The Far Dawn (10 page)

A light appears above and we see a large Atlantean craft, its hull oval, lowering into the coliseum. Thick ropes with copper hooks at their ends drop from its sides. The men who guided Sinassa reappear and link these around the cube. They step away, and the crystal cage begins to rise.

Lük is afraid to look, but as the Terra is lifted from the coliseum, her eyes have closed. Her face is calm.

But when she is exactly level with us, her eyes flash open.

Only you can free me.

Lük does not hear this.

But I do.

The crystal cage rises out of the coliseum, and the great ship arcs off.

“Return to your homes!” Solan calls. “Be safe, and tomorrow we will wake to a new dawn!”

Rana tugs Lük's arm. Her gaze is fierce, Lilly-like. “Let's go.”

Lük nods. The three stand and move quickly around their stunned counterparts. As they exit the balcony, Deniel steps in to stride beside them.

“This is it, then,” he says.

“This is,” says Kael.

In Lük's thoughts I see that this is the only time when the mysterious Paintbrush of the Gods, placed deep in the mountains, will be lightly guarded. The three needed to make an appearance here, so as not to arouse suspicion, and now, with the ceremony ending, they have a small window of time before the masters can return to their work. This is the best moment, perhaps the only moment, they will have. I can hear Lük repeating a thought to himself as they board the craft and he guides it away from the coliseum.
Tonight we will end this.

10

“DON'T GET TOO CLOSE,” SAYS KAEL.

“I know.” Lük angles the craft lower, hanging back, skimming the building tops but keeping the crystal cage in his sight.

They fly over the outer islands, over giant stone wharves, and between towering lighthouses and then across the surging black sea. The moon lights the wave tops and in the distance paints the jagged Antarctic mountains.

Lük strains against crosswinds. He looks over to see Rana checking a timepiece. Multiple dials spin above its gear works. “How long do we have?”

“If Alara was right, the ceremony will just be ending. The masters' ship will have priority. They're probably boarding now.”

Lük presses harder on the pedals and the craft lunges ahead. Waves crash against black cliffs below, the water dotted with chunks of ice, and now we are over a grassy plateau. The mountains rise steadily, glaciers in their seams.

We follow the ship carrying the Terra through a deep valley in S curves. After a few turns, the surrounding mountains are mostly covered with snow.

“There it is,” says Deniel.

The valley meets a headwall, and the transport ship flies straight into a massive cave hung with icicle teeth. Lük flies far left of this entrance, up along the side of the valley wall, and then over the headwall.

Behind it, fields of ice stretch to the horizon. Waves and folds of glacier look as if an ocean was flash frozen. It sparkles in the cold moonlight.

Lük brings the craft around the craggy peak above the cavern entrance, to the back side of the mountain. He descends toward steep icy flanks, to a small tunnel entrance with a narrow landing spot beside it. He expertly hits the target, luffs the sails, and ties them down.

Deniel grips his staff. Kael checks his throwing blades. Rana pulls twin curved sabers, held in worn leather scabbards, from the seat compartment of the craft. She belts them to her waist.

“Nice,” says Lük, referring to the blades. “You brought the minions.”

Rana runs a finger down one leather side. “My father's swords. I will make him proud.”

Lük reaches into the same compartment and produces a heavy leather case with a thick strap. It is rectangular and he is very careful as he slings it over his shoulder.

“Don't trip,” says Kael. It's the first time he's smiled, a cockeyed grin. It reminds me of Leech.

Silence falls over the three. They pause in the whipping, icy wind, their eyes darting from one to the other. No one dares speak.

“To battle,” says Deniel, and rushes into the tunnel.

“What he said,” Kael adds, and the three follow, plunging into darkness.

Lük feels Rana's hand find his. Their feet scuffle on cold rock. Minutes pass, the tunnel straight and sloping downward. The angle increases, and their boots begin to slip.

“Here,” Kael whispers. He moves Rana's hand, who then guides Lük's to a cord along the wall, strung between rough stone rings.

They continue deeper for what seems like ten more minutes. Finally, there is light, a deep red glow.

The tunnel levels out and meets another, running at right angles. This one is taller. Overhead, carved arches hold the mountain at bay. The red glow comes from both directions. Water drips from the ceiling. Breaths of steam slip along the walls.

“Which way?” Rana asks.

Kael produces a thin gold sheet from his pocket, and twists it in his hands. A map is etched into its gleaming surface. “It should be . . .” He turns. “This way to the vents.”

“How much time do we have?” Lük asks.

Rana checks. “Not enough.”

They jog down the passageway. Hallways open in either direction, and occasionally I catch glimpses of machinery in Lük's peripheral vision. Giant metal gears and arms. The clouds of steam grow thicker, sometimes billowing in sudden, deafening hisses.

The tunnel joins another, widens, and then Kael halts them at a four-way intersection. The tunnel straight ahead leads to a large chamber, where we can see a glimpse of the transport craft, soldiers scurrying around it.

“This way,” says Kael, heading left. They run through darkness for another minute before arriving at a metal catwalk that spans a chasm, a fissure that extends into darkness to each side, and above and below. Five wide copper pipes run vertically through the center of the space. A catwalk branches to each. Lük knows that these are cooling vents from the Paintbrush.

Kael leads the way to the center pipe. Its surface is beaded with condensation. We can hear the hum of air inside. The catwalk ends at a hatch in the side of the pipe. Deniel turns a handle and yanks it open, and a rush of hot air spills out.

“It looks like a tight fit,” says Kael, peering in.

Rana leans in and takes a look. “It will have to do.” She opens her shoulder bag and unfolds a small black cloth, revealing eight teardrop-shaped jewels. Lük recognizes them as Falcon Hearts, and I feel his heart racing. They are planning to levitate down this pipe, deep down into the cavern where the Paintbrush is located. Lük doesn't mind heights if he's flying a ship, but this kind of levitation has never been his best skill.

Rana passes out the crystals, two per person, then holds her own to her lips. She closes her eyes, whispering, “Be with me, spirit,” and then blows on them. They ignite in brilliant blue. She cups them in her palms and then spreads her arms and rises slightly off the ground.

“I will go first,” says Deniel nervously. “Seniority.” He performs the same ritual with the crystals and begins to float.

“Remember, control your speed,” says Kael. He checks the map one more time. “We should emerge at the far end of the cavern. There will be a plateau on the east wall. It should be obvious.”

“Right.” Deniel is breathing hard. He pulls himself through the hatch, then lowers out of sight.

Kael and Rana follow, then Lük, who closes the hatch behind them. They descend, lit by the blue of the crystals, hands guiding along the blackened interior of the pipe. It's not quite wide enough for Lük to fully extend his arms, and I sense him tensing, thinking about the kilometers above and below. He wishes for the wide-open spaces of the sky.

The descent is long, deep into the earth, like traveling down vessels toward its heart. I imagine the tons of rock and the sense of darkness and weight is almost too much to handle, and I'm not even the one actually stuck in this spot, having to breathe the hot, mineral-tasting air.

Ten minutes down and the heat is becoming unbearable. Lük is drenched in sweat, wiping drops out of his eyes. The motion causes him to lose focus, and his speed increases. His feet bump Rana's shoulders.

“Sorry!” he whispers. And then he voices a fear that has been growing. “I'm having a harder time with control.”

“So am I,” says Rana. “Something has changed. I feel like I have less control with every minute.”

“Get ready to slow down,” Kael calls. There is light now, below. Red light.

Lük focuses on the crystal, on the sense of space around him, and starts to slow his speed, but I can feel that it's a struggle. He has lost some sense for it that he once had.

“Deniel, slow down!” Kael calls urgently below.

“I'm trying, I—” Deniel's hands and staff rake against the sides of the pipe. “I can't quite grasp it, I . . .”

“Something's wrong,” says Kael. “Ow!” He bounces from one side of the pipe to the other.

“Kael!” Rana calls. “This is because they've taken the Terra,” she says between rapid breaths. “We've lost our feel for it.”

Rana slows hard, and Lük slams into her shoulders.

“I can't hold it!”

Rana begins to sing, a high note like Lilly has sung. She glows brighter, but then the note catches in her mouth. I hear her gasp. “I—I can't find it! I've lost the music!”

They slide free of the pipe, into a massive cavern space beyond measure. Lük tries to stop himself, but his speed only increases. His worry turns to panic, but Rana grabs his arm and pulls him sideways, angling downward toward a narrow ledge that curves along the side of the cavern. Below it, at the bottom of sheer cliffs, stretches a wide river of glowing magma.

“Kael!” Rana shouts. She pushes Lük toward the ledge. He is able to lower himself the rest of the way and lands hard. Rana darts back, her whole body glowing, and she grabs Kael. The moment they have slowed, they both shout.

“Deniel!”

“I can't slow down!” Deniel's robe flaps in the wind. He loses his staff, his arms and legs starting to pinwheel. Falling faster . . .

“Deniel!” Rana screams. “Kael, let me go!”

Kael is gripping Rana by the shoulders. “You can't! We've lost the music!”

They watch helplessly as Deniel's speed increases. He's too far down now. He stops screaming and pulls his arms in, wrapping them around his body. He is free-falling, and Lük thinks he has been like an older brother to them, all their lives, and it is not fair that he is about to die and there is nothing they can do.

Two seconds before Deniel reaches the bubbling magma, he bursts into flames. His body disintegrates on impact, leaving only a hiss on the glowing surface.

Rana and Kael hover there for a moment in shock, then slowly float over to the ledge. Rana is fighting tears. Lük wraps her in a hug, and she buries her face in his shoulder.

“We're losing our connection to the forces,” says Kael after a moment. “What will this world be, what kind of future can there be without the Terra?”

“I should have known,” Rana mutters. “It felt wrong. I should have warned him, or we should have gone another way . . .”

“Don't,” says Lük.

Rana pulls away, her eyes fierce. “Why not? His death means nothing!”

“It does if we succeed,” says Kael. “Deniel chose to be a part of this mission. Now we need to finish it. For him. For everyone.”

“But . . . ,” Lük says, and what he is about to say ignites a deep fear inside him. He glances up. “Those vents were going to be our escape. How are we going to get out if we can't find the music?”

Kael stares at the ground, Rana at Lük, and more tears well up. She doesn't need to answer. Lük already knows. While they may try . . . they are probably not going to escape.

“It was always a risk.” Kael sighs.

I feel Lük remembering his wish back in the apartment, to run, to turn away and flee instead of facing this. And now, it's too late. I find him thinking of his family. His parents, his younger brother. They've already lost one son, Lük's older brother Maris, a soldier, and Lük has not seen them very often since he came to the academy. The visits home have been brief. Too brief, now, it seems.

“We need to keep moving,” says Rana.

The question of where to go is obvious. The three turn and gaze across the cavern. It stretches out of sight into blackness, a vast space large enough to hold a city. Huge chunks of rock, the size of icebergs, regularly topple away from the walls and splash into the magma river with explosions of sparks. The ledge that the three stand on grows wider as it stretches away from them, becoming a plateau, and in the distance a huge section thrusts out like the bow of a mighty ship.

Perched on this triangular point is a vast tower of copper and brass metalwork.

The Paintbrush of the Gods.

The masters' secret creation. Their scientists and alchemists have been working on it for hundreds of years.

It resembles a sort of gigantic telescope, with a triangular base, filled with gears and glass balls, and then a huge cylinder that is angled downward, aimed at the magma river. Behind it are rounded structures arranged in rows reaching back to the cavern wall. Lük thinks they are the turbines, twenty electromagnetic vortex turbines each strong enough to power all the lights of Atlante. And in spite of their mission, Lük can't help but to feel awe and wonder at the sight of this great device.

“Come on.” Kael starts to jog toward the Paintbrush. Lük and Rana hold each other for another second, then lock eyes. Lük nods slowly, hating this, but they run.

The magma cracks and bubbles below them, and waves of heat wash over the three. Rumbles signal new falls of rock crumbling away.

Lük knows, from Master Alara's teachings, that this is a spot where plates of the earth's crust meet. The Atlanteans do not call it plate tectonics, but they think of the earth as Ana's shell. The Paintbrush is placed on this fault line that stretches from beneath Antarctica up the spine of the South American continent, along North America, and around the Pacific Ocean, though none of these landforms are quite the same shape in Lük's mind as they are in mine. The fault line is a deep, strong subduction zone with a spiny backbone of volcanoes, always active and moving. The Paintbrush will send a beam of vortex energy deep into this fault, causing a chain reaction of volcanic eruptions around the globe, releasing ash into the skies that will cool the planet. There will be some tectonic upheaval, but the Atlanteans have built monitoring stations at various points along the Paintbrush's path: in the Andes, along the Pacifica islands. They believe they can temper the system, release the energy if it gets too intense. Most of the masters are confident.