The Quest to the Uncharted Lands

by Jaleigh Johnson

  Stella sifted through her scattered thoughts, trying to ignore the imprint of heat Cyrus had left on her hand. It wasn’t a painful sensation, but it was an unsettling reminder that something wasn’t right about him.

  But what if he was right about the storm? If it hit when he’d predicted, the ship would be deep in the Hiterian Mountains where no one had ever been. She knew from her studies in school that many explorers had tried to hike over the mountains to see what lay on the other side, and the few who hadn’t been killed in the attempt had returned describing impassable heights, avalanches, and freezing temperatures that no human, chamelin, sarnun, or other being would be able to withstand. Seen in that light, the boy’s story about a storm to end all storms didn’t seem so far-fetched.

  But if he was telling the truth about the storm, that meant he was also telling the truth about being from the uncharted lands, and that was a revelation that left Stella’s head spinning.

  “All right, let’s pretend—pretend,” she emphasized, “that I believe you. How did you get here from the uncharted lands?”

  “On an airship like this one,” Cyrus said. “Well, maybe not exactly like this one, but close enough. My people came in secret on three different expeditions spread over five years.”

  Five years? Stunned, Stella tried to imagine it. If he was being honest, that meant that the entire time people on her side of the world had been preparing to mount an expedition to the uncharted lands, there had already been strangers from that mysterious place in her part of Solace.

  Although if she could put aside her shock and look at the situation logically, was it so hard to believe? Surely there must be explorers in the uncharted lands, just like there were in the territories. And they were bound to be just as curious about what lay on the other side of the mountains as Stella’s people.

  “But where’s your ship?” she asked. “And why hide yourselves? Why didn’t you just tell us you were here?”

  “Because we weren’t sure what to expect,” Cyrus explained. “And we didn’t know how you’d react. My people have explored other lands before yours. Their first expedition went to a group of islands far away in our northern sea. They went in airships, and when they landed on the beaches, the people there were afraid. They’d never seen an airship before, nothing close to that level of technology. Because they were scared, they attacked the explorers and drove them away. So now, whenever we go to new lands, instead of just barging in and introducing ourselves, we hide our ships and try to blend in, observe, and report what we find.” His face clouded, as if he was remembering something painful. “I came over on the final expedition a year ago, but something happened and…I wasn’t able to go back with the rest of the explorers, so I looked for another way home.

  “When I found out King Aron was building the Iron Glory for an expedition to the uncharted lands, I knew I had to be on board. I got a job at the factory where the ship was being built so I could get familiar with it, find places to hide. I wanted to be ready when the time came.”

  That didn’t prove his story, but it explained how he’d gotten on board, Stella thought. If he’d worked at the factory and helped build the ship, he probably knew his way around it as well—if not better—than she did.

  “So that’s why I’m here,” Cyrus said. His expression had turned bleak. “I have a family in the uncharted lands. They might think I’m dead. I have to return to them, no matter what it takes.”

  Hearing the conviction in his words, Stella again felt a rush of sympathy for the boy. Everything he’d told her, outrageous as it sounded, had the ring of truth. She wanted to believe he was really from the uncharted lands.

  Maybe that was the problem—she wanted to believe his story too much. What if she was wrong? What if the powers he claimed to have were really just an elaborate trick?

  In that moment, Stella found herself wishing more than anything that her parents were here to help her. Even though they were just three decks above her, down a twisting corridor to the medical bay, they might as well have been a hundred miles away. But if there was danger, their lives and the lives of the rest of the crew might just depend on the decision she was about to make.

  Restless and worried, Stella rose to her feet. She did her best thinking when she could pace, but the tiny camp didn’t give her much room to get a good circuit going. Stupid, cramped space. Already she hated it.

  “What are you doing?” Cyrus asked. He also stood up, but Stella could see he was shaky on his feet.

  “I’m thinking,” she said, scowling at him. “Don’t interrupt.”

  His expression darkened. “You’re going to turn me in, aren’t you? After everything I told you, you still think I’m lying!”

  “I didn’t say that,” Stella snapped. “It’d just be nice if you could give me a little more proof, that’s all.”

  “I don’t believe this!” Cyrus banged his fist against a crate. “We’re on a ship full of explorers who want to find people from the uncharted lands. If you’d stop being stubborn and afraid for five minutes, you’d see that you’ve found one!” He sighed and raked a hand through his tousled hair. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want it to come to this. I wanted you to trust me, but the truth is, I won’t let you turn me in. I’ve come too far to have you stop me.”

  Stella’s stomach did a flip, but she forced herself not to betray her fear. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Just a few minutes ago you said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  He scowled fiercely. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “Just stop you, that’s all.”

  “I see.” Casually, Stella put her hands behind her back and released the clasp on the compact. “And how are you going to do that, exactly?”

  “Well, I am bigger than you,” Cyrus said, stating the obvious.

  “Hmmm.” Stella cocked her head, pretending to consider that, when really she was gauging the distance between them, trying to decide if she should use the compact now or try to get farther away from him. “So your plan is to…what? Keep me tied up in the cargo bay for the whole journey to the uncharted lands? That seems a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

  Now he was flustered, his face turning bright red. “I haven’t ironed out all the details yet,” he said, taking a step forward.

  Too close, Stella thought.

  In one quick move, she snapped the compact shut, turned, and took off running, scraping her shoulders as she squeezed through the narrow gap between the crates. Cyrus gave chase at once, but as he’d said, he was bigger, and so it took him longer to shove his way through the tight spot.

  The cargo bay was like a maze, rows and rows of crates and equipment, with very little open space except in the center of the room, where the ship’s massive gangplank rested. Weaving among these obstacles, Stella ran in the direction of the opposite wall, trying to outrun Cyrus while she came up with a plan. Unfortunately, Cyrus knew the ship as well as she did and could find his way around almost as easily. It was only a matter of time before he caught up to her. She just needed to get far enough away from him to use the compact safely.

  But maybe she shouldn’t be trying to outrun him at all. That gave Stella an idea. She turned left, ducking down the nearest row of crates. She grabbed the lip of one of them and hauled herself up, crouching on top. Quickly, she flipped open the lid of the compact, her hands shaking with nerves. Inside was a shallow dish filled to the brim with a greenish-white dust.

  Cyrus flew around the corner, charging toward her just as she was taking a pinch of the dust between her thumb and forefinger. Careful not to inhale the stuff herself, Stella threw it down in a cloud that hit him squarely in the face.

  Cyrus staggered back, waving his hands in front of him, but he’d already inhaled most of the dust. “What did you—” But his words were lost in a fit of sneezing. He wiped his face. His eyes were red and streaming, which speared Stella with guilt, but she was also a little worried. The dust should have taken effect instantly. “What is
this stuff?” he said, glaring up at her.

  “Something I learned to make during my studies,” Stella explained. The dust was a nasty substance in its own right, although those who used it weren’t admirable people. Anything made from it should only be used when there was no other choice.

  Cyrus’s glare deepened to a look of absolute fury. “I’ve seen this. Slavers use it to paralyze their victims so they can capture them quietly. Is that what you’re trying to do?”

  “No!” Stella insisted. “I would never use it like slavers! I modified the ingredients and turned it into a knockout powder for self-defense.”

  “You…modified it? You mean you’re an alchemist?” Cyrus blinked in surprise, forgetting that she had just attempted to immobilize him. With the remnants of the dust settling in his hair and eyebrows, his expression was almost comical, but the last thing Stella wanted to do was laugh.

  “And a healer,” she added defensively, though she didn’t feel like one at that moment.

  “I don’t believe this.” Cyrus took a step forward and staggered, his legs giving out as the powder finally started to take effect. He fell to his knees, clutching the side of the nearest crate. He looked up at her, but behind the anger, a look of deep hurt shone in his eyes. “I’m such an idiot,” he said, his voice trembling. “I thought maybe you were different, but you’re just like him, just like all of them. I should have known.”

  Stella didn’t know whom Cyrus was talking about, but his words were like knives. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but you didn’t give me a choice.”

  “Please.” The boy cast around with a look of desperation, as if searching for something to save himself. He raised a hand toward her, though he was too far away to reach her. “The suit!” he cried. Hope replaced some of the desperation in his eyes. “Take it…Put it on. Move slowly…You’ll s-see I’m telling the truth.”

  Then he fell forward onto the floor, out cold again.

  For a moment, Stella just crouched on top of the crate, waiting to make sure he was truly unconscious. She closed the lid of the compact and sealed it, then climbed down from the crate and kneeled next to Cyrus to check his pulse. Still strong. He’d suffer no permanent harm from the dust.

  But what was she going to do with him now?

  If she turned Cyrus in, she would be giving herself up too. The ship was still close enough to Noveen that it would probably turn around and take them both back to the city for good. Her journey would end before it had truly begun.

  She also wasn’t sure what the crew would do with Cyrus. What was the punishment for stowing away on board an airship to the uncharted lands? What would happen to the mysterious boy and his strange stories?

  A tiny voice inside her whispered, What will happen if he was telling the truth?

  Stella let out a frustrated sigh, bent down, and, for the second time that day, dragged the unconscious boy back to her hiding place.

  When they were safely behind the crates again, Stella immediately noticed Cyrus’s knapsack, its contents scattered all over the floor. He must have tripped on it when he chased after her. The black beekeeper suit lay in a heap near her alchemy case.

  Put it on. Move slowly. You’ll see I’m telling the truth.

  Cyrus’s words echoed in her mind. What had he meant? How was the suit supposed to prove he was from the uncharted lands?

  Stella walked over to the discarded garment and lifted it by the collar, holding it up in front of her. It was too large for her—she could tell by looking at it—but it would be easy enough to slip over her clothing.

  Fine, but what if it was a trick? Stella instinctively held the garment as far away from her body as she could. Maybe the suit was some kind of trap the boy wanted her to fall into. But if that was its purpose, it was the most impractical trap in the world. It required the person to willingly put the suit on. And if it really was an elaborate snare, why would the boy choose to carry it and so little else with him? It didn’t make sense.

  Stella turned the suit over in her hands. Before she could talk herself out of it, she stuck her left arm into the sleeve. As she’d expected, the fabric glided smoothly over her clothing. Her hand emerged into the glove fastened to the end of the sleeve. Stella bent her arm and wiggled her fingers. So far, she felt normal, and there didn’t seem to be anything sinister about the garment. Somewhat reassured, she put her right arm into the other sleeve and pulled the rest of the suit on over her clothes. Then she reached behind her to fasten up the back. Her hands worked awkwardly in the gloves, but finally she managed to secure all the clasps. She put on the garment’s hood, tucking short, wispy black strands of hair behind her ears. Finally, she draped the gauzy veil over her face so that her entire body was hidden inside the strange suit.

  Now what?

  Stella stood there, holding her hands in front of her face, watching the starry black cloth shimmer in the candlelight. Waiting for something to happen. It was already warm in the cargo bay, but the suit quickly made the heat unbearable. Beads of sweat trickled down her face as she stood there, feeling more foolish with each passing minute.

  The boy had just been toying with her, Stella thought. Frustrated and embarrassed, she reached up to tear the veil from her face.

  And discovered that her hand and arm had vanished.

  Stella stared at the place where her arm should have been. She brought her hand close to her face. Slowly, she flexed her fingers one by one. Nothing. Stella looked down at herself and let out a shocked squeak at what she saw—or rather didn’t see.

  Her whole body had vanished.

  But that was impossible! No substance had the power to make someone invisible. As far as she knew, not even the archivists, who studied strange objects that fell in the meteor storms up north, had ever encountered anything like this.

  Stella was sweating all over now. She clenched her fists at her sides and forced herself to calm down and think about the situation. So she was invisible, but how? Maybe something in the suit’s material—that strange, lightweight metal that was woven into the fabric—was mimicking her surroundings, causing her to blend in so completely that it looked like she’d disappeared.

  Move slowly, Cyrus had said. Maybe that was a clue to how the suit worked. Stella raised her hand again, but instead of following Cyrus’s instructions, she waved it back and forth in front of her face. A ripple passed through the air before her eyes, like a stone thrown into a still pond, and for just a second, she glimpsed the outline of her hand.

  So that was the secret. Move slowly and the suit had time to shift itself to match whatever background she stood against. If she moved too quickly, the distortion in the air would cause her to reappear. The power had its limits, but the suit was still a marvel.

  And an especially useful tool for sneaking on board an airship to return home to the uncharted lands.

  Stella walked over to where Cyrus lay unconscious, still under the effects of the knockout powder. She looked down at him, imagining bright gold light spilling from his hands and eyes. He’d said he used it to shield things.

  Now this wondrous suit had turned her invisible.

  How much more proof did she need?

  None, Stella decided. As outrageous as Cyrus’s story was, she believed it. He really was from the uncharted lands. He’d come over the mountains in secret, and now he was trying to return home to his family. What was more, there was a storm out there getting closer and closer to the Iron Glory and its crew, and Cyrus was the only one who could get them through it safely. She couldn’t turn him in. She had to take a chance and let him help.

  Stella swallowed a spike of fear and prayed she was doing the right thing.

  She removed the invisibility suit, folded it carefully, and put it back in Cyrus’s knapsack, along with the rest of its spilled contents. Then she sorted through her supplies, taking a rough inventory of how much food and water there was and if she could stretch it for two people.

  She’d brought a handful of apples,
three oranges, and some cheese to eat early in the trip before they spoiled. Using a small pocketknife from her alchemy case, she sliced up one of the apples for her and Cyrus to share when he awakened. She also got out a wedge of yellow cheese, which she cut into bite-sized chunks. She put the food on a small metal plate she’d brought as part of her meal kit and opened one of her water containers so they’d have something to wash it all down with. It wasn’t a feast by any means, but she’d been prepared to eat sparse meals for the next couple of weeks. Although considering the storm, she began to wonder if the journey wouldn’t take longer than she’d anticipated.

  Her stomach rumbled at the sharp, crisp scent of the apple, and Stella was just contemplating taking a slice when Cyrus stirred and opened his eyes. He blinked, blearily shaking off the effects of the dust. Suddenly, he bolted into a crouch, looking around as if he expected an enemy to leap out at him from one of the dark corners of the cargo bay.

  His eyes rested on Stella and filled with confusion. “What’s going on?” he asked. He sounded a little groggy, but Stella knew that would pass.

  She held the plate of apples and cheese out to him, hoping that the offering of food would go a little way toward helping him forgive her for using the powder on him.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  A growly noise answered her, coming from Cyrus’s stomach. Stella smiled and waved the plate, inviting him to take some food. His gaze never leaving her face, Cyrus crawled over to the plate and grabbed an apple slice, then sat down across from her. He raised the fruit to his mouth but hesitated, his eyes narrowing, as if he thought the food might be poisoned.

  Stella supposed she deserved that. She took a wedge of cheese, popped it into her mouth, and chewed. Once she’d finished, she ate an apple slice, savoring its tart juices. Swallowing, she glanced at Cyrus, one eyebrow raised as if to say, See how I’m not trying to hurt you?