The Quest to the Uncharted Lands

by Jaleigh Johnson

  Standing at the hatch, Stella took one last look at the sky, which had burst into sunset colors. They were so beautiful it was almost painful to watch. The orange light of the fading sun deepened to crimson in a fiery line along the horizon, and for the first time in her life, Stella realized that there were certain shades of red that could only truly be appreciated in the sky.

  She turned away from the sunset and headed below.

  Out of the open air, it was harder to move around. Stella made her way with agonizing slowness down a narrow hallway, pressing her flank against the left-hand wall as two men rounded the corner up ahead and came toward her. Thankfully, one walked ahead of the other, so they passed her with plenty of space between them. Patience was the key. If she hurried, that was when it was riskiest and she would likely be discovered.

  She made her way down to deck three, which included the bridge and the observation lounge. There was more traffic here than Stella was comfortable with, but it was also the deck where the medical bay was located, where her parents would be.

  Stella’s heartbeat sped up with each slow step she took in that direction. She wanted to see them so much, needed to hear their voices, even if they had no idea she was in the room with them. Now more than ever, with a saboteur on board, she wanted to feel safe again, if only for a little while.

  In her excitement, Stella abruptly realized she’d quickened her step. The air shimmered, briefly showing the outline of her left leg. Careful! She stopped for a moment to try to calm down. It was then she heard a voice up ahead of her in the corridor. It sounded like it was coming from the bridge, which was nearby.

  A moment later, a man and a woman stepped out a doorway on the right-hand wall and began walking down the hall toward her. Stella recognized them both at once: the Iron Glory’s Captain Keeler and his first officer, a sarnun woman named Drea. The captain’s frizzy, thinning gray hair and dark eyes stood in sharp contrast to his companion’s milky-white eyes, not to mention the glistening blue feelers sprouting from her head and draping in graceful waves down her back. They both wore the uniform of the Dragonfly territories, green jackets with gold epaulets, but their clothes were rumpled, and the captain looked exhausted.

  No surprise there. Likely neither one of them had slept since they heard there was a saboteur aboard.

  Unfortunately, the captain and the first officer were walking side by side down the hall and were taking up most of the space. As quickly as she could without betraying her presence, Stella flattened herself against the wall. She held her breath as the two highest-ranking officers glided past her, the captain speaking in a low voice. Stella was able to catch only a few sentences.

  “…a full report from every deck within the hour,” Keeler was saying. “And I want to know if the gasbag was damaged.”

  When she replied, Drea put her thoughts directly into the captain’s mind, so of course Stella couldn’t hear them. But sarnuns also communicated emotion with their feelers, and the first officer’s feelers were rigid against her back. Stella knew from talking to sarnun scientists, friends of her parents, that the gesture meant that Drea was upset.

  After they’d passed by, Stella resumed her snail’s pace down the hall, until finally she reached an open doorway with a placard on the wall that read: MEDICAL BAY.

  Her mother’s voice echoed from inside the room.

  “Hand me the broom,” she was saying, her voice tight with anger. “I need to sweep up this glass before someone steps on it and slices their foot open.”

  “It’s behind you, Eliza. Against the wall,” Stella’s father answered, also from inside the room.

  Stella blinked to clear the tears from her eyes. If she closed them, she could almost pretend it was a normal day in the lab and she was just coming to ask her parents when they were going to stop for dinner. She even caught the scent of her mother’s lavender perfume drifting out into the hallway.

  Cautiously, she peeked around the doorway. A pair of examining tables were arranged side by side at the back of the room, along with a more comfortable-looking cot with a pillow and blanket. White cupboards lined the right-hand wall, and below them, a length of countertop covered in test tubes and jars of medicines and herbs. Her mother stood in front of the counter with the broom—it was almost as tall as she was—and was sweeping shards of glass from a broken test tube into a pile while her father crouched on the floor, ready with the dustpan. Stella’s mother wore an expression of fury that caught Stella off guard.

  “Please calm down,” her father said as Stella crept into the room. She positioned herself in the corner closest to the doorway, where she could listen and not chance either of them bumping into her accidentally.

  Her mother slammed the broom down on the pile of glass with a loud crunch. “You really think I can be calm after what we just heard? The captain confirmed it, Martin. The cables were cut. One of the crew—people I thought were our friends—is sabotaging the ship.”

  “I know,” her father said quietly. “I just can’t bring myself to believe it. We’ve worked side by side with these people for months. If you’d asked me yesterday, I’d have said I’d trust them with my life.”

  “One of them is a traitor—to both Merrow and Dragonfly.” Her mother’s face was red with outrage. Stella didn’t think she’d ever seen her this angry before.

  “The captain will find whoever’s responsible,” her father said. His voice softened. “You know, if we were at home right now, we’d have roped Stella into helping us clean up this mess.”

  Stella stiffened at the mention of her name. Her father was obviously joking, trying to distract her mother from her fury. But it was Eliza’s reaction that truly shocked her. Instead of chuckling, she stopped her sweeping, laid her forehead against the broom handle, and burst into tears.

  “Oh, Eliza,” her father said, dropping the dustpan and wrapping his arms around his wife. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was trying to take your mind off the bad news.”

  Without thinking, Stella stepped forward, hands reaching, wanting to comfort her mother too. Then she remembered where they were. She was so close, and yet so helpless, it was almost too much to bear. She curled her hands into fists and made herself edge back into the corner.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Eliza said, pressing her face against her husband’s shoulder. “This ship is supposed to be indestructible. The king assured us. It’s the only reason I was able to leave Stella at home without it tearing me to pieces.”

  “I don’t think the king realized there’d be a traitor among us,” Stella’s father said, stroking his wife’s long dark hair in a soothing gesture. “I don’t think anyone really knew what we were getting ourselves into.”

  Stella’s mother pulled back just far enough to look up at him. Her eyes were haunted. “Martin, if we don’t catch this person, he could bring down the ship. We’d never see Stella again. She’d be an orphan.”

  A change came over Martin then. It was as if something…broke, starting from the inside and working its way out. His shoulders slumped, and he bowed his head, now leaning on his wife for support. But not until the moisture dripped down his face did Stella realize he was crying.

  “I know,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’ve worried about that every day since we left, but there’s no going back now. We have to focus on what’s ahead of us, do everything we can to get back to her.”

  Stella closed her eyes and shrank into her corner. She couldn’t bear to see her parents in such pain. Her father had never cried before, at least not in front of her. And her mother…Stella would gladly have listened to her shout and rage and throw the broom. That was the small, fierce woman she knew and loved. But these frightened people—she’d never seen this side of her parents before.

  And it was all because of Stella. Her parents were terrified that they wouldn’t make it back to her. They were afraid of the same thing Stella had been for months. But why had they never told her just how sca
red they were?

  Because they hadn’t wanted her to be any more frightened and upset than she already was, Stella realized. In that moment, she wished more than anything she could cross the room and throw her arms around her parents. They could have shared the fear. Maybe then it wouldn’t have hurt so much. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt as if they were abandoning her.

  Stella sighed softly. Her father was right. The past couldn’t be changed. The important thing now was to find the saboteur before he could doom the expedition or cause a permanent divide among the crew.

  Stella crept slowly out of her corner and inched toward the door, careful not to step on any broken glass that might make a sound under her feet. Her parents pulled apart and went back to their cleanup, but Stella noticed that they stayed close, as if they were lending each other strength.

  We’ll protect you both, Stella promised her parents silently. Cyrus and I. We’re all going to get home.

  Stella slipped out of the medical bay and retraced her steps down the hall. For the moment, the area was deserted. The crew must be at their stations, she thought. Just as well. It allowed her to move a little faster than she normally would have, though not fast enough to make her visible.

  She moved from deck to deck, methodically searching for…what? That was the question. A crew member acting suspiciously? Something out of place? Maybe some sign of the tools the saboteur had used to slice the Iron Glory’s cables. Chop saws weren’t easy things to hide, even on a ship this size.

  But after about an hour of painstakingly combing the corridors, Stella had found nothing unusual. Her stomach rumbled and her feet were sore. She didn’t want to stop searching, but she needed to get back to the cargo bay to let Cyrus know she was all right.

  Discouraged, Stella moved down the corridor toward the closest set of stairs that would lead her back down to the cargo bay.

  Just ahead of her on her right, a door slowly opened, and a man peered into the hall, looking in both directions before stepping out. He had heavy jowls and brows, sideburns that ran in two thick rows down either side of his face. In his hands, he held a box of matches.

  A prickle of uneasiness tugged at Stella’s scalp. The man looked like he was checking the hall to make sure it was empty before he came out of the room. Was there some reason he didn’t want to be seen? And Stella didn’t recognize his face. She’d met many of the crew members during the preparations for the expedition, though she didn’t know all their faces from memory.

  The man closed the door and leaned against it for a second, gazing in both directions again before he turned and hurried for the stairs.

  As the echo of his footsteps slowly faded, Stella resumed her walk down the hall. She paused in front of the door the man had come out of, hoping it would give her some clue to his position on the ship.

  The sign on the door said STORAGE.

  Curls of white smoke bled from a crack beneath the door, the scent of burning cloth and chemicals filling her nostrils.

  The man with the matches had started a fire.

  Stella yanked open the small storage closet. The door banged against the opposite wall. Boxes stacked up to the ceiling on the right side of the closet, but on the left there were a bunch of cleaning supplies, a mop and bucket, and a pile of dirty rags in the corner. Orange flames ate up the dry cotton, turning them to curled black husks. Every second that passed, the fire inched closer to the boxes.

  The Iron Glory might have been a metal ship, but there were still enough wood and gaslight systems on board that a fire could turn deadly in minutes.

  Stella stamped on the rags with both feet to put the fire out. She kicked the blackened remnants and ashes into the corner, as far away from the stack of boxes as possible. By the time all the flames had died, she was breathless and trembling inside her suit.

  When she was sure the fire was out, Stella peeked out the closet door. The hallway was still deserted. There was no sign of the saboteur or the rest of the crew.

  Stella’s thoughts raced. If the man was still nearby, he’d know soon enough that his fire hadn’t spread. Which meant he might try again, and Stella had no idea where he’d gone.

  She scanned the walls, searching for the gaslight lines. In her studies of the ship, she’d learned there was an alarm system running alongside the gaslights that would sound bells throughout the ship in case of an emergency like this. She needed to warn the crew.

  There! High on the wall was a red button next to a gray metal bell. Stella ran to it, stretching up on her toes to jam the heel of her hand into the button.

  A deafening clang filled the hallway, ringing in Stella’s ears. Seconds later, it was picked up on the decks above and below her as other crew members heard the bell and sounded their alarms. Soon the whole ship echoed with the sound.

  Stella left the closet door open and moved as quickly as she dared out of the corridor and back to the cargo bay. She wanted to stay and make sure the crew found the evidence of the fire, but she would be vulnerable. The corridors would be full of people soon, making it almost impossible to move around without someone bumping into her.

  Footsteps pounded on the stairs above her, but Stella made it back to the cargo bay ahead of them.

  Cyrus was waiting for her behind the crates, pacing back and forth as if he might wear a trench into the floor. When she pulled off the hood of her suit and became visible, he jumped back, banging his elbow against the wall of crates.

  “You scared the life out of me,” he hissed, keeping his voice low. Before Stella could answer, he put his hands on her shoulders, surprising her into silence. “Are you all right? What happened? I heard the alarm, and I was afraid they’d caught you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Stella said. “It was the only thing I could think of.” They sat down on the floor, and she quickly filled him in on the fire and the man she’d seen.

  Cyrus’s face paled. “I didn’t think he’d try anything again so soon, especially with the crew on alert. But it seems like he’s determined to bring us down.”

  “He’d be crazy to try again today,” Stella said, pointing to the ceiling. “It sounds like the whole crew is on the move up there.”

  One by one, the alarm bells were shutting down, but shouting voices and footsteps echoed above them. The crew had obviously found the remnants of the fire. They’d be searching the rest of the ship for more piles of burning rags.

  Stella prayed they wouldn’t come rooting all the way back to the corner of the cargo bay.

  “Could you tell which one of the crew it was?” Cyrus asked.

  Stella shook her head. “I don’t know them all,” she said. “I met the captain and first officer, some of the main deck crew, and most of the scientific team. It wasn’t any of them.”

  “There’s another possibility,” Cyrus added. “He might not be part of the crew at all. He could be a stowaway, like us.”

  “Three stowaways hiding on one ship,” Stella said skeptically. “What are the chances anyone could pull that off?”

  “Well, we have an advantage with your alchemy set and the invisibility suit,” Cyrus pointed out. “Who knows what the saboteur has?”

  “And we’re heading into a storm,” Stella said, fighting off panic. “What are we going to do?” For once, she wouldn’t have minded hearing Cyrus’s jokes or his teasing, anything to take her mind off what was in front of them.

  “Same thing we planned,” Cyrus said decisively. “You’re right. The crew will be doubly on their guard now, so the saboteur will have to lie low while they search for him. In the meantime, you and I will focus on the storm and getting the ship through it.”

  “All right.” Stella nodded. Plans were good. Preparation was set. It made her feel calmer, more in control.

  Cyrus was right. She’d made a promise to protect her parents, and the best thing she could do for them now was to focus on what was ahead.

  On the impending weather.

  After a couple of more restful nights—thanks
to the fresh air she’d gotten—Stella was back on the Iron Glory’s main deck, watching the skies and going over the plan in her head.

  “I have to be on the ship but outside its walls for my protective shield to work,” Cyrus had explained. “It’s kind of like making a net and then casting it over the outside of the ship. You’ll wear the invisibility suit and keep watch. Warn me if anyone’s coming, though I’m hoping none of the crew will be stupid enough to come outside once the storm hits.”

  Stella had bitten her lip and refrained from reminding him that the two of them were going to be the stupid ones outside in the storm. Instead, she’d asked, “But why can’t you wear the suit so no one will see you? Will you be running around a lot, moving too fast for the suit to keep up?”

  “No, I’ll be staying in one place and holding very still, but for what I’m going to do, I can’t be wearing the suit. It causes…interference with my power.”

  Stella wondered what he’d meant by “interference.” The whole idea of his protecting the ship with his strange powers fascinated her, and she wanted to know how they worked. Where had he gotten this gift? What were the limits of his power? But every time she tried to ask questions, Cyrus managed to change the subject. Obviously, he didn’t trust her all the way.

  Stella tried to tell herself that was fine. It wasn’t as if they were friends or anything. She wasn’t quite sure what they were. Allies, maybe? But definitely not friends. Friends knew each other’s real names. She’d tried and failed again the night before to get Cyrus to tell her, so she’d resorted to guessing games.

  “Bostwick? Brent? Baris?” she’d ask.

  “None of those,” Cyrus would inevitably reply. “Do I really look like a Bostwick to you?”

  “Conal? Darwin? Edward?” Even being thorough and starting at the beginning of the alphabet, she’d gotten all the way to “P” before getting tired at her lack of success. “Peregrine?”

  “Peregrine? Isn’t that a falcon?”