Fall

Kane

The next few days were disappointingly busy. Soldiers found the bomber that had hit Kane, but he was only a corpse by the time they spotted him in a mountain crevasse. He had killed himself, and the fera was nowhere to be found. Gone mad, most likely.

Underground, there were still closed doors everywhere. Homer and his pony made an appearance in the throne room, but only to deliver poor news. Kit was still gone. Mystery was as thick as fog, and no light was able to penetrate it.

Kane studied the ancients in King Asher’s study. Thea came in occasionally to check his progress. He had a few of his father’s maps transferred to the palace, where he could compare the past with the present.

He drew conclusions, brainstormed with Flint, and carried around a tiny notebook to jot down ideas while he walked the royal halls.

Thea half-joked one morning over breakfast, “You’re becoming a little scholar.”

Kane crunched into his toast, while Flint dove into a bowl of greens. “For Kit.”

Thea immediately sobered, and said softly, “Yes. For Kit.”

His mother shored up walls of courage, especially in front of the servants and king, but Kane saw through the masquerade. They were both sorrowful spirits with nowhere to go.

Days became colder, and nights colder still, however Kane and Flint took what few liberties they had on house arrest, and wandered the handful of open bridges above the courtyards. His guards had been reduced in King Asher’s domain, on account of there being royal eyes and ears at every corner.

Kane pretended he was a dragon from a fairytale, sucking in the winter air and releasing it with a heavy puff.

Stop sighing, please, Flint said. You’ve been doing it all day.

Kane glanced back to their three guards. The trio was chatting—and chattering their teeth—in good humor. Neither Poppy nor Homer made up their band any more. Kane’s life rested in the hands of vague, highly-trained acquaintances.

Flint knocked his antlers on a passing arch. Don’t forget me, your fera.

Kane tried to change his mind to something other than brooding. Northern deer shed their antlers, right?

In the winter, Flint said. But I know bonds change many things. Perhaps mine will stay a bit longer…

Kane stopped, and leaned against one of the low walls. The stars seemed far away tonight. Distant to the angry anthill of people below.

Does Life see this? Does he care? Kane wondered. Does he know my sister is missing, and the North is buckled against the East and West?

Flint looked up with him. I know he does. Life knows every thought, every action.

Are you so sure? Kane said.

Have faith, Kane. The deer swung his marble eyes towards him. It’s to Life’s credit we’ve made it this far.

Kane clenched and unclenched his hands. But I need help now.

His fera pawed the stone under them. Have faith, he repeated.

They stayed side by side in silence, until the wind grew too severe. One of the guards suggested them going inside.

“The king would not be pleased if you caught a cold,” he said.

Kane grimaced, and pulled his coat closer. “Of course.”

An hour later, Kane found himself in bed under candlelight. He had been allowed to take one book per evening into his quarters from the study. Tonight, the letters between the kings and queens of old were light, flippant things. Exchanges between friends, he thought. But then again, in the infancy of Eden, family lines were stronger than territory ones. Intermarriage was common back then, and before war meetings there were reunions of cousins, siblings and older generations.

Marking his page for the next day, he closed the book and laid back in his bed. Flint, who had been moved indoors since the attack, nuzzled his hand.

Is it Kit? The deer asked.

If I had let Charlotte be in my place, would things have turned out better? Kane replied.

You know well the answer to that, Flint said gravely. That girl carries deceit like another fera. She fooled many.

What if we’re fools?

Flint paused. You know the answer to that, too.

Atlas

“I see it! I see it!” Skye whooped. Madoc shrilled loudly over their heads.

Atlas jerked to attention. He had misheard Skye’s words at first. Bandits?

Buildings, Hudson clarified. He took some of Atlas’s fatigue through their link, instantly clearing his mind.

What? Atlas blinked, then rubbed his eyes.

Before them was the city of Chesa. Capital of the South. The last stronghold of neutrality in this war.

It was not walled, for anything made to last usually was in a losing battle against the sand, as Atlas had come to learn. Chesa’s buildings were loosely spaced and airtight within. Their exterior was plain and smooth like a sea-worn shell. Despite the city being young compared to the North, it gave off the feel of being older than Eden itself.

The streets were barely visible as their group plowed through them, sending ripples of sand up doorsteps. Curious faces peered out of the shutters above them.

Atlas ignored them. He was at the head of this mission, and he had to complete it.

There was no palace expecting them. There weren’t even guards to stop them. All military force was still spread across the desert with the moving towns. Chesa was an empty husk until the next meeting with the Southern leaders. A placeholder city.

More like a town, Atlas grumbled. His bones and flesh were weary, but he forced himself to the far side of the capitol, where his destination lay.

“Atlas. Atlas.” Milla shook his shoulder. “Snap out of it. We’re here.”

He blinked, and found his knees were on the ground. Milla was off June, and Skye was ahead of them. Playing, splashing in…

Water! The Bay of Shiloh! Hudson rumbled gleefully. The bear was a blot of ink in the crystal water surrounding them. He ran at Atlas, skidding to a stop and sending a wall of a wave to him.

Atlas spluttered, then looked to his hands. They were cupped, with a still pool resting inside. He brought it to his lips and drank.

You didn’t know what to do once we go here. You fell to your knees—Hudson sent him a mental image through their link of him falling—and were like that for a while. Milla had to wake you after June was watered.

Why didn’t you wake me? Atlas said.

I wanted to give you a slight peace of mind. Let a human break the spell. The bear dipped his nose in the water. I forgot how wonderful the Bay of Shiloh was. It’s little wonder why this is the capital.

Atlas took another mouthful of water, then splashed his face. He rose to his knees with a groan, then made his way to Hudson, and beyond. The bay was at his knees, then his waist, then his elbows. His fera would not follow, but kept a mindful distance.

Relax, and I will be right here, Hudson said.

Sinking gratefully into the refreshing cool, Atlas let the water clean his clothes and body. His fatigue made everything a hazy blur until Skye was beside him.

“Milla wants to talk to you,” she said. Her young eyes were widened with an emotion Atlas was too tired to place.

He turned and stopped, his clothes still making a slow twirl around him.

Along the shore of Chesa, dozens and dozens of citizens stood. Some of them were armed, some of them were not. Those that appeared to be a part of the Chestic militia were hurriedly prepared with weapons that belonged in the farming family.

A pitchfork and harvest scythe were pointed to Milla, who had been dragged ashore with June. She looked perfectly at ease, but a string of nervousness played in her voice.

“Atlas, would you come here to meet our hosts?”