by Walsh, Sara
“There were drums,” I said, pointing toward the horizon. “Or something like that.”
“I heard them too.” He sat at my side, his long legs bent, his arms resting on his knees.
“Demons?” I asked.
“Maybe. But we don’t have to reenter the forest. We should be fine.”
We sat in silence, but this was different from the awkward pauses when he’d driven me to Mickey’s. I felt no pressure to speak. It was like a regular morning—as if we were the first up after a night camping at Jacob’s Lake.
“You were right about the mist,” I said eventually. “It’s cleared.”
“It’ll build again during the day,” said Sol. “It’s always the same in the valley.”
Almost as much as his stoicism, I was growing to hate the sadness in Sol’s voice whenever we talked of his home. I chased those fleeting moments when he opened up with a smile or laugh, and I’d see the humor and mischief inside. It seemed hard for him to let go and relax.
I knew Sol could get along fine without any help from me, but still, as I watched him on the step, I battled the urge to put an arm around him and say, in my own stupid way, that I got that life sucked here, that nowhere was perfect, and that one day I hoped it would get better. Thinking that way had gotten me through the dark times in Crownsville.
Instead, I asked, “How far is it to Orion?”
“We should reach it by noon,” he replied. And there it was. That little flicker of fun in his eyes. “If Delane ever wakes up.”
I smiled. “It’s quite the bromance with you two.”
He frowned. “Bromance?”
“You know, buddy love. Guys together through thick and thin.”
“We grew up together,” said Sol. “He’s more brother than friend.”
“Like me and Willie.” I laughed as I imagined her striding across the valley floor toward us. “She’d bust a gut if she could see me in this dress.”
“The dress suits you,” said Sol. “You look good in red.”
I took a double take at him, but he wasn’t making fun. What was it about me and guys who liked red? It was the only thing Sol had in common with Andy.
“You’ll see Willie again, Mia,” he said.
“I know.”
Sol was the only one here who knew where I came from, who knew about Crownsville High, and about my life on the Other Side. All I knew about his world were sentinels and visage demons.
“I don’t get how there can be mountains here,” I said, wanting to know more about his world. “That people on the Other Side can’t see them.”
“Maybe the Other Side does see it,” he replied. “Like in the evenings, when the sun sinks beneath the clouds, and for just a moment, you catch something out there—a mountain, a river, a city in the sky.”
I watched him, unable to look away from his striking profile. He twisted toward me, almost stealing my breath with his smile. “I once heard that we’re the ghosts you sometimes see on the Other Side.”
He leaned in to me as he spoke, his shoulder nudging mine as if to draw me into his words. I stared at him. I mean, I was staring at him, my eyes vacant and glazed. I hesitated.
There’s a line between enjoying some eye candy and wanting to gorge on a whole bag. I’d not knowingly stepped over it, but no matter how many times I imagined a touch or a kiss, Sol and I could never be more than a dream. Anything else would bring a long descent into a world of hurt.
I snapped out of my daze, reminding myself that I actually had to speak. “So Duddon Malone is the poltergeist in your closet? Gives new meaning to the term ‘closet monster.’”
Sol threw back his head and laughed. “It certainly doesn’t sound like something you’d want to run into. It would scare me half to death.”
“You?” I gasped, in mock horror. “I don’t believe that anything scares you.”
His gaze penetrated mine and his smile faded. “Some things scare me.”
I took a deep breath, his sudden intensity catching me off guard. “But still,” I continued, hastily. “In the Wastes we saw Onaly, but Onaly can’t see you. The Sleeper Hill Giant appears in both places, the mountains only here. How?”
“There are places that appear on both sides,” said Sol, back to his normal, businesslike self, “some only here, some only in your world. But don’t confuse that with what you saw in the Wastes. There’s nothing natural about the Wastes.” He shrugged. “I’m no expert. I never paid much attention in school. Barrier lore is tediously boring. I doubt if there are many left who truly understand it.”
“I think I get it. The Barrier isn’t a wall or a fence.”
“That’s right,” said Sol. He seemed impressed that I understood. “The Barrier isn’t a solid boundary you can touch. It doesn’t begin or end. It exists everywhere. It’s all around us. The gateway at the Ridge is one of many weaknesses.”
“Then this world is really another dimension.”
“But connected to your world,” said Sol. “All the worlds are connected. As I said, I’m no expert. Once Elias resurfaced, school didn’t seem so important. I just wanted to get out and fight.”
Though Sol had been at Crownsville High, I couldn’t picture him in class, on either side of the Barrier. “So you have school here,” I said.
“We have school,” he replied. “It’s different.”
“No algebra or Spanish?”
“We learn languages from the Other Side. And then there’s history and culture. Weaponry. And some magic, though not as much since the Purge.”
This was wild. Sol a student in Brakaland. It was a whole new side of him. “I feel like I know you,” I said, wanting him to continue, “but I don’t. What about your parents?”
“My mother died when I was eight. My father’s in the West. I have a younger sister, two younger brothers.”
“You must miss them. Doesn’t your father mind you being out here?”
“He knows it’s important that we keep close to the Ridge. What happens there is crucial to understanding the Suzerain’s plans.”
“But it’s so dangerous. You’re pretty much in the lion’s mouth.”
“Things are different here,” said Sol. “The path to adulthood starts earlier, at eleven for boys. That’s the age when you travel, you train to fight, you learn to survive, so that you can earn yourself the right to be called a man.”
Jay was almost eleven, just a kid. If he’d stayed in Brakaland, he’d soon begin his journey into adulthood. And me? My senior year started in the fall, and then college, my ticket out of Crownsville. But what if my father had kept me here? What on earth would my life have been like?
“What about women and girls?” I asked. “Do they fight?”
“They fight,” said Sol. “If that’s their path.”
I’d never seen him so relaxed. Any more laid back and he’d give Andy a run for his money. Wrapping my skirt around my legs, I shifted to face him. “So have you earned the right to be called a man?”
“Not yet.”
“Is that why you joined the Sons of the West?”
It was the wrong question. A stern look entered his eyes. “I joined the Sons of the West because this is part of our home,” he said, his chin raised. “It belongs to the people; it can’t be given up to the Suzerain.”
Hastily backtracking, I tried to lighten the mood. “Puts my problems in context. What college to go to. What to wear to prom.”
“The dance?” asked Sol.
“I have a hot date,” I replied, hoping he’d catch the flippancy in my tone. It didn’t feel like a balanced exchange of information. Sol talks about fighting for his country, and all I could come up with was prom. I wasn’t even sure why I’d mentioned it. Maybe just to remind myself that my life in Crownsville was real. “Andy,” I said. “He’s a really nice guy.”
Sol’s gaze again fixed on me. “And lucky, too,” he said, quietly.
There’s that moment when a guy says something random, like Andy
offering to take Jay to the cages, that drives you to spend hours analyzing every word—Did he say it like this, or did he say it like that? Did he mean this, or did he mean that? Then somehow you break the code and you think maybe, maybe, that guy you’d been dreaming about might actually like you, too. That was how I felt right then.
“I want to show you something,” said Sol. He got to his feet and offered me his hand.
Still dissecting his previous comment, I took his hand, and together we wandered to the edge of the paddock where the river flowed beyond the pond.
“The river’s called the Ritter,” he said, pointing to the babbling water. “It comes from the mountains, feeds the valley, or used to. All of this, from the Ridge to the western ocean, is Brakaland, the greatest of this world’s kingdoms. To the north, Hillsvale. In the east, Roul. To the south, Valaray. Then over the ocean lies Balia, the island where the Barrier was created and where the Solenetta was made. The Balians are keepers of magic and legend who nurture the energy from which they say all magic flows. The people there won’t join this fight. They fought in the Great War against Elias and it didn’t go well for them. So they remain isolated, knowing that if the Suzerain opens the Barrier and Brakaland falls, the other kingdoms will topple one by one and they could be all that remains of this world.”
I stared into the distance, imagining kingdoms and countries, worlds continuing on forever. “And beyond Balia?” I uttered.
“Beyond Balia are places few of us have ever seen,” said Sol. “There are more kingdoms out there, but what they suffer, I do not know.”
“And then there are worlds within worlds,” I said. “Like the demons breaking through the Warnon Mines?”
“There are no limits.”
“It’s like learning history all over again,” I said, almost mesmerized by his words. “It could take a lifetime to know everything about this place.”
“Several. Ten days’ walk from here lies the Falls of Verderay where the water flows true green into a lake of the same color, and when it rains, the droplets break on the lake’s surface like emeralds that have fallen from the sky.”
Sol’s energy rose as he spoke, his love for this world clear in every word. A tiny part of me swooned as his rich voice carried me along for the ride. I imagined us together, swimming in green water with emerald rain falling all around us.
“To the north is Byron’s Garden,” he continued. “Byron’s a Flora Demon who’s been here since the beginning of the world. He never leaves his garden, and no other demon can set foot there. It’s supposed to be amazing. You see creatures and plants that can be found nowhere else.” He paused, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Sadness returned to his face. “Word from your world is that a power plant is planned where Byron’s Garden grows. The Barrier can’t absorb something like that. It’ll give up on the garden to save what it can around it. It’ll be gone.”
The magical tale he’d spun vanished like smoke in the breeze. All of it—Byron’s Garden, the Falls of Verderay—gone.
“Then the Treaty of Roi has to work,” I said.
“Yes.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
He paused, then playfully elbowed my side as he lowered his lips to my ear. “Then we’ll have to wipe you off the face of the planet,” he whispered.
“Funny,” I said, as he pulled away grinning. “So we’re back to square one. What do you believe?”
“I believe that the treaty will work,” he said, once again serious. “We must do everything in our power to make it work. It’s time for the lines between the worlds to be drawn once and for all, and for the Barrier to be sealed forever. Mia, it’s better if the worlds remain strangers to each other. We’re too different to mix.”
After everything I’d seen, I kind of agreed. “It’s like a poem we read in school,” I said. “Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.” I was surprised that I’d said it—me reciting poetry to Sol. But I knew what I was trying to say. Sol was from here, I was from Crownsville, and there was nothing could be done about it. “Kipling, or someone,” I added, and shrugged off my intensity with a smile. “I can never remember.”
“Maybe he knew this world too,” said Sol.
“Maybe he did.”
I took a final look around, then noticed Delane on the porch. I didn’t know how long he’d been there; but he watched us with that same strange look he’d had last night. Standing so close to Sol, I wondered if Delane had seen us hand in hand, and wished I didn’t feel like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
“Delane’s up,” I announced, and Sol turned to see.
“At last,” he said, and without a second’s hesitation, he was striding for the house.
I lingered a second longer, watching as he headed for Delane, wondering if the time we’d just spent together meant as much to Sol as it had to me. I doubted it.
“Mia, come on,” he called back, energized to be leaving. “It’s time to move.”
* * *
From the back of our horse, I took a final look at the house. The damage the demons had wrought to the roof was clear from a distance. A huge hole spanned several of the boards. We were lucky to be alive.
In our hurry to get to Orion, we were kind of leaving a mess. My blanket remained where I’d left it on the step, the kitchen table still sat on the grass outside. My gaze scanned the upper floor, then paused at the cobweb-filled window. I couldn’t help but think that behind it, spider eyes stared back.
Not yet mounted, Delane strung our packs to our horse’s side. “What, in the name of the stars, do you have in here?”
“In what?” I asked.
“In this pack!”
Oh, that. I’d made a quick sweep of the ground floor before we’d left the house. There was plenty of stuff we could use: a couple of blankets, some rags from the kitchen (for bathroom breaks), a switchblade I’d found in a cupboard . . .
“We got caught off guard a couple of times yesterday,” I replied, casually. “It’s just in case.”
Delane muttered something I didn’t catch, maybe about defense mechanisms and garbage. After securing the bulging pack, he jumped aboard.
Not long after leaving the house, we entered the town of Narlow. Delane told me it had long been a trading post between Orion and the valley.
“We can’t stop,” said Sol. “Not if we’re to cut off Malone’s gang.”
The horses’ steps echoed off the cobbled streets. As in Bordertown, there were scars from battle. But unlike my first view of Brakaland, there was something light and wholesome about Narlow. Flowers grew in the overgrown yards, pretty drapes hung at windows. More a village than a town, it was easy to imagine the place filled with workers and families. I pictured kids, excited to be off the farms, running like crazy through the streets, just like the kids did on Saturday mornings in Crownsville.
“That’s the Gathering Hall,” said Delane. He pointed to a stone building to our right. Wide steps led to heavy double doors, which had fallen from their hinges. “It’s where the villagers made their last stand against the demons and where most of those who died were killed.”
I gazed into the blackness beyond those doors and wondered if their bodies were still inside. Who would retrieve them? They didn’t have the UN or the Red Cross or anyone who swept into war zones to clean up other folks’ messes. I guessed the bodies stayed where they lay until only bones remained, like the bones we’d seen on entering the valley.
“The survivors finally evacuated,” said Delane. “They headed into the forest to Maslian’s Caves where they waited three weeks to be rescued.”
Three weeks! Had my father not abandoned me, how easily I could have been with them. “There must be something that can be done to bring this place back.”
“There is,” replied Sol. “Cast out the Suzerain and send him to hell with the demons.”
It was a touch ambitious for my watch. Rescuing Jay and the Solenetta would have to suffice.<
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A couple of hours later, a tall stone obelisk, like something from Rome or Ancient Egypt, appeared on the side of the road.
“That’s it,” said Delane. “We’ve made it out of the valley.”
The trees and brush soon cleared. Wider roads joined ours. And then people appeared. A woman, like Willie’s double from Bordertown with spines on her arms, sat on a boulder at the edge of the road and watched as we passed. It was both strange and reassuring to see other people again. It was easy in the valley to feel like the only three alive.
“We’re close to Orion,” said Sol, pointing to a gang of Runners recognizable by their jeans and jackets. Some had the look just right. Others? Not so much. Like the guy in sweat pants and a suit jacket. I wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a copy of Vogue. But the Runners had one thing in common: They all looked human. I guess the Brakaland folk knew enough about the Other Side to know that green scales were definitely last season.
Sol stopped on the peak of a rise in the road. We drew up alongside and looked down into a gap between the hills. And there it was, like the magical city Sol had spoken of earlier. Orion.
NINETEEN
I don’t know what I’d expected, but this wasn’t it. Orion was a city surrounded by a great white wall. From the high peak on which we stood, thousands of rooftops were visible with smoke rising from chimneys. The infamous Gates of Orion were beneath us, barred, wrought iron barricades, the height of the wall. Guards blocked the entrance. But the guards weren’t sentinels and that, I supposed, was a good thing.
At the far edge of the city stood a spectacular structure as white as the city walls, and as wide as the whole of Orion. It was built on several terraces, its upper levels higher than the rooftops of the houses below. Eight or nine towers soared above the terraces. No windows adorned the towers but, from a distance, I could clearly make out the steps that spiraled the towers’ outer walls from base to tip. I wasn’t sure what purpose the stairs served. Security? If nothing else, they offered anyone fool enough to climb them a view right across the Brakaland Plains.
