Reclamation(167)

The sledge ran over a larger than average bump. The shock sat Eric down hard on the nearest box, jarring his backbone.

“Sorry,” Heart called back.

Eric shifted his buttocks and started to say it was all right.

Heart cut him off. “We’ve been waiting for you to come back, you know.”

Eric raised his head slowly. Heart had a quarter profile turned toward him so he could see Eric with one eye and the oxen with the other. His elbows pumped and strained in response to the team tugging at the harness.

“Who has?” asked Eric. Heart’s blank look said he hadn’t heard. “Who has?” Eric called.

“Friends,” shouted Heart, dragging on the reins to force the oxen around a cluster of thorn trees. “Thinking men, discontented Teachers, our fellow Heretics.”

Eric felt his forehead furrow. He stood up and moved toward the front of the sledge again.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, clinging to the rails of the driver’s stand.

“We knew you’d gone over the World’s Wall. We’ve been ten years hoping you’d come back and tell us what’s out there.” Heart was barely watching the oxen now and no amount of noise could disguise the eagerness in his voice. “When we get back to First City, I’ll spread the word that …” The oxen ambled straight for a huge, moss-backed boulder.

“Look out!” Eric shouted.

Heart yanked his head back around. “Whoa!” he cried, pulling back on the reins until his elbows almost touched behind his back. The oxen snorted and stopped.

Eric ran his hand through his hair. “Keep your eyes on where you’re going, Heart,” he said, “and if you want stories, ask a librarian. They’ll be much more entertaining.”

“Garismit’s Eyes!” Heart slapped the reins against the railing. “Have you had yours put out? Don’t you see that this is our chance? After these Vitae are taken care of, there’s going to be chaos in the cities. If we’re ready for it, if we’re armed with the truth about the World’s Wall and the Words, we can gather support. You can talk to the ones who’ve got one foot in the stirrup. Tell them about the other Skymen and about how much they’d value …”

Eric stared at him, unable to think of one word to say.

Heart spread his hands. “We are dying, Hand on the Seablade. The Realm is dying. You know that. Every year more broken babies are born to die at our hands. We need the Skymen’s help if we’re going to survive.”

I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Eric leaned his forearm against the support pole and stared out over the oxen’s backs. It was impossible to tell whether Heart actually believed what he said or if he was just trying to win Eric’s sympathies.

Gradually Eric became aware of a new noise under the perpetual rush of the wind. The sound drifted to him, over the stamping and blowing of the oxen, over the rustle of the leaves in the trees. It was familiar, but wrong somehow. It was a long, distant roar, like approaching thunder, but far too smooth.

Heart heard it too. “What is that n—”

Before he could finish, Eric jumped out of the sledge, his gaze glued to the sky. Islands of blue showed between the clouds. Eric stumbled forward, heading for a bare patch out from under the shadows of the trees.

The roar deepened until it echoed off the walls. Eric swiveled his neck toward what he thought was the right direction.

A vapor trail cut across the blue. The roar became a rush and died away until it couldn’t be told from the wind.

So low, thought Eric. What could bring them in so low …

He knew. His heart leapt into his mouth and involuntarily his eyes tracked the direction of the vapor trails. They headed straight for Narroways.

Nameless Powers preserve me. His eyes stared helplessly at the sky. Arla.

“Blood, blood, blood,” cursed Jay. “We’re too late.”

Arla peeked out from behind the shelter of the granite boulder. Her knees still stung from the force with which Jay had forced her behind it. Ahead of them crouched the white dome Arla knew from when Cor had led her up the thread-thin canyon, but about twenty yards closer to them waited a new Skyman contrivance. It was a metallic slab, at least three yards on a side, and obviously firmly pressed into the ground despite the fact that a good foot’s worth of its thickness still showed. Green lights glowed steadily at each corner and she had, before Jay had pulled her behind the boulder, seen some kind of hole in its center. The far edge was scalloped by the boxes and bumps of monitors and terminals.

Jay was staring at it with pure poison in his eyes.

“What is it?” asked Arla.