The World Shaker

by Abby Dewsnup

  I looked back over at Jay, whose sharp, troubled eyes still rested on me. He looked defeated as he said, “Alright, so we ride through the Dark House on horseback. Because we don’t have a Cutlass, we’ll need a boat to reach the gates, Anya and I saw it.”

  Roland kicked the side of our raft. “Good thing there’s enough room in here for two horses.”

  It didn’t take long to lead the Glass Trader’s horses into our raft. They were beautiful mares with deep brown coats, and Jay and I shared one while Roland took the other. I felt small as I wrapped my arms around Jay’s back, trying to keep us from capsizing as the raft shuddered into the dark valley. We descended before the entrance, coming to a stop beneath the towering archway.

  Jay and I followed Roland as he led his horse from the raft and onto the stone floor of the Dark House. White washed, ominous cliffs surrounded us, and it was plain that the only direction was forward. The valley twisted and vanished within a low, overhanging cloud of fog and mist. I wanted to close my eyes and bury my head against Jay’s back, but I forced myself to stare straight ahead as we began to trek deeper into the mountain. I was the one who suggested the idea, but the prospect suddenly seemed glaringly idiotic, and I was risking their freedom as well as mine with such a move.

  Darkness began to gather. Thunder boomed overhead in the distance, promising a storm. I squinted up at the thread of sky through the mountain — I hadn’t noticed the clouds earlier. “It’s going to rain,” Jay commented over his shoulder.

  I murmured in agreement, a chill running down the length of my spine. The light symbols on my arms were triggered by my nervousness, and they began to glow feebly. I knew Jay was as worried as I was. Something caught my attention as I stared at him — just like in the Coppice jungles, Jay’s arms were beginning to glow like my own, mirroring the strange symbols beneath his skin. His were a faint black.

  “Jay, your arms are marked, like me,” I murmured, afraid to raise my voice.

  He nodded, never removing his gaze from the path ahead of us. “We’ll figure out why we glow real soon, don’t worry,” was all he said. I wasn’t comforted by his words.

  Through the fog I could discern shapes on the walls. Lumps of crystal-like rocks grew from the crevices and protruded across our path. There was a small, flickering lamp, but it was enough to reveal figures within the stones. Bile rose in my throat at the sight.

  “Glass Cages,” Jay whispered.

  I watched the crystal cages pass by. “The High Prince is a wicked man for using his sorcery against people like that.”

  “Everyone is always trying to be something, to be better,” Jay whispered. “The world was better off before we could craft people into whatever we like. It scares me, this magic.”

  “The High Prince is in control only because he forces the people follow him,” I agreed as I felt for my staff strapped across my back. My fingers wrapped around the weapon, bringing me a small amount of safety as we passed by the Glass Cages. “And yet we are willing to give one of our group members over to the Oracle Stones just to get our family back.”

  Jay was silent for a long time. Despite the creepiness of the Cages, I began to relax slightly as we progressed through the valley without a single sighting of a brainwashed soldier. Finally, he interrupted the silence. “Anya?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t want to be a pawn on their chess board,” Jay whispered, his voice snagging on emotion. “I don’t want the High Prince to control me, or the Oracle Stones, or even the Elders back home. I wish we could be free. I’d take you and James far away from this place, so far that not even the Light Kingdom could touch us.”

  “That far, huh?” I thought for a moment, tightening my arms around him. “Don’t forget Kye. I can’t wait to meet him. I’ll bet he’s just like you, a younger Jay who has the same irritating personality.”

  Jay chuckled. “At least I don’t make brash decisions, like trekking through the Dark House. This is worst than the Stygian.”

  He was right — the darkness was only increasing, so much so that Roland had lit a torch ahead of us so Warren could see us through the fog. A small drizzle of rain had begun to fall, only this storm was cold and cruel, unlike the warm rains of Coppice. I shivered, feeling the rain snake down my hair and seep through my clothes.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the Glass Cages. The people inside were scarcely visible, a faint silhouette against the crystal. I wished to free them from whatever magic was at work within the cage, but I worried that touching the glass would alert the High Prince of our trespassing. There could be mothers within those walls, families torn apart.

  Back home I was always able to bring people light. I would give anything now to give these people the same protection, some way to free them from their strange chains. I felt helpless as our horse stomped past them. We were only travelers in the night.

  When I could, I vowed, I would return and put an end to the High Prince’s schemes. I could only hope that the souls within the Glass Cages understood that.

  The rain was coming down harder now, causing mud to splatter up our horse’s legs and across my worn boots. I brushed my wet hair from my face, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. Through the dark, I made out the faint glow of green torchlight. Roland’s own fire had long since gone out, and seeing light sent a wave of relief through me.

  The back of my neck prickled. I let my gaze wander to the ridge above us, where the dark was too thick to see anything by blurry shapes. The distinct impression that someone was watching us settled around me. We were surrounded by dozens of Glass Cages — perhaps the feeling was only from the trapped souls who were following us as we passed.

  Roland held up his fist, signaling for us to stop. In front of us was a stone doorway. I understood this to be the entrance to the Light Districts, but the age of it confused me. I thought the Light Districts were made of metal and things of the future, not this ancient stonework.

  Without warning, a rope shot out from the ridge above us. I had only a second to think before our horse reared up as lightning split through the sky. I was thrown from its back, slamming against the muddy ground with a painful gasp. Jay landed next to me, smacking against the rock wall violently as the horse bolted for the stone doorway.

  The rope belonged to a shadowed figure, who slid to the ground. Other men began to fall in line next to the soldier, surrounding Roland with their bows drawn.

  I rubbed my head and rose shakily to my feet, trying to blink away the dancing spots before my eyes. A soldier approached us, a dark hood pulled over his head in a uniform that hauntingly resembled Roland’s getup. “On your feet boy,” he said, ignoring me and instead yanking Jay’s shirt with his fist.

  The soldier dragged him into the center of the circle of men. I noticed a dark stain of blood across the ground where Jay had landed. Sprinting over to the men, I tried to see him through the rain and fog.

  Roland grabbed me and pulled me down beside him, stopping me from entering the circle. “Nothing we can do now, Anya,” he said, his voice betraying his stoic expression.

  Jay was flung into the center, his shoulders hunched over. Blood stained his temple, concealing his scar and spreading red across his white shirt.

  “What’s happening? Why are they doing this?” I cried over the thunder overhead. “Roland, help him. Warren — anyone!”

  Roland shook his head. Hot tears stung my eyes as I watched Jay rise to his feet and throw his arms out as if to stop the men from coming any closer. Everything was happening too fast. Roland had said he would get us inside safely. Why would they choose Jay to torment?

  Jay looked back at me, the rain dripping from his disheveled hair and onto his skin. His eyes were steady as he silently pleaded for me to stay quiet.

  “This boy is a Sparrow. We knew the moment he entered our valley,” the hooded soldier announced, pulling a long metal rod from his back. I watched as the shaft began to crackle with the same electricity as was in the
sky.

  “What does he mean? I thought that was a metaphor,” I said, trying once again to get past Roland.

  “The High Prince doesn’t allow black magic into his city, and this boy is a Death Bringer,” the soldier finished.

  His words hit me with all the momentum of a wounding arrow. I gasped for breath, taking a step away from the torchlight. Jay’s trembling hands curled into fists. He raised his eyes, not to look at the soldier but at me, his expression breaking apart as I stared at him, stricken.

  I thought back to his story about the accident in the mine, how the entire shaft had flooded. I have never held my breath for that long, he had told me. And Kye, his dependent brother who died just the same, how Jay had seemed to carry ghosts within his past.

  I’m nothing but a bad omen.

  The man Jay is, with his tender gaze and strong hands — how his words are like chaos and death. I suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in on me, squeezing the air from my lungs.

  His eyes had yet to leave mine.

  “You were in the mine shaft when it flooded,” I gasped out. “You and your brother Kye both died that day, didn’t you?”

  14

  Enter the High Prince

  A fate worse than death.

  That is what a Death Bringer is. Someone who has gazed at the face of the void and found it staring back, a person who possesses magic dark enough to commit horrible acts, or someone who is a product of black magic themselves. As a child I was afraid of the Death Bringers, as most children are. I was afraid of their hands, which curled at the end in claws, and I was afraid of their faces, which were supposed to shrivel up into evil grins.

  I am not afraid of the boy standing before me, whose hands trembled with the weight of all that he is. His face is nothing but the sunrise, begging me to understand.

  His parents must’ve pleaded with the Oracle to bring him back. I had heard legends of people rising up because of her magic. But at what cost?

  A thousand questions burned within me as we crossed through the stone doorway. I walked next to Roland with my head down, forcing myself not to stare at Jay as he walked like a man condemned ahead of us. The High Prince’s guards circled him, their strange weapons bristling with hair-raising electricity. I wanted to ask how they captured the lightning like that.

  More importantly, I wanted to ask Jay if he would’ve told me sooner. I wanted to ask him if the Elders chose him because they knew what he was. Mostly, I wanted to ask Jay what it felt like to drown.

  The stone doorway opened to reveal a slim, metal hallway inlaid with yellow light. A sharp metallic smell wafted from the walls, and I was aware that we were no longer in Coppice or the Boneyard and their wild laws. We had entered the Light Districts, and here, anything was possible. The Light Districts must keep their science a secret to the outside world, because I was convinced that any other kingdom would have already adopted the lightning and weapons used here given the chance.

  Warren hadn’t followed us. If he was trying to play it safe and stay away from the guards, he might lose us in the city. I prayed he would rejoin our group.

  The Dark One’s curse came to my head, a lingering memory I couldn’t shake from my bones. A part of me had thought Jay would be a traitor, but his secret had proven to be far, far worse. I suspected Roland, but Warren’s disappearance had added him to the list as well. I shivered in the cold hallway, listening to our feet echo across the metal walkway. Maybe the traitor was the least of my worries at the moment.

  The hallway opened up, and we passed a handful of guards in the same hooded attire. Each guard saluted the men as they passed. I was so focused on the soldiers that I didn’t notice the metal gate in front of us until it swung open, revealing the Yellow Light District.

  For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The city was dark, the sky above clouded over by the storm, but it glowed with blinding neon lights. It seemed as if the ground was carved straight from a floating island, for there were patches in between buildings where the road dropped off into open sky and sea. It was the buildings that struck awe in me the most. They stretched high into the sky, made of metal and glass and materials I had never seen before. People flew past on machines I couldn’t make sense of, one of two wheels that moved without a horse pulling it.

  Even their clothing was odd. They wore leathers and shiny, artificial clothing I hadn’t seen before except on Roland, who was sporting the same outfit. His upbringing here suddenly made sense. He fit in well.

  The streets glowed with light made of lightning. This city was alive, casting shadows across our faces in neon yellow, and plunging the hidden corners into shadow. Signs flashed with messages, but it was the High Prince’s statements across them that concerned me the most.

  Your Prince awaits you at the casting ceremony. Citizens are to wear their identity bands.

  And another that read,

  There is no threat.

  Each message was followed by a strange symbol. It resembled a key of sorts, with dark lines crossing through a double arch and a closed circle. I assumed it was the symbol of the High Prince.

  I was used to towering cave walls, and as of late, lush jungles of green. This metalwork was like a rotting tree, a skeleton against hills alive with plants and life. My gaze snagged on Jay, who was clutching his side as he walked ahead of us, trying to remain brave in the face of the High Guard. The skeleton city becomes the downfall of the skeleton, dead boy. Figures.

  I glanced back at Roland. He opened his hands, where shapes and letters fluttered between his fingers in blue bioluminescent light. “Welcome home,” he said dryly, his fingers still thrumming with magic.

  “Have you always been able to do that?” I whispered.

  “Citizens only have their power when they’re inside the city.” Roland shrugged. “I can’t wait to stand before the High Prince with a Death Bringer, a deserter, and whatever the heck you are. We’ll be executed in an instant.”

  I turned away. “You’re the one who wanted to help us in the first place. And you don’t know if we’ll be killed,” I muttered. In truth, I hadn’t thought that the soldiers were taking us to the High Prince.

  “I was hired to help you,” Roland replied.

  We walked straight down the road, and crowds peeled apart to let us pass. Each citizen stared at the guards in fear, and in their haste to get away I noticed many of their hands glowed from the inside out with different colored light. Most was yellow, but a few glowed red, and once, I spotted a blue hand. Their power calmed me somewhat. Maybe my light marks came from here, and I wasn’t really that odd.

  The machines I had seen people riding earlier leaned against a tall building, desolate of life. I watched as a hooded man pulled one loose and sat on it, twisting the black handlebars with gloved fingers. He placed his glowing hand on the metal, and the vehicle came to life, streaks of yellow spreading across the seat and headlight. I gaped at him as he took off, the machine silent and clean on the road, quieter than a horse or Skysailor ship ever could be.

  “You can bring those things to life?” I asked Roland breathlessly.

  Roland stared straight ahead. “Not the time, Anya. I’m trying to think up a way to keep you and your friend out of the Glass Cages.”

  I followed the guards into a shaded alleyway. The drawings on the walls seemed to float and twist off the walls, swirling around us as we passed. The head guard stopped before he reached the end of the alleyway, looking as if he would run straight into the brick wall. The same symbol I had seen stamped across the messages was sprayed across the wall, glimmering and flashing with neon light.

  “When you meet the High Prince, I expect the utmost respect. Don’t look at him, don’t speak to him unless spoken to. He is a revolutionist, a conqueror, and a leader — your leader. His patience is worn thin at this hour.”

  I nodded along with Roland, who grit his teeth at the words. Jay still stood in the throng of guards, making no attempt to look back at us. His back was tens
e, his arms loose at his sides. I knew that the High Prince wouldn’t extend courtesy to a Death Bringer.

  We needed an escape plan, and quick. But first, I knew we would have to meet with the High Prince. The thought made my mouth go dry with cruel anticipation. I was about to stand before the man who refused to help my people back home, the man who traded souls for soldiers. If he had helped us, my parents might not have left me alone. If he didn’t have his ridiculous Glass Cages, Jay wouldn’t be standing in the center of a gang of dangerous men with his life on the line.

  I despised the High Prince.

  The guard held up a pendant hanging on his neck. It shone gold in the faint light, but I couldn’t read the inscription. He pressed it against the brick in the middle of the symbol. A flash of light pulsed from the graffiti, and the wall melted away into another narrow alleyway.

  “After you,” the guard said.

  I followed Jay into the alley. A set of staircases below us opened up at the end, revealing a dimly lit stretch of corridor. In the center of the endless hall was a metal machine that looked dead and long gone, its body tubular like a worm. It sat atop embedded metal lines deep within an odd, slippery flooring.

  “A remnant of a time long ago,” a guard said as he lowered his hood. He looked to be in his forties, with the beginnings of gray laced through a dark beard. Despite his age, he was fit and lean, with a bow strung across his back and dozens of arrows I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to use.

  “You’re telling me you got the Stream service to work again?” Roland narrowed his eyes. “How?”

  The guard didn’t smile as he said, “The High Prince needed a way to get around undetected. And when he asks, you figure out a way. It’s working below ground, and there is also a Stream above ground for public use.”

  “Undetected? Why would he need to be unseen if he owns the place?” I interrupted.

  The bearded man turned to me and raised his hand, revealing the key symbol branded across his palm. “This is a revolution, sweetheart. We only own what we can steal.”