I hadn’t. Not even once, actually. Which was odd because I was pretty certain I would die there. Although, the certainty of death was something I lived with every day, so it was understandable that it didn’t have me in a panic. Well, not that much of a panic.
“Never even crossed my mind,” I finally said to her. “This was meant to be, our friendship and journey was fated by the gods.” I blew her a kiss, and when she was distracted by my sappy face, I reached out and snatched up the container of purple gaja berries she’d picked in the fourth ring. There were only half a dozen left, and she was being so stingy with her sharing.
She glared as I popped the first tart bite of goodness into my mouth. Berries didn’t grow in the seventh ring, but we occasionally got some in trade. Emmy leaned across, but before things escalated into a girl-fight, the cart slowed, and our attentions were diverted to a huge fence across our current path, just to the side of the Minateurs’ building. Standing spread out across the front of the tall barrier were six sols. I was assuming they were sols because they had the same dazzling thing going on, not to mention that one appeared to be holding a naked flame in his palm, and as far as I could tell, he wasn’t in excruciating, screaming pain as his hand burnt down to a stub. Dwellers were great at lots of things: toiling from sunup to sundown; turning three figs into a pie for the entire village; and even dancing around a fire after copious amounts of liquor. But one thing we could not do was control the elements. Gifts of the sols. Lucky bastards.
Jerath pulled the bullsen to a complete halt and got off the cart. He crossed to the closest sol, a female who stood a foot taller than me, had better hair than me, and was altogether much more beautiful and intimidating than me. Not that I was comparing. Words were exchanged—words we couldn’t hear—and then Jerath handed over some papers.
“Why are these sols eyeballing us?” I asked Emmy, trying not to move my mouth too much.
“Standard security checks before entering Blesswood.” She spoke normally, so my stealthy whispers were clearly not required.
They spent a few clicks examining our cart, checking the back sleeping area, and zapping me with sparks of energy which seemed to emit from their bodies as they crossed close by. Eventually, we were cleared to enter, and I found myself sneakily popping gaja berries in one by one as the gates opened. I had to do something to stem the rising tide of nerves which were threatening to erupt from me. Emmy had given up trying to get her snacks back, instead placing a hand on my knee to stop me bouncing it right out of the cart.
The gates took at least eighty-five life-cycles to open. By the time they did, I was over the nerves. Dragging things out helped no one. Bad power play, sols, bad power play.
The bullsen seemed hesitant to cross the final threshold of Soldel into Blesswood. Jerath had to be extra convincing, his belts flying through the air as he encouraged them along. The sols continued to watch us as we wheeled past. None of them smiled, or said anything, but I could feel their judgement.
You shouldn’t be here.
You don’t belong here.
You’re not one of us.
The gate closed behind us. And suddenly … the nerves were back. I twisted my hands in my lap as I tried to take in everything on this side of the barrier. We were still at the very top of the hill we’d climbed and now it seemed it was time to start descending. To the right of our path was a long waterfall, which trickled down into the valley we were heading for. Yes, you heard that right—water just trickling out in the open for all to see. And everything was green. The land was covered in a vibrant green carpet of grass, which was almost too bright to stare at directly. The cart picked up speed and with a rapid warning from Jerath, Emmy and I had to hold on tight to the rails besides us.
After a brief dip, the land levelled out, and despite my need to appear unfazed, there might have been loud gasp slippage. Either that, or the air was thin here and I was having to work harder to breathe.
I knew Blesswood was the very centre of the nine rings and that there were multiple villages in each ring. Those were the things I knew. What I hadn’t known was that Blesswood was pretty much an island. An island? The very concept was like a myth wrapped in a fable shot through with some sparkling magic. Ever since the great rivers and lakes had dried up—since the outer rings of Minatsol had turned into the land of dust and despair—we had no true islands. But Blesswood was doing its very best to come close.
“We’ll need to cross on the barges now,” Jerath said, halting his cart next to a bunch of other carts.