by Ken Scholes
The shadow passed over Ire’s face again. “That is what we’re taught,” she said. “Oddly enough, the Y’Zirites also believe their cuts and scars are for a higher purpose. And the Androfrancines believed something very similar about serving their light.”
Everyone, Marta thought, believing they did their part. And yet each group acted against the others, full of conviction and confidence. House Li Tam was largely gone, according to Ire Li Tam, cut away beneath the Y’Zirite knives. But not before using that very House to bring down Windwir and the Androfrancine Order, paving the way for an invasion of the Named Lands. An invasion that came with schools and evangelists and a new way of life. The Y’Zirites doing their part.
She couldn’t think of the city without thinking of Isaak. And when it came to mind, that small part of her that hated him for being the weapon that killed her mother came to life and she had to settle it down. Fortunately, the love was bigger.
Love is always bigger. It stirred up a memory, and she glanced to Ire. “What about the Lunarists?”
She blinked. “What about them?”
“Did they also have a way … a path?”
Ire nodded. “Certainly. They believed that the secrets of where we came from were hidden upon the moon with the last of the Younger Gods—that the moon was still inhabited.” Marta watched the woman draw from memory, her brows furrowed. “They believed in a coming time of restoration. Their doctrine was largely derived from the idea that five gifts had been given to us. The first two were choice and love.” She wrinkled her brow. “I think will and intelligence were two of the others, but it’s been years since I studied them.”
Marta opened her mouth to ask a question but closed it when she felt the slightest change in the vibration and dull hum of Behemoth’s engines. Her stomach fluttered, and she met Ire’s eyes. “We’re slowing down,” she said.
“And rising,” Ire added.
They were on their feet simultaneously, moving for the door. When they reached the corridor, Isaak was moving toward the hatch at the end.
Marta caught up to him. “Are we there?”
He looked down at her. “No. But we are very close. We’re preparing to enter the canal.”
The thought of the sky flooded her, and Marta felt an unexpected hope flood her as well. The idea of seeing the sun, the sky, maybe even land, made her mouth suddenly want to smile. “Are we going all the way up?”
Isaak nodded. “I need to check our position.” His eyes flashed red as he inclined his head. “And I thought you might like to breathe the fresh air while you can.”
They waited there by the hatch for what seemed an hour, saying nothing. Marta was startled when Isaak suddenly took hold of the wheel and spun it until the door swung open. She was even more startled when he quickly scooped her up into his arms to carry her through waist-deep water out into the opening mouth.
The sunlight blinded her after so long in the dim red light of Behemoth’s belly. She blinked at it, shielding her eyes with her upraised hand. Beyond it, she saw dark cliffs and a blue sky. Isaak carried her to the edge of the mouth and placed her feet on the high metal ridges at the base of the beast’s metal teeth. Ire came up beside her.
“The Barrens of Espira,” the Blood Guard said.
“Yes,” Isaak replied.
Marta followed their eyes out across dark waters and drew in a lungful of air that tasted different from any she’d breathed before. It tasted bitter and dry, the way she imagined bone powder to taste, and she suspected it was blown down from the high black cliff-tops.
Behemoth pointed toward a slight impression set into the cliffs ahead of them, and as they moved slowly closer, Marta saw that it was an opening. She wasn’t sure of how large until a ship emerged from it, long and low and dark.
Ire Li Tam gasped, and Marta heard a slight whistle from deep inside Isaak.
The ship was followed by another and another in short succession, and when they turned in Behemoth’s direction, she felt Isaak’s hand tighten in her own. “Who are they?”
But she knew who they had to be even before Ire answered. “Y’Zirite Imperial Navy.”
Isaak leaned out to study them, and Marta wondered if he saw more with his jeweled eyes than they could. He was quiet, his head moving over the vessels. “But they fly no flags,” he said.
The ships continued, and Behemoth did not adjust its course. It moved slowly, its metal body clanking through the water, on a course that would take it within an easy arrow flight of the Y’Zirites. As the Y’Zirite vessels drew closer, Marta saw the people that lined its railing, pointing to the massive beast she stood within. Still, even seeing them, the ships made no effort to slow or change course.
“And they are not wearing uniforms,” Ire added.
The ships were even closer now, and a man in a robe stood in the bow of the lead ship. He waved and Isaak returned the gesture. Marta and Ire did the same.
Then the man began pointing aft and as she followed his finger, Marta watched as a large patch of black cloth—a makeshift flag—unfurled upon the mast’s highest point.
Painted in white upon it stood a tree, and she knew it instantly. She was in the field again, hearing the words and feeling the wind rise up for the sowing. “It’s from the dream,” she whispered.
When Isaak spoke, she heard awe in his voice for the first time, and it made goose-skin break out over her body. “Yes,” he said. “It is.”
Ire’s voice held wonder in it as well. “These are ships from Ahm’s Glory,” she said. “They are refugees.”
“No,” Isaak said as the ships moved past them. He looked first to Ire Li Tam and then to Marta. “They are not refugees.” He looked back, his eyes upon the single flag they sailed under. “They are pilgrims of the dream.”
And Marta wasn’t sure exactly what a pilgrim was, but the tone with which he said it, and the tiny intake of breath from Ire Li Tam, were all she needed to know that it was a wonder of sorts she now beheld.
Marta closed her eyes and marked the moment, savoring the sunlight on her face and dreading the return she knew she must soon make, back into the belly of the beast.
Chapter
10
Winters
The muddy streets of Caldus Bay were drying as sunlight broke through a high layer of clouds and Winteria drew in a deep breath of the cold morning air. Erys walked beside her, moving with the deliberate stride of a soldier though they had no particular destination.
“I do not understand why I am doing this,” the officer said as she glanced to Winters.
Winters pushed to keep up. She’d been taking lunch alone in her room when Erys had come for her with boots and coat in hand. “Walk with me,” Erys had said, barely giving enough time to boot up and follow her out into the afternoon sun. They’d exited from the back of the house and slipped out a small gate, unaccompanied by any guards that Winters could see.
Now she looked at the woman. “I know why you are doing this,” she said. “It’s because you remember the dream; you remember how it felt.”
Their eyes met briefly, and Erys looked away. “I do remember it.” Her voice was hushed and solemn. “It’s like nothing I’ve experienced before.”
“I’ve not, either,” Winters said. Of course, it wasn’t technically true. She’d had dreams her whole life, and she’d even shared some of them with Neb. But even those were nothing like this one. It was a moment, pregnant with hope and history, shared by a vast multitude. Felt by all of us. “But I carry it within me and I long to follow it home.”
The officer said nothing for a moment, and Winters felt the change of subject like the opening and closing of doors in a hallway. “So I will send you in the custody of a squad of infantry. I considered sending my scouts with you, but I need them elsewhere. I’ve told them that unless you take them into harm’s way, they’re to escort you and your associates wherever you require.” They turned and moved up a slight hill, away from the center of town. “And that they ar
e to await orders from me regarding your final disposition. I will also provide whatever supplies you require.” She sighed and Winters heard resolve in it. “Including the voice magicks.”
“Thank you,” Winters said.
Erys looked back at her. “Don’t give me reason to regret this choice.”
She shook her head. “I will not.”
The woman nodded once. “Good. Now where will you start?”
It was a good question, and Winters had given it some thought. The answer had been easier coming than she’d expected it to be. “I’ll start here, of course,” she said. “In Caldus Bay.”
Erys looked surprised. “Here?”
She nodded. “Yes. There are ships here. I need ships. And even with the war, there’s still enough traffic to carry word farther down the coast.” She scanned the buildings around them, then looked off toward the forest. “I just need a good place to gather everyone.”
“We’ve used the docks. It gets cold, but there’s plenty of space.”
They continued discussing logistics as they walked, but Winters could tell that Erys had said all she needed to say both by the questions she now asked and the way her pace quickened. They rounded another corner and found themselves back at the manor where they’d started.
Erys stopped Winters at the door even as the guard there opened it. “I cannot come tonight,” she said, “for obvious reasons. But I do wish you well, Lady Winteria.”
Winters smiled and inclined her head. “Thank you for your help, Lieutenant Erys.” She searched the woman’s eyes and found the pain there quickly. But beside it, she saw something else—a yearning, an ache for something new and real to hang onto.
Because she’s lost everything. And she was going to lose more, Winters wagered, with what was coming. Whatever the Androfrancines released was going to decimate this woman’s ranks and likely take her own life as well. Winters had thought about this, tossing and turning in her bed to find a way to warn her. And from the guilt of wanting to save this one but not the whole of them. She’d made a compromise with herself. “Come with us, Erys.”
The Y’Zirite officer blinked. “Come with you?”
Winters reached out a hand and put it on the woman’s shoulder. “To the moon. Yes. Come home with us.” She narrowed her eyebrows. “I will need strong leaders who remember the dream. Leave this behind and join us.”
The woman regarded her, her eyes showing surprise on an otherwise placid face. She didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the guard. “See her to Sergeant Kyla. Tell the sergeant to get Lady Winteria whatever she needs.”
The soldier saluted, and Erys returned the gesture. Then, with another nod to Winters, the lieutenant was moving into the manor with that deliberate stride, leaving her in the care of her escort.
Winters spent the day making arrangements both for the journey she would undertake in the morning and the meeting she would host tonight. At one point, she checked in with Tertius and Hebda, updating the two Androfrancines on her plans even as she put them to work bearing her message to the mayor and dock steward of Caldus Bay. She considered getting word to the New Espiran, Captain Thrall, but decided he and his people were likely aware of the changes in her situation and monitoring her whereabouts from hiding. By late afternoon, she’d done all she could, including reoutfitting herself with a new pack, bedroll and fresh clothing from the Y’Zirite quartermaster.
As the sun prepared to set, Winters dressed in the simple clothing she’d laid out for the event and went downstairs to meet her escort and her Androfrancine traveling companions.
Hebda and Tertius waited by the door, both dressed in trousers and shirts that made them look more like locals than Androfrancines. She took up her boots and looked up with surprise when Erys joined them.
“I’ve changed my mind,” the lieutenant said. “I’ve decided to personally monitor tonight’s gathering.”
When they set out into the fading light, Winters felt the moths fluttering in her stomach again. Certainly she’d made her share of speeches and proclamations, and this would be no different.
Still, it felt different and she knew it was this new dream that made it so.
Bring them to the dream. The words and the voice that whispered them had haunted her now for days. “I will bring them,” she whispered.
They made their way down to the docks, and as they approached, she heard a buzz that grew to a rumble. Lanterns scattered the docks and the shoreline around it where pockets of people gathered. And it was a larger crowd than she’d imagined possible for such a small town, the men, women and children standing or sitting on whatever dry patches they could find as the temperature dropped and their breath billowed on the evening air.
She let the Y’Zirites lead her and the others to a section of the high dock that gave her the widest view of the crowd, and as she climbed the stairs to it, her hand moved to the small phial of voice magicks in her pocket. Gauging the size of the audience, she knew she would need very little of the bitter fluid. Even that little bit would carry her voice far beyond the town.
A small group of men waited for her, and one separated from them to walk toward her. He was an older, heavyset man with thinning hair. Erys spoke first.
“Lady Winteria, this is Mayor Harnim.”
Winters inclined her head first. “I’m honored to meet you.”
He flushed. “The honor is mine, Lady Winteria.”
The redness in his face brought heat to her own cheeks. He has been moved by the dream. The others with him also, she realized, as they gathered around her and introductions were made. Then, the others settled into the plain wooden chairs that had been brought for them.
As Winters approached the railing of the dock with the mayor by her side, a gasp rippled through the audience as those who’d been seated surged to their feet to catch sight of her. The noise of the crowd was such that the mayor’s brief introduction was largely lost and he offered a weak smile to her as he took his seat.
She returned it, then drew out the phial. Unstopping it, she touched the tip of her tongue to it to taste the smallest, bitter drop.
She felt the warmth moving down her throat, and she cleared her voice softly, listening to the rumble of it move out from her like distant thunder. “I am Winteria bat Mardic,” she declared in a whisper that roared out into the night. “You know me from the dream we shared.”
A cheer rose up from the audience and she remained quiet, waiting for them to finish. As she waited, she scanned the audience. The fishermen and sailors were easy to pick out, many of them listening from the boats and ships that were docked there. But there were also families and Y’Zirite soldiers.
She smiled. “You remember our dream.”
She saw the nods, and though she’d thought carefully about what she would say and had even scribbled out a few notes to keep her moving forward, Winters left the papers in her pocket and instead willed the words to work their way directly from her heart.
She started with the dream that had brought her riding forth to Windwir’s aid, a hidden and dreaming queen among the Marshers. She recounted meeting Neb, the Homeseeker, and the events that followed. As she spoke, she felt a connection with the people and watched their rapt faces as she whispered to them, her voice booming from the magicks that enhanced it.
And as she spoke, a movement to the left caught her eye: a tall, slender man dressed in clothes that hung too loosely from his frame. His white hair peeked out beneath a fisherman’s cap and his eyes were on her, bright as the look of wonderment and love upon his face as he hung upon her words.
It was not a face burning with light and rage and terror—not like the last time she had seen him—and it snared her, causing her to stumble over her words as she felt something powerful stirring within her.
It was all she could do not to stop and go to him in that moment. Her hands shook and she seized the railing, forcing her eyes away from him as she continued.
But even as she looked away, Win
teria bat Mardic smiled and knew that Neb saw that smile from where he watched among the crowd. And knowing brought more heat to her face. But Winters poured that passion into her words, eyes chancing along the way to meet the eyes of her Homeseeker as she brought her people once more to the dream.
Petronus
The jungle swept beneath them as the airship sailed east of the Firsthome Temple, and Petronus chuckled his amazement.
The pilothouse offered a wide view forward, starboard and port, with mirrors on hand cranks that could be deployed to view aft. The wheel and acceleration lever were simple affairs, and to the left of the wheel was a series of smaller levers and switches and a row of glass-encased dials. The captain had taken the wheel, dismissing the pilot to make room for their visitors.
Nadja laughed. “You look like a boy just now.”
He chuckled again and glanced at the girl in time to see her blush. “I’m flying,” he said.
She shrugged. “You flew to the moon.”
Petronus looked back to the window, watching the shadow of the airship speed across a carpet of green. “I did. And now I’m flying again. It’s—” He paused, trying to find the right word. “Remarkable.”
“Yes,” she said. “It is.”
He looked at the instruments and the captain’s hands upon the wheel. “Surely you fly all the time?”
“From time to time. But not on the moon.” Her smile widened. “Not with Pope Petronus.”
Now he blushed. Just one more way that he found this younger body responding to her. You are seventy-two years old, he told himself. No, seventy-three? He did the math, then gave up. For now—and for the days he had left—he was thirty. He’d been in his forties when he’d done the things she so openly admired during his papacy. Of course, she’d not been born yet when he’d done those things. “You overestimate my value to history, Ambassador,” he said.
She grinned. “Take us south now, Captain.”
He nodded and turned the wheel slowly. As the vessel began its turn, Petronus took hold of the railing. Nadja took hold of him, her hands sudden upon his arm as she stumbled against him and steadied herself. She was slow to release him, and Petronus found he didn’t mind.