?

  Or if they were both truths in their own way.

  Both the fifth king of Ballern and the Lady Esther of Belldorn sought to forge a lasting trade. For years their tariffs were stable, dictated by the terms of the Treaty of the Woods, signed in the shadow of the Gray Woods, and copies distributed wide across their territories.

  Late in life, near the flash point of the Third War, the assassination of Lady Esther left blood in the streets of Belldorn. And Belldorn’s response was the beginning of the Siege of Ballern. Taking the life of a leader who wanted peace led to the most violent conflict ever to visit the Crystal Sea.

  Alice scribbled the passage down in her notebook. Maybe she’d have a chance to ask Archibald about it. But if nothing else, she could form her own vision of what had really happened between those two cities so long ago.

  But if Furi was right, and pirates had anything to do with the history between Belldorn and Ballern, it was Mary she needed to talk to.

  “Look,” Alice said, laying out The Failed Treatise and the Third War next to The Dead Scourge. She put the conflicting passages side by side.

  We claimed a great victory in the bay north of Belldorn. The aggressors from Ballern were turned back at great cost to both fleets. Never had I seen such a sight as an entire bay stained black by blood and oil. But Lady Esther was a valued ally, and we could not afford to abandon her in that time of need. Her support as the war expanded and entered the desert would be critical.

  If not for Lady Esther, long would Bollwerk have suffered.

  “I don’t see a conflict between them?” Furi said.

  “Now look at the dates,” Alice said.

  Furi frowned and flipped back a page in The Failed Treatise and the Third War. She glanced at Archibald’s book and her forehead crinkled. “What?”

  “Exactly. Archibald’s date is five years after this says Lady Esther was assassinated. But if Lady Esther was assassinated, why is he talking about her like she’s still alive in The Dead Scourge? It doesn’t make any sense. I want to ask him.”

  Furi glanced up at Alice and then back to the Mokuskrit book. She took a deep breath and slid it toward Alice. “You need to read this. I don’t know if it’s true, but if it is, I’m afraid there’s a rot at the heart of Ballern I never knew.”

  Alice read, and with each line, her eyes widened.

  Forging the documents was difficult, but not impossible for a gifted calligrapher. A simple theft of the royal seal was the final deception. With everything in order, and the placement of their forgery in the royal vaults, the group who would become the Children of the Dark Fire needed only to bide their time.

  When the last daughter of the second king passed, the inheritors of Ballern became the Children of the Dark Fire. With support at the highest levels of the monarchy, their goals were realized. It took time to replace the rulers of Ballern, but they have succeeded more often than failed.

  Long have they waited, but many fear a new war comes on the horizon. The dangers surrounding the Great Machines, divine Guardians according to the Children of the Dark Fire, have grown too large for even the most devout cultists. And make no mistake, a cult they are.

  As their homes are overrun by their own foolishness, the Children of the Dark Fire will seek to expand east. Suppressing the Skyborn, the largest threat to their power, is their first priority. And in their wake, they will leave the world a shattered ruin.

  “Alice,” Furi said, her voice shaky. “If this is true, then the queen of Ballern shouldn’t be the queen. The whole line was wiped out and a false king crowned.”

  A shiver ran down Alice’s spine. “They set the entire Deadlands War in motion. Gods, Furi. This changed the world.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Samuel hesitated at the stone staircase, the steps barely concealed in the rocky foothills of the Deadlands Spires. It was nice to be off the boat, but the hike inland had been exhausting. He glanced back through the small cluster of ironwood trees on the edge of the Silver Gulf. The washed-out green cano
py was a burst of color in a barren land.

  The Sea of Salt wasn’t visible from their position on the opposite side of the foothills, but Samuel had an idea where it was.

  “How long of a walk is this again?”

  Drakkar turned toward Samuel, raising a freshly lit torch. “You would arrive sooner if you started now.”

  Samuel groaned, taking a longing look at the sun-drenched land before plunging into the shadows behind Drakkar. “You know, I don’t live underground. The fondest memory I have of being underground involves almost dying. Repeatedly.”

  “Let us hope we do not add to that fondness today.”

  Samuel grumbled and blinked in the flickering torchlight, following the silhouette of Drakkar’s cloak in front of him. Loose stone threatened to roll his ankles as something chittered in the darkness, the sound echoing all around them.

  “There aren’t Stone Dogs in the Spires, are there?”

  “Not unheard of,” Drakkar said, “but far fewer than what you saw beneath the Ridge Mountains.”

  “Didn’t see much of anything beneath the Ridge Mountains,” Samuel muttered, his hand moving to the hilt of his short sword. “Saw a lot of shadows and Fireworms and death.”

  “You lived. I would have been dragging a corpse out of those caves if it was not for those Fireworms.”

  “Good times.”

  Drakkar laughed quietly and led them deeper into the caves.

  * * *

  It had been hours since they entered, of that Samuel was sure. He’d lost track of where they’d turned left and where they’d turned right. The tunnels were strange, branching and twisting in patterns that didn’t appear to be carved by centuries of water passing through them. Instead, they were ribbed, as though something else had carved them out.

  “What made these tunnels?” Samuel asked. “They’re … odd.”

  “Caveworms,” Drakkar said. “The stone eaters of legend.”

  “The what of who?”

  “It is an old story of my people. One of the great worms that ate its way through the mountains.”

  Samuel ran his fingers along the stone. It was too smooth to have been carved by miners, and not smooth enough to have been a lava tube. Perhaps there was some truth in Drakkar’s story, which gave Samuel pause.