by Amy Ewing
She nuzzled into his shoulder. “We haven’t reached the island yet,” she reminded him. “It will not feel real until I see the tether with my own eyes.”
Matthias walked up to them. “What happened back there?” he asked. Sera explained about the memory sharing, no longer afraid to declare her magic to humans. Matthias’s pale eyes grew wide as she spoke. When she finished, he said, “It is a good thing we left when we did. My mother would never have let you go.”
“How long until we reach Braxos?” Eneas asked, coming up to them, Agnes and Vada trailing behind.
Sera shrugged. “Errol does not understand distance like we do.” She peered into the water again and gasped. “Leo, look!”
The waters around the ship were dotted with mertags. Errol was not their only escort, it seemed. Errol saw her and popped up out of the water again.
“Some of my family has come along,” he said. “They wish to help the Cerulean who saved me. There is fighting back on Culinnon and they want no part of it. There will be death today, human and mertag both.” He sniffed at the air and then looked back the way they had come. “By snails and seaweed, let us hope it does not follow us.”
“Yes,” Sera murmured, her fingertips flashing. “Let us hope.”
One day out from Culinnon, the mist appeared.
It was delicate at first, clinging to the water’s surface like a cloud to a nebula leaf. The wind grew colder but Sera did not mind. It felt good to be sailing again.
She was standing at the rail with Agnes when Errol emerged from the water.
“Ships are coming,” he said. “Ships with golden suns along with ships of Culinnon.”
When Sera translated for Agnes, she pursed her lips, her face stony. “The Renalt and my grandmother,” she said. “I suppose it was too much to think they would keep each other distracted. Ambrosine must have noticed that we left. She’s coming after us. And the Renalt is coming after her.”
“This ship is very fast,” Sera said, gazing up at the billowing sails.
“Let’s hope it’s faster than those clandestines,” Agnes said.
The mist grew heavier and heavier, slowing their pace, and then the fog took them and everything disappeared.
Errol led them carefully, even slower now. The fog left dewdrops in Sera’s hair and sent little shivers down her spine. It grew denser by the minute, surrounding the sloop in thick clouds of pearly gray. When Sera looked down she could barely make out the water lapping at the hull—if not for Errol’s light, they would have been lost in minutes.
The benefit of this was that there was surely no way Ambrosine or the Renalt could follow them in it.
The first destroyed ship took them completely by surprise. One second there was nothing but fog; the next, the prow of a half-sunken galleon was rearing up on their left.
Errol flashed and his family lit up the water, illuminating a safe path. The clipper veered, Matthias at the helm, narrowly missing the figurehead, a wooden dolphin with half its nose missing. Sera thought she saw a body floating in the water surrounding the wreck, but she couldn’t bring herself to look too closely and then the fog swallowed it up.
They passed several more wreckages, ships with gaping holes in their hulls, tattered sails hanging from their splintered masts. They were ghost ships, shrouded in grayish white, silent forevermore. Some had shredded Kaolin flags draped over their prows, others the green-and-silver flag of Pelago. The fog did not care for country or allegiance.
“There is a presence here,” Vada said. “It does not want us.”
Sera had sensed it too, but not the same way Vada did.
“It’s the tether,” she said. “It is protecting itself from your kind. But it . . . it calls to me. It sings.”
She could hear it faintly, could feel it resonating in her chest like a violin string. It kept her going, kept her hopeful as a silence so unnervingly complete fell around them. Even the water lapping at the ship had ceased to make any noise. Agnes had her hands pressed against her ears as if the silence was somehow too loud, and Leo was pale and drawn, gripping the rail so tight his knuckles looked about to split through his skin.
“It feels like this will be forever,” Eneas said dully. “Silence and fog and nothing else and no one left to remember.”
Sera clutched Leela’s pendant tight, praying for the fog to end.
“Look!” Agnes cried suddenly, and though her voice was muted, there was a spark of life in it.
In the distance there was a crack in the mist—a thin strip of silver that was widening as they approached. Like the first breath after being underwater for too long, the fog parted and the ship sailed into a circle of bright blue sky, so stunningly clear it made tears well up in Sera’s eyes.
Oh, thank you, Mother Sun, she prayed. The change in her companions was noticeable—Leo’s shoulders relaxed, Agnes stood to get a better view, Eneas and Vada exchanged tentative smiles.
“Braxos, Sera Lighthaven!” Errol cried from the water.
“Braxos,” his family echoed around him.
The waters surrounding the island glittered with jewels, some as big as ostrich eggs, colorful spots shining beneath the waves like a garden of light. White-sand beaches stretched across the shoreline, the land covered with lush green trees. And high above them, perched at the top of an ivory cliff, were the ruins they had seen in the photograph, copper doors shining—and the many-pointed star set directly over them, the same as the star on Sera’s necklace. The temple was made of rose-colored stone, with jutting, winding turrets and towers swirling up toward the sky like snakes. It was partially caved in on one side.
“By the goddesses,” Matthias murmured.
“We did it,” Leo said, breathless and a little befuddled. “We actually did it.”
Then everyone on the ship was laughing and cheering, clapping each other on the back and kissing cheeks. Home was so close, Sera could taste it.
“Ships!” Errol cried, his lights flashing danger. “Sera Lighthaven, the fog has gone. See, see, look, the ships are coming, the ships can see us now!”
In front of her were two hulking warships flying the golden sun flag of the Renalt. Off to her right, Sera caught glimpses of clandestines, visible when the light hit their hulls in a certain way.
The ships were pointed in all different directions, lost amid the fog, but Sera saw them begin to turn now, as the island that was once such a mystery had suddenly become crystal clear.
“We need to land now,” she said, but Matthias was already steering the clipper toward a smooth strip of beach. Once it hit sand, they all jumped out into water up to their knees. The ruins towered above and Sera had to shield her eyes from the sun. The tether was there, shining proudly up from its center, and she felt herself grow dizzy and eager and nervous all at once.
“Let’s go before those other ships get here,” Leo said.
There was a path from the beach, covered in leaves and smooth pebbles. They hurried along as quickly as they could—it was overgrown and sometimes they lost sight of it and had to double back. And always it climbed higher and higher. Agnes’s breath began to come in sharp pants and Vada clutched her side. Leo’s face was bright red and Eneas began to fall behind, Matthias even further back.
“Go on without me,” Matthias said, but Agnes moved to walk beside him, letting him lean on her shoulder, while Leo helped Eneas.
Up and up . . . and all the while the moonstone grew warmer against Sera’s chest, whispering to her in unknown words that spoke of home. When at last they reached the top, they were sweating and out of breath. Eneas collapsed onto his back, panting, Matthias slumped beside him. Leo leaned against a tree as Agnes sank to her knees. Only Vada and Sera remained standing.
“That,” Vada gasped. “Was quite the climb.”
A fat golden honeybee buzzed lazily by them and perched itself in the horn of an enormous purple flower. The sun shone like a golden aurum in the sky, and the grass was softer than seresheep fleece. The t
rees hung heavy with fruit, ripe plums and peaches, yellow pears and juicy red apples. And right in front of them, the temple soared upward, the doors open as if they had been waiting.
The many-pointed star pulsed out a welcome that Sera’s moonstone returned.
“The tether is inside,” Sera said. “I can feel it.”
Agnes struggled to her feet. “We’ll go with you.”
Leo didn’t say anything; he just straightened and looked at her with the blue-green eyes she had come to know so well, eyes that said to her now, “I will be with you to the end.” She knew he would let her go no matter how much it hurt.
“We’ll wait here,” Vada said. “These men are needing rest.”
“I am sorry, my friends,” Eneas said.
“I can come,” Matthias said, struggling to get to his feet. Sera stopped him with a gentle shake of her head.
“No, you have done enough. More than enough.” Then she leaned down and whispered, “Take good care of them.”
When she passed Eneas, he took her hand and kissed it. “Bless you,” he said. “And all you have done for this family. I wish you could see it. It all began with you.”
Sera’s first thought when she stepped inside the ruins was that this temple was almost like the one in the City Above the Sky.
The ceiling was vaulted and painted with moons and a sun and stars. But the paintings were ancient and not well tended—they were chipped and crumbling in places. The room was huge, circular walls of rose stone with alcoves cut into them that held sconces of copper, though they bore no light now, no candle or wick to be seen.
“Wow,” Leo said, and his voice echoed in the cavernous space.
When they reached the opposite side, they found a door so short they all had to duck to get through it. The next room was smaller and entirely overrun with plants. Ivy devoured the walls, saplings pushed their way up from the cracks in the stone floor, and dandelions and ferns and thistles carpeted the ground. The following room was so dark they had to feel their way along the walls to find the door to get out. It led them into an impossibly cold room with water trickling down the walls, lichen growing in the ancient stone.
At last they emerged into a huge courtyard that was oddly shaped—it took Sera a moment to recognize the many-pointed star, various prongs of stone shooting out from the open center. The tether was stuck into a fountain of frozen water that curled and arched and glittered in the sunlight, as if it had once been bright and bubbling and was caught by a sudden frost. The fountain itself was made of pale pink stone, three tiers with carvings along their edges. The beauty of the tether would have struck her dumb if not for the other, more surprising feature of this courtyard.
Kneeling by the temple was a woman. Not just any woman—a Cerulean. Her blue hair was streaked with silver and when she looked up, Sera saw there were deep wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. Her irises were dim and milky, a blue as pale as the sky at dawn. She struggled to her feet, leaning heavily on the fountain for support, her gaze fixed on Sera.
“Elysse?” she whispered.
Sera’s feet felt cemented to the stone floor. “I am Sera Lighthaven,” she said in a quavering voice. “Who are you?”
“I am Wyllin Moonseer,” the woman replied. Sera’s rib cage seemed to collapse, her head spinning as Leo grabbed her arm to steady her.
“But . . . you are dead,” she gasped. “You died when you created this tether.”
The lines around Wyllin’s mouth deepened. “I should have died many, many years ago, Sera Lighthaven. Have you come to break the tether and set me free to live in Mother Sun’s eternal embrace at last?”
“I have come to go home,” Sera said. “I was hoping the tether could help me get back to the City Above the Sky.”
“The tether cannot do that,” Wyllin replied. “Only moonstone can.” She frowned. “You must have some, if you are here at all.”
Sera took the pendant from beneath her dress and held it out for Wyllin to see. “My best friend gave this to me before . . . before I fell. I was supposed to break the tether, but . . .” She trailed off.
“So,” Wyllin murmured. “She decided it was finally time to leave.” She stepped toward Sera and cupped the stone gently in her hands. “This was mine,” she said. “I sent it to the City months ago, before the fountain froze. The tether can take things, as it nourishes the City, and I hoped . . .” She pressed her thumb to the pendant. “I do not know what I hoped. That someone would find it, and read my heart contained within it. That it would make a difference. I did not think to see it back on this planet again.”
All this was a bit more information than Sera felt herself able to handle. “How are you alive?” she asked. “How is this possible?”
“Elysse is still the High Priestess, is she not?”
Sera had never known the High Priestess’s name. “Yes.”
Wyllin nodded and closed her eyes. “She had a plan,” she said. “And I agreed to it. For the good of the City. For the health of our people. But it was not meant to last this long.” When she opened them, they shone with tears. “I never thought I would see another Cerulean again.”
“Can you help Sera get home?”
Sera had almost forgotten her friends. Agnes was looking at Wyllin with a mix of awe and determination. “We have traveled so far. Please. We want to get her back to her city.”
Wyllin seemed to only just notice them as well. “Humans,” she said, confused. “Humans are helping you?”
Sera nodded. “They have risked much to bring me here.”
Wyllin’s smile was a private, gentle thing. “So she was wrong after all,” she said. “I am glad to see it.” She turned to Sera, but before she could say anything else, there was a flash of brilliant light and then something fell into the courtyard, sending up a cloud of dust that made Sera choke and her eyes water.
“What . . .” Leo gasped, coughing and swatting at the air.
When the dust cleared, a young woman was standing beside the fountain, looking utterly shocked as she stared around at the courtyard. And Sera felt all her fear and confusion turn to joy.
“Leela!” she cried.
Part Six
The Island of Braxos, Pelago
and
the City Above the Sky
32
Leela
THE POOL HADN’T FELT LIKE WATER WHEN LEELA JUMPED through it.
She’d expected liquid to soak her the way the stalactite had when she’d freed Estelle, but instead she’d fallen through a thick gelatin-like substance and emerged completely dry. She caught a fleeting glimpse of shock on the High Priestess’s face before she was tumbling through space, the stars bright around her, the stalactites swirling in her vision.
The descent took ages—at some point it felt like she was no longer even falling, as if she was simply suspended in the cold endless black of space. It was cold, colder than anything she’d felt before, colder than the glowing blue columns of the Sky Gardens or the frosty grass in the cloudspinners’ grove. Her lungs expanded and contracted, but breathing wasn’t comfortable here, not at all the same as she was used to. The planet never seemed to come any closer.
Until all at once, it did.
She hit the atmosphere and her skin sizzled for several painful moments, the tether turning from winking silver-gold-blue to a thin streak of fire. But before the terror was truly able to set in—that she might actually die and her theory of moonstone was wrong—a pearly mist engulfed her, cool and soothing like a balm against her skin. She hung suspended and sensed the mist was waiting for her to make a decision.
I need to find Sera, she thought, and then her whole body was wrenched back and flung forward and she was falling fast, too fast, everything blurred, the wind howling in her ears, and just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, her feet hit solid ground and a cloud of dust engulfed her.
And there was Sera. Real, true, living, breathing Sera.
“Leela!” she cried. T
hen they were running, colliding into each other.
“You’re here,” Leela said breathlessly.
Sera pulled away, tears sparkling in her eyes. “You are here!” she cried. “How . . . how?”
Leela held up her wrist with the moonstone cuff. “I was right,” she said. “It’s the moonstone, Sera. It saved you. It brought me here. Moonstone allows us to travel between the planet and the City. It does so much that we never knew.”
Sera was examining the bracelet with awe. “Where did you find this?”
“In the temple spire. There is a secret place beneath it. The High Priestess has been hiding all the moonstone inside it.”
“Of course. She is so afraid.”
Leela whirled at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and stared in shock at the ancient Cerulean woman standing before them. “Who are you?”
“This is Wyllin,” Sera explained. “She did not die. She has been here on the planet all along.”
“Wyllin?” Leela more mouthed the word than spoke it. “But . . . how can you be alive and also have formed the tether?”
“Because there is a way,” Wyllin said. “A way to create the tether without death, though it leads to death in the end, anyway. Just a longer, slower one.” Her words seemed to carry a weight that grew heavier as she spoke, and she leaned against the fountain. “The circlet Elysse wears is the first moonstone Mother Sun ever gifted the City, passed down from each High Priestess. It contains all the power and knowledge of every single High Priestess who has ever lived. That was how she learned about the fruit, about how to make Cerulean magic into another tangible form, one that could be consumed instead of one that was merely connective. It was done centuries before we were born, by a High Priestess named Elbeth, she told me. As a precaution against a long voyage through space. She wished to see if she could preserve Cerulean magic and use it to boost the magic within her people during the journey—it was she who first put a Cerulean in a stalactite. But it was done willingly and not for very long.”
“It is not being done willingly anymore,” Leela said sharply.