The Endless Skies

by Shannon Price

  “I’ll take watch, sir,” says Callen. I look up. I can just make out his frame in the darkness across from me and Ox. He has his knees drawn up to his chest, arms resting idly on his knees.

  I could be wrong, but it seems like he is looking at me with hurt in his eyes. You made things awkward between us, I think, wanting so badly to be mad. You did this. And we can’t exactly work toward fixing it with the others around.

  The fact that I am here, relatively safe and among friends, reminds me of who isn’t. Curling my knees to my chest, I try to remember the last thing I said to Exin. We were never the kind of friends who spend time together solo, but we’d had more than our fair share of meals together with Callen and Vera in the dining hall. I do my best to memorize conversations and jokes he told, no matter how trivial. The words are all sharp now, dense with my desperation to remember.

  The thought of sleep overpowers my restless heart. My muscles, fueled by fear and excitement, shiver with fatigue, and my stomach aches. Riffling through my bag, I eat everything that’s left and try to get some rest. The train stops twice more, and each time the wheels screech and scream in such an ungodly way that I almost give up trying to get any sleep at all.

  Sometime later, I wake up, groggy and sicker to my stomach than I was before. Afternoon light streams in through the slats of wood that make up the roof of the car, enough to help me see. Callen sees me awake and gives me a nod. A knife glints in his hand. I keep quiet as he pushes the tip of the blade into the soft pads of his fingers to stay awake. The train shakes like it’s rolling over stones.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  Callen cocks his head. “It’s been doing that sometimes. I don’t think the track is as good here.”

  I must have fallen asleep again, because when I open my eyes, I’m slumped on the floor. Apparently, my body’s need for rest—especially to overcome my staying up so late the night before—overpowers my desire to be helpful to the team. My arm is numb from how I slept, and it tingles as I sit up. Ox’s cloak slides off my shoulders as I do, and I curl my fingers around the fabric. He must have put it over me as I slept. The warrior in question is on watch.

  “How long have I been out?” I whisper, scooting closer to him.

  “It’s hard to tell,” he replies. “No bells. No sky. But it is dark now.”

  “I can see that,” I say lightly. “How are you?”

  “Not great.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  He sighs. “But I’m glad you’re here. I’d rather know exactly where you are and that you’re okay than have to be wondering if maybe you somehow got sick, too, or if you were sent out on a team after all.”

  Skies, there he goes. Catching me off guard with his kindness.

  “But…,” he whispers. “And I know this isn’t the place. But if there’s something I should know, I want you to tell me.”

  My stomach flips. What does he mean? Did he see through my lie about warriors-elect being sent out? I was so careful to channel my inner Shirene and consider my words tactfully so as to not give it away. “What?”

  “I know you two are close,” Ox says. “And I’m not about to get in the way of that.”

  Oh. He’s talking about Callen. I swallow hard. “We’ve known each other a really long time.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question.”

  I turn my head so I can speak closer to his ear. “We’re not together, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Immediately, he tightens his arm around my waist.

  “Good,” he says. “Because you still owe me a dance.”

  “I keep my word.” I try to match his lighter tone, but it’s hard to forget just where we are and how much danger the city is still in. I didn’t risk my dream for Callen or Ox, or even myself.

  Loyalty above all.

  This isn’t the time or place for my heart to be deciding what it wants, but eventually, the time and place will arrive. I only hope my future self will know what to do, because right now, I am as lost as ever.

  21

  CALLEN

  The sight of Rowan curled up against Ox’s shoulder should bother me. But we’re far from a home that may be falling to the sea with every passing hour as our prince gets sicker. We’re tired. Hungry. Far away from the brethren we are used to being surrounded by.

  I look away from them and out the side of the train car.

  Wind stings my eyes as I watch the landscape move by in a blur of greens, grays, and browns. Dawn breaks over the east. Pale waves of light, straw-like plants roll in the wind. Rows of churned dirt spotted with dried plants—farmland. We have gardens here and there on the Heliana, but the bulk of our fresh food comes from Vyrinterra. I’ve never seen so much farmland in my life. How many humans would this feed? The humans have controlled Balmora for generations, growing and spreading farther than we know.

  Then again, as we pass more and more empty farmland, it strikes me that I haven’t seen anything green and growing, not even one field. Was summer not a fruitful season on Balmora? The land looked dark with water, so rain wasn’t their problem, unless they were getting too much of it.

  Sethran wakes up. Keeping a careful hand on the side of the car to steady himself, he comes over next to me.

  “So long as we’re moving east, this is our best shot at finding the cure fast,” he says. “How long do you suspect we’ve been on this?”

  “Ten hours, maybe more.”

  Sethran nods. “We stopped for a long while at what I guess was around twelfth bell. Still, we must be close to the cure.”

  I eat the rest of my rations, chewing the stale bread slowly and letting the jam inside it roll on my tongue. I’m still hungry, but being on the train car has given us the rest we needed. Keeping my hand on the wall like Sethran did, I stretch my legs. Ox and Rowan have woken, too, the latter following suit and stretching. I go back over to Sethran. Being at my commander’s side is reassuring. And it beats being closer to the two of them.

  Shifting, I press my face against one of the open slats, letting the wind rush over my face. If I close my eyes, I might believe I was flying. The pink sky overhead is dotted with birds. My heart rises, and I focus on one—yes! Not just birds. Gulls.

  “Look,” I say. “Gulls don’t fly inland. We’re near water.”

  Together, my commander and I crack the door open. Cold air rushes in, sending my hair flying and goose bumps appearing over every inch of exposed skin.

  The sea.

  I catch glimpses of silvery gray between the foothills. The rough waves churn the water white in some places. Keeping one hand firmly on the siding, I lean out as far as I dare and try to see where we are headed. I squint as the wind blows directly in my eyes.

  “The tracks turn north ahead.” I pull myself back inside. “The front of the train will veer sharply left, giving us a blind spot. That’s when we should go.”

  “Are we close to Ramsgate?” Rowan asks.

  “Skies, I hope so,” Sethran says. “We’ve made it farther than any other team could have in this time.”

  We’re the city’s best hope right now. I share a look with Ro, who appears to have realized this, too.

  My ears grow numb to the sounds of the train as we wait—the push-pull, then screaming and shrieking—that for a moment I think I’m going deaf when the rhythm changes as the train enters into the turn.

  “We’re slowing down,” I say.

  Sethran nods. “Then it’s time we get off.”

  It’s agonizing, waiting for the machine to slow. Restless, I get up and look out the opposite side of the train car.

  “Look!” I shout over the din. Immediately, Rowan rushes over, and I try not to notice how close our faces are as she looks out.

  “Skies alive,” she whispers.

  Even this far out, the human’s city looks like twice the size of the Heliana. Spires point like jagged teeth into the sky. Smoke billows from their spouts in grayish black plumes. A haze wraps the city and blurs the air.r />
  “Look at the sky,” she says. “Nothing’s flying over it.”

  “The birds must know something we don’t.”

  “Or they know exactly what we do,” she replies. “The humans poisoned the sky here. They poison everywhere they go.”

  “Callen,” Sethran says. “You first. Get ready to jump.”

  I do as commanded and crouch by the door, bracing my body for the impact. The grasses below will provide some cushion, but not a lot. I wait, heartbeat after heartbeat, as the train continues to slow down. I watch the clumps of pale grasses and yellow flowers disappear from sight in a blur.

  Then I jump. I do my best to roll and weaken my fall, but the impact rattles my body. My wrist lands awkwardly, and I can feel the blood rushing to the site and the swelling kicking in. As Ox tumbles to a stop a few yards from me, he scans the surroundings to see if we’ve been spotted.

  Rowan pauses for a moment at the door, the wind sending her hair flying around her face. She jumps and lands out of sight Sethran appears last, half swinging, half falling off into the dense thicket of sea grasses and sand. I keep my wrist at my side as I join Ox, offering him my other hand to help him up. Both of our gazes drift over to the humans’ city to the north. For a moment, we’re united in a mix of awe and hate.

  “That has to be Ramsgate,” I say. “At least we know we’re in the right place.”

  “And now we find the cure,” Ox replies stiffly.

  The group of us trudge along the shoreline. The Cliffs have no beach other than the cove the humans have claimed, and the shores of Vyrinterra belong to the horselords on the eastern side and the sea-folk on the western one. Here the water stomps on itself, white and frothy. The sound is like thunder, and I have to squint into the wild wind to see. The sand beneath my boots is coarse and dotted with a myriad of colors mixed with strands of kelp and other sea debris.

  Ox wraps his arms around Ro to keep her warm, though I can see his own fingers shaking. I grit my teeth. I can bear this—and of course I’m only talking about the cold.

  Just the cold.

  Who knew the humans’ lands could go from sun to storms so quickly? I scan the horizon for any kind of shelter. A cave, a cove. Some kind of cover.

  “No one’s seen it?” Sethran asks. We’ve all had our eyes on the ground, scanning for the red blooms.

  “Maybe we’re too close to the water,” I say. “The winds are strong here. Not much is growing at all.” I pull at a patch of thin grass next to me, and the fine strands come up easily, roots and all.

  Sethran frowns. “We need shelter.” He looks back toward the tracks. “Let’s follow where the train was going. There will be settlements as we get close to their city.”

  We crest up a hill and survey the unfamiliar land. Pale boulders jut out from hillsides. It doesn’t take long for us to find the tracks again, or for us to start really feeling the cold. Pain radiates from my ears, and I alternate between keeping my hands over them and keeping my hands inside my cloak. Soon my teeth begin to chatter. Tugging my own cloak closer to me, I exhale down into the fabric, but the warmth only lasts a moment.

  “There!” Ox says, loudly enough to hear over the wind. I follow where he points and make out the shape of a one-story house with light glowing from inside. A pale tower stands close by it, a huge beacon of light flashing at the top. The light flickers like a candle flame, but in a steady time. Light. Dark. Light. Beside the house is another darker building made of slatted wood.

  “We should head to that barn,” Sethran says just as I’m about to suggest it. “Hurry. This storm is coming in fast.”

  The scents of dust, hay, and refuse pour from inside the barn as we bypass the house. A lock rests on the front door, keeping the animals inside safely enclosed.

  “Let’s go around the back,” Sethran says. We follow him until we’re out of sight of the house. He nudges a loose board with his foot and tilts his head. “Callen.”

  It’s an order, not a question. I bring my axe high and swing it low and fast. The wood splinters, and a few hits later, there is a space large enough for us to squeeze through. The others go first, and I climb in as the first droplets of rain hit my skin.

  The barn is lit only from a lone lantern hung near the doorway. Above our heads is a loft stacked high with even more hay, and farther into the darkness is the murmur of livestock. A horse shifts in its stall, wary of our presence. Even without Knowledge, animals like horses and sheep can sense the inherent danger in Leonodai blood. The only part of Vyrinterra where Leonodai are not welcome are in the horselords’ herds.

  “Up,” Sethran says. “If the humans come here, we can attack from above.”

  We do as we’re told, and within minutes, we’re huddled together in the almost dark, surrounded by heavy bales of hay. Droplets of rain leak in from the roof above, but it’s as good as anything we’re going to get.

  Shrugging off my cloak, I spread it wide in hopes it’ll dry. The straw itches against my skin, but I lie down anyway and feel the sleep threatening to take me almost instantly.

  “Are we just going to sit here?” Rowan says.

  “We’ll wait until the rain clears,” Sethran replies. “We don’t have the resources to go looking now.”

  “But the prince—”

  “Enough, Warrior-Elect. We are no use to the city if we get sick from wandering out in the rain. We’re where we need to be for now.”

  Rowan goes quiet. I try to make eye contact with her, but she gets up and moves to a different area of the loft, fluffing the hay up in a show of her building a bed.

  Part of me agrees with Rowan. I want to be out there looking for the cure. But I trust my commander. Going out in the rain without the proper gear wouldn’t be the wisest choice right now. With one last look at Ro sulking in the corner, I close my eyes. Without the glaring sounds and constant motions, it was possible that we’d get some actual rest here, as opposed to the bursts of sleep on the train.

  Hours later, with the same light unchanged as the rain continues to fall, the sound of steps on the floor below wakes me. A shiver dances across my skin. I sit up, my hand going to my axe.

  Then, with a laugh that is equal parts exasperation and affection, I realize that both Rowan and my cloak are gone.

  22

  ROWAN

  “You withstood four years of training,” I mutter to myself. “You can get past a little rain.”

  Thank the skies Callen always has good cloaks—the expensive, well-made kind a general’s son would be expected to have. Seth will have my head for leaving, but if I can come back with the cure, then he will have to forgive me.

  The ground slopes downward toward the beach. A flash of inky black slips in and out of the waves. I watch the seal for a moment, missing the freedom of the skies that it finds in the ocean. A sound like a shout carries in the wind, and my hands go to my knives. Behind me, a figure running toward me, noticeably lacking a cloak.

  “What the skies are you doing?” Callen says when he gets close.

  “Searching,” I say. “Tabrol doesn’t have time for us to warm ourselves.”

  Callen pushes a slick lock of hair from his eyes, blinking rapidly as the droplets keep hitting his brow. “You know if you’d just said ‘food’ or ‘better shelter,’ I wouldn’t be as inclined to report you for insubordination.”

  I shrug, like, Fine. “I’m looking for food or better shelter.”

  “Rowan.”

  “Callen,” I return with the same tone. A shiver races down my back. “What?”

  “Any warrior worth their keep would know it’s foolish to go out like this.”

  “Like how?”

  “Unprepared. Against orders,” he returns, blinking out rain. “What are you going to do if Sethran wakes up and finds you gone?”

  I shrug, my chest aching.

  “What is it?” he says.

  It’s just us. Just us. I can’t lie to Callen.

  “The sentinels never sent warriors-
elect.” Rain batters my cheeks, my hair, my very bones. “I deserted, Callen. But I didn’t mean to.”

  “How did you not mean to?”

  “Let’s keep walking, and I’ll tell you.”

  We go back up the sandy ridge, and I tell him about Noam and the humans’ past offers of peace, how the sentinels lied, and about my decision to leave. “I was the only person who knew everything, Callen. It would have taken too long to find my sister or to rally others around me. I had to help. And now I’ve found you all, so I am helping. You wouldn’t know to hurry if it wasn’t for me.”

  Callen nods, but his expression stays locked in one of concern. “Ro, when you don’t report for duty—”

  “I know. It’ll look like I deserted.” I look everywhere but his stupidly handsome, familiar face. “I can deal with that later. We have other things to focus on, anyway. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

  “Rowan.” He says my name like he really knows me, and of course he does. He knows the years before my father’s death, before I decided to follow in his footsteps and become a warrior. He knows the side of me I don’t like to show—the vulnerable side, the one that’s absolutely crushed, leaving me feeling hollowed out.

  Tears start to mix with the rain streaming down my face. “If Tabrol dies, the city will fall. But if we find the cure fast enough, it’ll save him and all the other children. And, if skies are good, it’ll be enough for the king to get over the fact that I left without orders. So are you going to help me look for the stupid flower or not?”

  It shouldn’t be so easy, talking to him. But I fall back into it like stepping into an old pair of shoes. The flow of our words together and how quickly I can predict his.

  “Let’s look,” he replies. “Lead the way.”

  * * *

  Rain lashes against my skin, the fat droplets whipped by the wind. We must have looked for an hour, and nothing. I pull Callen’s cloak tightly against my body. It’s little use soaked with the sea’s spray, but it comforts me, anyway. Wind howls in my ears, and my head starts to hurt for how cold they are.