Edgeland

by Jake Halpern

  Flower set off down the street, walking as briskly as she could without running.

  “We don’t have much time,” she said. “Soon we’re gonna have all the graylings on the island after us.”

  A minute or so later, Flower turned down a narrow alleyway that ran alongside a bliss house. They soon came upon a pile of rubble. Flower looked up at them. “Don’t just stand there.” Her voice was clipped and fast. “Help me move these rocks.”

  Alec and Wren removed stones from the pile, uncovering a burlap sack that contained a rusty sledgehammer.

  Flower took the sledgehammer. They kept going, passing by another two bliss houses, until the alleyway emptied onto a pebbled beach hemmed in by cliffs on both sides. To the left, on top of one of the cliffs, sat a wooden crane with a boom, a winch, and a rope—the sort of device one might use to lower a crate off the deck of a ship.

  The water here was choppy, with waves forming around what appeared to be a reef about twenty feet out. Wren remembered this from Edgeland: On one side of an island the waters could be totally calm, but the other might have whitecaps. Apparently, it was the same here.

  Flower glanced up and down the beach, as if looking for something that wasn’t there.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Alec.

  “There should be a guard,” said Flower. “They always keep a guard by his coffin. A grayling. Only I don’t see him. We were gonna have to”—she paused, as if searching for the right word—“deal with him.”

  Wren turned to Flower. “Where’s Sebastian’s sea coffin?”

  Flower gestured out across the water. At first, it was unclear what she was pointing at, but then Wren saw the tops of sea coffins in the surf.

  “How long has he been out there for?” asked Alec.

  “In a sea coffin, well, about four hundred years,” said Flower. “But as I said, they move him around. It took me a while to find this new spot, and then I had to find a breather. Everything had to line up.”

  “Trapped in a sea coffin for four hundred years?” said Alec.

  Flower nodded. “We should get going,” she said. “It won’t be easy to get him out of that coffin …”

  “What coffin?” asked a voice.

  It came from behind them.

  Alec, Wren, and Flower all turned around at once.

  A tall, lanky grayling in a dirty robe was staring at them. He had a pug nose and a broad, flat forehead, like someone had smashed it with a cast-iron skillet. It was hard to know how long he’d been there.

  “You misheard us,” said Flower.

  The boy took a step closer.

  “No I didn’t,” said the boy.

  He reached into his robe and pulled out two items: a pocket mirror and a knife.

  “Put your mirror away,” said Flower. “We’re not breathers.”

  “Prove it,” said the boy, holding up the mirror. “Put this up to your mouths and hold it there. I wanna see if it fogs up. They got a search going on. Sorry. I ain’t getting on Ember’s bad side and goin’ to a sea coffin on your account.”

  The boy took a step closer. “You,” he said, nodding toward Wren. “Go first.”

  “No,” said Wren, who was now standing rigidly still. “We already told you, we’re not breathers.”

  “And what if I don’t believe you?” asked the boy.

  “That’s your problem,” said Wren, holding his gaze.

  “What if I think it’s fishy that you’re over here talkin’ about getting’ someone out of a sea coffin?” asked the boy. “Then what?”

  “Hold on …,” began Flower.

  “How about I give you a little poke?” said the boy to Wren. He pocketed his mirror and raised his knife. “If you’re dead, you won’t even feel it.”

  The boy moved toward Wren. His face was calm, but his eyes burned with determination. In a dazzling flash of movement, Wren stepped forward, seized the grayling’s outstretched arm with both of her hands, and kneed him in the groin.

  The boy staggered backward, but managed to hold on to his knife. He recovered quickly. “Breather—I knew it,” rasped the boy. He snarled, then lunged, slashing his knife at her.

  Wren dodged to the left, moving with the dexterity of a dancer. Her hands were in the air, fingers extended. The boy made another stab with his knife, and once again, Wren evaded the jabs, twirling out of the way. Without taking her eyes off the boy, she calmly said, “Flower, give me the hammer.”

  Wren extended a hand behind her, toward Flower and Alec.

  “Here,” said Flower. She pressed the old sledgehammer into Wren’s outstretched hand. This handoff presented a moment of vulnerability, which the grayling seized upon. He lunged at Wren once again, thrusting the blade at her stomach, but Wren was too fast for him. As he went for her, Wren took the hammer from Flower and swung it powerfully, hitting the grayling on the arm that held the knife. There was a sickening crunch, and the knife flew high into the air and landed some distance away, splashing into the surf.

  The grayling clutched his broken arm, cursed, and then ran off down the beach.

  Wren turned and looked at Alec and Flower. They were both staring at her, mouths gaping open.

  “Looks like you’ve been in a knife fight before,” said Flower finally.

  Wren nodded, breathing rapidly. “You learn a thing or two in the descenders.”

  “Come on,” said Flower. “That was the guard. He’ll be back soon, with others.” Flower pointed at the hammer. “That hammer is too heavy for me to swim with. So, Wren, you better keep it on you.” Flower marched out into the water, pausing when the hem of her dress began to get wet. The water was rough, not ideal conditions for hacking open a cage and dragging a body back to shore.

  “Don’t leave anything on the beach,” said Flower. “We’re not coming back this way.” She pointed off to the right. “There’s a sea cave around the other side of those cliffs. The graylings haven’t found it yet. We’ll be heading there.”

  She glanced up and down the beach once more, making sure no one else was coming. Then she dove into the water and began to paddle into the crashing waves. Alec quickly joined her. The water was a little colder on this side of the island. Wren took several deep breaths. She followed the others, awkwardly holding the sledgehammer with one hand while swimming with the other. She peeked underwater.

  The seafloor quickly dropped away into a trench, and the clear water afforded them a view of the sea coffins that lay below. Hundreds of rusting metal boxes, each fashioned with grated windows that revealed the faces of the entombed bodies within. The sight was so unsettling that Wren inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of water, then poked her head through the surface and gasped.

  “Careful now,” called Flower, who was swimming beside them. “We need you alive.”

  As they neared the reef, where the waves were crashing, the current grew stronger. It became difficult to maintain their forward momentum.

  “I’ll go first,” said Flower. “It’ll take me a minute to find his cage. When I do, I’ll signal for you to dive. Then you’ll need to hit the lock with the sledgehammer. Just use its weight—you can’t swing it when you’re underwater.”

  “Okay,” said Wren.

  Flower dove. Wren and Alec peered down, watching her kick serenely toward the boxes on the seafloor, scattered as haphazardly as a spilled deck of playing cards. Several min utes passed.

  “Alec!” sputtered Wren.

  “What?”

  “Turn around.”

  Alec swiveled his head to get a proper look. Walking across the beach was the grayling who’d attacked them. And he had three companions with him.

  “They’re going to see us!” said Wren.

  “Damn,” said Alec. He glanced around and came to a quick decision. “Follow me.”

  Alec dove under the water and swam toward the rusting boxes that sat along the reef. Thankfully, they appeared empty. There was one propped up on a rock, its entire upper half sticking up through the s
urface. That’s the one. Just a little bit farther. He kicked savagely until he made it to the box, then grabbed the metal grate and pulled himself round the back, so that no one on the beach could see him. He exploded through the surface. Two seconds later, Wren popped up alongside him.

  “You okay?” gasped Alec.

  Wren nodded and spit out a mouthful of water.

  “Hold on tight!” said Alec.

  A wave crashed over them, slamming their bodies against the cage.

  Wren looked panicked.

  “What happened?” Alec asked.

  “I dropped the sledgehammer,” she replied.

  Another roller crested over the reef and slammed them into the cage. More waves came, and for several minutes, Alec and Wren struggled to hold their position in the surf.

  “We have to get back to Flower,” said Alec. “It’s been more than five minutes. Try to stay below the surface so the graylings don’t spot us.”

  “How do we open the lock?” asked Wren.

  “We’ll figure something out,” said Alec. “Let’s go.”

  Alec and Wren pushed off the metal box and kicked back toward the shore. They swam underwater, surfacing for air in quick bursts. The beach appeared empty—with no signs of any graylings—but it was hard for Wren and Alec to get a good look. They soon spotted Flower. She was fifteen feet below them, hovering above a coffin that was nestled not on the floor of the trench, but on a ledge.

  Alec dove and churned toward Flower. She pointed energetically at an old warded lock on the side of the box.

  Alec kept swimming.

  A rock. That’s what I need.

  When he reached the ledge, he spotted one. It was smaller than he would have liked—roughly the size of a big potato—but he grabbed it, heaved with all his might, and smashed it into the side of the coffin. The lock shook, but held. Alec felt light-headed. He had to surface. He grabbed Flower by the arm, pointed back to the surface. Then he put out his hand, gesturing for her to stay put. Flower nodded.

  Alec swam upward in a surge of desperation. He angled himself toward the surf so when he emerged he would, at the very least, be partially camouflaged by the crashing waves.

  As soon as he surfaced, he spotted Wren treading water nearby.

  “I don’t see the graylings anymore,” said Wren. “I think they’re gone.”

  Alec nodded.

  “What happened down there?” asked Wren.

  “I found a rock, but I couldn’t bust the lock open,” said Alec.

  “Give it to me,” said Wren. “I’ll try.”

  Alec handed her the rock, then held his breath and sank underwater to watch.

  Wren kicked her way toward the bottom. Air bubbles sputtered from her mouth. When she reached the sea coffin, she hit the warded lock with the rock until it gaped open, then dropped the rock and shot back to the surface. She and Alec treaded water for a minute, gathering their breath, then swam back down to help Flower.

  When they reached her, Flower gestured toward the top of the box. Together, the three of them pushed and pulled on the lid until it sprang open. For a moment, flecks of rust and shreds of seaweed billowed out, clouding their view. But then a man emerged and began to float upward. His thick white hair undulated like jellyfish tendrils in the surf.

  There was no doubt about it. This was the Sebastian—the last descendant of the great Half-Light dynasty.

  Together, they pulled Sebastian Half-Light to the surface. To Alec, he looked as rigid and lifeless as the coffin in which he’d been entombed. Although his body was buoyant, they still struggled to get him over the reef. Then they swam for some time. Supporting Sebastian’s shoulders, Flower guided them down the coast and toward a series of steep cliffs in the distance. The cliffs jutted in and out, forming inlets that were narrow but deep. Flower navigated them into one such inlet and toward a small hole that peeked out at the waterline. Up close, it was larger than they expected—about five feet across. They pulled themselves inside, entering a large, high-ceilinged cave. The air was damp and thick with mist, but the pebbly ground was dry.

  They lifted Sebastian Half-Light’s body and set him down near one of the back walls of the cave. Alec and Wren collapsed into a bank of sand, panting heavily, while Flower seemed totally unaffected by the physical demands of their ordeal. She sat next to Sebastian and began using her fingers to comb the seaweed and sand from his hair.

  Once their breathing slowed, Alec and Wren sat up next to Flower. For a moment, the three of them simply watched Sebastian.

  “Wake him up,” said Flower. “I’ve got your canoe and supplies here in the cave, just like I promised.”

  Alec looked at Wren, who nodded. He knelt over Sebastian Half-Light, inhaled deeply, then blew a long, steady breath across the older man’s face. At first nothing happened. Alec took in a deep breath, preparing to blow again, but Sebastian Half-Light’s eyelids began to flutter. His nose twitched. His chin trembled.

  Alec retreated, and they all waited together in silence.

  It was hard for Alec to imagine that he was really face-to-face with another titan from Edgeland’s past. Sebastian’s ancestors had ruled Edgeland for centuries, keeping peace between the Suns and the Shadows. Of course, there were periods of fighting, and during one such time, it was Sebastian who had devised the Rule of Light. He was a legend.

  Wren started to cough—a deep, hacking bark that echoed off the smooth walls of the cave.

  “There should be some seashells over there,” said Flower, gesturing to an alcove along the wall, several feet away. “They might have a tiny amount of fresh water.”

  Wren stood up and walked to a darkened nook where the pebbly ground was moist with dew. There were a few conch shells lying about. She picked up two shells—one for her and the other for Alec. She managed to get a few drops of water from her shell. She then walked back across the cave and handed the other one to Alec.

  “Thanks,” said Alec, putting the shell to his lips and draining a trickle of water into his mouth.

  “Sorry I’ve got nothing to offer you,” said Flower with a grimace. “I guess I’m not much of a host.”

  “There’s nothing you can do,” Alec replied. “We’ll wait for Sebastian to wake up and then we’ll leave.”

  As soon as he said this, he glanced over at Wren, trying to gauge her reaction to the idea of leaving without seeing her mother, but she had a faraway look on her face.

  “It’d be good if you stuck around for a bit,” said Flower. Her hands were clasped together, as if she were praying. “Sometimes, if they’ve been in bliss for a long time, like Sebastian, you gotta breathe on their face a second time a little while later.”

  Alec glanced around the cave. The ceiling and walls were too perfectly round to have formed this way naturally.

  “Who made this place?” asked Alec.

  “Yours truly,” said Flower, with a flicker of a smile. “Not bad for a runt like me, huh? It was just a little cave at first, no more than a few feet wide. But I kept expanding it, especially after Sebastian was vanished. I wanted a place to use as a hideout—and a spot to stash breathers. So I kept digging.”

  “Did you bring the sailors here?” asked Wren.

  Flower’s smile vanished. “Yes,” she said, running her fingers across the pebbly ground. “After that, I didn’t come back for a long time.”

  Alec and Wren looked around the cave again, as if seeing it for the first time.

  Flower stood up. “Come with me,” she said. “I want to show you something.”

  They walked across the sandy floor of the cave to a spacious alcove illuminated by a dim patch of light, emanating from an old, rusty lantern. The light was so weak that they barely noticed it until they stood in its meager glow. Here was a long, sleek sea canoe, with a wide hull and high gunwales. Sitting next to it was a small barrel.

  Alec looked at it hopefully. “Is that water?”

  “Nope,” said Flower, shaking her head. “Those are Drops o
f Life—an emergency supply for me and a few others in case we can’t get to the Meadow. Stolen, of course. And, no, you can’t drink it. It wouldn’t do anything for you.”

  Wren looked inside the canoe. There were paddles, a dozen coils of rope, gloves, boots, a grappling hook, and a small axe.

  “It’s all here,” said Flower. “Everything you need.”

  Alec looked at his hands, which were already covered with blisters from rowing in the waters off Edgeland. How would he climb up the Drain with his hands like this? A sudden wave of uneasiness passed over him. He turned to Wren. “I’ll give it my best shot—on the climb.”

  “Don’t even,” said Wren softly. “I’m not gonna leave you—we’ll climb it together—the whole way.”

  Flower grabbed an oar and turned it over in her hands. “The woman who escaped was named Pola,” she said. “She was in worse shape than you two—and she made it.”

  “If this woman really made it, how come we never heard about her in Edgeland?” Alec asked.

  “Would you talk if you were her?” asked Wren as she ran her hands over the smooth gunwales of the canoe. “Imagine telling everyone about falling into purgatory, where people sit in bliss and graylings are in charge, and then you finally climb the Drain and escape. They’d send you to an asylum.”

  There was a sudden moan from across the cave.

  Alec, Flower, and Wren all turned to have a look.

  It was Sebastian Half-Light. He moaned again, then began to flop about like a fish on a dock. Seconds later, he sat up and screamed.

  The cave magnified and echoed the scream, making it sound like several people crying out at once.

  “You’re all right,” said Flower, placing a hand firmly on each of his shoulders. “You’re fine. It’s me, Flower. Everything’s okay.”

  Sebastian screamed again, then went silent. He glanced around the cave, startled, like a person woken by a slamming door in the dead of night. He had a long nose and dark brown skin so smooth that he might’ve shaved seconds before dying. The muscles in his face relaxed, and his features became clearer. He eyed Alec and Wren, then settled his gaze on Flower.