Sky Raiders

by Brandon Mull

  “Here he comes,” Asia said.

  Cole looked beyond her to where a large warrior led a group of others in full armor across the lawn. Even though it was dim, Cole recognized the leader. “Lyrus?”

  The big warrior increased his pace to a jog. “Cole? Is that you?”

  Liam looked befuddled. “You two know each other?”

  “We’ve met,” Cole said.

  Lyrus hustled forward and gave Cole a small bow. “I am astonished. How did you come here?”

  “Through the cloudwall,” Cole said.

  “You know them?” Asia asked. “Are they Sky Raiders?”

  “Salvagers, yes,” Lyrus said. “And Cole is a proven hero.”

  “Anything suspicious about them?” Asia inquired.

  Lyrus shook his head. “I have only met Cole and Mira, but I believe they have good characters. Cole helped me awaken to my true nature.”

  “Why aren’t you dead?” Cole asked.

  “I was resigned to my demise,” Lyrus said. “But I was rescued. They fully healed my injuries.”

  “Lots of semblances slide into the terminal void,” Liam said. “We can lend a hand to only a small fraction of them. Our master sensed that Lyrus was unusually self-aware. We rescued him and decided he would be a good fit as captain of the guard.”

  “Can we please take this reunion to the castle?” Asia begged.

  Liam touched his forehead and gave a quick bow. “As you wish. Follow me!” Tilting on his disk, he took off at a speed none of them could possibly match. His flying insects buzzed after him, rapidly falling behind.

  “Stay with me,” Asia grumbled. “Judgment has yet to be passed on you. We’re off to meet the master.”

  CHAPTER

  20

  DECLAN

  The castle swept up from the ground, its unusual architecture dominated by concave curves. Smooth walls sloped inward before flaring outward as they rose. The towers tapered, then widened toward the top. The subtle hourglass theme was echoed on the battlements and in the windows.

  Cole spent most of the long walk in silence. Lyrus had been reluctant to converse, explaining that, technically, Cole was a prisoner until the master decided otherwise. Whenever Cole spoke to his friends, Asia stayed nearby, obviously listening.

  Left to his thoughts, Cole wondered about the identity of the person whom Asia, Liam, and Lyrus served. If the master were an enemy of the legion, hopefully he or she would be on their side. But not necessarily. The master could simply be a recluse who hated all trespassers. Obviously, the master wanted to stay hidden. Otherwise why live behind the cloudwall with lots of guards and a giant whirlwind to vacuum away any visitors?

  The castle grounds had little light, and though the stars were bright, no moon was in view, making it hard to discern the hedges, lawns, trees, and fountains, except as vague forms in the dimness. The castle was easier to observe, thanks to lights in the windows and fires on the walls.

  Full night had fallen by the time they reached the huge gates. As they neared the sloping walls, the gates swung open and a portcullis cranked upward. The group passed into a large courtyard lit by elaborate fountains of water and flame. Wavering shadows and splashes of light danced on the soaring walls. Heavily armed figures clanked around the area, armor glinting in the firelight.

  As Asia led them toward the main castle doors, they opened and a figure emerged, head wreathed by curly brown hair, his body husky but not flabby. He wore a green robe and sandals, and he looked to be in his thirties.

  “Welcome,” the man said with a graceful half bow. “It has been too long since we have enjoyed the company of visitors.”

  “Don’t play host to prisoners, Jamar,” Asia scolded.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Prisoners, are they? That isn’t how Liam told it.”

  “Since when has Liam known anything besides shaping?” Asia challenged.

  Jamar gave an apologetic smile to the group. “Asia takes the defense of this castle very seriously.” He eyed Cole and the others in turn. “The day may come when we are indebted to her wariness, but I suspect that will not be today. The master will have the final word. He is aware of your presence and wishes to meet with you at once.”

  Jamar stepped aside, and Asia motioned for Mira to enter. Cole passed through the door after her, entering a grand hall many stories high, with stairs at the far end and tiers of balconies and galleries along the walls. Glowing globes spaced about the chamber provided steady luminance. Crystal trees with stained-glass leaves transformed much of the hall into a sparkling grove.

  Not far from Jamar stood a dozen figures made of white wax, humanoid in size and form but faceless and smooth, like some department store mannequins Cole had once seen. Though they were all different sizes and builds, each one wore a green robe and carried some kind of weapon—a sword, a spear, or a knife. They generally held still, but a few of them shifted, revealing that they could move. One took a moment to stretch, arms raised, back arched.

  “Look at this place,” Jace exclaimed breathlessly, eyes wide.

  There was a lot to take in. Expertly carved marble statues filled alcoves. Frescoes decorated the ceiling, mosaics enlivened the floors, and tapestries brightened the walls. Gilded accents and enormous jewels embellished the railings and the furniture.

  Leaving their other escorts outside, Asia joined them in the castle. She addressed Jamar. “Where will the master receive them?”

  “In the Silent Hall,” he said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Does he want us present?”

  “Only at first.”

  Asia shook her head. “He grows reckless.”

  Jamar gave her a chiding look. “He is the master. Our place is not to question him.”

  “My place is to protect him,” Asia said firmly.

  “Not here,” Jamar corrected. “You control the external defenses. I manage affairs within these walls.”

  “Where does that leave Liam?” asked a deep female voice. A giant pig made of stuffed quilts waddled into the hall from a neighboring room, short legs laboring below a rotund body. Even though it was bulky and ungainly, it was quite tall. Cole would have to jump to touch the quilted animal’s snout.

  “In charge of the skies and the spies,” Asia answered. “Is he coming?”

  “He’s working,” the patchwork pig explained.

  “Is any of this work happening in bed?” Asia asked skeptically. “With the lights off? While he snores?”

  “Maybe a little,” the pig replied. “He sent me as his representative to help transport our guests.”

  Cole met eyes with Mira. He had to glance away for fear her expression would make him laugh. The pig was pretty ridiculous.

  Asia exhaled venomously. “They’re not our guests yet. They’re potential enemies. I shouldn’t be surprised that Liam can’t be bothered.”

  “He bothered to send me,” the pig said.

  “The master is waiting,” Jamar reminded everyone.

  The quilted pig knelt down. “I’m Lola. Climb aboard, if you please.”

  Jace folded his arms across his chest. “I keep waiting for this to get less weird, and it keeps not happening.”

  Cole had to agree. He had witnessed some bizarre sights in the sky castles, but he doubted whether anything could have prepared him for a ride on the back of a quilted pig through the most opulent palace he had ever seen.

  “We’re with talented shapers,” Mira said, patting Jace’s elbow. “They can produce all sorts of strange semblances.”

  “I’m with the boy on this one,” Asia said. “Liam shows little restraint with his imagination.”

  “I’m right here,” the pig said.

  “And you’re charming,” Jamar said. “A cozy, swinish pillow.”

  “That’s a little better.” Lola sniffed. “You kids climb aboard before my feelings take another beating.”

  Grabbing fistfuls of fabric, Cole scrambled up the side of the pig, pressing into her soft side
with his knees and feet. It was like climbing a beanbag the size of a haystack. Once on top, he spread his legs wide to straddle the broad back just behind the head. Though understuffed enough to be cushy, the pig still felt relatively stable. The four of them fit on her without any trouble—Cole in the front, Mira kneeling behind him, then Jace, and Twitch in the rear. They would have had to squish together to add another rider.

  “Comfortable?” Asia asked, her voice oozing sarcasm.

  Cole rubbed his palms over the fabric in front of him. “Actually, yeah. What’s this material? It’s really soft, almost silky.”

  “The boy has good taste,” the pig said.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Asia grumbled.

  Jamar and Asia led them away from the cavernous hall. The pig swayed as she waddled, but Cole felt reasonably secure. They moved through a room filled with musical instruments, including drums the size of hot tubs and a gleaming pipe organ that took up most of one wall. They passed through tinkling curtains made of long strands of tiny bells into a chilly room where everything was carved out of ice—the furniture, the statues, the fireplace, even the rugs.

  “Yep,” Jace muttered. “Weirder and weirder.”

  “Cool, though,” Cole said, his breath pluming out in front of him.

  After more chiming curtains, they entered a spacious ballroom with a polished wooden floor and a gargantuan chandelier. Jamar waved an arm, and the center of the floor melted away to reveal a broad stairway going down and out of view.

  “Whoa!” Cole called as the pig toddled to the top of the stairs. On the level floor the pig was fine, but Cole was worried about tipping forward down the incline. “Should we hop off here?”

  “Don’t worry,” the pig said. “Stairs are a specialty of mine.”

  Lola leaned forward and started sliding on her belly. Gripping with his legs as best as he could and grabbing on to handfuls of fabric, Cole leaned back as they started down, tingles rushing through him. Once they were moving, the ride was surprisingly quick and smooth. After reaching the foot of the stairs, the pig kept sliding for a little ways along the polished marble corridor at the bottom.

  “We lost Twitch,” Jace said.

  Cole looked back. Twitch was nowhere in sight.

  “He slid off my backside at the top of the stairs,” the pig said. “He’ll have to take the slow way with the others.”

  After a few moments, Twitch came into view, walking down the stairs beside Jamar, Asia, and four of the waxy, robed guards. He waved sheepishly when he saw the others looking back at him.

  “You should have stayed on,” Mira called. “It was fun.”

  “I’m not big on unnecessary risk,” he answered.

  When the others caught up, Lola crouched down and let Twitch climb back on. Jamar led the way forward.

  At the end of the hall waited a large carved door. As they approached, it opened, and they passed through into a long chamber. Two rows of pillars supported the high, arched ceiling. The pillars were carved like stacked heads, and every head had four faces, one on each side. Black veins swirled through the red marble floor, and dark draperies softened the walls.

  In the middle of the chamber sat a small old man on a modest chair. He stood as they entered, using a cane in each hand. The pig stopped ten paces from him and crouched down.

  “Should we get off?” Jace asked.

  “Yes,” Lola replied.

  They all slid down the same side. The marble floor was hard and smooth underfoot. The quilted pig backed away.

  The little man walked forward a few steps, relying heavily on his canes. He was almost bald, with a thin fringe of white around the sides of his lightly spotted head. His features disguised by wrinkles, he looked frail, like he belonged in a hospital gown. Instead, he wore a plain green sweater and brown trousers. The slippers on his feet left a clear view of his pale, bony ankles.

  The old man paused. “Would you close the door, Jamar?” His voice lacked vitality.

  The door swung shut.

  The old man smiled awkwardly. He had very even teeth. “Well, you have uncovered our little secret, haven’t you? Happens on occasion, but not often, not often.”

  He seemed to be waiting for them to respond.

  “Are you the master?” Mira asked.

  His smile widened, and he gave a weak chuckle. “I suppose so, especially if we’re still keeping this secretive. Welcome to Cloudvale, one of the least publicized hideaways in the five kingdoms. It’s a small province, but it’s free. We’d prefer to keep it that way.”

  “We’re not spies,” Cole said.

  “Now that I see you, I suspect that’s true,” the old man said, his smile fading a little. “The only one of you with the potential to transmit information out of here is definitely not allied with the High Shaper. Do you three boys know who you’re escorting?”

  “We know enough,” Jace said.

  “How much?” the old man asked Mira.

  “Not everything,” Mira said. “You know who I am?”

  “Yes,” he said. “How much do you trust them?”

  “As much as I can trust anyone. They’ve all risked their lives for me.”

  He nodded. “Have you figured out who I am?”

  “I think so,” she answered.

  He lifted one of his canes momentarily to point at her. “Out with it, then, young lady. Who am I?”

  “You’re Declan Pierce, the Grand Shaper of Sambria.”

  His smile grew wide again, eyes crinkling. “Guilty. Guilty as charged. Do you mean to continue in the company of these three boys?”

  Cole watched Mira, as did Jace and Twitch. She considered them. “You don’t have to stay with me. Trouble will follow wherever I go.”

  “I’m not going to leave you unprotected,” Jace said.

  “Me neither,” Cole seconded.

  “We’ve come this far,” Twitch added.

  Mira faced Declan. “Then, yes, they’ll remain with me.”

  “Would you like them to share in our counsel?” Declan asked. “It would mean revealing your identity.”

  “Yes,” Mira said.

  His smile vanished. “Leave us, Asia, Jamar. Lola, tell your maker to take a greater interest in current events.”

  “Are you sure, sire?” Asia asked.

  Annoyance flickered across Declan’s features. “We have sensitive matters to discuss. We’re not just meeting here because I adore drafty underground theatricality. You’ll be included when the time is right. Look to our defenses. We must stay on high alert going forward. That is all.”

  The doors opened. Jamar exited with his wax people. Asia walked out beside the pig, and the doors swung shut.

  Declan made his way back to the chair using his canes. Once in his seat again, he wiped perspiration from his brow, breathing shallowly. “I feel terrible sitting while you stand.”

  “It’s fine,” Cole said.

  “It’s rude,” Declan replied. “Old bones. Can’t be helped. Well, could have been helped, perhaps, with better planning. I didn’t anticipate visitors, and we need utter silence.”

  “Can’t you just shape us some chairs?” Jace asked.

  “Elsewhere, yes. But I mustn’t risk shaping in here. Any new shaping I perform could disturb the balance that keeps this room inscrutable from the outside.”

  “We can’t be heard?” Mira asked.

  “We probably couldn’t be overheard anywhere in Cloudvale, but this room makes it certain that nobody will eavesdrop. Young lady, it’s time to reveal your true identity. Would you like to do the honors, or should I?”

  “Go ahead,” Mira said politely.

  “The five daughters of Stafford Pemberton, High Shaper over the five kingdoms, were Elegance, Honor, Constance, Miracle, and Destiny. He never had a male heir. The girls supposedly died in an accident more than sixty years ago. Except they didn’t. They lived.”

  “How do you know that?” Mira asked.

  “Harmony has been
in touch,” Declan said. “Stafford faked their deaths so he could hold them prisoner. He had somehow stolen their powers, but he needed them alive or he would lose his newfound talents. So a carriage dramatically plunged into a roiling river, and even as he locked his daughters away in a dungeon, the High Shaper pretended to mourn with the rest of us.”

  “When he took their shaping abilities, the girls stopped aging,” Mira said. “The process wasn’t merely slowed—they are all as young today as the day their father betrayed them.”

  “Their mother, Harmony, got wise to the plot and helped her daughters escape,” Declan continued. “The five royal princesses hide in exile to this very hour—Elegance, Honor, Constance, Miracle, and Destiny. Some of them may not even bother to use clever aliases.”

  As the realization hit, Cole felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. It took him a moment to speak. “You’re Miracle.”

  Mira raised her eyebrows. “I used a less obvious name for the first twenty years in hiding. With my family, I had always gone by Mira. As time passed, people forgot about my death. If I had survived, I should have been an adult. Instead, I was a slave girl. I stayed far from anyone who might have remembered my face. Regaining my true nickname never caused any problems.”

  “No way,” Jace said. “You’re really Princess Miracle?”

  She flashed an awkward smile and nodded.

  “They call those five princesses the lost treasure of Junction,” Twitch said. “Everyone knows the story. They were all amazing shapers. After they vanished, the High King was never the same.”

  Declan gave a sour chuckle. “Too true. He had taken their gifts, and with that new power, he found the courage to show his true colors.”

  “I can hardly believe it,” Twitch said, dropping to one knee. “I should have been more respectful. I should have—”

  “No,” Mira interrupted. “Get up. None of that. You’ve all been exactly what I need. Real friends in a time of hardship.”

  Cole squinted at her as he did a quick calculation. “You’re in your seventies?”

  “No, I’m eleven,” Mira said, her cheeks flushing. “I’ve just been eleven for a really long time.”