‘A father would be proud. Actually, a father is proud, Spout.’
‘I always hated that name.’
‘I imagine it’s funny though, now that you know what it means. I’m glad I made it up.’
‘You did? I thought it was the other kids who started it. Because I sweat too much.’
‘Nope. It was your old man.’ There was a tap on my forehead. ‘Planting a seed.’
I opened my eyes.
Abb looked different.
He was younger than the last time I saw him. His face had fewer scars and shallower wrinkles. His hair was thicker and more full than I’d ever seen. And long. It was so long that he had it braided off to one side. There was something else different about him, too, but I couldn’t place it.
We were back in our old room. I was sitting on my ratty blanket, while he sat on his, the healing box open at his side like always. He had a piece of boilweed and needle in his hand, practising his stitching.
But this time, the holes he poked in the plant closed up immediately after the needle passed through.
‘So you knew all along?’ I asked, starting to smile. ‘That “Spout” was the translation?’
Abb shrugged, poking another hole with the needle. ‘I told you before. I don’t speak Ancient Jadan.’ He paused. ‘But I could guess.’
I tried to get up off my blanket, but there was a weight pressing me down, like giant hands on my shoulders. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was firm, and I couldn’t move. There was nothing visibly holding me there, and as much as I wanted to go over to Abb and touch his arm, to see if he was real, I couldn’t.
‘Good guess,’ I said.
‘So what happens now?’ Abb asked, putting the boilweed and needle back into the healing box.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t think you’re done, do you?’
‘An Inventor’s work is never done,’ I said.
Abb got up off his blanket and stretched out his back. His tired spine didn’t make the same cracks I remembered, which was always three big cracks and then a series of smaller cracks once he really twisted.
This time his back didn’t make a sound.
‘Look at that,’ he said, sauntering over to the tinker-wall. ‘This side has its advantages.’
‘What side?’ I asked, still feeling the weight.
He turned and gave me a gentle look.
Then he picked off one of the crank-fans that I’d once made. He gave the lever a turn and the tiny blades began to whirr. The fan hovered in front of him, and then started to fly around the room. Abb took another fan and it did the same, even though I hadn’t designed them to do such a thing. He cranked another and another, until the air above us was swarming. They flew in a single file and followed an oval path.
‘I was always a fan of these,’ Abb said, pointing.
I smacked my forehead. The contact made no sound.
He picked up my old Stinger next. He shook his head, putting it back and instead taking my Claw Staff. He pulled the camel-leather strap and the claw fingers closed the end. He pointed the staff at my chest.
‘Want to see a trick?’ he asked.
I nodded.
He thrust the claw into my body.
It tickled as he dug around. He whistled, and I tried to whistle along, but my tongue was too dry. After a moment, he tugged the camel-leather incredibly hard, and I could feel the ends of the staff gripping something inside of me.
He yanked. He pulled.
The thing didn’t want to give.
‘Hmm,’ he said.
‘Hmm what?’
I felt pain. But it wasn’t sharp, or throbbing. It was a pain that I’d been holding on to for a long time. A special pain. A pain that I felt safe having inside of me, that I’d given passage to, so it might keep me disconnected. It was a lie, but it was my lie all the same.
‘Hmm nothing,’ Abb said.
His legs took a stronger stance and then he yanked again.
I cried out and gnashed my teeth at him.
‘No!’ I shouted.
Abb’s face went serious. He put both hands on the Claw Staff and drew back with all of his might. I tried to hold on. I tried to keep my secret in, but it was slipping.
After a moment there was a pop.
Abb stumbled back.
The end of the Claw Staff was dripping with a black sludge. It reminded me of slag from a Droughtweed bit. Like a poisonous shadow.
Trapped in the claw was something terrible.
It didn’t have a shape, but it was deep. It might have gone on forever.
Abb whistled as he put the end of the staff inside a boilweed bag, and released the tension. Instead of filling up, the bag did the opposite. It began to collapse inwards on itself, folding so tight that it was barely visible. Abb carefully replaced the staff on the shelf and slung the soiled bag over his shoulder.
The pain was gone.
I looked down at my chest.
My skin was radiating gold. It tingled with memories I didn’t think I still had. It was a colour I hadn’t felt in such a long time.
I pointed to the bag. ‘What was that?’
‘I think you know,’ he said softly. ‘And that’s the thing about truth, isn’t it? Life is complex. Maybe you needed this to get here, to come so far, but you don’t need it anymore, son. You can let go now.’
He was right. I was ready.
I didn’t want to be, but I was ready.
‘So what happens next?’
‘Now, I leave,’ he said, hoisting the bag. Even though the bag was as flat as could be, it weighed on him, like the entire Pyramid was suddenly placed on his back. ‘And I’m taking this with me.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Thank you for everything.’
Abb winked. And then he went to leave.
‘Dad,’ I called out. ‘Will I see you again?’
He laughed, taking hold of the boilweed flap and lifting a corner.
Behind it was a magnificent sight.
A long, grassy plain. Nighttime. But the darkness was cool, and the whole place looked like home. It was sprinkled with more stars than I ever thought possible. There were people on the plains, Jadans with distant faces. They looked like me, like my father, like Shilah, even like Leroi, and they jumped into pools of water and danced in vests of alder light. I heard the most wonderful music. I smelled the most delicious food. The laughter here was pure. And endless. A calm peace drifted towards me. I shied away. It wasn’t my peace to feel yet.
Abb let the door fall. He came over and kissed me on the top of my head.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I have plenty more jokes for you. Soon. But not for a while. And they’re going to be hilarious.’
‘I bet,’ I said.
As he pulled away, there was a tear on my cheek that wasn’t my own.
‘I’ll tell him you say hello,’ Abb said.
‘Tell who?’
Abb pointed behind me.
I woke up, staring into the dome of the Matty.
My limbs were frozen, and for a moment I couldn’t move. The jolt back to the waking world was so disorienting that panic seized me from head to foot, and I had to concentrate on breathing through my nose before I could gain control over the rest of my body. Bright light nipped at the edges of my vision. I ached to get back to the dream, if that’s what it was. Everything in it felt so real; I didn’t want to know the difference.
The dome-sail above me was fully distended, the rising heat distorting my vision. I touched a hand to my face. I was covered in sweat. More likely they were tears.
I wiped my cheeks dry and unwrapped the nearest Khol from its boilweed covering, my finger hovering just above the surface. The centre of the Cold began to glow, making the three-lined symbol more prominent. I was overcome with a profound thirst. I dropped my ladle into the Khol bucket, which I’d filled with water before leaving the Pyramid. It was phenomenally Cold, and tasted of the things of which I couldn’t speak. I peeled away the silk covering over the boilweed nest and offered the ladle to my ibis friend. She dipped her bill in and drank deeply. I could feel her coo through the nest. I’d brought some of the feed that the little Khat used, and sprinkled some at her feet.
I stood up and looked out over the railing.
It was daytime. The Sun was blazing directly overhead. I had slept through a large chunk of the morning.
Rushing to check my compass, I saw that miraculously I was still bearing North, the fan blades pushing the Matty onwards, swift and steady.
I grabbed the Farsight and scanned the horizon.
Mostly it was just empty sands around me, but I could see a few caravan passages cutting through the dunes and rocks far below, reminding me of sandviper tracks. There were also a few high beige hills off to the left, leading to a city that I guessed was Marlea. Black statues lined the streets at every corner and were interspersed between the red brick of the actual buildings.
Marlea was known for using black summerstone, which was native to the surrounding dunes. Many Asham sculptors liked to live in Marlea so they could have constant access to the material. There was also a rumour that every Jadan there had permanent scars on their palms from having to dig up the rocks so frequently.
On the outskirts of Marlea were digging camps. Factions of my people toiled in the distance, being whipped and taunted by death. They lined up to go into the summerstone mines, a return line hauling out the terrible bounty. Many of the Jadans were being made to carry the stones back to the city on their bare backs, without any carts.
I let out a long breath and then pivoted the fan blades towards them.
There wasn’t time to waste, but I had to do something.
I couldn’t land the Matty and chance getting caught by any Asham, and so I closed my eyes and came up with a simple idea.
Quickly I grabbed a few tiny rips of boilweed and started cleaning the spots underneath my cheeks, getting as much of the moisture as I could, hoping that indeed the droplets were tears. I stuffed the saturated strips into vials and stored two away for later in case this worked.
Then I tied a vial around one of my Khol with a strip of boilweed, layering it a few times to make sure the glass stayed in place. I was careful not to touch the surface of the Khol directly, in case I still had tears on my hand. A reaction might stop the Desert heat and send me plummeting to my death. So I moved with great care.
When I finished prepping, I’d neared one of the mining outposts.
I lifted the Khol package and kissed the outside of the boilweed, hoping that falling from such a height would bury it deep enough in the sands to work. Enough for the seed to take root.
I paused, holding it up towards the sky.
And I let the package fall.
Leaning over the railing, I watched the Khol soar towards the ground. The boilweed wrap held tight, keeping the glass against the Khol.
I squinted, and after a tense wait there was a disturbance in the land below. A cloud of sand puffed upward. The obstruction took a few moments to disperse, all the while my throat too tight to even breathe.
Then I let out a howl of victory.
I was too high up to be heard, so I let out another.
Golden lines pulsed outward from the hole in the sands, forming the rough shape of an eye. There was no family of Jadans crying around the centre this time to make the pupil, but the cratered sand helped with the illusion. My heart beat wildly, different than before, faster and more free. I put my hand over it and savoured the thumping.
More tears spilled down my cheeks as I thought of my father disappearing behind the curtain. I grabbed another strip of boilweed, quick to wipe the drops under my eyes. I saved the tears in another vial, as my idea had worked.
Abb was right.
My work wasn’t done yet.
I took one more glance beneath me and then turned the craft back North.
It wasn’t hard to spot the City of the Jadans’ Rise.
The plateaus were vast, and the walls stout. The place loomed over the surrounding sands, tall and proud, like a single ship navigating a boiling river. I didn’t realize how big the city was until seeing it in the daylight. There were so many planes and crags and alleyways, all places the Khat could have buried the Desert, and I was shocked he still hadn’t succeeded.
Thousands of Asham surrounding the place were a dead giveaway that the Fall still hadn’t happened. Shilah had kept the Khat from victory, and the sieging armies appeared to have at least doubled. A few separate outposts had broken off of the surrounding ranks, having set up their own markets, makeshift temples and stages.
Through the Farsight I spotted that the Asham seemed happy, locked in massive bouts of celebration. They were drinking ale, huffing slag and performing acts that I’d never be able to get out of my head. Their jubilation was verging on madness, and fear rattled my core. Maybe I was wrong.
I turned the Farsight onto the Southern cliffs. I had to work up the courage three times before I tilted the lens enough to see the rocks at the base, holding my breath as I scanned.
To my complete and utter relief, the base was clean.
There were no sign of bones or char.
‘No fall yet,’ I said to the ibis.
It didn’t mean my friends were safe, or even still alive, but for now I was able to hold myself together. I scanned the plateaus for signs of life. There was no movement, even from inside the gates, where the Beggars had lived. Everyone must have been in hiding. I couldn’t imagine what sort of mayhem Ka’in and his armies had been unleashing during my absence.
I expected a fresh wave of hate to boil my veins. These Asham were surrounding a city of innocent people, my people, celebrating our fear and pain. I wanted to hate them with everything inside of me. I wanted to yearn for their violent deaths; to thirst for their blood to stain the very sands upon with they rejoiced.
All Asham are supposed to be poison, after all.
But the hate couldn’t latch on. It came and went. I felt it, burning as it passed, but that’s all it was. Fleeting. Something was missing in me, something viscous and inviting and terrible, that had been inside for far longer than I realized.
The anger came and left, and all that remained behind was a new truth.
These Asham were victims too.
Their lives were also lessened by the First Khat, and in that respect we were all one family. The Asham had been Jadan at one point, before the Drought. Before the Khat had stripped away equality, pushing us down so he and his chosen few could step on our backs. Now Jadans had different skin, and Cold reacted differently to our bodies, but the Asham were suffering as well; in a different way. They were suffering because they had to live with their casual cruelty, with their careless oppression.
Such plagues made for very thin hearts.
The Asham were suffering because they couldn’t enjoy the beauty of green hills and cool rivers and freedom songs that once covered the world, nor to know lands that were alive with animals. They weren’t experiencing the kind of culture that could be bred outside of their oppression. The Asham suffered because they were told they were better than the world, and because of that they were no longer a part of it. They’d been torn from the rest of the Jadan people. They’d been stripped of their potential for good. They had the gift of community taken from their hands and replaced with a whip and a blade.
And for the first time in my life, I finally understood what was happening.
I wasn’t just bringing freedom to the Jadans.
I was bringing freedom to everyone.
And it would require no bloodshed. For tonight, all people would look to the sky and see that the Drought was over.
Tonight, everyone would cry as one.
I dropped the copper wire deeper into the Cold Charge, as deep as it would go, and the glider blades began to buck in their cage. The Matty sped towards the city faster than I’d ever gone. There was no more conflict in me, no more doubt, no more confusion.
Just an overwhelming desire to see my destiny through.
It was time for this world to come to a new beginning. Any Asham that accepted it would be welcomed as brothers and sisters. Those that stood in our way would have to be removed.
Simple. Resolute.
I tightened the cap over the Desert, beginning my descent. I didn’t care if the Asham armies saw me approaching. In fact, I wanted them to look up and see not their reckoning, but their Shepherd.
Meshua.
I angled away from teeming crowds. I didn’t want to drop a Khol in the midst of their ranks, in case it landed on a tent, or a cart, and then ended up not making it far under the ground, so I angled over the dunes and soared over open sand. I was flying even higher than I had been in Marlea, so the Khol would have had plenty of space to gain enough speed.
No one saw me hovering overhead.
I wasn’t surprised.
The Asham were too busy celebrating amongst themselves to look up.
I took the next Khol and made sure the tear vial was tight and secure. Then I kissed the boilweed layering and sent the package plummeting over the side. I waited for the blossoming gold with a smile in my heart.
No Asham noticed the falling Khol. They continued to drink their Cold ale, and eat their ripe Khatmelons. They continued to dance and sing, and to whip the Jadans unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side of the wall.
The sand settled beneath me and another Eye appeared, gold and wide.
I gave it a wink.
And then I flew to the East.
I dropped another Khol package, this time near one of the caravan roads. Still no Asham noticed. The were too busy strutting through the market stalls, trading their Shivers and Chills for exotic goods such as chocolate and honey.
This Khol cut through the sands without making much of a visible impact, and I surmised it had landed in a patch of cloud sand. The Eye that erupted was even larger than the others, the gold more vibrant and visceral, which raised all sorts of new questions in my mind about how the Khol affected the natural world.
I kneeled down and let the ibis climb on my wrist, so she too could see the rebirth of paradise. I held her chest tight so she wouldn’t fall.
‘What do you think?’ I asked.
Her wings began to struggle.
I kept her balanced best I could as she unfolded herself as far as she could go. Her feathers were a gorgeous red, almost as dark as the alder, and they fluttered as we sailed through the sky. Her left wing couldn’t extend all the way, as there was a nasty crook somewhere in the bone, but still the wind found her.
She didn’t try to fly away, keeping her pose. The wind kissed her feathers. She was at peace.
‘Gale,’ I said. ‘Your name is Gale, isn’t it?’
The ibis cooed.
I set Gale up a little perch so she could stretch her wings as I worked.
I circled North, rounding the Asham armies at a distance. I made the unfortunate decision to look through the Farsight so as to see clearly what was happening on the main stage, and quickly returned the invention to the floor of the Matty. It was difficult to resist the urge to pick up my large variety of weapons and hurl them down on the Ashams’ skulls. They had a whole slew of my kin chained up, celebrating in another of their special ways.
I had to focus.
I could do more good with the Khol than with weapons.
I sailed around to the North side of the city. Drawing two fingers down my cheek, I held them out to the distant free lands. I didn’t feel the least bit alone.
‘Ready?’ I asked Gale.
She took her long bill and nuzzled the next boilweed package.
When I was far enough away from the armies, I let the Khol fall.
This one had a delayed reaction after it landed, but sure enough the golden light took shape in the deadland, pulsing just like the others. I gave the reaction a respectful nod, and then finished the circle, dropping another teary Khol into the Western sands.
And it was done.
I aimed for the centre of the city and surveyed the results. The armies of Asham may have been sieging the city, but four bright eyes were sieging the armies. The land pulsed with colour.
If the Asham didn’t notice now, they would notice tonight.
Inside the city walls, the streets were not only deserted, but also in ruins. Some of the buildings had crumbled, and there were fires blazing in a few places. The Asham had clearly been having quite the time ransacking the place while they waited for the Fall. There was likely good reason my people had made themselves scarce.
I aimed the Matty towards the high plateau. Gale the ibis tilted with the craft, balancing on one leg.
I couldn’t believe the Drought was over. I couldn’t believe that such a journey would have a happy ending. I always knew success was possible, but I never thought it likely.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered.
The lands surrounding the city answered with golden light.
I judged the angle and turned the Matty towards the Sanctuary. I hoped that my friends would see me coming, wherever they were hiding, and come out to greet me. I couldn’t wait much longer to see them.
There was no one in the camps surrounding the Sanctuary. The tents and stalls and sands were empty.
I landed the Matty near the gates. It was so good to see this place, even though it had once represented all that I feared and hated about the Asham world. I heard an odd sound in the distance, almost like a sizzle. I couldn’t place where it was coming from.
‘Shilah!’ I shouted, my heart thundering. ‘Cam! I’m back! It’s over! The Drought is over!’
I gave Gale a gentle pat and then leapt out of the Matty.
The air was swimming with heat. It felt sickly and steaming, like being back inside the Adaamclock.
My forehead answered with sweat, and I had to wipe it dry with my sleeve. My tongue felt heavy and my stomach churned. I wanted to jump back into the Matty and escape the terrible heat, but I held my ground.
I waved two knuckles at Sun, wondering if this was its final attack.
The horrible sky glared down, angry and spiteful. It didn’t appear any stronger than normal. Yet the heat from the ground was nearly unbearable. I picked at the front of my shirt, my chest and stomach already sticky with sweat.
The strange sizzle had become louder. I turned from side to side to try and figure out what was making the sound.
I looked down.
It was coming from my sandals.
I lifted my foot up and the noise cut in half. I lifted the other and the same thing happened. I turned to the Matty and realized the sizzle was also coming from the wood being pressed down onto the land.
‘No,’ I said, throat constricting with worry. ‘No.’
The truth of the matter struck.
I’d succeeded.
But so had Ka’in.
He must have gotten a piece of Desert in the ground, one that the Five missed. Or maybe he was able to plant a few Deserts while I was gone. The Khat may have been dead, but still the land was burning.
I chanced touching my bare finger against the ground and nearly yelped. The pebbles and dirt felt like hot coals, and looking closer, I realized everything had begun to take on that same sickening orange glow as Desert.
This is what my Ancestor’s must have felt at the first Fall. Right before the heat forced them to jump.
This was what the Asham must have been celebrating.
Dread and panic knocked into me, threatening to send me over the edge.
But those feelings came and passed. There was nothing for them to hold on to.
I wasn’t done yet.
I hopped back into the Matty, taking Gale the ibis and dunking her straight into the Khol water bucket to keep her cool. She struggled at first, but then accepted. I grabbed a different Khol from the stash, hoping it wasn’t too late. I didn’t know if it was going to be strong enough to combat active Desert. I prayed that I might at least halt the damage where it was. I tried not to think back to my experiments with tubs of land, and reminded myself I didn’t have Khol back then.
The land spat heat into my face, cackling at me.
I grabbed my sword and began stabbing at the ground. My arms were slick with sweat and I could feel the bottoms of my sandals beginning to melt. I kept thrusting the sword into the packed earth with all my might. The metal grew hot, and soon I had to wrap my hands in boilweed just so I could hold the weapon. I worked with precision instead of fury. With tact rather than anger.
I scooped out the rubble and eventually had a hole big enough for the Khol.
I hopped back and forth from foot to foot. The heat was so intense that my vision had gone woozy. I didn’t know how much more I could take. I prayed for the Crier to steady my hands. I prayed for the Crier to be real.
The heat coming off the ground was making me choke. I had to keep my breathing to a minimum.
I had to keep hoping.
I planted the Khol in the ground and leaned over.
I thought of Shilah and Cam having to endure this deadly heat without me. Their fear over having lost, with no way of saving the flock. They would be so helpless, so afraid.
My tears were quick to fall.
The Khol sprang to life as soon as the first drop struck. I scooped the loose land over the hole to keep all the Meesh-Dahm from escaping. I needed it to flood downwards, to find the Desert and stop this madness.
At first nothing happened.
I was too late.
Then the land began to shake.
I’d never experienced anything like it in my entire life. The plateau rattled, the battle happening right beneath me. The gold was trying to pulse, but the land resisted its momentum.
I stumbled backwards. The colour at the hole was blinding. The air was changing temperatures, but I couldn’t tell in what direction, and for a moment the whole plateau threatened to collapse. The land was quaking so much that I could barely stand up straight. The heat was overwhelming. It was like being back under the wool hat, only this time with wool constricting my entire body. I grabbed for the Matty to try and stay upright. Looking in, I found Gale had ducked her neck underwater, trembling in fear.
I could feel the Meesh-Dahm beneath me trapped in a terrible struggle.
The golden light kept getting brighter, but the sickening orange was walling it in, concussing together and trapping it on all sides. The Meesh-Dahm was shaking and tense. It had no place to go. My lungs were ablaze with hot fumes. I tried to breathe, but it was like the world in front of me had emptied of air. Nothing filled me up. I gasped with desperation.
The gold grew even tighter within its bindings. The pressure kept building. There was no sign of release. The struggle ran up my legs and into my arms, and for a moment I was dragged into the fight. Both sides were so much more powerful than me, so much grander and older and more enduring. I was caught between two surging rivers, or two bucking mountains, or even between the stars and darkness. I felt so feeble in their presence. So useless. So aware of my own, fleeting existence. Like a pebble tossed in the Great Divide, as the cliffs chewed.
I stepped towards the buried Khol.
And I was going to finish what I started.
I knelt down, the stones and sand burning my legs, and I howled with pain. The land seared into me, both Cold and heat, and my mind threatened to flee, leaving my husk of a body behind. Scarabs were crawling beneath my skin. Sobek lizards were gnawing on every piece of my flesh. I couldn’t see much except for the blinding light; couldn’t feel much except for the blinding pain. My soul was on the verge of being banished, flushed out of my body, and parts of me already ached with emptiness. Suddenly I couldn’t remember my father’s face. I couldn’t feel where my arms ended and where the pain began. I couldn’t remember what or who I was called.
The only thing that existed was eternal battle.
I was going to finish what I started.
I wept onto the ground.
Golden light burst outwards, an explosion of Cold and life and beauty like I’d never seen. It shot downwards into the land, gaining speed as it moved. The orange was carried away at the tips of the wave, pushing to the fringes of the plateau and eventually disappearing over the cliffs. I gasped with the relief, the most sensational feeling. I fell against the ground.
It was bliss.
I pressed my cheek into the glowing land, finding myself touching Cold. My memories came rushing back. My purpose returned, along with all the moments, dark and light, that made my life meaningful.
The things that made a difference.
I got to my feet and looked over my body, lit underneath by gold. I was unharmed. I raced back into the Matty and checked on Gale, who was cooing. Her whole body was submerged, but her long red bill rested on the bucket rim. I got the Desert roaring, but only opened the cap slightly, not risking much more than a hover. I primed the blades and sailed across the Cold land, away from the Sanctuary.
I knew exactly where I’d find my friends.