‘It looks empty out there,’ I said.
‘Is always looking empty.’
‘Because of what’s happening where I came from? Did the soldiers leave to go join the Khat and the rest of his armies?’
‘Many, yes. But that is being new. Is always looking empty because the Asham are no fools.’ Sett paused, considering her words. ‘They is fools, but they fools who is being trained in war.’
I’d picked up that Asham was the Langrian word for Noble.
I was happy to adjust.
‘How many Asham are usually out there?’ I asked.
‘Ten of five. Ten of six. Now are only four of one.’
‘Really?’
I scanned the dunes and trenches, looking for any signs of life. I couldn’t make out so much as a single sandviper. The wind was unimpeded as it swept across the rocky trenches and high dunes, making white sand tumble across the craggy landscape.
Sett and I had come here by a series of long tunnels, all naturally lit by Adaam Grass. I wished so badly that Shilah was here by my side. Even if she was falling for Cam, she would always be my partner in things like this.
The walk underground had taken about half an hour, and the Sun felt scorching after my being protected by such velvety darkness. Nasty heat now burrowed into the top of my head as I studied the lands at the South edge of the Great Divide.
Sett told me that this was where the bulk of the battles took place.
The Dagon.
Here the terrain finally showed a bit of mercy, but the warriors did not. The plains angled downwards, the only spot into the valley not cluttered with massive, blade-sharp rock faces, and so naturally it had become the site of most of the clashes. The sands and rocks in the Dagon looked peaceful and serene at the moment, but Sett had assured me those plains had been witness to more death than anywhere in the entire Khatdom, including the Southern Cliff of David’s Fall. Sett told me that if I had a big shovel and dug deep enough, I’d find enough bones to build a bridge across the Singe.
I took in more of the planes, readjusting the Farsight over my face.
Sett’s invention, the Farsight, was amazing, granting my eyes a temporary vision that was almost unfair. I could see everything so closely through the lens. If I’d had one of these back home, I could have looked out from the top plateau and been able to see inside of the Khat’s tent.
Sett had come from a long line of inventors. The Melekah – the leaders of Langria – were expected to be the most creative members of their society. Even though Langria was constantly at war, the free Jadans saw greater power in the mind than the fist. Only the most imaginative minds in Langria stayed in positions of power. Some Melekah chose the art of tactics, and some chose music and sculpting; but most of the time the leaders fell into a life of tinkering. The Farsight was one of Sett’s mother’s designs, allowing the user to see much further and more clearly than normal, using a system of mirrors and refracted glass. It was against inventions such as these that the Khat’s armies had been losing for the last eight centuries.
Sett put her hand on the side of the Farsight and gently guided my vision.
We were standing on the place Sett translated as the Ridge, towards the middle of the Great Divide. The bulk of Langria was at our backs, with all sorts of terrain and warriors protecting the rest of the distance.
‘One Asham face painted like rock,’ Sett told me.
It took me a moment to pick out what she was referring to, but I found one rock with cracks in the shape of ears. There was a flash of white, which I processed as the blinking of eyes. The outline of the enemy face took shape, painted to look like the rest of the rock. He was peeking out from behind a clump of other large stones, and besides the single blink, the enemy remained completely still.
‘Wow,’ I gasped. ‘I would never have—’
Sett nudged the Farsight, dragging my view to the left. My attention was brought to the side of a boulder, which led into a channel between two cliff faces.
‘See blade?’ she asked.
I had to focus, but this target was more obvious. At waist height hung a slice of silver that didn’t fit with the surroundings.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Asham hiding there behind rock. And here too.’
She moved the Farsight again, this time further into the Dagon, towards the dunes. I still couldn’t understand how she could spot the enemies without the Farsight. My view settled on a trench in the land, long and curvy and black, big enough to hide a caravan cart.
‘Two in hole,’ Sett said.
‘I don’t see them.’
‘Don’t look bodies inside. Look Meesh-Dahm above.’
‘Meesh. Dahm?’
‘Yes. Is …’
Her pause was long, but again she seemed unhurried.
‘Colourness. Aliveness. Blood Spirit.’ Her words were powerful and clear, but she didn’t seem satisfied with any of her choices.
‘Energy,’ she finally said, sounding somewhat satisfied.
I paused. ‘How can I see their energy?’
Sett tilted the Farsight lens up just a nudge.
‘Out there in Dagon, Sun is all-place, is right? Eats through air no problems.’
‘Sure.’
‘And Sun is being evil. Sun is tainting all air we breathe.’
‘Yes.’
‘Meesh-Dahm fight Sun. Lots of Meesh-Dahm in Cold, and two Asham down there just be drinking Cold. Look above trench. Air is not so evil, see?’
I squinted hard, trying to make out what she could possibly mean. I held my breath to keep the Farsight from shaking. For quite a while nothing jumped out. The cut in the land looked like any other, the air above it just as ordinary.
And then I saw it.
The difference was so small that I never would have thought to search for such a thing. But now that Sett had pointed it out, I couldn’t believe I’d never thought to look for such a reaction before. The Inventor in me hung his head, embarrassed.
There was a stillness above the trench.
The air was at peace.
The phenomenon was happening only in two spots, and the calm streaks were situated a few paces away from each other. The negation of the effect between the spots only made the sensation itself more apparent.
Intense heat rose from the sands, visibly making its way into the sky to be with its maker, Sun. I’d grown used to such a basic thing, as it was the nature of heat itself, rising heaviest in the places where there was nothing to get in its way: like in the empty dunes, or along stretches of black stone. The watery effect reminded me of an artist with too much paint on the brush, dragging a stroke from the ground upwards. But in the case of these two spots above the trench, it looked like the brush had two gaps in its bristles. Now that I knew what to look for, the absence of the heat was a complete giveaway that something was different within the shadows below. Sett was right; two Asham must have been using Cold down there for the heat to be missing in such a way.
‘I see it,’ I said. ‘That’s incredible. How did you figure that out?’
‘Was needed.’
And that’s all she said about the matter.
My mind stretched around its own corners, deciding what such an effect could mean in regards to Cold. And what it might inspire in any of my future inventions. I’d already been working hard to keep my focus – I’d been itching like mad to see the insides of the Farsight – and this new discovery only made my fingers more frantic.
‘Now pick Asham,’ she said.
Sett’s face was severe and serious, and I was in complete awe. She was like a hero out of the old stories Shilah and I used to tell in Leroi’s tinkershop. Not only was this woman confident and strong, but she had a special kind of mind.
She was the Inventor I’d been waiting my whole life to meet.
‘Pick Asham for what?’ I asked.
‘For tear. Which one you want us steal?’
‘I guess the Asham with the painted face would probably be the easiest. He’s closest, and he’s alone.’
Sett nodded and then pulled out two other contraptions from her pocket. The devices were boxy and sleek. The face of each was made of Glassland Silver, which was incredibly rare and valuable. It was the only kind of glass that could bend. Sett’s invention had one lever protruding near her thumb and one rising near her pinky. Sett quickly fit her palms through the straps on the back, pulling them tight.
‘What are those?’ I asked.
She pushed the lever by her thumb. A black cap slid over the glass, blocking the shine. When she let the lever loose, the cap snapped off, revealing the shiny surface once again.
‘For talk,’ she explained. ‘Over distance.’
She clipped the thumb lever on and off in rhythm. Then she used her pinky, which made the glass dent like a bowl. Angling her palm to catch some Sun, she reflecting it to the ground near my feet. The light was in a single tiny spot, burning bright and focused.
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Genius. What are they called?’
She answered something throaty and short.
I nodded, pretending to understand.
I wanted to know everything. I wanted to learn the entire history of Langria; to scour over every ancient stone in every hidden chamber, to see all the inventions and art that the Langrians had crafted over eight hundred years of free thinking. But I couldn’t. There was no time. Here I was in the greatest kept secret in the entire World Cried, a place full of wonder that was begging to be explored, and I had to leave as fast as possible.
Shilah needed me.
Or maybe I needed her.
Even if Shilah kept finding ways to delay the Second Fall, digging up every piece of Desert that the Khat’s spies planted, the Asham armies wouldn’t rest until every Jadan inside was dead. They’d burn the entire Flock by hand if it came to that. I was old enough to know that trouble wasn’t just going to slink away, head hung in defeat.
I had to get back.
And I had to bring a miracle.
Sett angled the light into the Dagon, clicking the levers and going through a flurry of signals. The light was less focused after having travelled all that way, and it had expanded to the size of a ripe Khatmelon.
I was aware that Sett was rather busy, but for some reason a question burned out off my lips before I could stop it.
‘What’s the Langrian word for Khatmelon?’ I asked.
‘What is Khatmelon? I do not know this word. We give the ruiner of world no name tribute here.’
‘Little red fruit with green spots.’ I approximated the size with my hands. ‘About this – never mind.’
Moving only her wrist, Sett dragged the spot of light across the distant stones. It shot over to where the painted face was hiding. She circled his face with enough distance that the Asham seemed completely unaware of his being spotted.
Three Jadan women appeared out of nowhere. They moved so fast I could barely believe they weren’t a mirage. Firing across the rocks like whips, they made the Five seem as slow as crystallized honey. The women wore black clothing, and their skin was dark as night, refusing to glisten in the harsh Sunlight.
‘On skin is called “Chossek” powder,’ Sett said, reading my mind. ‘Mix of ash and Wisp and Dybbuk grease. Hard to see.’
‘They’re like shadows.’
Sett shook her head with a coy smirk. ‘Shadows common. Everything have shadow,’ Sett said. ‘Sinniah more special than shadows.’
‘That’s Sinniah out there?’
Sett nodded, dragging two fingers down her cheek. I was taken aback to see the forbidden gesture made by someone who’d never had reason to abandon it.
I returned to the Farsight, frantically trying to follow the Jadan warriors across the expanse of Dagon. I was just able to make out their long spears.
‘Aren’t you worried?’ I asked, lump in my throat.
Sett laughed deeply. ‘More worry if Sinniah lost taste for glory.’
I twisted the knob on top of the Farsight, bringing the view wider. Sinniah and her two warrior women approached the Asham from the rear. The kept low as they slunk across the rocks, spears above their heads poised to strike. They reminded me of Zizi, but with their Stingers still attached. Rope was coiled on each of their hips. I recognized Sinniah as the warrior in front; mostly from the ferocity in her expression. She signalled to the other two women with a twist of her closed fist, and at once the two women flipped their spears around to the blunt side. They closed in on the waiting Asham, flanking from the sides. Sinniah approached from the top.
‘So beautiful,’ Sett said. ‘I being luckiest Jadan in Langria.’
I sucked in a breath as the three warriors closed in. Scanning the nearby plains for any sign of another enemy, I found only stillness.
Sinniah crept to the top of the rock. The Asham face below her didn’t show any signs of suspicion. Sinniah raised her spear and then thrust down with the butt end. The strike landed with incredible precision right in the middle of the Asham’s skull.
The enemy crumbled.
Without hesitation, the other warriors were at his side. They took the rope off their hips and began binding the Asham’s ankles. They wrenched his arms behind his back and bound him at the wrists. Moving without error, it was like their every motion had been practised a thousand times. Sinniah remained on top of the rock, crouched low and swivelling her neck from side to side. She kept the pointed end of the spear out this time, guiding her vision. I noticed a lever on the shaft that she kept her thumb over.
‘It’s not just a spear is it?’ I asked.
Sinniah pocketed her mirror contraptions and shook her head. ‘Spring tight inside. End of spear open up and shoot poison arrow, Asham never have chance.’
‘Incredible,’ I said, smirking.
‘You are maker too,’ Sett said with a smile. ‘We be learning from each other. Come now. Sinniah taking Asham to my chamber.’
Sett motioned back towards Langria. The series of tunnels would be dark and cool, but I wasn’t quite ready to get back underground.
I still had to ask the question.
I’d been so frantic about getting the tear that I’d pushed aside the bigger issue. Getting back to my friends didn’t mean we’d win. It felt like the entire World Cried depended on Sett’s answer to this question – at the very least the entire Flock depended on the answer – and until now I’d been too nervous to bring it up. I didn’t know what I’d do if she said no.
‘Sett,’ I said gently.
She gave me a slow nod.
I took a deep breath. My voice came out quiet and weak. ‘Can I have a Frost to bring back with me?’
Sett paused.
I tried not to shake with anticipation.
She cocked her head, her eyebrows furrowed.
‘What is Frost?’
I choked out a nervous laugh.
‘The biggest Cold,’I said, using my hands to approximate the size. Then I drew the three-line symbol against my chest, the lines that glowed at the core of every Frost. ‘You do have Frosts here, right? The Cold with the most …’ I paused, trying to recall the words correctly. ‘Meesh-Dahm.’
‘Ah,’ Sett nodded, tracing the symbol. ‘Yes. Crier Tear. Is called “Khol” in our tongue.’
‘Khol,’ I said, starting to get excited. ‘Yes. I need a Khol to make my other machine work. And I can teach you its secret if you let me have one Khol.’
Sett gave me a sad look. ‘We have Khol once.’
I swallowed hard, hoping that her meaning was lost in translation.
‘What do you mean, had one once?’
‘At beginning,’ Sett said. ‘Khol making Langria what is.’
The air felt thick, making it difficult to speak.
‘You don’t have any more?’
‘Khol only fall in Paphos now,’ she said with a dismissive shake of her head.
A part of me shattered and died.
All of a sudden the Sun was a hundred times hotter.
The land under my feet became sharp and uneven.
I began to sweat.
‘I don’t understand,’ I said, gesturing wildly back at the green valley. At the river running through the bottom of Langria. At all the chambers and buildings and tunnels and all the mysteries of this legendary place. ‘But this is Langria. This is supposed to be the answer to everything. The Crier still gives you Cold here. Don’t you have a Cry Patch? I don’t understand!’
Sett put a hand on my shoulder.
‘I sorry,’ she said. ‘We have no Khol.’
Fiery tears formed at the corners of my eyes.
It felt like I just doomed my entire Flock. Shilah, Cam, Split, the Five: none of them stood a chance.
I’d failed.
‘Come,’ Sett said ‘Is time.’
‘Time for what?’
‘If you Meshua,’ she said. ‘If you wanting to help Jadans. Is time you learning real history of our people.’