by Brandon Mull
“I get it,” Cole said.
Durny looked to Vidal. “Put him on Maribel. Our business here is done.”
By his sixth day of riding, Cole had grown accustomed to Maribel. In spite of her burden, she and the other eleven mules plodded tirelessly forward from daybreak to nightfall. Normal suns had crossed the sky ever since the duskday ended, and today was no exception.
Cole had found the ride lonely. The men tended to converse when he was out of earshot. They only addressed him directly with basic instructions. He had to unpack and brush the mules at night and get them ready to travel every morning.
The cold treatment wore on Cole. He had never felt like such an outcast. After having been marked, chained up, caged, and now ignored as if he was less than a person, Cole had to fight worries that his life was over. He began to doubt whether he would have another happy day.
Today they had started early, in the gray chill before sunrise. Durny had explained that the Brink was dangerous at night and that a long ride should get them to their destination before sunset.
As the day progressed, Cole tried to enjoy the scenery. At least the land had grown more interesting, with ridges, hills, and ravines. Grasses and brush grew everywhere, along with numerous bushes and occasional stands of tall trees. He saw rabbits and squirrels, and occasionally glimpsed deer or foxes.
Cole kept an eye on the sun as it began to sink. Durny had made a point throughout the day of hurrying the mules along, not wanting to end up near the Brink after dark. The sun was less than an hour away from setting when Durny dropped back to ride beside Cole.
“Come with me, slave,” he said. “Let Ed and Vidal tend the mules for a spell.”
Durny dismounted and Cole did likewise. Durny motioned for him to follow, then led him onto a trail and up a rise. Up ahead the trail came to a sudden end at what was clearly a precipice.
Durny nudged Cole’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “You claimed not to mind edges. Why not give that one a try?”
Cole crept to where the ground stopped, and then he leaned forward to look down the cliff.
And down.
And down.
He had never seen anything like it.
He wasn’t looking down at the ground in the distance. He was looking down at sky that darkened toward purple the farther he peered.
Durny came up beside him. “Welcome to the Brink.”
“Permission to speak?”
“Granted.”
“Where’s the bottom?”
Durny shrugged. “Far as anyone can tell, there is no bottom. Expeditions have explored by climbing and flying. No one who ever returned has seen where the cliff bottoms out. It seems to go down beyond infinity.”
“It’s like the end of the world,” Cole said, staring out at the emptiness.
“Exactly.”
Cole glanced at Durny. “The world can’t just end.”
“This one does. At least in this direction. The Brink doesn’t go all the way around the Outskirts, at least as far as we’ve been able to determine.” He waved a hand to the right. “Go far enough in that direction and you’ll reach the Eastern Cloudwall. Can’t go over it, can’t slide under it, can’t dodge around it. Of those who have tried to go through it, none have returned. Same story with the Western Cloudwall, if you follow the Brink in the other direction. What lies behind or within the cloudwalls none can tell, for they cannot be breached by land or air. Notice anything else out there? Look closely.”
Scanning outward from the Brink, all Cole saw were sky and some clouds, the same view he got if he looked up. Wait, on one of the smaller clouds, in the distance, he observed the distinct shape of a castle with several towers.
“That cloud looks just like a castle,” he said, pointing.
“That is a castle,” Durny replied.
“It can’t be,” Cole said. “It’s floating.”
“Once again, welcome to the Brink.”
Cole gave Durny a suspicious stare. “You have to be kidding. This place might be weird, but not that weird.”
Durny reached inside his coat and removed a collapsible brass spyglass. Extending it, he raised it to one eye and focused it before passing it to Cole.
Since the spyglass was powerful, it took Cole a frustrating moment to line it up with the castle. Sure enough, the structure appeared to be made of stone, inexplicably resting on a wisp of cloud with nothing but blue sky all around. It had battlements, banners, towers, windows—even a visible drawbridge.
Cole lowered the spyglass. “How is it possible?”
“Specifically, I have no answer,” Durny said. “Generally, we’re in Sambria. This part of the Outskirts is the most susceptible to deliberate physical tampering. Some things I have seen shaped here make me wonder whether anything is impossible.”
“I’ve heard about shaping,” Cole said. “What is it? Like magic?”
Durny harrumphed. “Any phenomenon we don’t understand seems like magic. To a primitive culture, fire might seem like magic. This spyglass certainly would.”
“Shaping is science?”
“Not exactly. It’s . . . the ability to rearrange things and to imbue them with new qualities. Some people have a knack for it. I have a share of the talent myself. No matter how much talent you have, it’s easier to shape material here in Sambria.”
Cole gazed out across the gulf of sky. “Somebody shaped that castle?”
“Nobody knows who shapes the castles,” Durny said thoughtfully. “They appear out of the Westtern Cloudwall and drift across into the Eastern Cloudwall. Today is a quiet day. You can often see a dozen or more from a single spot. While the castles migrate from one cloudwall to the other, we salvage what we can.”
“Wait,” Cole said in disbelief. “The Sky Raiders raid the castles?”
“You’re catching on,” Durny approved. “And you’ll be helping us.”
“How do you get to them? Planes? Helicopters?”
“Skycraft. Flying ships.”
“How do they fly?”
Durny glanced toward the sun. “Last question. We need to get indoors before dark. Near the base of the castles are suspensors, commonly called floatstones. They keep the castles aloft. We harvest them from time to time and use them in the construction of skycraft.”
Cole could not believe what he was hearing and seeing. But it was hard to argue with the sight of the castle in the distance. After all, he had crossed over to a mysterious world through a manhole in a spook alley, and he had held a conversation with a happy face. “The job is dangerous? Raiding the castles?”
Durny gave a snort. “I said no more questions, but what do you think? Now come—let’s go meet your owner.”
CHAPTER
7
SKYPORT
Skyport, as Durny named it, came into view just before the sun dipped below the horizon. The Brink was ragged and far from level. They had not paralleled the edge long before finding a shallow basin that looked like half a valley because it ended so abruptly. Skyport was nestled down at the bottom.
Constructed from stone and heavy timbers, the sprawling main building perched right at the edge of the Brink. Several balconies and porches projected out over the drop. To Cole, the structure looked one medium-size earthquake away from tumbling off the end of the world.
There were several smaller outbuildings scattered around, including a stable and a modest barn. A tall wall enclosed a huge area behind the main building, which Cole assumed was the Cliffside Salvage Yard. Between the distance, the bad lighting, and the height of the surrounding barrier, Cole couldn’t tell what was inside.
A bell clanged as Durny led the mule train down the gentle slope to Skyport. Men and teens hustled out to help unpack the mules. The people wore odd clothing. One burly man sported a furry vest. Another had a T-shirt featuring fried-egg eyes above a bacon smile. One of the teens wore a dark-blue military jacket glittering with medals.
Unsure how to contribute, Cole stood off to
the side as Durny gave instructions. He noticed men standing guard around the perimeter of the buildings. There were lots of people here and not much cover on the surrounding slopes. Making an escape would be tricky. He couldn’t afford to blow it, so he would get to know the area first. If he kept his eyes open, sooner or later the right opportunity would arise.
Before long, Durny came over to him. “This way, slave. Time to meet your master.”
Cole followed Durny up wooden steps to a porch. He noticed an ivory rocking chair, a silk hammock, a chest made of solid iron, and a hairy creature, with a head at either end, inside a cage.
There was no time to consider these sights, because Durny pushed through the door into a busy common room. Most everyone was male—the youngest around Cole’s age; the oldest, gray-haired or bald. Some of them were eating, some played cards, others sat talking. Slave marks abounded.
Durny led the way to a beefy man with a graying beard and long curly hair, who sat on a cushioned, elaborate throne carved from translucent jade. The magnificent seat would have looked out of place in the saloon-type atmosphere if not for the other odd treasures scattered around the room—a gleaming stack of gold bars, a platinum sarcophagus studded with jewels, an ornate harpsichord, and a stuffed creature much larger and fiercer-looking than any bear.
“It’s about time!” the man boomed. “No more sending our top shaper away on elongafied excursions. Did you see Carnag?”
“No. Saw some refugees. Reports have it well into Sambria, near Riverton.”
“I keep hearing the most outlandish stories. If it heads this way, we’ll help it off the Brink. The trading went well?”
“Very well,” Durny said. “I even acquired some new blood.”
“Are they vending slaves in Mariston these days?”
“We crossed the path of a caravan.”
“You only bought one?”
“I’d used up most of my cash fund, but he’s an interesting candidate. Fresh from Earth.”
The man on the throne shifted his attention to Cole. “How’d you end up here?”
“Slavers kidnapped my friends,” Cole explained. “I wanted to help them.”
“You came through on your own?” Durny asked.
Cole decided there probably wasn’t much reason to hide that detail anymore. “Yeah. I followed them through. I wanted to rescue my friends. You can guess how well it went.”
“You got nabbed.” The man on the throne chuckled, slapping his thigh. “Steep price to pay for helping your mates. Unfortuitous. Well, if a bondmark is your fate, you’ve landed at the right place.”
“Ansel didn’t mention you came here voluntarily,” Durny said.
“I didn’t tell him,” Cole replied.
Durny nodded thoughtfully, then glanced at the man on the throne. “The lad doesn’t mind an edge.”
“I would hope not,” the man blustered. “You have a name?”
“I’m Cole.”
“Adam Jones. I’m the greedy bone-picker who runs this operation. I answer to ‘Your Majesty,’ ‘Your Excellentness,’ and ‘Adam.’ We’ll call you Cole until you earn something better.” Adam looked at Durny. “Did you explain the way of things here?”
“The boy needed to learn his new station,” Durny said.
“Ah, sensible—new slave and whatnot.” Adam focused back on Cole. “A slave won’t find a deal like working as a Sky Raider in most corners of the Outskirts. I was once a slave too. Most of us were. You won’t get typical treatment here. Not from us.” His eyes grew serious. “You’re lucky. You only had the littlemost taste of slave life. Be glad you’ll never really know what you’re missing.”
Cole nodded.
“You’re new, so you’ll have to pay your dues, take some ribbing, perform some distasteful chores. But you won’t always be the greenest recruit at Skyport. The more seniority you gain, the better it gets. You can even earn your freedom. The catch? You might die tomorrow.”
Cole had been feeling better until that final statement. “Really?”
“Sky Raiders risk their lives on every mission,” Adam said. “For the first season or two, you’ll serve as a scout, risking your neck more than anyone. Being careful, smart, and quick can help you survive. Still, part of it is the luck of the draw. We lost a good young scout last week.”
“Who?” Durny asked.
“Fiddler.”
Durny made a pained expression. “Too bad.”
“Lively boy of fourteen,” Adam continued. “He’d almost earned his way out of scout service. Takes fifty missions. He was four short. Fiddler came up against something no man could have outrun. His death showed the crew that an unfightable predator occupied the castle. His sacrifice saved lives. It’s noble work. We always need more scouts.” Adam winked. “And now we have one.”
Cole felt sick with dread. Heights were one thing. Monstrous predators like the stuffed superbear in the corner were another. “Do I have to?”
Adam laughed heartily. “What a question! Nobody would volunteer as a scout. You’re a slave until you work it off. This is how you start. There are no other choices. Last long enough, and someday you could become a partner, wealthy and comfortable. Until then, you’ll do your part to embiggen the organization.”
Cole nodded grimly, trying not to let his terror show. “What are my chances?”
Adam looked at him skeptically. “You want a straight answer?”
“I don’t know.”
Adam exploded with laughter. “You’ll be fine! There’s nothing to worry about. One day it’ll be you sitting on this throne.”
Cole frowned. “Wait. Give it to me straight.”
Adam shrugged. “More than half our scouts survive their first ten missions. Maybe one in twenty survive all fifty. But the odds of coming home the first time are reasonable!”
“I start tomorrow?”
Adam nodded. “Today was slow out there, which oftentimes means the next day will be busy. I’ll want a report about your first outing.”
“How can I prepare?”
“There’s a proper attitude!” Adam said. “Durny, you’ve earned a rest. Have Mira show him about, get him equipped, give him some tips. And have her dig up some decent clothes. The boy looks like a storm-blown scarecrow.”
Cole almost explained his costume, but Adam seemed through talking to him. Durny ushered him away and began asking people if they had seen Mira.
Before long, Cole found himself facing a girl nearly his height. She wore boots, corduroy pants, a collared shirt, and suspenders printed with shamrocks. Her brown hair was chopped short. She wasn’t very clean, but that couldn’t hide her pretty gray eyes and cute face.
“Find some new monster bait?” she asked Durny.
“Go easy,” Durny said. “Boy’s had a rough week. Mira, this is Cole. He’ll be raiding tomorrow. He needs to learn the ropes.”
Mira gave Cole a once-over. “Let me guess. He needs clothes, too.”
“He’s all yours.”
Durny moved away.
“Not a lot of girls here,” Cole said.
“We have more than you see topside,” she said. “Most of the girls stay below.”
“In the basement?”
“In the caves. This whole section of the cliff is honeycombed with them. That’s why they built here. We’re right above them.”
“It’s a big building,” Cole said.
“Big enough for most everyone to have a room topside. But some prefer the caves. When a storm comes, everyone prefers the caves.”
“You get bad storms?”
“It doesn’t get much worse than a castle landing on you.”
“Has that happened?”
“They’ve had close calls. Some damage. No direct hits.”
Cole regarded Mira pensively. “Have you been here long?”
“A couple of years.”
“Really? You must have been young when you came here.”
She shrugged. “I’m about eleve
n.”
“ ‘About’?”
“I’m an orphan. Nobody knows when my birthday is.”
She didn’t seem to be asking for pity, so Cole tried not to give it. “Are you going to help me survive tomorrow?”
“Survival is up to you. I can help you get your stuff.”
A boy, maybe a year older than Cole, chummily clapped Mira on the back. “Did you finally find a boyfriend?” he asked.
Her shoulders hunched uncomfortably until he removed his hand. “No, but I already have a boy-enemy.”
“Nice,” he said, smiling. He stood a few inches taller than Cole, with a bronze complexion and dark hair. He held out his hand. “I’m Jace.”
Cole shook it. “Cole.”
“You’re my new best friend.”
“How come?”
“With Fiddler gone, it was my turn to scout tomorrow.”
“Glad I could help,” Cole said.
“If you get an easy one, we aren’t friends anymore. If you get killed, I’ll love you forever.”
“Buzz off,” Mira said. “I need to show him the place.”
“Listen to everything she says,” Jace advised. “Then do the opposite.”
Mira punched at him, but Jace dodged away.
“Come on,” Mira said.
Cole followed her out of the common room and down a wide hall. They turned corners, passed some doors, then went down a flight of stairs.
“Where are you from?” Mira asked.
“Earth,” Cole said.
“You’re from outside? How long have you been here?”
“About a week.”
For the first time he saw a flash of real sympathy in her face. She stopped walking. “A week?”
“My friends got kidnapped by slavers. I followed them through to try to help them.”
“You came through on your own?” She sounded impressed.
“I had no idea where I was going. I got caught. Then Durny bought me.”
She gave a little nod. “Do you know what the Sky Raiders do?”
“They raid the floating castles. That’s all I know.”
“This is a salvage operation,” Mira explained. “There’s nothing alive in those castles. Not truly. Just semblances. Some are big and dangerous, some seem like people, but none are really living. Most of the semblances disintegrate if you bring them back here, just like the floatstones if they head inland. Everything else holds together just fine. It’s all ownerless and headed for the Eastern Cloudwall, never to be seen again. So the Sky Raiders take what they can. We keep certain valuables, but most of it goes to the salvage yard. People come from all over the Outskirts to buy our finds.”