CHAPTER 14

The One Where You’re Falling

Fin stared at the twinkling lights of the Khaznot Quay. A warm breeze blew across the bay, bringing with it familiar scents and sounds: pirates haggling deals on the docks, butterbeast roasting in the market, winds howling down from Nosebleed Heights. The little boat he stood in rocked softly, the wash of waves like the hush of a lullaby.

He sighed, content.

Marrill had told him to dream of something happy and safe, and this was as happy and safe as he could remember—the night his mother had brought him to the Quay.

A familiar hand landed on his shoulder. He knew what would happen next, and he tried to slow the memory down, to savor it. His mother would point up into the night sky, to the brightest star in the heavens, and tell him, “No matter what happens, so long as that star is still there shining, someone out here will always be thinking of you.”

He held his breath, waiting. But when she lifted her finger and he tilted his head back, he found only emptiness above. The sky was thick and black, almost viscous.

Not a single star shone in the darkness.

He twisted, trying to turn and look up into his mother’s eyes, but she held him fast. Her hand was almost painful on his shoulder. The waves grew choppier, tossing the little boat violently from side to side.

“Where’s my star?” he asked, the question edged in panic.

His mother’s voice came out cold, hard. “I guess this means you’ve been forgotten.”

Drums began to sound, the beat matching the tempo of his heart. Growing louder. Stronger. More familiar. Dread began to pool in his gut.

“Mom—”

The woman behind him laughed. It was a cruel sound, sharp edged and biting. And he knew then that the woman holding him fast wasn’t his mother. She was the Crest of the Rise. “I told you I would come for you,” she hissed in his ear. “Because you belong with us.”

Fin struggled to break free, but it was impossible. Large, dark shapes heaved around him in the darkness. Warships with the sigil of the Salt Sand King blazing to life on their hulls, the dragon-under-waves symbol outlined in fire.

They were coming for him. Bearing down on his tiny boat. Above him the sky broke apart, shattering in a spiderweb of red lightning. At the head of the Rise armada, a ship burst from the water, her metal hull cutting through the waves like glass.

The figure on the bow wore the familiar armor, but something was different about him. He was smaller, narrower. As he neared, he tore the iron mask from his face, and Fin saw himself.

It was Vell. It had to be. Clad in the Master’s armor, captaining his ship. Except the boy’s hair was shaggy like Fin’s. His cheeks a bit rounder than Vell’s, and the way he held himself looser. Fin’s thief’s bag hung from his hip.

“Sorry, jog,” the boy in iron said as he called for ramming speed. The armada—led by the metal ship—bore down on Fin’s little boat, only heartbeats away from crushing it into driftwood.

Fin had no choice but to dive overboard, remembering too late that he didn’t know how to swim. The brackish water closed over his head, pressing tight around him. He flailed and kicked but nothing worked. He just sank deeper, his lungs burning.

Breathe, a soft voice whispered in his head. He shook his head, panic shooting through him like lightning. Breathe, the voice said again, more insistent.

He didn’t have an option. He fought as hard as he could, but eventually his mouth opened and he sucked in a gasp of water. He felt it fill his lungs, thick and cold. He waited for the choking sensation, for the coughing to overtake him, but nothing happened.

He could breathe underwater!

Fly, the same voice told him. This time he did as he was told and reached for his skysails. They fell open with a snap, and the next thing he knew he was soaring through the water. He laughed, the sound erupting from him in a froth of bubbles. He spun and swirled, twirled and dipped.

In moments he’d made it to shore, and he hauled himself out of the surf. He expected to find the giant wooden piers of the Quay stretching above, the sand dirty at his feet. But instead when he stood he found himself in the middle of a lush garden, surrounded by flowing green leaves and flowers of all colors. Every scent imaginable wafted through the air, and quite a few unimaginable ones, too.

He looked behind him. The Khaznot Bay was gone. But he could still hear the drumbeats of the Rise pounding, and he knew, somehow, that they continued to chase him. He wasn’t safe.

Before him stretched a path. He started down it, slowly at first but then gaining speed. He raced through twisted gardens, feeling more and more lost, until he rounded a curve and realized he was no longer alone. He slowed, ducking into the underbrush. A wizard sat on a bench just ahead, her iridescent robes spread around her like ribbons of cloud. It wasn’t until we saw her defining feature that he recognized who it must be: Tanea Hollow-Blood. One of the Wizards of Meres.

Ardent had mentioned she had a rather magnificent beard, Fin recalled. He had to agree.

She seemed to be talking to someone. Fin shifted closer, trying to see who. A sharp gust of wind whipped through the garden, bending the saplings almost to the ground. He threw up an arm as leaves pelted him, rain beginning to fall in painful dollops.

“You can’t travel back in time!” Tanea shouted, her voice carrying on the wind. “It is possible, yes, but the power it would take to open the way, it’s beyond imagining! It’s never been done!”

Thunder crashed overhead, a streak of red burning through Fin’s closed eyes. His gut clenched, and his heart raced. He knew what red lightning meant. He knew who Tanea was arguing with.

Fin shouted a warning, but it was too late. The Master of the Iron Ship advanced toward Tanea, his white beard whipping in the wind, his eyes cold blue behind his metal mask.

Tanea raised her hands. “Wait, no! Please!”

The Master’s cruel iron fingers clutched at her robe. Tanea Hollow-Blood’s head twisted to the side. Her eyes caught Fin’s just moments before her pupils turned to dull metal. Fin blinked, and all that remained of Tanea Hollow-Blood was an iron statue.

Fin clamped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The Master knew he was there. He turned slowly until he was facing Fin and raised a gauntlet-clad fist. Fin fell back, scrambling to put as much distance between them as possible.

His back hit against something solid, and he spun to find a fountain blocking the path. He began to scramble around it when he noticed something odd about the reflection in its water. It wasn’t of the garden. There were no trees or bushes, no cloudy sky.

Instead it looked for all the world like a tunnel made of paper.

“Jump,” a soft voice told him. It was the same voice that had guided him earlier. But this time it wasn’t just in his head. He turned and found a woman standing behind him, directly between him and the advancing Master.

“Hello, Fin,” she said.

“Annalessa,” he breathed. “Wait, you remember me?”

She smiled and nodded. “Of course I do.”

He frowned. “You saved me.”

She leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his. “Take care of my wizard for me,” she told him.

Then she pushed her fingers against his shoulder, tipping him backward into the fountain. The familiar paper tube surrounded him, carrying him away again into someone else’s dream.