by Abby Dewsnup
“Okay, so we risk it,” I interjected. “My brother James is worth that. Besides, maybe we’ll discover that the Creation isn’t even that big of a deal.”
“Many people have said that assassinating a man who killed a dozen others wouldn’t put blood on my hands,” Roland said, rising to his feet. “But it does. The scarlet is still there. Just as how the creation will still affect you and me, even if I pray it won’t.”
“What’s a little blood going to do to your hands?” Jay called, his voice edged with tension. “I’d have thought a Bounty Hunter would be used to it by now.”
Roland didn’t look back as he said, “Then I have nothing to fear, I guess. Do you?” He opened the door and vanished into the hallway.
I turned to Jay, heaving a sigh. “Okay, so Roland knew a lot more about the Light Kingdom than I thought. Are you troubled about the Creation thing, or could it just be something to scare us away?”
Jay shook his head, worry creasing the spot between his eyebrows. “You and I both know there is always a price to be paid when dealing with an Oracle. I wonder if the Creation is the only payment that we’ll be forced to pay to enter the Light Kingdom. I mean, what could that price entail? She could deem me a fisherman and I’d be sitting in some rusty boat, blubbering away about my long-forgotten name. It’s dangerous to play with an Oracle.”
I sighed again. “It scares me too. But the thought of letting my brother stay in that kingdom forever scares me even more.”
Jay nodded. “You’re right. Whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes,” I agreed.
As we returned to the top deck I mused about Oracles. I didn’t know much about them, but there was always a nighttime ghost story to be told that involved their mystic powers. James used to be terrified of the idea of a floating goddess who told of his future, but I had always explained to him that the Oracle was not out to harm him.
Supposedly, the Oracle had been around for hundreds of years, but I suspected she was actually numerous people. There was a batch of Oracle Stones within the Caves, which acted as a doorway to speaking with the Oracle herself. I had never visited them, of course. But I heard stories of people disappearing on their way to the uppermost cave that contained them.
I suppose an immortal woman such as the Oracle would be able to connect with the Light Kingdom, but I wasn’t sure why she felt the need to alter our literal identity in order to cross over to the Lucents.
“Why can’t the Light Kingdom be the neighbor to the Underwater border or something,” I muttered. “Why must we deal in prophecies and other realms everywhere we go? Why can’t I face certain death within a castle, in place of a creepy world that no one has lived long enough to write about?”
“That would make it all too easy, Anya,” Jay replied over his shoulder.
“Right, because dying in a normal way is easy,” I said.
He flashed me a grin as he pulled the door open, flooding the hidden stairwell with light. “Dying isn’t hard,” he commented. “But I prefer to live, you know?”
I swallowed his words and watched him bound ahead of me on the deck. The light caught in his hair, changing it from a light brown to a gleaming crown of gold. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as he turned back, waiting for me.
The pressing weight of darkness upon us seemed to lessen with Jay’s grin. I hadn’t realized until this moment that despite having such worry on my shoulders, I had never once felt the sting of loneliness or fear as I had in the Caves. The smallest of smiles crept up the corners of my mouth as I laughed, watching him sweep his hands low for me to pass by.
“After you,” he said.
I strode up to the Captain and cleared my throat to get her attention. She was at the helm of the ship, her uniform gleaming and her hair tucked away in a braid. For a moment she was serene, until her eyes landed on me; then the guarded, angry expression returned.
“Anya, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“We need to get to the Blue Light District,” I said. “Kincho promised payment for killing the Panther, and that is what we’re asking.”
The Captain let out a sudden burst of laughter, her eyes still trained on the skyline. “The Light Districts are a week away, and well out of our trade route. Not to mention that our crew isn’t allowed within the borders.”
I heaved a sigh. “How close can you get?”
The Captain was silent, thinking it over. “The Yellow Light District has an open ship dock that we may be able to slip into. But the Light Districts are in a frenzy right now — it’s unsafe for you to walk those streets.”
“How so? Is there a revolution going on?” I asked, having heard stories of the uproar that the Light Districts were so often under.
“Not a revolution, but a beginning.” The Captain’s expression became more focused as if the idea excited her. “Many of the lovely kingdoms in the Fringe are centered around agriculture, or mining, as you know. It’s for this reason that the Light Districts dropped the name of kingdom in general. Because those cities are far more advanced than a kingdom, having attracted the most creative and ingenious minds across our nation.”
“Your point is?” Jay asked, crossing his arms.
“My point is that the city is constantly reimagined. They thrive on the underground, and I don’t mean an occasional brawl and betting session. The streets are a pool of crime and income. And at the head of it all is a leader who only operates in the dark.”
“The High Prince,” I muttered, shaking my head. “And he’s the reason why you aren’t allowed inside?”
“Only official citizens are permitted past the gate,” Roland interrupted us, his gaze lingering on the Captain’s back for the briefest of moments. “Lucky for you I grew up in the Blue Light District. I know it like the back of my hand.”
Out of the corner of my eye, it seemed as if Jay repeated Roland’s words under his breath in a mocking tone. I elbowed him hard, exasperated. The sheer immaturity of Jay Kurtis was astounding.
The Captain turned to us. “It seems the Bounty Hunter has everything under control,” she said dryly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to re-charter our course for the Light Districts.”
I couldn’t understand why Roland and the Captain were at odds with one another. It was possible they had met before, but the story remained a mystery to me.
Jay, always the intellectual, broke the tension by asking, “How big is Coppice? And what kingdoms lay between us and the Light Districts?”
“Lucky for us, Coppice and the Boneyard desert are about as far away as one can retreat in the Fringe. The closer we are to the sea— which is where the Light Districts are — the smaller and tighter the borders become. I’d say we’ll cross into the seven provinces by sundown.” The Captain’s eyes had returned to the horizon line, where the dense jungle was sprouting from towering mountainsides. “And beyond those, there is Lyra, the council’s home and the only monarchy to have protested a war.”
“And then the Yellow Light District?” I chimed in.
“Yes, but farmland surrounds Lyra. It is there that we have to watch for bandits, both in the sky and on the ground.”
We had entered the cliff sides, and even though the Skysailor boat was hundreds of feet off the ground, the jungle mountains brushed the sky above our heads. I was aware of the silence that had filled the ship deck, the way each crew member had stilled in their tasks and were watching the cliffs with a stoic gaze.
“Bandits,” Jay echoed, his hand finding its way to his sword. “Are there any in Coppice?”
“Not just any bandits, but Windwalkers,” Roland said, leaning against the railing. He was waxing his bowstring, but I saw the way his hands tensed, hovering over his quiver of arrows as if men could descend from the cliffs at any moment.
I had told James countless stories about Windwalkers, how they stole children away in the night and taught them how to fly with their strange inventions. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that Jay’s o
dd, broken radio had come from their hands. “And what if they try to get on our ship?”
“Pray they don’t,” Roland replied. “A meeting with a Windwalker is a one-way ticket to the Glass Cages.”
“They work for the High Prince?” I asked, still eyeing the cliffs around us.
Roland leveled his gaze with mine. “Everyone works for the High Prince. He’s a businessman and a crime lord. He pays well.”
I swallowed hard, my fingers wrapping tighter around my wooden staff. “And what would he pay for a couple of kids trying to find the Light Kingdom?”
Roland’s reply sent a chill down my spine, the single sentence spilling from his lips like a lone, desolate prophecy. “A high price for a high prize. It’s not often that hermits leave their caves.”
Jay and I exchanged a glance.
“I’m going to go find Lynx. Come with me, Anya?” Jay asked.
I nodded, and together we slipped below deck, leaving Roland and the Captain alone above us.
10
Dragon Bones
The crushing realization that Lynx wasn’t on the boat hit me hours later, after scouring each bunk room and hammock. Jay found as little as I did, his search of the crow’s nest and starboard yielding no results.
“She would never leave on her own, I can’t believe that,” I whispered. We stood in the long, thin hall that ran the length of the crew’s quarters. Provision bags shielded us from view. “We both know she would never jump ship.”
Jay sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? The last person who spoke with her was Roland. He said so himself. I think he was telling the truth.”
“Yeah, he said he helped her cut the ropes to the raft, that doesn’t exactly” my words died as quickly as they had come. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “She really jumped ship.”
Jay lowered his voice, glancing around the hall. “He has no reason to get rid of one of us. It’s my fault—I should’ve paid closer attention to her. I’m pretty sure they have a few escape rafts. I saw them stuffed beneath the coaster yesterday. Maybe she’s headed to the Caves.”
Wanting to see the raft for myself, I followed Jay back onto the main deck. I recognized the coasters at the back of the ship, the wings of colorful fabric that rippled in the wind and guided our course. Jay was right — a raft was dangling below the coaster, beneath the rigging I had battled with the day before. It hung suspended from ropes, and I noticed an identical set of ropes that flapped, vacant, in the wind.
I cursed as I leaned over the railing. “There were two. She must’ve taken one of them.”
Jay shook his head, his scar prominent in the fading daylight. “But why would Lynx leave? And alone, to add to it. There isn’t a reason for her to bail without any leads to the Light Kingdom at all. And her father — she’s abandoned him, too.”
“Unless she didn’t want to leave. Maybe someone forced her,” I replied, pulling away from the rails to face him. “Like you said, Roland was the last to have spoken to her.”
“That we know of,” Jay said, grabbing my wrist as he said the words. He dropped his hand quickly, aware of what he had done. “Let’s ask him before somebody makes another rash decision.”
“I don’t make rash decisions,” I muttered.
The boy I had noticed the day previous was dangling from the crowsnest, his bare back exposing a set of jagged scars that looked suspiciously like removed wings. He swung on the ropes, his voice ringing out with harrowing clarity. “Skeletons, Captain. We’ve got dragon bones ahead.”
I scoured the treeline. It wasn’t until we rounded the mountain that I saw what the boy was so worried about. Nestled between the cliffs was a hunched over dragon skeleton, its wingspan cutting across our path.
I had never seen such a spectacle. The dragon must’ve been as giant as a mountain, its jaw large enough for a dozen of Skysailor ships to pass through. A ghostly silence hung around it, and I was reminded of the Boneyards we had traveled through. There was a strangeness in dragon corpses, and I didn’t wish to repeat the terrors in the desert.
Jay must’ve had the same thought. I felt him tense up next to me as we neared the skeleton, and I wanted to grab his hand.
But I didn’t. If I took Jay’s hand, I wasn’t sure I could let him go again.
Roland perched at the very top of the crowsnest, balancing atop the beam like a bird. His bow was strung in his hand, the red fletching of the arrows visible even from where I stood. He was silent as he balanced, his form perfectly still. I knew his eyes were on the skeleton.
We passed beneath the wing bone, blotting out the sun and plunging the world into temporary darkness. The rib cage protruded from the mountainside, and I stared at the mangled bones as we passed beneath them.
A thin, humid fog entrenched us. I assumed it was a product of rainstorms, but I wasn’t familiar with the sensation of passing through air as thick as this was. I couldn’t help but feel that the dragon’s eye sockets were following us as we passed.
It was then that I saw the silhouettes. Perched in the jaw of the dragon were a dozen crouched figures, almost invisible in the gathering fog. The unmistakable shape of wings protruded from their backs, and blue lightning crackled between them for a half second, long enough to illuminate the fog with an eerie glow.
“Full sails ahead!” the Captain screeched. “What’re you standing around for? Adjust the ropes, you blithering idiots!”
Roland hadn’t moved from his spot in the nest. He knew where they were, I thought. He knew the Windwalkers were waiting.
“Windwalkers off the starboard!” the boy called, though I was certain every crew member had laid eyes on the bandits.
A moment of stillness followed. I was aware of Jay’s hands, which gripped the rail until the wood squeaked, and the rustle of my backpack as I pulled my staff free. Roland’s bow was pulled tight as the ropes of our sail creaked and groaned. And above us, quiet as the night, the Windwalkers watched.
“Their wings aren’t real,” Jay whispered, one of his hands grasping his sword. “They made them out of metal. I saw an illustration once.”
“Okay, so you devoured an entire library back home, big deal. How do we fight them?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“You know, there’s a chance they’re peaceful,” Jay replied. “You don’t need to fight every single person you come across.”
The electricity in the fog was building, tinging the air with static. In unison the Windwalkers rose from their perch, their metal wings stirring the fog around us.
“Not peaceful,” I gasped out.
The Windwalkers barreled through the air in a single, massive group. They reminded me of the bats that had reigned terror in the Caves, always screeching and flying together. These bandits were the same, only they were far, far more competent. I ducked behind the rail seconds before they thudded onto the deck, sending bits of debris flying through the air.
The bandits had managed to cover the perimeter of the boat. A few cackled as they swung from the ropes, their appearance misshapen, like a machine lacking a few essential parts.
I rose back to my feet to face the nearest Windwalker, his wings giant, his face scarred. They all wore identical utility belts, where spare bits of metal hung like corpses from leather strands. I didn’t like their grins, the way their eyes brushed over me with careful calculations. I felt as if the man in front of me was deciding how useful I could be.
The Captain still stood at the helm, her head raised indignantly to the central Windwalker. “What business do you have on my ship, thief?” She asked.
I winced. Calling the man a thief might not be the best first impression.
While I was distracted by the Captain, Roland had swung down onto the lower mast. I caught his eye, and he jerked his head past us, as if meaning to indicate the back of the ship. He copied the movement until I understood.
Jay, Roland, and I could make a quick escape in the raft if the Windwalkers tried
to take over the ship. I was glad we had found it earlier, or we would never have any hope in reaching the Light Districts on a captive boat.
“This is a raid,” the central Windwalker shouted in a powerful voice. “We desire your metal and valuables. If given willingly, we will leave your ship unscathed.”
“And why should my men fear yours?” The Captain asked, flipping her red hair aside. “What can you do against a trained crew of Skysailors?”
The Windwalker let out a booming laugh, stretching his arms out wide in mock-surrender. “The woman is not afraid,” he called out, stirring up laughter from the surrounding bandits. “She will not give us what we desire.”
“Don’t you have enough metal? You know, on your belts?” I called out. I realized my mistake too late — a dozen pairs of malicious eyes turned to me, including the central Windwalker.
He grinned again, his long, scruffy hair shaking as he laughed. “I see this ship carries precious cargo: a vagabond from her cave,” he hollered. “Forgive me if I’m not shaking in my boots.”
I looked down at myself. I was wearing the same clothing as everyone else — how did he know I was a Cave-Dweller?
“Warren, take care of the children,” the Windwalker shouted. “The rest of you — surrender your weapons.”
A thin boy dropped down from the mast, his wings rusted and shirt unbuttoned. I noticed the arrogant, impish expression on his face, the pride he took in being addressed by his leader. I instantly despised him.
The Windwalkers that surrounded the outside of the ship latched a grappling hooks to the sides and took flight into the air. What was momentary peace suddenly became a roar of chaos — the crew members charged at the bandits, all wielding glinting swords and daggers.
