The Quest to the Uncharted Lands Read online

  “I made you a promise, remember,” Stella said. “Once we stop the Faceless man and the ship is on the ground, you’re going back to your family. Now, come on. We don’t have time to waste!”

  She turned to the door, but it opened before she could get close enough to put her hand on the knob. Stella’s father burst into the room, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning against it.

  “What’s wrong, Dad?” Stella asked. “Where are the guards?”

  She searched his expression, wondering what was wrong, but she found it was impossible to read his eyes.

  His very bloodshot eyes.

  As quick as Stella’s brain was at solving problems, it took her some time—a whole five seconds, to be exact—to understand what those bloodshot eyes meant. Part of her tried to explain them away logically. She’d said herself her parents liked to work late. And they probably hadn’t gotten much sleep on this expedition with the excitement and stress, so of course they were exhausted, and their faces would show it. See? Such an easy explanation, it was silly.

  Her heart wasn’t much help either, because it was too busy screaming in denial at everything her eyes were telling her.

  The Faceless man would never disguise himself as her father, because no one would believe it. Her father was a gentle, kind person who would never raise his hand to hurt anyone. He’d rather die. The Faceless man wasn’t capable of that kind of compassion. The crew would see through him in an instant.

  Yet Stella hadn’t.

  Her mind quickly cycled back to the conversation with her parents in the medical bay. Her father’s eyes hadn’t been bloodshot then—she was sure of it. But they had been in the hallway outside the security office, and it wasn’t because of the smoke, she realized now. So the Faceless man had probably switched places with her father while he was hiding in the washroom, waiting to ambush the guards. Which meant her father was still there, unconscious or worse.

  Helpless, trembling with rage and fear, Stella could only hope he was all right.

  The Faceless man twitched his right arm. A familiar metal rod slid from his sleeve into his hand. For the first time, Stella noticed that there was a small hilt of sorts at one end, which the Faceless man gripped. It must be what protected his hand from the burning touch of the metal when the weapon was active.

  Flicking his wrist, the Faceless man brought the Lazuril rod up and squeezed the hilt, and in response, a familiar sparking blue light blossomed from the prongs. He brandished it in front of him, staring them down. “If either of you scream, I’ll use the rod,” he said calmly, even politely, but his eyes were hard and cold as granite. A chill crawled along Stella’s spine.

  Then we’ll both scream, she thought defiantly, both of us at once. We’ll bring the guards, and the crew will come running. They’ll stop you before you can even think about using that weapon on us.

  Except the guards were unconscious, and the crew were distracted in the hall by the false fire.

  Stella opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. The Faceless man had trapped them both, and worst of all, he was still wearing her father’s face. She couldn’t look at it, that mask that was both exactly like her father and not at all like him, its beloved expression twisted into a sneer.

  “You led me on a chase, boy,” the Faceless man said to Cyrus, then turned to glare at Stella. “And you…you almost killed me.”

  Stella flinched, her elbow bumping the wall of the small room. Nowhere to run. She could try activating the invisibility suit, but it would be at least ten seconds or so before she vanished, more than enough time for the Faceless man to strike her with the rod. “I d-didn’t mean to hurt you,” she stammered, though she doubted the man believed her.

  “Just like the rest of your kind,” the Faceless man said. “Violent, unthinking brutes. I was disgusted by what I saw in your city.”

  “That’s a funny thing to hear from someone threatening us with a Lazuril rod,” Cyrus said, his eyes narrowed.

  The Faceless man chuckled, but it sounded more like a growl. “You made it necessary,” he said. “When I first saw you, it was in the factory where the Iron Glory was being built. I stayed to spy on the builders’ progress and you looked familiar, but I didn’t recognize you, at first. The last expedition team was long gone by that time, and I didn’t know anyone had been left behind. But when the airship was finished and I saw aletheum gleaming in its envelope, I knew you had to be olaran—that you were responsible for it.” The man’s eyes glittered with malice. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done, boy? How could you give the Dragonfly territories that precious material?”

  “I had to.” Cyrus’s face flushed with anger. “The Iron Glory was my only way home. I needed to protect the ship.”

  The Faceless man shook his head. “You doomed the ship,” he said. “No matter the cost, her people”—he jerked his chin at Stella—“can’t be allowed to possess aletheum. You forced me to destroy them.”

  Cyrus’s face lost all color. His mouth opened and closed, and his shoulders slumped. Stella wasn’t so steady herself.

  Could it be true? Was the Faceless man trying to bring down the ship because Cyrus had strengthened it with aletheum? Was it really so precious that he would kill everyone just to keep it from her side of Solace?

  The Faceless man held up the Lazuril rod, still addressing Cyrus. “The day of the storm, I only meant to incapacitate you, prevent you from using your power to protect the ship. On my honor, I wouldn’t have killed another of my kind.”

  “Your honor?” Stella said incredulously. “You weren’t going to kill him, but he’d die with the rest of us when the ship crashed!”

  “No,” the Faceless man countered swiftly. “I have no intention of dying on this ship. I have parachutes and supplies hidden on the main deck. No matter where I land, I know how to survive and navigate my way back to Kovall. A minor modification to my plan allowed for me to take the incapacitated boy with me when I escaped.” He lowered his arm, letting the Lazuril rod’s tip rest near the floor. “I’ll take you with me now, boy, if you’ll go. I swear I’ll return you to Kovall safely.”

  Silence fell in the room, but the blood thundered in Stella’s ears. Rather than killing Cyrus, as she’d been sure he’d come to do, the Faceless man was actually offering to take him home.

  Stella searched his face and those bloodshot eyes for a trace of deception, but she found none. His gaze was direct and open, and for once, the emptiness in his eyes was gone. In fact, in that moment, more than any other, he most resembled Stella’s father, who often expressed the same honesty. The similarity was repulsive to Stella, but it made it easier for her to believe him.

  “Well, boy?” the Faceless man asked. “What’s it going to be?”

  Cyrus looked him in the eye and shook his head. “I’m not going with you,” he said hoarsely. “It’s true—for a long time the only thing I cared about was getting home, no matter what I had to do to get there. I wasn’t thinking about anything but myself. I’d seen the worst of this side of Solace, and I wanted to escape.” He looked at Stella, and she saw the determination and sorrow in his eyes. “But things are different now.”

  Stella understood. Cyrus meant the words for her. She gave him a reassuring smile, but the Faceless man sniffed in derision. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Their people are a threat to our lands. I must act to protect my homeland from invasion.”

  “Wait a minute,” Stella said, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You said you stayed behind when the last expedition left. That means you’re all alone here and making decisions for your people?”

  “That’s right,” Cyrus said, catching on. “Before the last expedition, you knew our alagant was getting close to formally reaching out to the humans, sarnuns, and chamelins on the other side of the mountains. But you don’t want that, so you’re acting on your own, aren’t you?”

  “You’re only children,” the Faceless man spat. “You look at the world in wonder, and you think
that every adventure and risk will yield something great. And like the alagant, you can’t see that there are darker forces at work. The alagant has sent manned expeditions to study the Merrow Kingdom and the Dragonfly territories, but she hasn’t seen your nature as I have. She hasn’t seen you fight over resources or your eagerness to conquer. She must be protected from herself as much as from your people.”

  Cyrus’s fists clenched. “You’d destroy everything the olarans have worked for,” he growled. “You’d twist everything they’re trying to do.”

  Yes, he would, Stella thought. Because that was what fear could do to someone. Fear so extreme that it became madness. All the Faceless man saw when he looked at Stella’s people was war, two greedy kingdoms fighting over precious resources. And it was true. They had been guilty of those things, but now they were trying to move forward, to create a future together, and the expedition was crucial to that.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Stella said, daring to take a step forward to make her appeal. “Trust your alagant. Let her meet us and let her decide if we’re a threat or, better still, let us prove to you that we aren’t. That man whose face you stole would never hurt anyone, and the people on this ship don’t deserve to die because you’re scared of what we might do!”

  “Stay where you are,” the Faceless man warned, pointing the Lazuril rod at Stella. At its nearness, she felt the hairs on her arms stand up. “What you say might be true,” he allowed. “You helped this boy, which is more than I expected from one of your kind, but I can’t trust that there are enough people like you. And even if you could convince me, it’s much too late now to change things.”

  Dread clenched Stella’s gut and her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “What did you do?” Cyrus demanded.

  “Did you really think I’d come after you here and risk getting captured if I hadn’t already put my plan into motion?” The Faceless man flicked the rod back and forth now, almost playfully. “You’re just the last detail that needs tying up, the last layer of the ship’s protection that must be stripped. The Iron Glory was doomed ten minutes ago. In another ten,” he added, “it will explode.”

  This has to be a dream, Stella told herself. She must have fallen asleep, and her anxious mind had conjured up this sick nightmare of the Faceless man. Wearing her father’s face, no less. Her father, coming to tell her the Iron Glory was going to explode.

  She waited and waited to wake up, but nothing changed.

  “Stella,” Cyrus said. “Stella!” He waved his arm to get her attention, which made Stella wonder how many times he’d called her name before she heard him. She looked at him, saw the panic and sorrow in his eyes. Well, what good would those do? Those were just feelings, and they didn’t matter. Not when the ship was doomed and her parents were going to die and neither she nor Cyrus would ever see home again. It was too much. Stella breathed deeply, sucking in gulps of air, to keep from throwing up.

  “Stella, I’m so sorry,” Cyrus was saying while Stella struggled not to vomit. Why was he apologizing? It wasn’t as if any of this was his fault. The ship would already have crashed if it weren’t for him.

  At least she and her parents would be together if this was the end. If she’d stayed in Noveen, where it was safe, she would have spent her life waiting, wondering why they never came home to her.

  “I’ll give you one last chance to come with me, boy,” the Faceless man said. He’d stopped paying attention to Stella. It was as if she weren’t even in the room. All the man’s focus was on Cyrus, waiting to see if he would change his mind.

  “You should go,” Stella finally told Cyrus, her mouth bone-dry and voice raspy. “Escape if you can.” The Faceless man was offering him a way off the ship. Why should he have to die if there was a way to save him?

  “You can’t be serious,” Cyrus said, staring at Stella as if she’d just suggested he sprout wings and fly. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Then I’m sorry,” the Faceless man said. He raised the Lazuril rod and took a step forward. “I didn’t want it to come to this.”

  “Me neither,” Cyrus said, and before Stella could open her mouth to scream, he launched himself at the Faceless man. “Run, Stella!” he cried.

  The Faceless man swung the Lazuril rod, but Cyrus was already too close. He hit the man around the waist, his momentum driving them both into the wall. The impact must have disrupted the Faceless man’s power because suddenly, his features blurred, re-forming into the older face he’d worn the day of the storm.

  Stella ran to help Cyrus, but the boy shouted, “No!” He wrestled the man against the wall and turned to her, face red and straining. “You can save the ship. It has to be the engine room. Warn them!”

  The Faceless man grunted and tried to shove Cyrus off him, but the boy stubbornly hung on. He twisted the Lazuril rod, but Cyrus slammed his elbow into the Faceless man’s arm, pinning it above his head.

  Cyrus’s mad charge had also cleared a path to the door. The very last thing Stella wanted to do was leave Cyrus here, fighting the Faceless man alone, but he was right. If she didn’t at least try to warn the crew, they would all be dead in minutes.

  She made a break for the door. Yanking it open, she cast one last glance at Cyrus struggling with the Faceless man and ran from the room.

  She made it to the hallway and almost collided with Drea. The captain, Stella’s mother, and a handful of other crew members were there too, crouching by the unconscious guards. When the first officer saw Stella, her feelers stirred and pointed at her.

  “What happened?” Drea demanded, her mind voice echoing in Stella’s head. “Your mother came to see the captain and me, claiming that Cyrus—”

  “Help him!” Stella interrupted, grabbing Drea’s arm and all but shoving her toward the security office. “Cyrus is being attacked!”

  “Attacked?” the captain said, getting to his feet. Stella’s mother and the other crew members looked up in alarm. “By whom?” he demanded.

  “The traitor! It’s all true—everything my mother told you!” Stella had no time to try to convince them. She had to get to the engine room.

  “Stella, are you all right?” her mother said, coming up to embrace her daughter. “You’re shaking!”

  “I’m fine,” Stella said, pulling away, “but you have to find Dad! I think he’s in the washroom, unconscious.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Please, just help them!” she cried. “I have to get to the engine room, or the ship’s going to crash!” Without another word, she took off running.

  “Hold on!” The captain reached out to grab her as she flew past, but Stella dodged him and made it to the stairwell before he could catch up. He shouted again for her to stop, but Stella just ran faster.

  Luck was with her in that no one was on the stairs. Unhindered, Stella jumped down them, skipping two and three steps, almost tripping and sprawling on the metal risers.

  But what was she looking for once she got to the engine room? Cyrus might have guessed what the Faceless man had done to the ship, but he hadn’t had time to share the details. All Stella knew was that there was going to be an explosion.

  If that was true, the Faceless man must have found a way to tamper with the boilers, like making the pressure build up in such a way that the crew wouldn’t notice, at least not until it was too late. So she had to find out which of the boilers he’d sabotaged and get the engineers to bring down the pressure before it exploded.

  Finally, Stella reached the second deck. She charged down the hallway, boots clanging on the metal floor, and threw open the door to the engine room. A blast of heat and sulfur-ridden steam hit her in the face. She coughed and waved her hand in front of her.

  The room was hot, lit with the bright orange glows of the fires that fed the engines and kept the Iron Glory’s propellers turning. A dozen or so men and women moved about the room, some of them shoveling fuel into the fires, others checking the steam gauge
s or talking in small groups. None of them looked upset or panicked. They had no idea that one of their boilers was about to blow.

  Just beyond the doorway, a metal catwalk encircled the room, allowing Stella to see all the activity from her position above. Two sets of stairs, one on each side of the room, led down to the engine pit. Stella stopped at the top of the stairs, put two fingers in her mouth, and let out the loudest, shrillest whistle she could manage to get the engineers’ attention.

  A dozen heads turned and looked up at her simultaneously. All over the room, eyes widened and brows furrowed as the engineers saw Stella. Maybe some of them even recognized her from when she’d been introduced to the crew with her parents.

  “Listen to me!” she yelled down at them. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but one of the boilers is about to explode. We have to stop it!”

  For a second, nobody moved or said a word. Then a few of the engineers looked at one another in confusion, murmuring something Stella couldn’t hear.

  “Where did you come from, girl?” one of the men standing near the base of the stairs shouted up to her. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

  “She’s one of those stowaways—Martin and Eliza’s girl,” another engineer said, wiping sweat from his forehead.

  “She must be lost,” said a woman with dark hair tied back with a green handkerchief. “You need to turn around, girl. It isn’t safe to be here.”

  As they talked, Stella’s panic spiked. They were all going to die just standing around talking. She had to make them listen.

  Stella ran across the catwalk and down the stairs, charging into the engineers’ midst. She grabbed the man closest to her by the arm and shook him. “Please,” she begged. “One of these boilers is going to explode! If we don’t find which one, everyone on board the ship is going to die when the Iron Glory crashes!”

  “Stop telling stories,” said the man she was shaking. He wore stained overalls and had only a small patch of gray hair on the top of his head. He scowled at Stella. “You want to cause a panic?”