She’d shrugged. “Maybe your parents really like birds. Now, stop interrupting. Peter? Patreol?”
He’d sighed loudly. “Are you going to keep this up for the whole journey?”
Stella’d smiled. The best part of the game was how much it annoyed him.
Still, they managed to get along, even in the cramped quarters of the cargo bay, and there were even a few moments it seemed like they could be friends, if it weren’t for…something. It wasn’t just that she didn’t know his real name. Cyrus’s eyes were full of secrets, and every time it looked like he might be on the verge of sharing one of those secrets with her, his eyes became shadowed, and he withdrew into his thoughts and didn’t speak.
He refused to answer any of her questions about him at first, or he’d pretend not to hear her. This frustrated Stella to no end, but eventually, she started to recognize a pattern to his refusals and silences. Whenever she asked him for information directly related to where he was from, like what the name of his hometown was or how big the uncharted lands were, he’d refuse to answer or just give out vague details like, he lived in a big house in a big city. But he was willing to talk about the expeditions that had brought him and dozens of others to her part of Solace over the last five years.
“We were chosen for the missions for many of the same reasons as the crew of the Iron Glory,” he had explained as he bent over one of Stella’s maps of the ship. “We each have a set of skills that helps us survive. Some of us are healers or navigators, and others are just good at blending in.”
Remembering that comment, Stella couldn’t help the little shudder that passed through her. Who were these people from the uncharted lands, these strange visitors who had been spying on them for years? Could they be dangerous? What was the Iron Glory going to find once they crossed the mountains?
Lost in her own thoughts, Stella almost stepped into the path of a woman in a bright green coat who was pacing the deck. Stella stood perfectly still as the woman walked past her, inches away from bumping her shoulder. Then the woman stopped and gripped the railing, looking out over the stern as Stella had been doing. Probably checking to see how much ice had formed on the ship’s hull.
Ever so slowly, Stella backed away, putting some distance between herself and the woman so she wouldn’t turn suddenly and walk into her. Rubbing her gloved hands together for warmth, the woman glanced around, making a cursory inspection of the deck and looking right through Stella as she did so.
Stella held perfectly still as the woman’s gaze passed over her. Any minute, she expected her to let out a shriek and point. There she is! Stowaway! Stowaway!
Or worse. Saboteur! Saboteur!
But in the end, the woman just yawned, stamped her boots for warmth, then turned around and walked back toward the hatch that led down to the lower decks. Stella watched her go and tried to banish the rubbery-leg feeling that swept over her.
No amount of practice with the invisibility suit would ever familiarize her to people looking straight through her.
Once she was sure no one else was headed her way, Stella returned her gaze to the mountains, hoping the view might calm her.
A line of hateful clouds loomed on the horizon, a slash across the sky like a scar.
Stella cringed. There it was—the storm, bearing down on them with frightful speed.
She wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the oncoming danger. Shouts went up all over the deck just then, and the lookout in the crow’s nest rang the warning bell, its coppery tones cutting through the frigid air.
“Storm coming! Everyone below deck! To your stations! Go! Go! Go!”
Even they know it’s bad, Stella thought. She clutched the rail, unable to look away from the ominous clouds signaling that it wasn’t any ordinary storm.
As she stood there, a blast of frigid wind struck her full in the face. The temperature on deck had plummeted just in the last minute, and the dark scar on the horizon was growing, a hideous monster crawling toward them.
Turning, Stella watched as the crew went single file through the hatch to the lower decks, the last man slamming the metal door behind him. Minutes later, the door opened slowly, and Cyrus poked his head out and looked around. “Stella?” he called softly.
“I’m here,” Stella answered, lifting her veil so she became visible. “You can come out. The deck’s clear.”
“Good.” Cyrus stepped out on deck and shut the hatch. He was dressed in a heavy coat and hat that they’d scavenged from one of the supply crates, a scarf wrapped around his neck, but no gloves. He had his knapsack on his back and a long metal bar in his hand, which he’d found in the cargo bay. He wedged it between the door and the deck. “I don’t think this will hold if someone really wants to open this door,” he said, “but it could discourage people from coming up here during the storm.”
“How long do we have before it hits?” Stella asked, pointing at the cloud line.
Cyrus squinted at the horizon, and his face paled. “Ten minutes, maybe, but probably less,” he predicted.
Stella’s heart sank. So soon! How long would it take Cyrus to put up his protection barrier around the Iron Glory? She followed him across the deck to the mast, where a ladder led up to the crow’s nest.
“How did we come upon the storm so quickly?” Stella asked as Cyrus prepared to climb. “One minute the skies were clear, and the next, they turned black.”
Cyrus paused with his hand on a ladder rung. His knuckles were already red from the cold. “I’m not exactly sure how it works,” he said, “but the storm is always in the same place and spread over so wide an area of the mountain range that we can’t fly around it. Luckily, our ships are made of aletheum top to bottom, so they were able to make it through without too much damage to the hull. Our scientists believe that the storm is some kind of artificially generated climate.”
“Artificial?” Stella echoed in disbelief. “But if that’s true, then…what…or who’s making it? And why?”
Cyrus shrugged. “Someone on the ground? Maybe there’s a hidden city down there that doesn’t want trespassers. That’s one theory the scientists have.”
A city in the frozen heart of the mountains. Stella had heard stories about such a thing, but she’d thought they were just that—stories. “That’s impossible,” she said. “People couldn’t survive down there, living in freezing temperatures, cut off from the rest of the world.”
“Maybe, but I wonder. The world’s a lot bigger than you think it is, Stella,” he said soberly. “Like you said, up to now, you’ve been living in one corner of it.” He hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure how much he should say. “I think there are a whole bunch of other lands out there, beyond our seas, just waiting to be discovered. And if that’s true, maybe there are other things that aren’t so ‘impossible’ going on right under our noses.”
Cyrus glanced up at the crow’s nest. “I need to hurry and get up there. Stay down here on the main deck and keep watch. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Wait a minute,” Stella said, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “You didn’t say anything about needing to go up in the crow’s nest alone.”
“There’s not much room,” Cyrus said. “But it’s the highest point on deck, which makes it easier to cast the protection net, so that it covers every part of the ship.”
“But you won’t have any protection from the storm,” Stella argued. “And the last time you used your power, you passed out!”
“That was nothing,” Cyrus said, scowling. “I just released too much power too quickly trying to make a permanent shield. I’ll be weak for this, but I won’t pass out again. Now, I have to go. If I don’t get this protection net set up, the ship won’t make it, and my way home is sunk. I’m not about to let that happen.” He pulled away from her and started to climb the ladder.
Stella sighed, frustration gnawing at her. Cyrus acted so sure of himself, yet by her count, he’d only been through this storm one other time. She wasn�
��t about to trust him to do this alone.
Pulling the veil back down over her face, she waited for the suit to activate and then grabbed the closest ladder rung and started to climb.
Though she was invisible again, Cyrus must have heard her footsteps on the ladder, for he looked down and glared at her—or at the empty air where she should be. “I said stay down there and keep watch!”
“We don’t have time to argue about this,” Stella said curtly. “I can keep a much better lookout from up in the crow’s nest, and I can watch your back at the same time. I promise not to get in the way. Is that good enough for you—Quentin? Quartus? Quill?” She grinned, though he couldn’t see it.
Cyrus snorted. “Fine—I surrender. Just stop the name game, and watch yourself. It’s going to get rough up here.”
That was the only warning Stella had before the clouds reached out to swallow them.
The sky darkened to a false night, and a gust of wind tore at Stella’s suit, finding every tiny gap in the metal fabric. She clutched the ladder rung tighter. She felt weightless, adrift in a cold, dark nightmare. The frigid air burned in her lungs. Above her, the repaired cables holding the ship’s gasbag creaked and strained as the envelope bobbed and twisted at the whim of the wind. But the Iron Glory fought its way forward, into the storm.
Finally, after it seemed like they were climbing to the top of the world, the pair reached the end of the ladder and came up through the floor of the crow’s nest. It was a small, round platform protected by a double railing, a space just big enough to fit four people crowded together. Above them, the banners of the Merrow Kingdom and the Dragonfly territories snapped violently in the wind.
Cyrus flailed his hands until he found her arm. He turned her and pointed to a spot on the floor of the crow’s nest a few feet away. “Crouch down there and hold on tight to the railing!” He had to shout above the howling wind. “Remember, if you move, I won’t know where you are! I’ll be right here next to you.” He rubbed his bare hands together for warmth and then held them up so she could see them. “You can watch my back, but you can’t touch me while I’m using my power, you understand? When you see the gold light, don’t touch me.”
His face was dead serious, with no trace of his usual careless smile. He’d said the same thing to her in the hallway when they’d first met. “Don’t touch me.” Stella opened her mouth to ask why, but at that instant, the ship shuddered, rocking beneath them, and she had to grab the railing for balance. “All right!” she shouted in agreement. She crouched where he had directed her and got a firm grip on the railing. From this vantage, she had a view of every corner of the deck below.
“Here we go!” Cyrus arranged himself beside her and grabbed the railing with his bare hands, wincing as his fingers curled around the freezing metal. How could he stand the cold?
Stella got her answer a second later when a halo of golden radiance outlined his fingers, slicing through the darkness and bringing with it a wave of heat that flowed over her and instantly made her feel as if she were standing next to a roaring campfire.
The last time Stella had seen Cyrus use his power there hadn’t been this warmth. What was different? Was he protecting the ship’s hull from ice? Creating a shield that would last through the storm? Or just using more power than he had before?
Whatever he was doing, it seemed to work immediately. The ship steadied beneath them as the light flowed down the mast and spread across the deck in liquid gold waves, creating a buffer that absorbed the worst of the storm’s blows. It would still be a rough ride, but she thought the ship could handle it.
Cyrus had been telling the truth. He could get them through this.
Hope surged in Stella, but she didn’t have time to savor it, for just then, a loud clinking, like hundreds of pebbles bouncing off metal, filled her ears, and then the pebbles were falling on her, stinging her skin even through the thick suit.
Of course, they weren’t pebbles. Stella bent over the crow’s nest railing and watched the ice shards fall, faster and thicker until the deck was coated white and the clinking sound became a roar.
The wind attacked.
The first gust hit Stella from behind, knocking her against the crow’s nest railing. The Iron Glory groaned and listed starboard. Next to her, Cyrus balanced on his knees, gasping as the wind, the ice, and the tilting ship all fought to break his concentration. Stella automatically reached out, wanting to grasp his shoulder, but at the last second remembered what Cyrus had told her.
“Don’t touch me.”
Reluctantly, she pulled her hand back and glanced up at the sky. They were surrounded by the storm now, the darkness and falling sheets of ice making it hard to see. A clanging sound drew her attention below. The metal bar Cyrus had used to wedge the hatch door shut had been knocked away by the wind and was now rolling around on the deck.
It hardly mattered, Stella thought. None of the crew would dare come out here now, and she was beginning to think she and Cyrus might have made a terrible mistake taking on the storm by themselves.
But there was no time for regrets. Another wind gust ripped down on them with a roar like a locomotive. This time Stella couldn’t hold on to the railing. The wind tore her hands away and the world spun as she fell onto her side. Crying out, she rolled and wrapped her arms around the mast where it came up through the middle of the crow’s nest floor. Tilting her head, she had a dizzying view down the ladder to the deck of the ship and, beyond it, the darkness of angry clouds and falling ice.
She twisted and craned her neck to check on Cyrus. He was behind her now, one hand gripping the railing and the other flailing, hurling gold streaks into the sky. She cried out as his fingers slipped, but at the last second, he tightened his grip and slammed his other hand down on the rail, steadying himself. His eyes glowed dull gold. Pain and exhaustion twisted his features, and Stella felt a jolt of fear that had nothing to do with the storm.
What would using all this power do to Cyrus?
She opened her mouth to call out, ask him if he was all right, when suddenly, Stella caught movement out of the corner of her eye, a small, bright glow like a blue star, very different from the light of Cyrus’s power. It was coming from the deck below. Wrapping one arm securely around the mast, Stella scooted forward to get a better look down the ladder.
Below them, a lone figure stood at the bow of the ship. He was bundled in a thick coat and hood. He had one hand on the bow railing, feet slightly spread to brace himself on the icy deck. In his other hand, he held a metal rod that was about the length of his arm. A blue light danced at its pronged tip. Stella had never seen anything like it before. It looked like a torch that burned with blue fire.
As she watched, the figure raised the rod and tipped his head back to look up at the crow’s nest. The blue light illuminated his face beneath his hood.
“No,” Stella whispered. She couldn’t hear her own voice above the wind, just felt the vibration in her chest along with her stuttering heartbeat. “It can’t be.”
But it was—the man who’d started the fire in the storage closet. She recognized the heavy jowls and sideburns. It was the traitor. He’d risked coming out onto the deck during the deadly storm.
And he was moving right toward the crow’s nest, his gaze fixed on Cyrus.
“Cyrus!” Stella called out, trying to get the boy’s attention, but he was huddled over the crow’s nest railing, oblivious, the golden light outlining his arms up to his shoulders now. The rest of the Iron Glory, including its gasbag, was glowing a faint gold as well, every part of the ship shielded by Cyrus’s power.
Stella didn’t want to interrupt Cyrus—what would happen to that golden protection if it cut off in the middle of the storm?—but the saboteur now stood at the base of the ladder. He turned his hooded gaze upward and looked directly at her.
Stella froze. Could he see her? No, he was looking through her, just like the woman on deck earlier.
He was coming up the ladder. He had
to move slowly through the wind and ice, all while cradling that strange metal rod, but it would only be a minute or two before he was nose-to-nose with Stella.
He still couldn’t see her. He was coming after Cyrus, but why?
Because Cyrus is protecting the ship, a tiny voice inside her whispered.
But that didn’t make any sense. How could the saboteur know Cyrus was using his power to protect the ship? How could he know the power of the storm?
Unless…maybe he’d also been through it before.
The realization jolted Stella, almost causing her to lose her grip on the railing. But what if it was true? What if the saboteur wasn’t from the Merrow Kingdom or the Dragonfly territories? What if he wasn’t part of the crew at all?
Another stowaway from the uncharted lands, just like Cyrus.
Except this man wanted to kill them.
What was she going to do? Stella’s mind raced, going over the contents of her alchemy case, which she’d hidden inside the invisibility suit. No use trying the knockout powder. The pelting ice would turn it into wet clumps, rendering it useless. She’d never get a smoke bomb lit for the same reason, and that would only be a temporary distraction anyway. The one advantage she had was concealment. The saboteur didn’t know she was waiting for him at the top of the ladder.
Maybe that was enough. If she could surprise the man, knock that strange, glowing rod out of his hand, at the same time it would let the saboteur know that there was someone up here hidden, defending Cyrus. It might be enough to scare him away.
The man didn’t have to know that Cyrus’s protector was a young girl half his body weight. No, best to keep that fact to herself.
But watching the man climb up the ladder, closer and closer—it was all Stella could do not to retreat. The light crackling at the tip of the metal rod outlined the man’s face in a stark blue. And his eyes…they were bloodshot and empty. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t see her. His eyes held no emotion at all.
Why are you doing this? Stella thought, fighting off despair. Why are you trying to kill us?
The Quest to the Uncharted Lands Page 8