Jarom sidled up beside Forest and glanced at the approaching rider. “Looks like Soren himself is joining us.”
Soren’s stallion quickly overtook the party, and he settled into its midst. He looked Forest over but said nothing. They rode for the remainder of the day toward the distant hills, and despite Jarom’s instructions, Forest was sore through and through when they stopped for the night. They sat around a fire, resting their weary muscles. Soren continued to watch Forest attentively but still said nothing.
On the second day, they stopped at midday and dismounted near a stand of dead trees. One of the riders pulled out a tin of white paint and approached the trees. He marked a spot on a dozen trees and put the tin away. He counted fifty paces back from the trees and etched a line in the dirt. Men began pulling out their bows.
“Target practice,” Jarom said to Forest, and she joined the men by pulling out her bow.
They spread themselves along the line in the dirt and determined from their place in line which tree was their target. They all drew back and let an arrow fly. Forest did her best, but she couldn’t match the strength of the men, and her arrow fell well short of the trees. One man thought this was hilarious and laughed uproariously at her failure.
Forest pulled out another arrow and marched forward twenty paces. She turned and fired her arrow, then two more in quick succession. When she was done, three arrows were sticking in the paint of the laughing man’s tree. Forest marched back to the party.
The man threw up his hands in surrender, and the party erupted in laughter. Even Forest, angry as she was, cracked a smile. The men shot for a little longer, then retrieved their arrows.
Forest was readying her horse when Soren strode over. She braced herself for whatever he’d say, but all he did was hold out her four arrows.
“Thank you,” she said and returned them to her quiver. Looking up, Soren had already walked away.
They rode for two more days until they were well into the foothills of the mountains. They rode toward a high pass until the way became too steep for the horses, then dismounted and made camp for the night. Early the next morning, they prepared to climb the remainder of the way on foot. One of their party was selected to stay with the horses and Forest was surprised that it wasn’t her.
As they clambered up the slope, the way grew more treacherous, and the air colder. Forest was thankful for the furs that Jarom had given her but shivered nevertheless. They crested the pass by midday and the feeble warmth of the sun was the only thing keeping Forest from turning into a block of ice. They settled in, sheltered from the wind, and waited.
“What are we waiting for?” Forest asked Jarom.
“The airships funnel through the passes. We can’t bring them down to where we are, but we can climb up to where they are.”
They huddled for a while, trying to keep warm until the lookout shouted, “Balloon!” They rubbed their arms to return some feeling to them and pulled out their bows. They arrayed themselves along the lip of the pass and waited for the airship to drift closer. The wind was ferocious and would wreak havoc with the trajectory of their arrows, but the balloon was a large target, so Forest hoped that would compensate.
The airship was still high above the ground when it was as close as it would come, so the men began loosing arrows at it. It occurred to Forest that there could be someone aboard the ship who would be doomed if they downed it, but it was a little late to think about that. Forest half-heartedly fired an arrow, but it fell short, and she didn’t bother with a second attempt. The ship seemed to remain just out of range of them all.
Soren threw down his bow in disgust and stormed back down the slope. One of the men collected it and trailed after him. Forest took this as her cue that the attempt had concluded and followed as well. The rest of the party joined them in clambering down the slope. Descending proved easier than ascending, and they made it back to the horses before nightfall. The man left to guard them had a fire going, and they huddled around it. Soren was in a foul mood, and that set the tone, so there was no banter that evening.
The next day, they began their return to camp. After a mostly silent ride, Soren rode up beside Forest.
“You’re not from the north,” he observed coolly.
“I’m Jarom’s niece,” Forest countered.
“And still not from the north. Curious. What’s your name, girl?”
“Forest.”
“That fits. You ride a horse like you’ve never been on one, and you’re ever watchful of your surroundings like the people of the forest, never truly relaxed, even around your own hearth.”
“One can’t count on the safety of one’s hearth anymore, can one?”
“You don’t approve of my cause?”
“I’m young. What do I know? I can only say that I don’t like death.”
“Sometimes, people need to make sacrifices for a better world.”
“I’ll bet those people wish it were someone else.”
“I’m sure they do, but their complacency is what keeps us all enslaved.”
There was nothing Forest could think of to say to that.
“You’re not a child of the winds,” he continued. “You don’t know that life. I am, and I do. I was ripped from a comfortable life and a family that loved me and was thrown to the mercy of strangers in an unforgiving land. I’ve sworn to end that cruelty.”
Trading one cruelty for another, Forest thought.
Soren read her disproval. “Let me tell you a story,” he began, shifting in the saddle. “There was a girl in my adopted village. Her name was Priya. She was like a little sister to me – a ray of sunshine in that shithole. Priya had a condition but it was manageable with an oil that we’d extract from the wood of a common tree. The problem was that no trees grew that far north, but wood products came regularly in the airships. Her condition would worsen between airship visits, but she’d perk up after a shipment of wood. One day, the airship didn’t contain a speck of wood. Neither did the next one. I thieved anything I could find in the village that was made of wood, but the longer it dried, the less oil we could extract. Her condition worsened by the day. I was caught stealing, whipped, and thrown in a hole as punishment. She died the day the next airship landed. It’s gods-damned compartments stayed locked until our village filled it what little we could spare. When its compartments opened, they were filled with cheaply-constructed wood furniture. Priya died with the cure in our grasp. The airships are evil. They must be destroyed,” he concluded, fists clenched around his reins.
Forest said nothing, digesting Soren’s pain and anger.
“You’re skeptical of my methods,” he noted.
“I can’t see how you can shoot down every airship.”
“Finally, something we agree on. This…” Soren said, gesturing to their party, “this is just sport. We’re passing the time while we prepare to march south, and when we do, the world will burn at our hands and every Gods-damn balloon with it.” He spurred his mount and rode away.
Jarom returned to take his place beside her, but all desire to talk had left her.
They made it back to camp and returned their horses to the care of the stable-hands. Jarom and Forest returned to their clan’s tent, and he regaled everyone with the story of her archery. Their cheers wrapped her in a warmth that only made what she had to do all the more difficult. Forest excused herself and prepared for the last good sleep she’d have for a long while, or maybe ever. Nara bounded up to join her and Forest sighed to herself that while she might not be left alone with her thoughts as she wished, Nara’s attentions reminded her of Lily’s, and it pleased her.
Forest woke early and pulled herself away from a snoring Nara. She gathered her belongings and snuck out of the tent. She hadn’t planned on sneaking away entirely and, as she expected, Jarom greeted her from his spot by the fire.
“Do you sleep at all?” she asked him, sitting down.
“Not when happiness keeps me awake, or sadness.”
“I can’t stay.”
“I know. Neither could my brother.”
“You’ve been so kind to me.”
“You may not be my blood, but you move through my heart just the same. You’ll always have a place by our hearth.”
“Thank you.”
“I took the liberty of packing supplies for your journey,” he told her, gesturing to her pack at his side.
“I can’t thank you enough,” she said and leaned into him.
He put an arm around her and held her tightly.
Forest got up slowly and secured her pack, bow, and quiver. “Please apologize to Nara for me. I doubt she’d let me go if I waited to say goodbye in person.”
“She’s tougher than she lets on, but I will.”
“Goodbye, uncle.”
“Goodbye, niece.”
32
Kala
After her perplexing dinner with the Priestess, an acolyte showed Kala back to her room, where she slept fitfully despite the comfortable bed. When dawn peeked through her window, she gave up trying to sleep and decided to clear her head with some exercise. She dressed in her fighting leathers. They molded to her skin but were soft and afforded her ease of movement. She left her room and began a vigorous run around the wall that circled the grounds. On her third lap, she spied Brother Grey practicing the movements of a strange fighting style. She pulled up alongside him, panting, and greeted him.
He finished his routine and acknowledged her.
“Can you teach me that?” she asked.
“I highly doubt it,” he replied, “You fight like an animal.”
“Try me.”
He sighed and stared at her for a long while. She began to grow uncomfortable under his gaze, but he relented. “Okay. A fight is like a dance. That much is clear. Correct?”
She nodded.
“The space that you leave empty between you and your opponent is as important as the distance you close when you strike.”
“I was told something like that when I was young. If you don’t want to be hit, don’t be where they expect you to be.”
“It goes well beyond that. It isn’t just your body, it’s every part of your body, and it’s as much about offense as it is about defense. Where you’ve been, where you are, and where you plan to be all coexist, each layered on top of the other. Your opponent’s path and yours combine to form the dance. Your goal is to see your opponent’s path more clearly than they see yours and exploit the clarity that it gives you.”
“I think I understand,” Kala replied.
“Very well, then hit me.”
Kala swung a fist, but Brother Grey was no longer in front of her, and she felt pressure on the back of her knee, guiding her to the ground.
“You looked where you intended to hit before you moved. Try again.”
Kala swept out a leg that Brother Grey leaped over.
“You were well-positioned for that.” He angled sideways to her. “Again.”
Kala spun into him with a back-handed elbow. He turned with and used her momentum to throw her to the ground.
“I thought you might try something you hadn’t tried yet,” he said. “Seems I was right.”
“So, you read what I would do, what I was doing, and what I had done to anticipate my movements.”
“You’re smarter than you look. End of lesson,” he said and walked away.
Kala spent the day striking imaginary opponents and thinking about her movements. Brother Grey often walked past and nodded his appreciation or politely corrected her posture. She began to join him in the gardens in the morning and spar with him. He was spare and measured in everything he did, including his lessons, but she began to see several steps ahead in their sparring. She concluded that he saw much farther because he always succeeded in unbalancing her or landing a blow. Still, the time between his successes lengthened, and that was the only clue that she made progress.
“Hide what you can of your path and move in a way that implies a different path altogether. Clouding your intentions is as important as divining your opponent’s,” he told her.
She tried, but it took her a very long time to master subtlety, and he was merciless while she did.
Kala was walking past the building that housed the classrooms when she saw the Priestess enter it. Curious about what manner of classes she taught, Kala followed her at a distance. The Priestess turned away from the classrooms, however, and proceeded in the direction in which Brother Grey had indicated the catacombs lay. She remembered his telling her that they were off-limits, but curiosity got the better of her, and she followed the Priestess.
There were no torches in the stairways and tunnels that descended into the earth, but the lichen on the walls gave off a faint luminescence that was barely sufficient to see by. The Priestess had long disappeared, but Kala tracked her by her scent. The soap she used left its own barely perceptible trail. Kala descended until she saw a faint glow ahead. She crept closer and peeked into an open room.
At the center of the room was a large crystal that glowed red. Atop the red crystal sat a smaller blue crystal. The blue one would flash, followed by a cascade of flashes in the red one below it. The colored light shimmered off the smooth walls of the room. It was hypnotic.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice behind Kala asked.
She froze.
The Priestess placed a hand on Kala’s shoulder. “It’s all right. Sit with me.” She guided her to a stone bench in front of the crystals. They sat down in silence and watched the lights careen within the crystal.
“What is it?” asked Kala.
“The Ancients,” the Priestess replied. “They descended eons ago.”
“Into the crystal?”
“Yes. There are as many souls in there as there are stars in the heavens.”
“How?”
“A magic or technology lost to time.”
“What do they do in there?”
“When I feel them, it feels like they’re dreaming a shared dream. They speak to us sometimes.”
“How do they do that?”
“Mostly through pictures in your head; sometimes a scent or taste; sometimes the memory of a word.”
“How do you know it’s them?”
“Three of us frequent this chamber. We share our revelations, and if they align, we know them to be from the Ancients and not the product of an idle mind.”
“How do you know that you’ve interpreted their meaning correctly?”
“The Ancients are unfailingly prescient. They prophesied your arrival more than a hundred years ago. We’ve been waiting for you. The prophecy scroll is in the library. You should read it.”
Kala had many questions, but she kept most of them to herself. How do you trust the Ancients’ intentions? How do you know they retain their humanity?
She asked, instead, “What am I prophesied to do?”
“A cleansing fire sweeps the north. You are to raise a mighty wave that extinguishes it and restores balance.”
“What if I refuse this role?”
The Priestess rose and bade Kala stand. “The Ancients are never wrong. You’ve already accepted it, whether you know it or not,” she said and led her from the room.
The next day, Kala cut short her training with Brother Grey and made her way to the library after showering. A kindly-looking woman met her at the entrance.
“Raven, I presume,” the woman said, extending her hand. “I’m Tallie, the temple librarian. I’ve been waiting for your visit.”
“You’ve been waiting?”
“You may be the hand of Mistress Death, but knowledge guides the hand, and knowledge is my domain,” she replied, gesturing to the rows upon rows of books and scrolls.
Kala felt overwhelmed by the volume.
“The Priestess said you’d probably wish to start with your own scroll. I’ll show you to it.” The librarian led her to a small, well-lit room. She scowled at the torches that lined the walls. “Careful as we a
re, the smoke wreaks havoc on the scrolls, but you’re in luck that this one has been recently restored. I’ll leave you to it,” she said and bowed out.
Kala unfurled the scroll and examined it. It contained much of what the Priestess had already told her about cycles of destruction and rebuilding. It spoke of a girl, wrapped in darkness who descends from the heavens, plunges the world into fire, and rebirths it. The scroll gave no specifics, but at least she now knew who they believed her to be. When the actual girl in the prophesy shows up, she’s going to be pissed, Kala thought and rolled the scroll back up. She glanced at the torches and decided to carry the scroll out to the librarian.
“I finished it. Thank you,” Kala told her and placed it on the librarian’s desk. “To be honest, it’s a bit epic. Could I maybe start with something a little more down to earth?”
“A girl after my own heart. What did you have in mind?”
“I want to have a better understanding of the world and how it’s laid out. I’ve only seen small corners of it.”
“I know exactly where you should start, but it isn’t here. Follow me,” Tallie said and led her toward the door.
Kala looked at all the books and scrolls stacked to the ceiling and winced at the thought that there could be even more information elsewhere. How could a person sift through it all?
Tallie led her outside, between buildings, and finally up stairs until they stood before a guarded door. Tallie smiled at the monk guarding it and knocked. A moment later, the door swung open.
“Eden dear, this girl would like to see your map.”
33
Dhara
Dhara sat up in the confines of the dark tunnel. She tentatively removed her hands from her ears and found that the panic that had assailed her earlier had vanished. Not wanting to make any noise, she gently pulled Kaia’s hands way from her ears and helped her up. They pulled the bits of leaves out of their ears. Torchlight flashed outside the tunnel, but it was dulled, as though viewed from deep underwater.
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