The Quest to the Uncharted Lands Page 3

  Unfolded, she was surprised to find that the piece of cloth was actually a bodysuit, similar to what a beekeeper might wear. Long, thick sleeves ended at the wrist in a pair of detachable gloves, and trousers flared at the ankles as if to cover the wearer’s shoes. A hood attached to the back of the shirt collar, and from that, a veil came down over the face, thin enough to see through. Hook and eye clasps ran up and down the back of the suit so that a person could step into and out of the outfit easily.

  Stella couldn’t even begin to guess what the boy thought he needed with a beekeeper’s suit on board an airship bound for the Hiterian Mountains. They were thousands of miles from the nearest bee.

  Confused and frustrated, she reached for the last item, the worn piece of paper. An impressive collection of mysteries about the boy swirled in her head, and she could only hope that the paper might explain at least one of them.

  Unfolding and smoothing the creased paper out on the floor, Stella found a short note written in Trader’s Speech, the most common language in Solace, although, the words were so sloppy she could barely read them, as if the person who’d written the note had been in a terrible hurry.

  I hope you find this because it means you got away. I’m so sorry. We couldn’t wait. I’ll tell them everything. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.

  The letter was unsigned—questions piling on questions—and another mystery added to the list.

  Stella rummaged in the bottom of the knapsack to make sure there was nothing else, but other than the extra clothes and food, those three objects appeared to be the sum total of everything the boy owned. Looking from the beetle to the cryptic note and then to the beekeeper suit, Stella sighed helplessly.

  He was a stowaway, and he glowed with a strange power she’d never seen before. Whatever he was doing here, it could mean trouble for the ship and its crew.

  She needed answers, and the only way she was going to get them was to talk to the boy.

  Quietly, Stella opened her alchemy case and searched among the packets of herbs and powders until she found the vial containing spirits of hartshorn. The healer in her still wanted to let the boy rest and recover his strength, but a stronger warning hummed in her veins that she couldn’t ignore.

  That didn’t mean she’d act recklessly. In addition to the spirits of hartshorn, Stella removed a round metal compact from her case. It was small enough to hide in her right hand, and the clasp that held it shut was easy to manipulate. She could open and close it one-handed in less than a second. Inside the compact was her best weapon of self-defense. With it in her right hand and the spirits of hartshorn in her left, Stella began to feel a bit more confident in what she was about to do.

  Before she could change her mind, Stella uncorked the vial and held it under the boy’s nose, releasing the scent of the spirits.

  The pungent vapors of the hartshorn worked instantly. The boy jerked awake, coughing and sputtering, his head whipping from side to side as he tried to take in his surroundings. When his gaze found Stella, his chest heaved. Panic filled his eyes, like a wild animal staring at an open cage.

  Despite her own anxiety, Stella felt a rush of sympathy for the boy. She hated to see anyone so afraid. “It’s all right,” she whispered, setting the vial on the floor and laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder to stop him from thrashing and throwing off the blanket. “You’re safe. You’re all right.”

  Quick as a lightning strike, his hand came out from beneath the blanket and snatched her wrist. He yanked her forward until their noses were almost touching.

  “What happened?” The boy’s voice was raspy from sleep and fear. “Where am I?”

  “Let me go!” Stella yelped, trying to squirm out of his grip. She held the compact in her free hand, but she didn’t dare use the weapon this close to him, not without risking its effects on herself.

  The boy didn’t move, and Stella berated herself for being so careless. She shouldn’t have woken him so suddenly. Now, with the crate at her back and the boy right in her face, she had no easy escape if he decided to attack her in the small space. Again, she tried to jerk free, but the boy only tightened his grip. What was she going to do now?

  The boy stared at her while she struggled, and gradually, his dark brown eyes lost some of their panic and wildness. Maybe he realized there was no immediate danger, or maybe he noticed that she was starting to panic too, for suddenly, he released her and sat up, scooting back against the wall. The blanket she’d covered him with tangled around his waist. He glanced down at it, his forehead furrowed in confusion, and then he looked back up at Stella.

  Silence fell over the cargo bay while the two of them studied each other. With the boy pressed against the wall and Stella leaning into the crate, it was as if someone had drawn an invisible line between them. In Stella’s mind, that line said, Do not cross or there will be trouble. She opened her mouth a couple of times to say something, but each time she couldn’t get any words out. The boy didn’t try to speak at all. He simply watched her, his gaze sharp, as if she were a puzzle and he were trying to assemble all the pieces at once.

  Finally, Stella couldn’t stand it any longer. She crossed her arms over her stomach, rubbing her wrist, which still ached from where he’d grabbed it. “Are you going to hurt me?” she blurted out, voicing her biggest concern first. She readied the compact, just in case.

  Hearing the question, the boy’s expression changed dramatically, his face crumpling and his eyes widening in shock. “No!” he said, and then, in a quieter tone, “Of course not. Why would you think…” His voice trailed off as he noticed her now cradling her wrist. His eyes softened at the corners. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  His apology certainly sounded sincere. Then again, he might say anything to try to put her at ease.

  Her expression must have betrayed her inner suspicion, because the boy raised his hands as if he was surrendering and tried to move even farther away from her, but the wall behind him wouldn’t allow it. More slowly now, he took in their surroundings. “Where are we?” he asked. “Is this the cargo bay?”

  “Yes,” Stella said shortly. Now that she’d gotten over some of her fear, she remembered that she wanted answers too. She wasn’t interested in his questions. “What are you doing on this ship?” she demanded.

  The boy had been looking her in the eye, but now his gaze dropped. He rested his hands in his lap and seemed to be thinking over how to answer her.

  Or how to lie.

  “I know you’re not part of the crew. You don’t belong here,” she stated preemptively.

  “Fair point,” he said at last. “You’re right. I’m not part of the crew, and I really don’t belong here.” A smile tugged at his mouth, as if he was laughing at a private joke. But the grin faded quickly, and a shrewd look came into his eyes that Stella didn’t like. “You know, I could accuse you of the same things,” he said. “There aren’t supposed to be any kids on this ship, so you shouldn’t be here either. You snuck on board just like I did, and now you’re hiding, just like I am. Isn’t that right?”

  Stella gritted her teeth. Well, he’d figured that out fast. “What’s your name?” she asked, ignoring his question.

  “Cyrus,” the boy answered, a little too quickly.

  Stella raised an eyebrow. “Is that your real name?”

  He hesitated and then shook his head. “No.”

  Now Stella was annoyed. “We’re never going to get anywhere with fake names and questions you won’t answer,” she said.

  “I agree,” Cyrus said. Then, unexpectedly, he grinned at her. “Maybe we should stop the interrogation right here.”

  “I’m not interrogating you,” she snapped, but that only made him smile wider. Stella’s cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment. Was he laughing at her? Did he think this was all a big joke? “I don’t know who you are, but if you’re here to stop this ship or hurt anyone on it, I swear I’ll turn you in,” she said, knowing as she spoke the words that they
were true. “I don’t care if it means they find me too.”

  “I—” The boy stopped and stared at her flushed face in surprise. “I believe you,” he said, and he wasn’t grinning anymore. “But why would you think I’m here to hurt the ship?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Stella gestured to the metal walls surrounding them. “This ship—this whole expedition—only came about because of a joint agreement between the Merrow Kingdom and the Dragonfly territories. We’re exploring the world together and maintaining the peace back home at the same time.”

  But there were still those in both kingdoms who weren’t so quick to forget the Iron War. The war had ended in a treaty—with no clear winner on either side—after the death of old King Easmon Merrow. On the day his son formally ascended to the throne, he immediately pushed for peace talks, an end to all the suffering. Unlike his warmongering father, the new king had no desire to invade and conquer their southern neighbor.

  King Aron of the Dragonfly territories had agreed to the talks, and after a long, drawn-out negotiation, the war came to an end. The resource it had been fought over—precious iron—would be traded openly between the two kingdoms again, and the Merrow Kingdom agreed to reduce the size of its military and weapons manufacturing. Widespread relief accompanied the announcement of the outcome, but it would take the land and the people a long time to heal, and not everyone was ready to forgive and move forward.

  Stella recalled that there had even been protests reported outside the royal palaces of Merrow and Dragonfly in the weeks leading up to the Iron Glory’s launch. Some dissenters called the expedition a fool’s mission undertaken with the enemy.

  “If someone wanted the Merrow Kingdom and the Dragonfly territories to go to war again, sabotaging this expedition would be the best way to do it,” Stella said pointedly.

  “I see.” Cyrus regarded her thoughtfully. “But if you were worried I was here to hurt the ship, you could have easily turned me in to the crew while I was unconscious. Yet you didn’t. Maybe that means you really don’t think I’m a threat. Or maybe just a little threat?” He held up two fingers an inch apart.

  Stella frowned. If nothing else, he was a very pushy boy. “I’m still deciding,” she said.

  “Would it make any difference if I told you I could actually help the expedition?” Cyrus asked, wearing a hopeful expression now.

  Help them? The boy with the lying tongue, the annoying grin, and hands that spontaneously glowed? No, Stella hadn’t considered that possibility, though it was the best lie he could have used to try to gain her trust.

  “It might help if you’d explain what you were doing in that hallway and why your hands and eyes were lit up like suns when I first saw you,” Stella said.

  A much heavier silence fell over the cargo bay this time.

  “Ahhhh,” Cyrus said, drawing out the word as if he’d suddenly forgotten how to put a sentence together. “Yes, you’ve got a great point there. That light probably scared you, didn’t it?”

  Stella nodded vigorously.

  “So if I could explain my…er…my trick…would it make you feel better?”

  Again, Stella nodded, though she thought he was only stalling.

  “It’s nothing dangerous,” Cyrus assured her. He held out his hands, palms up. A flash of light passed over his skin and vanished, as if he’d caught a sunbeam and then just as quickly let it go. “It’s a power I have. I can shield things, strengthen them—that’s what the gold light is. I was using it to try to protect the ship, specifically the engine room.”

  “How?” Stella whispered, fascinated and unsettled by the brief reappearance of the gold light. Was that what had made the sound that had woken her earlier—the strange pulse she’d felt? “How does it work?” she asked.

  “The power comes from inside me, and then I twist and turn it to the size and shape I need. Sometimes it feels like I’m building a wall or a net. I can’t really explain it any better than that,” Cyrus said, lowering his hands. “It’s just something I’ve always been able to do.”

  But Stella had a feeling he could explain more. He just didn’t want to. He was hiding something. “Why were you trying to protect the engine room?” she prodded. “And why did your power make you pass out?”

  “Oh, that.” Cyrus flexed his fingers, making Stella wonder if they were still hot to the touch. “It was just a precaution. I was trying to put a permanent shield around the engine room because if something were to go wrong on the ship, that’s where it’s most likely to happen. It didn’t work, though. The engine room is too big for me to shield for the whole trip. I fed too much of my power into it, and it weakened me. I don’t usually pass out, but I couldn’t help it this time. Also, I sort of have to shut out the world while I’m using it. It takes me a few minutes to come back afterward, so I’m…not good for much else. I’m rather helpless.”

  By the look on Cyrus’s face, Stella guessed that helpless wasn’t a condition he enjoyed. He was silent for a minute, and then he rolled his shoulders back and forth, as if shaking off something unpleasant. He fixed another grin on his face. “So, now that the interrogation’s over,” he said, “have you decided whether you’re going to turn me in?”

  Stella didn’t know what to say. Hearing him describe his strange power, she was almost as unsettled as she’d been when she saw his glowing eyes.

  Yet, for some reason, she sensed he wasn’t dangerous. Evasive—yes. Irritating—definitely. But now that he was awake and coherent, she was sure that whatever else happened, he wasn’t going to hurt her. Maybe it was because he’d expressed such shock when she’d suggested it. Or that he’d teased her about questioning him.

  But even if Cyrus didn’t intend to hurt her, he was almost certainly lying to her, and that could turn out to be just as bad.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” she said.

  Cyrus cleared his throat and gave her a solemn look. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. Hard to tell. “Because the Iron Glory will never make it over the Hiterian Mountains without me,” he said.

  She’d been prepared to listen to a reasonable argument, but at that announcement, Stella felt her mouth fall open in disbelief. “How can you say that?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea what this ship is capable of? It’s the first long-range flying vessel of its size ever built—and by the best machinists in Solace!”

  “By the best craftspeople, you mean,” Cyrus corrected her. “The Merrow Kingdom and their machinists designed it, yes, but the pieces were put together by common laborers in Noveen’s factories.”

  Stella threw up her hands in frustration. “The point is you don’t know what you’re talking about. The Iron Glory is the greatest ship ever built.”

  “Hang on, let’s not talk crazy here. I agree it’s a decent ship,” Cyrus said, a cocky grin spreading across his face. He splayed his fingers against the floor, like a healer resting his hand against a patient’s heartbeat. “I ought to know; I was one of those factory workers who helped build it.”

  “You?” Stella sputtered. “Worked on the Iron Glory? You did? Then how can you say—”

  “I said she’s a good ship, just not the best in Solace.” Cyrus’s patronizing grin made Stella want to throw him out a window. “Look, it doesn’t matter,” he added. “I swear it won’t survive the journey without my help. You hand me over to the crew and they’ll lock me away somewhere for being a stowaway. If they do that, I can’t help. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Prove it,” Stella challenged him. “You say we’re doomed without your help, so tell me why, and prove to me that you won’t be the cause of whatever’s going to happen.”

  “That part’s easy,” Cyrus said. “In about five days, the Iron Glory is going to run into an ice storm over the mountains. So unless you think I can control the weather, you’ll see that the danger has nothing to do with me.”

  “I don’t see how you can predict ice storms either,” Stella said. “But this ship has been d
esigned to navigate through the most extreme temperatures and climates.”

  Cyrus shook his head, and the haunted look that came into his eyes chilled Stella through her skin and straight down to her bones. “You’ve never seen a storm like this,” he said softly. “You’ve never felt wind gusts that could knock you off your feet, ice shards that cut skin. The reason I know we’re going to run into a storm is because the storm is always there, hanging over miles and miles of the Hiterian Mountains like a permanent cloud of death. It’s the reason why no explorers have ever made it over the mountains. None of you are prepared for what you’re about to face.”

  He was frightening her now, and Stella hated being frightened. She preferred anger to fear. Anger didn’t paralyze her. Anger spurred her to act—sometimes rashly, but at least it meant she was doing something. “If it’s that bad, what makes you think you’re prepared for this storm?” she asked, her voice choked as she battled through her fear.

  “Because I’ve already been through it once,” Cyrus said, “when I traveled here from what you call the uncharted lands.”

  At Cyrus’s declaration, Stella burst out laughing. It was completely absurd, without a doubt the most outrageous lie she’d ever heard, and nothing less than what she’d expected from the irritating boy.

  Yet, instead of joining in with her laughter and admitting that he’d pushed the joke too far, Cyrus just stared at her, his expression serious and a little bit sorrowful.

  In the face of that, Stella’s laughter died. No, it couldn’t be true. He was just playing with her, laughing at her again. She could feel her anger stirring. “You’re a liar,” she said.

  Cyrus shook his head. “I’m not lying—” He paused. “What’s your name? You never told me.”

  It was the last thing Stella had expected him to ask. She considered lying about her name, just as he had, but what would be the point? She had nothing to hide. “Stella Glass,” she said.

  “Nice to meet you, Stella Glass.” He held out his hand for her to shake. She hesitated, then took it. “I promise you I’m not lying, and I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Cyrus said. “I’m just trying to get home.”