The World Shaker

by Abby Dewsnup

  “Storybook stuff, someone I used to find in my bedtime tales. Supposedly, when the Fringe needs them, the Oracle will craft a Solifeer from an ordinary citizen, someone who was first a Light Bringer, and the child of a Starbreather.”

  “A Starbreather?” I shook my head. “And what’s that?”

  “The highest council, the astronomers and explorers of the sky — who else?” Warren reclined back in his seat. “I was thinking about applying to be one when I get older.”

  “There isn’t much I believe in, but I know the Solifeer could be real,” Roland said slowly. “I’m not sure about the Starbreather part, but it is possible that the Oracle could create someone powerful from a Light Bringer. There is a lot of untapped potential there.”

  “A Light Bringer is someone who carries the sun, right?” I asked. “Like a wizard with fire manipulation powers.”

  Roland half smiled, his knotted hair falling across his eyes. “Something like that. I’ve only met one, and he was a real pain. You have to be born with the gift, but there is so much folklore surrounding one that most people keep their abilities secret. It’s like being a Death Bringer.”

  I shuddered. I had heard of the Death Bringers, people who murdered and plundered for fun, or, better yet, died and came back to life. Some said that you could be born a Death Bringer, or you could become one. The story definitely kept me from making rash and dumb decisions as a child.

  “Anyway,” Jay interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “Who’s hungry?”

  “Starved,” Roland said, surprising us all. “Let’s see if you two brought anything good in the bags, eh?”

  13

  Ghost Stories

  Jay’s Windwalker radio came in handy on our long trek across the plains. There were times when he and I laid on the deck, listening to the emerald song drone on and on for hours. Warren repaired the radio, re-doing Jay’s handiwork so the music came out smoother. I watched him pull out strange metal parts and put them back inside the box, but I’d never seen repairs like he was doing. Still, the action was kind.

  I didn’t spot anything exciting until the second day, when the shoreline began to rise and fall in deformed rock formations. The sun was burning down on us, and we had resorted to sitting in suffering silence as our water supply shrank away. Roland was target practicing while Warren played with some mechanical parts I wasn’t familiar with. Jay leaned across the mast, wordlessly singing along with his radio.

  You come back, but it’s all wrong — you light up the night just by blinking your eyes. When he leaves, it’ll be the eyes first, closing like the waning moon.

  I leaned against the railing, watching the scenery go past. It was between the rocky hills that I spotted the Hanging Villages; groups of houses that grasped onto the cliffs from their foundations like bats in a cave.

  I gaped at the view, leaning as far out of the boat as the railing would allow. “Those houses are upside down. The people must walk on their hands,” I shouted, pointing at the rocks.

  Roland chuckled. “The houses are for show. The hanging villages are actually just for lava miners, but they sure do cause a stir with their architectural choices.”

  Ignoring his words, I slid down the railing and put my chin in my hand, watching the villages pass by. “It’s incredible just how wrong our views are in the Caves. I grew up believing the Hanging Villagers walked on their hands.”

  “You also thought the Windwalkers had actual wings,” Warren said with a shrug. “I made these myself, thank you very much.”

  Jay stood next to me, studying the Hanging Villages with his usual heroic, valor-filled gaze. “Roland, suppose we stopped along the shoreline for the evening and used your daggers to spear a few fish?”

  “Oh thank heavens. I’m not sure I could survive on those freeze-dried carrots for another meal,” Warren said.

  Roland sighed. “I don’t think stopping for the night would be a great idea. We are nearing the Dark House, and I’d prefer not to anger the High Prince. We can stop to fish for an hour or so, but then we should be on our way.”

  “The Dark House?” I asked.

  “It’s another nickname for the Glass Cages,” Warren said with a shrug. “Always kind of freaked me out, those cages did.”

  A thought occurred to me as he said the words. “Roland, if the Glass Cages are a tool used by the High Prince to craft soldiers and rule the Light Districts, then is the Creation from the Oracle Stones the same magic? Are they the same principles of re-shaping a person’s aura?”

  Roland was silent, looking as if he was considering my words. “You could look at it that way. I suspect that a greater power is at work in the Glass Cages, possibly an ally of the High Prince. While the Oracle simply demands payment of her services, the High Prince’s Glass Cages are a truly horrific prospect. He takes and he takes, never to yield anything beyond his own gain.”

  I was quiet. “The idea terrifies me,” I admitted. “There must’ve been a time before the Glass Cages and the High Prince.”

  “There was, but that was long ago. You Cave-Dwellers don’t see the change, but the Fringe is different now. There’s a darkness upon us. The High Prince is the reason why so few people leave their Kingdoms. All travelers face the danger of being caught by Glass Traders now.”

  “We know all about them,” Jay said. “We’ll be careful on the shore. If there is any sign of danger we can take off into the skies.”

  “Alright, it’s your funeral,” Roland said with a shrug. “I’ll let you off once we pass the Hanging Villages.”

  “Do you ever get hot in all that leather?” Warren asked. “It’s summer out here and you’re dressed like an assassin in the winter.”

  “If you had suspicions of me being an assassin, I would hold your vexatious tongue,” Roland deadpanned with a toxic gaze. I guessed it wasn’t the greatest time to let Warren know that our companion was actually a hired Bounty Hunter.

  Roland pulled the coaster loose, and we descended from the sky. I watched the Hanging Villages grow closer, and I noticed that ropes were entwined between the roofs and doorways, like bridges spanning a canyon. I supposed the Lava Miners didn’t walk on their hands after all.

  When our boat finally touched down to land, I leapt from it in an instant. My feet met with the sand, and I inhaled the sting of the sea. “There can’t be anything greater than the ocean,” I breathed, watching the surf rise and fall. “Besides the thunderstorms, that is.”

  Without warning, strong hands wrap around my torso. I whipped around, my fists raised, before breaking out into laughter as Jay picked me up. “Stop — Jay I swear —”

  He sprinted through the sand, sending the grains showering through the air. Without leaving the short, wooden pier jutting from the sand, Jay tossed me into the sea. In a moment of weightlessness the world vanished in a hoard of bubbles and freezing water.

  For a long moment, there was peace. I opened my eyes as I held my breath. I was momentarily lost in wonder at the weightlessness. The desert girl that I was — the girl who could fight for herself, whose feet are meant to tread on stone deep within the earth — didn’t belong in a place such as this, where light showers the underwater world with softness.

  I kicked back towards the sky, my lungs aching for air. When my head broke the surface I gasped and wiped my eyes free of the salty water. “It’s like another world down there,” I cried, slicking my hair back with my dripping hands. “All of you, come check it out.”

  Warren shook his head. “Grief, Anya, do you see these metal wings? They’re already rusted as is.”

  “Well, take them off.”

  “Take them — take off my wings? Unless they’re in need of repair, I’ll be cursed with a horrid youth if I take them off,” Warren scoffed.

  “And you said you weren’t superstitious,” I replied.

  Roland ignored my suggestion entirely, his hands busy tying a dagger to my staff. He tightened the leather with his teeth and weighed the new weapo
n in his hands. “Favorable staff, Anya. It should be great for spearfishing.”

  “That was almost a compliment, Roland. Well done,” Jay said.

  “And that was almost a joke, well done to you, too,” I told Jay.

  He stood with his ankles in the water, watching the waves pool around his feet before retreating back to the ocean. A loose curl of hair broke free and fell across his face as he said, “I’m kind of tired. Maybe I’ll sit this one out.”

  I wonder what he is thinking when he shivers like that. I looked at him for a moment longer, aware that I was drifting away from the shore and into the endless blue. Jay shrank as I swam away, his eyes never leaving the water lapping around his feet. What could he tell me? What secret could Jay possibly possess that could be terrifying enough to keep locked behind his crooked grin?

  “So, Cave Boy can’t swim, eh?” Warren asked loudly, lounging against the raft with his arms crossed. “What do you do when you bathe?”

  “I already asked him the same question,” I hollered.

  In that instant, a light began to gather next to our boat. Roland noticed it first, the staff falling from his hands. “Take cover,” he shouted, ducking behind the rocks. “It’s a Cutlass — the Glass Traders have come.”

  I had only a second to react. I was too far from shore to hide behind the rocks, but I knew that the person coming through the Cutlass would see me in an instant. Jay and I made eye contact, his face pale. He shouted my name and hesitated for one frightful moment on the shore. I knew that Jay wouldn’t hide behind the rocks on the shore, not when I was in plain view of the Glass Traders. No, his heart wouldn’t allow it. If anything, Jay’s next actions proved that he was the hero I suspected he was. He dove into the water, shouting for me to move.

  I began to swim in a panic for the towering white cliffs of the Hanging Villages. Jay caught up to me, and we reached safety moments before the Cutlass fully materialized. It was in the seconds between my lungfuls of air that I realized that the Cutlass might not be harboring an enemy. I had come to expect danger from this odd, colorful world above land. Despite being justified, the thought made me sad.

  I pressed myself against the rock and Jay wrapped his arms around my waist to keep us both from falling back into the water. I could see the shore from here, where a group of Glass Traders were pouring from the Cutlass. Jay’s breathing hitched, no doubt recalling the strange spell Mane had cast on him back in the Boneyards. Or perhaps it was from the churning ocean below us. I saw his eyes follow each crest of wave as if it would swallow him whole.

  I grit my teeth as a few Glass Traders began to ransack our boat, laughing in their good fortune. Between them was a man, roped and gagged, who looked as if he’d been attacked.

  I turned away from the scene. From the boat we hadn’t been able to see within the cliffs that jutted from the water, but Jay’s and my hiding spot gave a perfect view to the opening of the valley. A chill ran down my spine. Between two cliffs was a stone archway that rose high into the sky. Shadows danced across it, reflecting the water pooled around the entrance. I squinted, trying to read the inscription on the arch.

  “The Dark House,” Jay whispered, confirming my suspicions. “I didn’t think we were this close to it.”

  “It’s horrific,” I said. “Who could be so wicked as to use black magic to create an army?”

  Jay’s gaze gave nothing away as he stared at the cliffs. “The High Prince is a crime lord. There’s no accounting for his moral compass.”

  I stared at the arch. Shapes began to materialize in the shadows. I couldn’t see any Glass Cages, but it seemed as if darkness radiated from the place. Could Stygian infest the Dark House? Or was it the lost souls I was sensing, their spirits unbreakable against the forces that trained their bodies to fight for the Prince?

  Even the ocean was raging against the Dark House. The waves seemed to gather in strength and slam against the archway with vigor.

  “Anya,” Jay said my name slowly, his eyes trained on the sky above us. “Don’t look above you.”

  I shot my head up. Instantly, my blood ran cold as ice. Dangling from the rocks, entwined in ropes, was the skeleton of a man. My eyes followed the cliffline, where several other skeletons were strung up. Each skull was turned to the Dark House, and an eerie feeling emanated from their eyeless stares. Their bones were rotting, bleached from years of sand and surf.

  My throat made a gasping sound. I Instinctively pulled myself closer to Jay, pressing my forehead against his shoulder. I cursed under my breath, a sick feeling spreading through my stomach.

  “It’s okay, they’re long dead,” Jay said. I knew he was looking at the ocean, not the bodies, as he said, “I know exactly how you feel.”

  “I don’t —” I couldn’t find my voice. All I could manage to say was, “I don’t like dead things.”

  “You don’t like dead things?” The bitter humor in Jay’s voice was evident. He laughed. “Sorry, it’s just ironic, in the grand scheme of things.” Jay’s hand bled into my gaze. It was the only thing I could see with my head against him, his fingers curled into my hair. “I don’t either, believe me. I think those Glass Traders are going to the Dark House — they’re getting on a raft soon to take their prisoner. And then we can go find Roland. It’s okay.”

  I breathed deep. It was as if the cliff sides were pressing in on me. The ocean that had seemed so inviting earlier now reeked of death.

  In my mind I was eight years old again, sitting in our dank dwelling as the drum sounded to signal night fall. I am eight years old again as the Stygian pound on our door, over and over again, the sound following the rhythm of my racing heart. The smell of ash wafts through the air. I am eight years old again, holding James close to me as the house across the street burns, the flames stretching into the sky. My orb is empty, my parents gone. And in my hand, a match.

  “Sorry,” I pushed myself away from him, my cheeks growing red. “Let’s go back to Roland and Warren, I’m sure the coast is clear now.”

  Jay stared at me for a moment longer, his voice quiet as he whispered my name. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’ll be okay when we find James and Kye, and once you stop pestering me,” I said, keeping my voice steady, disinterested. “C’mon then.”

  “Your shoulder is bleeding again,” Jay replied, his voice back to normal and betraying nothing. “Can you swim?”

  “Can I swim? You tell me — can you use a sword?” I flashed him a grin and stood shakily to my feet, keeping my eyes on the water and away from the skeletons above us.

  “Well, yeah but —”

  I leaped into the water, letting the waves consume me. Jay’s voice was lost to the sound of the raging ocean. I made my way back to shore against the current, swimming with all the intention of a predator stalking its prey. I needed to clear my head, to leave the Dark House far behind me until it was only a memory, not a water-logged valley right before my eyes. Whatever the High Prince’s intention, I knew I loathed him in that moment. No sane person would corrupt others for their own gain.

  Once I reached the shore, I dragged myself onto the sand, clothes dripping. Roland rose from his place behind the rock, a scowl twisted across his scruffy face.

  “Curse them all,” he spat. “They’ve raided our ship and taken my bow.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Jay had caught up with me as we trekked up the sandy hills, wringing out his shirt. Water dripped from his hair and down his scar, and I was surprised to see other scars snaking across his back and chest. “What are we ever going to do without your bow and arrows?”

  Roland shot him a disgusted glance. “Warren bolted into the sky. Who knows where he went. Good riddance, honestly. He’s of no asset to our quest.”

  “I’m of no what to your quest?” Warren interrupted, descending from his perch on the rock with a single, powerful flap of his wings. “Did you just call me an —”

  “What else did they take?” I interrupted him, wring
ing out my clothes.

  “Food, spare clothing, anything of value.” Roland tossed me my staff. “But they left their horses here. We’ll have better luck riding hard into the countryside on horseback than in the air. We might even reach the Light Districts by nightfall if we push hard enough.”

  “Without any provisions? Anya’s shoulder is still hurt, I’m not sure she can handle a day of hard riding,” Jay commented.

  I shot him a dirty look. “I’ll be fine. We can get food in the Light Districts, and we have some water left. Horseback is our best plan. Warren can fly behind us.”

  “The lady is right,” Roland said.

  Jay heaved a sigh. “You know, when we first met Roland he was the opposite of friendly. As in unfriendly. As in, don’t become friends with him. And look at how far we’ve come, the Bounty Hunter is agreeing with another one of Anya’s brash decisions.”

  “I don’t think it’s brash,” Warren offered.

  I bit my lip. “We would also have to ride through the Dark House. It’s the only way into the Light District on the ground without citizenship, I think.”

  Roland nodded. “I could ride through the front gate, but it’ll be harder for you three. The Glass Cages — The Dark House, if you will — leads straight into the Yellow Light District. It’s how I left my city to begin with.”

  Jay’s eyes widened, his hands flexing as if he wanted to punch something. “You want to ride through the Dark House? Do you have any concept of self-preservation, Anya? Walking through there is a one-way ticket into the High Prince’s diseased brain.”

  “Roland said the High Prince is like a crime lord, right? He isn’t really the ruler of anything, he’s just good at convincing people. So we play his card — we sneak into the Blue Light District, and if it comes to it, we convince him of our cause. Sound good?” I asked.

  Warren leaned against the mast of our empty raft. “Seems easy enough. You lot must be fun at parties, with your fighting. Let’s just wing it.” He laughed at his joke, before falling silent at our stares.