Horizon (19 page)

“You lied to us,” Odd said quietly.

Dash hung his head. “Yes.”

“You said you weren’t an Upgrader,” Odd said.

“I am not,” Dash agreed.

“You know what
kludge
means?” Odd asked. “You know what it means to us?”

Dash considered his response. “A
kludge
is your herd.”

“It’s our family,” Mags said. “Made up of bits and pieces, just like we are. An ugly mess most times, but stronger together than we are apart.”

“Don’t always work well, just like our tech,” Odd said. “Aren’t always the best mix, the shiniest people, but we come together and we do what we can to survive.”

“Like you,” Pocket said softly. “You’ve got a metal arm and no horse legs and friends with wings.”

“Flame Heart herd,” Dash said, his thoughts swirling through his head faster than he could make sense of them. “Flame Heart has Equians and Aviars and Kampii and Serpenti. It has me and Vachir.”

“Sounds like a kludge to me,” Odd said. “Not always pretty, these people and things we pull together”— he tapped his goggled eyes —“but somehow we work.”

“You’ve fought with us and for us,” Mags said. “You got your reasons, same as the rest of us, but it’s your actions we judge you on.”

Odd’s heavy hand descended on Dash’s shoulder. Dash welcomed both its weight and its meaning. Odd said, “We’re part of your kludge now, too, and you’re part of ours. No ceremonies, no songs. Don’t care who your parents were or who did your raising. Don’t care what blood chugs through your body or which parts are made of machine. Not what we’re about.”

Dash found himself trembling under the gaze of the people around the fire. The people who should be hating him and planning his punishment, but who were, instead, welcoming him closer. Telling him he belonged.

“Family’s a good reason to go after Karl Strand,” Mags said. “No higher cause for fighting than that.”

He didn’t trust his voice, not right now, but he spoke anyway. “Will you help, then? Even after everything I have done, will you take me to the army so I can find Strand?”

“I’ll do what I can to help you,” Odd said. “Can’t speak for the others, but that’s me. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“I’m going, too,” Pocket said. “I want to rescue Dash’s family.”

“Squirrel?” Mags asked. “I won’t abandon you if this isn’t your wish. You decide what you want, and I’ll go with you. We’ll meet up with the others when they’re done doing what they have to do.”

Squirrel’s mouth pressed thin. “Kludge stays together,” she said. Then her face brightened in the firelight. “At least now I know why Dash smells so funny.”

Dash once again found himself stunned. “I can never thank you enough. For myself and for my fathers, and for Aluna, Hoku, and Calli, too. I am truly humbled by you all.”

“Thanks. Bah!” Odd said. “Not how we work.” He grunted and pushed himself to his feet with great effort. “Now, you stay there and build up that fire. I’m going to get your new swords.”

C
ALLI BEAT HER WINGS
against the wind. The air was already cold and thin — she should have found another layer to wear over her shirt, or something to wrap around her legs — but she had to keep climbing. Strand’s army had Skyfeather’s Landing surrounded. The ground crawled with warriors, their weapons and tech gleaming. Rhinebras and huge, armored insects pulled carts burdened with weapons. Higher up, mechanical dragonfliers swooped and swarmed around the mountainside looking for Aviars trying to escape.

But they weren’t looking for a lone Aviar trying to find her way
in.
A few hundred Upgraders weren’t nearly enough to keep Calli from seeing her mother.

She tried to remember her mother going off on one of her angry tirades, or embarrassing Calli in front of the senators, or lecturing her yet again on responsibilities of leadership. Instead, Calli could only remember her mother’s face the last time she’d seen her . . . when Calli had asked to leave home and join Aluna and Hoku on their quest. Her mother’s eyes had been filled, maybe for the first time, with pride for her only daughter.
Pride.

Calli blinked and headed into another cloud. When she was young, her teachers recited an ancient legend about a Human whose father built him wings of feathers and wax. The Human flew so high that the sun melted the wax and he fell to his death.

It was a silly story, because that’s not at all what would happen. Everybody knew it wasn’t the sun you had to worry about — it was the ice.

Like most Aviars, Calli played Icewing when she was young. They waited until none of the adults were watching, then everyone flew up, up, up as far and as fast as they could. The person who made it the highest won.

The real trick was knowing when to turn back. If you let too much ice form on your wings, they grew heavy and stopped working. Then you found yourself plummeting down toward the mountain, frantically shaking the frozen water from your wings and begging the wind to catch you and slow your descent.

But after that, you always knew how high you could go.

Calli had never won Icewing. She’d never even come in second or third. There were always stronger girls playing, or braver ones. Girls like Aluna. Calli had never seen the point in taking the risk when she had no chance of winning. She’d even told herself she was just being responsible. Smart. Maybe, deep down, she even thought she was smarter than all those girls who tried and failed.

Calli laughed through a shiver and rubbed her arms. But she’d been the stupid one after all. She’d been trapped inside the limits she’d set for herself. She’d built a cage and then dutifully stayed inside it. Unlike her friends, she had no idea how high she could go.

When she reached a good altitude, high enough to be safe from Strand’s army, she drifted, counting troops and beasts and whatever else she thought her mother and the other tacticians might find useful. Was that a catapult or a trebuchet? Why were certain groups clustered together, while others were spread out? If only she’d paid attention in her warfare classes instead of doodling equations in the margins of her books.

The Upgraders had the mountain surrounded; that much was clear. But where were the platoons of Aviars fighting back? Where were the countermeasures? The army swarmed in far larger numbers than Calli had anticipated, but her mother was not one to play a defensive game.

Calli felt the pit of worry in her stomach grow two sizes bigger. She circled again, identifying a few Upgraders who were clearly commanding forces and some structures that were either strategy tents or medical buildings. Either way, they’d probably make good targets.

Her stomach clenched again. She couldn’t help but think of Pocket and Squirrel from Odd’s kludge. Everything had been easier when she’d hated the Upgraders without reservation. Knowing that there were real people on the other side — some
nice
people, even — made the prospect of war almost too horrible to contemplate.

She soared, letting the wind lift her up and over the scooped-out basin of Skyfeather’s Landing. The Palace of Wings jutted up from the middle of the city, a lone, defiant spire, and Calli’s chest puffed proudly. Even under siege, her home was beautiful.

The Aviars, though . . . they were everywhere, scattered like feathers in the wind. Calli sensed no pattern to their movement, no plan behind their defense. They fought in small clusters and rushed toward the areas of most need. It looked like triage, not strategy. Where were the senators? They should have been commanding their forces, directing the flow of battle, not just reacting to it.

A thought pierced Calli’s mind: if her mother was alive, she would never allow this to be happening. Her mother — and maybe High Senator Electra — could be dead.

Calli began her descent, forcing herself to spiral slowly instead of diving, despite the painful racing of her heart. Her body needed time to adjust to the changes in oxygen levels in the air, and she needed to keep an eye out for enemy scouts. Five more minutes of drifting wouldn’t make any difference.

Yet . . . she couldn’t keep the logic in her head. It kept slipping away every time she thought of her mother’s face. Her mother could be dead, and here she was, being overly cautious again. Would Aluna take her time if Hoku were in danger?

Calli pulled her wings in close and let herself fall.

The sky streamed by, a smear of clouds and a howl of wind. Skyfeather’s Landing grew from a tiny, toy-size abstraction to a larger-than-life city filled with panic and feathers and hoarse battle cries. A few Aviars called out to her, “The nest grows warm at your return!” Calli gave the traditional response without even thinking: “And warm grows my heart!”

Home. She was home.

She opened her wings and gasped as they caught the air, her body suddenly torn about which way it wanted to go. Her descent slowed and she regained control of her direction. By the time she reached the base of the palace, her speed was perfect, her landing requiring only the slightest bend of her knees.

If her mother was still alive, this is where she’d be: in the war room at the bottom level of the palace. Previous presidents used the war room at the top of the spire, since the vantage was good for strategy and it put them in the center of Skyfeather’s Landing. But the Aviar’s previous leaders all had two wings, not one. Instead of accommodating tradition, her mother had simply bent it to her will.

There was only one guard outside the palace entrance, a girl not much older than Calli with dark skin and fierce wings painted green at the tips. The girl nodded. “Warm at your return, Vice President Calliope.”

The words startled her. Calli hadn’t been called that in months . . . or was it years? It felt like forever. As quickly as she could, Calli relaxed her face and nodded in return. “My thanks for your service, Senator.”

Those words, too, felt strange. Since when had being around Aviars become something alien to her?

She entered the darkened hallway and paused as her eyes adjusted. Mosaics and frescoes covered the walls in bright colors. Most depicted the Aviars’ greatest battles, since artists seemed to be in love with sprays of blood and pointy spears, but there were a few honoring achievements in science. They’d always been Calli’s favorites.

She paused by the faded figure of Architect Stephanie, a young woman with a bright grin and brown hair that curled around her face. She’d been the first to harness waterfalls for their power. Not only had her discovery given the Aviars the means to free themselves from SkyTek, it had brought untold beauty to the city. The largest waterfall in Skyfeather’s Landing was named Steph’s Smile, after her. It was the sort of legacy that Calli had one day hoped to create for herself.

She walked quickly down the corridor and tried to wrap herself in resolve. When she’d convinced her mother to let her go off with Aluna and Hoku, she’d been worried that she might die far from home. It had never occurred to her that her mother would be the one who . . .

Calli ran, her wings bouncing uselessly against her back, and muttered prayers to the sky and the sun and the waves and anything else she could think of. She shifted through the palace’s halls, not even thinking about direction, just letting her feet carry her along the path she followed hundreds of times as a child.

She burst into the war room to find it stuffy and stale, packed with dank wings and women hunched over battle maps. “My mother,” Calli said. “Where is she?”

The Aviars looked up, startled, as if she’d woken them from a collective dream. She recognized some of the senators, but saw none of her mother’s closest advisers except Senator Niobe.

Niobe rushed forward as if she were going to hug Calli, but stopped herself. She stood a meter away, respectful, and adopted a formal tone. “Vice President Calliope, you’re safe! We’ve all been so worried.”

“My mother,” Calli repeated. “Is she alive?”

Niobe frowned. “Yes.”

Calli breathed deep, surprised to find tears suddenly pooling in her eyes.

“She lives, but . . .” Niobe’s composure broke and she reached out to touch Calli’s arm. “We don’t know for how long.”

Calli didn’t trust herself to speak. She couldn’t break down here, in front of her mother’s warriors. It would make them both look weak. She wiped the unspent tears from her eyes and straightened her shoulders.

“Where is High Senator Electra?” Calli asked. “I have to talk to her right away.” Her voice threatened to crumble, but held.

“Of course. She’s with your mother in her chambers,” Niobe said. Calli started to walk toward the back of the room, but Niobe gripped her arm and whispered, “Electra . . . she’s not herself. We’re trying to give her time, but we can’t give her any more. We’ve probably waited too long as it is. I’m doing what I can, but I don’t have a head for this.” Niobe released Calli’s arm and put her palm against her forehead. “So many dead, Calli. I was never meant to lead. I never wanted this.”

Calli pulled Niobe’s hand away from her face. “I know, Niobe. You’re doing what you have to do. It’s not your fault.”

If she said anything more, Niobe would crack. She could see that in the way the woman’s eyes grew large and wild, the way her pupils darted left and right, the way her hands shook. She knew exactly how Niobe felt.