by C. R. Grey
Gwen gaped at the sight of the many ships sailing across the canyon, all in a line crisscrossed with ropes and dotted with the blinding-white sails in the late morning sun.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Just don’t look down,” answered Hal.
She did the exact opposite. As the wind blew through Gwen’s short red hair, she pushed it away from her face and looked down. From here the canyon was narrower, but much, much deeper. The bottom looked like a line the thickness of a spider’s floss.
This high up, the wind made everything chilly. She leaned into Phi and together they peered into the canyon, or tried to. Taleth wedged herself between them, and Gwen drew comfort from her heaving breath and the feel of her thick white fur.
Below were so many shades of orange and red—an incredible blend of smooth stone and jagged cliffs. She’d never felt more terrified or awestruck. Nature had made this. It had made all of them.
“Hal!” Tori exclaimed, grabbing his arm. “You have to look!”
Hal clutched her hand as he turned, his eyes still clenched tightly. When he opened his eyes, he closed them again quickly. “Okay, I did it—I looked!”
They’d passed the deepest part of the canyon, and the other side seemed within reach—growing larger as they approached.
“Will the line hold?” Gwen asked Lukas.
He shrugged. “It has every other time.”
“Oh Nature,” Hal groaned. “That’s precisely what worries me! If these ropes haven’t been replaced—”
“Shhhhhh,” Tori interrupted. “We’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”
Bailey hopped off the rail and went to stand by Annika’s side, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He was transfixed on the anchors. Lukas, of course, followed him excitedly and scooped a squirrel up when it scurried toward his feet. Taleth pushed off the railing by Gwen and Phi to pace behind them.
“It’s almost like we’re flying, isn’t it?” Phi asked. She didn’t seem nearly as scared as Gwen was. The two girls stumbled as the whole ship tipped back dramatically the last part of the way. The crew widened their stances as they collected the ropes, going about their work like this was normal—to sail over a canyon. The ship strained and stuttered the last bit of the way. Gwen held on fiercely to the railing with one hand and to Phi’s arm with the other.
BAILEY WATCHED THE ROCK crumble away from where the anchor dug in, nervous and exhilarated all at once. Taleth nudged her nose to his hand, and suddenly, he couldn’t see himself anymore—or the canyon, either. The wide, unadorned plains closed in and became blackish-green trees, and the sky overhead changed from bright blue to hazy, snow-tinged gray. But he could still feel the wind blowing over the canyon, and he could hear Hal complaining.
Bailey knew, without understanding exactly how or why, that he was seeing Taleth’s memories. She hurried over mossy rocks and nettle-strewn paths, surrounded by piney mountain trees. Her ears pricked—she heard a cry, the wail of a human infant.
Bailey’s eyes snapped open. He was gripping the cable rails, white knuckled from the intense effort. Even in Taleth’s mind, he hadn’t let go. He felt the power of their connection flowing through him, filling his chest and lungs and mind with energy that rippled out from him—if he looked down, he thought, he might even be able to see it, the energy felt so real and tangible.
Then the ship lifted the last part of the way and landed with a thud. He saw Gwen and Phi sink to the deck.
“Excellent, crew!” Annika yelled. She walked down the center of the ship. It was silent apart from the heavy steps of her boots.
The kids followed the crew off the ship, with Taleth going first. She made sure to stay low and swayed her tail back and forth as she looked to either side. Her big, blue eyes took in the new scenery, and Bailey felt a sense of excitement and caution. He nudged her from behind, and she purred as she hurried along.
They walked along a canyon switchback, passing all the different landing sites for the other ships that had crossed with them. Women and children on the crew were scattered ahead and behind Bailey’s group. Eventually, the path led to rough steps carved into the cliffside, and patches of thick, reedy grass gave way to thicker vegetation. Bailey and Annika took the lead, with Taleth stalking alongside them with a nervous energy. Behind them, Lukas pointed out all of the flora in their Latin names, which seemed of genuine interest to Tori and Hal.
Snakes slithered in and out of cracks at the very edge of the canyon, attempting to get Tori’s attention—but now she and Hal were fighting over a Latin derivative. At the very back were Phi, Gwen, and the Tully, who talked quietly as they gazed into the canyon.
Two jackrabbits scurried about the grass alongside their party, at first wary of Taleth, who gave a low growl. Annika called the hares forward several times, and even offered sun-dried vegetables from her satchel. But still they wouldn’t come. She glanced over to Bailey, and he took it as a sign to pull Taleth back.
“Give them some room, girl,” Bailey called, and Taleth moved to Bailey’s far side, albeit reluctantly.
“Is she okay?” Annika asked. “And are you okay?”
Bailey nodded. “Yeah. It’s just that everything is so new….”
He felt exhilarated—like they were finally onto something. But he was scared, too, and not just of what lay beyond the canyon. He was worried about the fate of the kingdom. Could they really find an entire army to fight for Tremelo? If good people like Annika and the Tully wouldn’t fight for him, then who would?
“There’s much of the world I haven’t seen, either,” she said as the jackrabbits hopped behind her. “Your Gray City for instance.”
“It’s nice but a bit dirty,” Bailey admitted. “I’m from the Lowlands, myself.”
She nodded. “I would’ve guessed. You seem like you’re used to hard work.”
Bailey grinned, and ran his hand through his short blond hair. He stood a little straighter, and would’ve loved to enjoy the compliment if it hadn’t been for Taleth. She gave a low growl behind them. When Bailey turned to look, she was edging one of the rabbits away toward the grass. He moved closer to her, shooing her off the rabbits.
“Nature!” Annika exclaimed, shaking her wrist in the air. One of the jackrabbits had bitten into her finger. “That’s never happened before….”
“Annika!” one of the women ahead called. Without pause, Annika broke into a sprint up the remainder of the path. Bailey followed, dodging and weaving through the scattered women and children. Taleth clawed her way up the side of the mountain and met them there.
A dozen people cowered in the center of just as many desert animals, all Dominated, by the vacant look in their eyes. There was a village here once, that much was obvious. There was shredded canvas that looked like the Defiance sails and wooden structures that had made the walls of homes. Bits and pieces of a life were scattered—pans, clothes, broken ceramics. A woman stood on the edge, her light hair wrapped in a colorful scarf. She was cradling a baby, bouncing it the way mothers do when they’re trying to distract them.
“No,” Annika whispered under her breath. The Tully came running up, huffing and puffing.
“Myra, are you alright?” the Tully called out.
“We tried to send word, but we failed,” the woman with the scarf called back. “We don’t know—”
She was cut off by the hiss of a brown desert fox, and she cowered. Bailey only now realized the people were covered in scratches and bite marks, their clothes shredded. And that there were two men on either side of the circle, standing tall with smug looks on their faces.
“Asked you to be quiet, didn’t I?” the one on the left said, speaking in a thick, clipped accent as they did in the industrial district of the Gray.
“MAM, MOM!” Lukas cried from behind. A squirrel had bitten into his arm and wouldn’t let go. Lukas swung him around wildly, but the animal was clamped on tight. Bailey ran to his side and grabbed it by the tail. The squirrel let go instantl
y and swung himself up on Bailey’s arm, then jumped down and hid behind a low shrub. It seemed suddenly ashamed.
Back where he stood, a commotion had broken out, with Annika’s jackrabbits lunging at her and the Tully. She yelled for them to stop. “What is this madness?” she asked.
Bailey realized they’d only started attacking once he’d left her side. It was the orbs in his pocket—the ones he’d taken from Tremelo’s office. He pulled them out of his pocket and felt the metal heat in his hands.
“It’s an antidote!” he said out loud.
“A what?” Phi asked.
Bailey looked up at his friends, and at the terrified faces of the people of Defiance. Most of them were watching Annika or struggling with their own kin who’d accompanied them on the ship.
“It’s something Tremelo was developing. An antidote to Dominance!” He showed the three orbs in his hands. “We’re going to have to toss them back and forth to get to the men.”
“Do what?” Hal asked. He looked up at two bats circling, and moved in closer toward Bailey.
“Just do as I say, everyone. Phi, you take the left side and I’ll pass it to you. We’ll go back and forth to stay safe. Tori, Gwen, are either of you decent at Scavage? It’s just like tossing a Flick—”
“I know how to catch a ball,” Tori interrupted. “How about you, Parliament?” she asked Gwen, but her tone was kind. Gwen nodded so forcefully that red curls tumbled down the front of her face.
“Just toss it back and forth, keep moving, watch your partner’s back, and throw them the orb if they look like they’re in trouble. We need to get Annika to the center where she can help handle the men.” He went over a loose plan of who should go where.
“And what am I supposed to do?” Hal asked.
“Hold on to the third and stay close to me,” Tori answered. She and Hal each grabbed an orb from Bailey’s hand. “On your count, Bailey.”
He nodded. “One, two, THREE.” The kids went sprinting in different directions. Bailey grabbed Annika’s arm and tried to pull her forward. At first she refused, even as the jackrabbits fell away and calmed.
“I have no kin,” the Tully said. “I’ll take care of Lukas. GO.”
And so Bailey, Taleth, and Annika ran side by side. Taleth pawed down an armadillo who attacked along the way, and all the while Bailey watched Phi—who was quick on her feet and knew when to duck and roll to evade some animal or another. But he saw that Carin was swooping down and called out. He released the orb just as she looked up, and she caught it as Carin was mid-dive. The falcon pulled up abruptly and clawed at the fox who’d been charging toward her.
Gwen and Tori held their own, though they stayed closer to each other and handed off the orb—every so often coming back together again to trade. Hal stayed close behind, and his bats proved useful, flapping around a vulture in order to disorient it.
A dingo charged at them, and Annika raised her forearm so the dog bit onto it first.
“Bailey!” Phi called, throwing him the orb. The dingo fell away, and Taleth batted it to the side with her massive head.
The two men, who’d been so smug earlier, seemed scared as Annika and Bailey gained ground. They sent more animals toward them, but they all fell away once they got close enough, scared and unwilling now that the power of Dominance had left them. The men must have been well practiced—Bailey didn’t know of anyone who could control kin other than their own, besides Sucrette and Viviana herself. Annika crouched down and pulled a blade out of her boot. She threw it at one man’s shoulder and he went down, and all the other animals near him seemed to fall out of his spell. The pain must’ve destroyed his concentration.
A loud screech sounded across the way, and Phi screamed. Bailey looked up just as she brought her arms to her face, both Carin and the vulture nipping at her hair. Bailey launched the orb with all his strength so that it hit the vulture square on its body; it flapped and clawed, tearing through Carin’s wing as it went down. There was a cascade of feathers as Phi fell to the ground and grabbed for the orb, clutching it tightly.
On Bailey’s side of the commotion, the second man had broken into a sprint away from Annika, but she tackled him to the ground. He was Animas Armadillo, and the animal scurried away quickly. Myra, the woman the Tully had addressed, stood up and kicked the man in the ribs once. He let out an oof.
Bailey looked around, seeing that the animals had backed away. The kin that flew disappeared, apart from Carin and the bats. Carin was perched on Phi’s shoulder; the girl sat with her legs crossed holding the orb to her chest. Now in the void of screams and terror there was only silence.
Annika immediately got to work, using found shreds of canvas to tie the men up. “These were the horrors you spoke of in the city? The ones Viviana Melore is responsible for?”
Bailey glanced at his friends, and they all nodded at Annika. He knew better than to keep bad-mouthing Tremelo’s sister. Her work would speak for her. But he would advocate for Tremelo.
“The True King, Trent Melore, made these orbs. He’s trying to undo everything Viviana has done. To bring the bond back to its purest form.”
The Tully and Lukas arrived, and hugged Annika on either side.
“We’ll all fight for you,” Myra said.
“Yes!” Bailey exclaimed. Taleth eased against him with her flank, her tail high and relaxed. Phi smiled at him from the ground, her crown of curly brown hair shining in the sun. She pushed herself up to stand, and he was relieved to see she was okay.
“Another addition to our army!” Gwen exclaimed. “Now we can head to the Bay and pick up more would-be soldiers….”
“The Bay?” Myra asked. “There’s no one at the Bay. It’s desolate there, completely taken over by warlords who wield the same power as these men did.” She nudged the unconscious man with her foot for good measure.
“The Domniae have taken over the Bay?” Gwen asked. Her face fell. “But the book said, ‘Sunken deep at the kingdom’s edge and watched by a wise and dusty army…’”
“What book do you quote, child?” the Tully said.
Everyone looked at Tori, who hesitantly pulled the book out of her beaded bag.
“I know that book.” The Tully laughed. “The book of prophecies, correct?” She continued when she saw the surprised look on the kids’ faces. “I know the Velyn well. Many of them became refugees to Defiance after the Jackal’s massacre. And I know of the Seers’ Glass too. And what you seek was never in the Bay at all. It’s elsewhere you need to go….”
THE CLOUD OF BLACK, glittering ash that rose above the Seers’ Valley evoked memories in Viviana. It reminded her of the night the palace had burned, when she was still a girl—and again of the night, years later, when she and Annika burned down the slave trader camp and let all the girls free.
Annika. She hadn’t thought of her in years, and in truth, Viviana preferred to have forgotten her old friend altogether. Viviana was the closest to the other girl when she was at her weakest. But as the soot descended from the sky, she reminded herself that she wasn’t weak anymore. After all, the ash was a sign of progress. Her army was nearly complete.
She stood on the stone slab that had once held the Statue of the Twins. A piece of rubble from the statue knocked against her foot; she kicked it away. What lay before her in the valley was more majestic than any statue: a gash in the mountainside, hundreds of yards wide, spit dark ash as animal workers, Dominated to serve, hewed slab after slab of shiny, pitch-black rock from the mountain’s core. The slabs were then hauled into a huge white tent, now dingy with ash, where Viviana’s trained tinkerers melted and molded them into her perfect army. Soon, no upstart revolutionaries would stand a chance against her.
“Madam—one of those poachers is here to see you. He claims he has the prince.”
Viviana’s heart—something many doubted she still possessed—thudded with excitement. “I’ll escort you to the entrance,” she said, striding along the edge of the rock quarry. People t
oiled below, digging up soil and stone in search of her precious metal. The guard who’d summoned her, barely a man, with a hint of a mustache, walked a step behind her. With each thud of his thick boots, the thrilling anticipation building inside her grew. Trent Melore had been caught.
Since the day of the Progress Fair, she’d been imagining this moment: what she’d say to him, how he’d look, how she’d kill him. Nothing had truly prepared her for what was about to occur. Her brother. Her own, lost brother—and his life was in her hands.
She would have known him anywhere. To her followers, she’d laughed off the events at the Progress Fair as a coup staged by an imposter. If anyone asked her, she’d tell them that Trent Melore was dead, and anyone claiming to be him was a fake and a traitor.
Only she knew the truth: one look at the face of the man who’d walked onstage at the Fair, and she’d known it was him. He’d had their father’s eyes.
There had been a time, many years ago, when she’d have thanked Nature that he was still alive. For all the years she was in the Dust Plains, she had dreamed of him every night. It was always the same: her running through the burning palace, only as an adult instead of a little girl. And every time she reached the nursery door, she flung it open only to find another door—and behind that door another door, and so on and so on. Trent’s cries went on for hours. But finally, after hundreds of doors, she found the smoky nursery. But she hadn’t found little Trent inside. She’d found little Viviana staring back at her.
“In here, my lady,” said the guard. They’d arrived at the hollow space of dungeons they’d carved out of the quarry.
“Show me,” she said, gesturing for the guard to lead on.
In the cell farthest from the light, she heard a shuffling and a moan. The guard hung a lantern on a hook by the cell door. Flickering light shone through the grate, casting a sinister pattern over the stone floor and the man lying prone upon it with a bag over his face. There was a second guard, taller and older, watching over him.
