“Let’s fly,” she said when Ven had mounted, and the two air spirits pushed off the platform and burst up through the canopy of leaves. She glanced back to see Sira waving at them. She was still singing, her voice rising up with the wind, and for a moment, they flew buoyed by the rising notes, but then her song faded and all Naelin could hear was the wind rushing past her.
From this high above the canopy, she could see it: Semo. Birches marked the border, sentinels with yellow leaves that gleamed in the morning light. Beyond the border were rocks—heaps of granite boulders, fields of stone, and great slabs that looked as if they’d stabbed their way out of the earth. She felt, like itches on her skin, the presence of spirits within those fields, but she couldn’t see them. They’re beneath the boulders, she thought. Or they are the boulders. She saw wildflowers growing in the cracks, clumps of purples and blues, as well as bushes with so many berries that they looked like bright-red decorations left behind after a celebration.
And then there were the mountains.
At first Naelin thought she was looking at clouds. Surely no mountain was ever so enormous! But as the images resolved before her, she could see they were indeed the various ranges of Semo. Their peaks looked as if they wanted to claw the sky. Her mind tried to wrap around the tremendous size—and then she felt the sudden shift in the world as they crossed the border.
She hadn’t expected to be able to sense it. Land was land. But it was as if the air had been pushed out of her lungs, and she was suddenly breathing something else: air too, but with an unfamiliar taste that tickled the back of her throat. Lemons, she decided. It tastes like lemons and snow . . . Maybe pine, but a different kind of pine than at home.
The air felt colder too, as if she’d stripped off all her layers. And hollow. Or maybe that was how she felt inside—the sense of thousands of spirits around her, linked to her, had faded, muffled, and it was as if those thousands of spirits were instead watching her from a distance.
It feels like I don’t belong.
She decided this was an accurate feeling, since she didn’t belong. She wondered if Ven felt the same way, but the wind was too loud for her to ask him, even if she’d wanted to have a conversation about it.
She braced herself, expecting to be challenged by border spirits. But no challenge came. Perhaps because they know we’re coming? Still, she didn’t relax as they flew deeper into Semo.
Naelin had seen enough maps to know the direction they needed to head in: northwest, toward Arkon. But seeing the land on a flat drawing and seeing it beneath them with all its peaks and undulations was entirely different. As the spirit flew to the capital, Naelin drank in the view with all its differentness while trying to make sure they were headed in the right direction.
Just as Aratay had more tree spirits than any other kind, Semo was dominated by earth spirits, and the results were the spectacular mountains with impossibly high peaks wreathed in snow, sheer walls of granite that had burst up from a field, and clusters of red rock towers and arches. Naelin and Ven flew above the rock towers, through the arches, and over canyons so vast that you could have inverted a mountain inside them. But more unsettling than the sheer size of Semo was the way it felt, as if it were all about to collapse in on itself. The spirits of Semo, restless within the earth, brushed against Naelin’s consciousness, and it made her want to fly back to Aratay, into the familiar trees, where the ground didn’t look as if it were ready to swallow you.
She didn’t know how anyone lived here, in the shadow of all this enormity, but proof was everywhere: houses built into the crevasses in the granite fields, clinging to the sides of steep mountains, tucked beneath the arches, built beside rivers at the bottom of canyons . . . A lot of innocent people for Queen Merecot to protect, she thought.
If that’s what Merecot truly wants to do, then I’ll help her do it.
Because all these people had children too. And if she could protect them . . . I couldn’t keep spirits from taking Erian and Llor, but the children of Semo . . . If spirits came for them, it wouldn’t be to merely kidnap them. Maybe there is good I can do here.
If Merecot lets me.
It was a big if. Because Merecot had already proven time and time again that she didn’t care about innocent lives, not if they stood in the way of what she wanted. But even though Naelin didn’t trust her, she trusted what she could see: Semo needed help.
And I’m strong enough to give it to them.
Naelin saw the capital before she realized what it was. At first, from a distance, it seemed like yet another natural wonder, but as they flew closer, she saw it in all its glory. Built into a mountain, the marble city gleamed in the morning light with a brightness that made her eyes tear. Walls, towers, and turrets seemed to burst from the rock, and as they flew closer, even the people seemed like they were a part of the mountain—they dressed in the same sparkling white as the city walls, going about their lives in the steep, spiraling streets.
“Naelin!” Ven called. “Welcoming party!”
He pointed and then put his hand on his bow, positioning it, clearly concerned it was not a welcoming party. Naelin saw five air spirits shoot out from the window of one of the turrets. Small and streamlined, they looked like arrows.
Ah, there’s the challenge.
Naelin ordered their two mounts to split and circle the city, keeping a distance from the palace at its peak. She reached out with her mind toward the five foreign spirits—and met a wall. Their minds felt like a slick surface. Her thoughts glided off it.
Just like the ones that took Erian and Llor.
That almost unmoored her, but the fact that she was going to see them soon—I am going to see them soon—kept her focused.
One of the foreign spirits let out a shrill cry and then dove at Naelin. Ven shouted, urging his spirit down to defend her. He drew an arrow out of his quiver and had it strung. Rising up, with only his knees holding on to his spirit, he aimed.
Naelin shoved her mind hard at the blankness. Do not attack!
But the spirit didn’t seem to hear her.
It stayed on course, shooting toward her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ven fire his arrow. It hit the spirit in the right eye, and the spirit howled.
The other four spirits targeted Ven.
“Ven, watch out!” Naelin cried.
He was firing arrows fast, but there were too many. As one swiped at his head, he swung his bow and hit it hard, knocking it aside. The others tore at the wings of his air spirit, trying to claw their way to him.
Naelin tried to force the Semoian spirits to obey her, but her commands bashed into the slick blankness and slid away, so she switched directions and rammed her mind into a spirit in the palace—a tiny, weak fire spirit who was tending to a candle. She forced it to open its mouth and speak:
Queen Merecot! We come in peace!
She then grabbed the mind of every other weak spirit on the mountain until they were all shouting the same: Queen Merecot! We come in peace!
It echoed through the castle.
We come in peace!
Abruptly, the five spirits broke off their attack. They sped back into the turret and disappeared through the window. Ven steadied himself on the back of his spirit. His green armor was ripped at the shoulder, and his air spirit was dripping golden blood from the tip of one wing. It drooped to the side as it struggled to stay aloft.
Naelin scanned the palace, looking for a safe place to land. Pointing at one of the towers, Ven shouted, “There!”
Like the Chamber of the Queen’s Champions in the palace of Mittriel, the white castle of Arkon had a broad balcony balanced on top of one of the pinnacles. Flying underneath Ven’s spirit, Naelin guided them all toward it and landed. His serpent spirit pitched forward as it touched down and then collapsed on the ground. She dismounted and hurried to it and Ven.
Groaning, he slid off its back, then waved her off. “Just a scratch.”
“Let me look,” Naelin demanded.