The Coldmaker Saga

‘You put it on!’ I called back to Cam, feeling slightly annoyed.

We had an Idea to share; something that would change the shape of the fight to come. I wanted to laugh and joke as much as everyone, but now was not the time. There was work to be done.

‘Okay, I will,’ Cam said with a shrug and began nuzzling his way through the crowd. Some of the newer recruits flinched away before he could make contact, hunching tight and returning to their slave stances.

Cam tried to keep his tone light, but his pain was clear every time they shirked away. ‘Make way,’ he said. ‘Amazing dancer coming through. My moves are only accurately described as dangerous and intoxicating. They call me “Old Droughtweed Feet”.’

‘This is serious,’ Shilah said, biting her trembling lip. It looked like anger from afar, but I knew the shaking was from laughter.

Cam stopped next to one of our newest recruits, a bony girl named Rivkah. Cam nudged her with his elbow. ‘That half of Meshua’s pretty attractive when she’s being serious. Am I right?’

Rivkah curled into her slave stance.

Cam slumped even deeper.

‘Camlish!’ This time the shout came from Split the Pedlar, our other resident High Noble. Split had been the one to guide us along the Coldmarch, and I owed him everything. ‘You’re not a part of this, son. Let the Jadans have their moment.’

Split’s doughy belly, thin hair and constant layer of dirt made him more approachable to the recruits than Cam, as Split lacked the stately look common in High Nobles. Still the Flock generally kept their distance from him as well; unless of course they wanted to see Split’s dwarf camel, Picka.

Cam went to say something, his expression defensive, but eventually he slunk away and gave a conceding nod.

‘It’s okay, Split,’ I said. ‘The moment belongs to all of us.’

I turned to Shilah with a go-ahead look.

‘You sure you don’t want to do it?’ she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

I shook my head. ‘You’ll do it better.’

She smirked, keeping her voice down. ‘Because …’

‘Because without you I’d still be tinkering crank-fans in the dark.’

‘Good answer.’ She put a hand around my waist and pulled me against her, the two halves of Meshua coming together as one. Leah shot Shilah a look of pure distain, turning to whisper something to Ellia.

Clearing her throat, Shilah stood a little taller, which I didn’t realize was possible until I looked down at her feet and saw she was standing on her toes.

‘Jadans of the Flock,’ Shilah said. ‘Some of you are new, and some of you have been down here with us for weeks now. We appreciate you leaving your barracks families; for taking a chance on hope. Our Jadan ancestors have been waiting the last eight hundred years for us to be in this position.’ Her face contorted with anger. ‘The whole Khatdom is built on lies!’ She breathed deep and the fire faded just as quickly as it had arrived. ‘Lies that have eroded down, and we’ve already begun to expose the truth beneath. The Nobles tell us that we are unworthy, yet we have a Frost inside the Coldmaker! We have a machine that makes Cold more powerful than anything the Khat has. For the first time since the Great Drought, the Jadan people have Ice. You have all tasted the Ice, and you know what power it holds.’

A collective whisper rushed through the Flock. It was close to a cheer, but not quite there. Everyone was on edge, waiting.

My stomach went tight. I wasn’t ready to admit that our Frost, which powered the Coldmaker, had dwindled down to the size of a Shiver. We’d overworked the holy Cold, and were no longer giving the daily rations of Ice of which Shilah spoke. We’d switched over to using stolen Wisps and Drafts, the two smallest denominations of Cold, to keep everyone alive. The abbs had become ceremonial, only used while recruiting.

Which is why we so desperately needed the new Idea to work. There was no telling how many Frosts were in the Sanctuary. They wouldn’t solve all of our problems, but they would at least buy us plenty of time while I worked on the biggest Idea of all.

Flight.

‘The Nobles tell you that the Crier keeps his Eye closed to us,’ Shilah continued, gesturing around the Coldmarch cave. The stone walls were painted with dozens of Opened Eyes, representing our salvation. ‘But we have been safe within our new home!’ Shilah boomed, making the crying gesture down her cheek. ‘Our numbers continue to grow. Even with all these eyes staring at us, it is the Nobles who cannot see us. The Crier obviously does not want us captured; He wants us to succeed.’

The murmuring grew louder. Cam’s face went slack with awe as he stared. I couldn’t blame him for the admiration. Shilah’s ferocity entranced us all.

‘The decree of unworthiness tells us that we should be tortured and be made to feel like lesser beings,’ Shilah said, her confidence swelling. She unsheathed the flameless blade from her belt and waved it in front of the crowd. ‘But we killed the Vicaress of Paphos and took her weapon. She can’t hurt us any longer.’

‘Mostly because she’s dead,’ Cam added, wiggling his eyebrows but somewhat hushed.

Shilah rolled her eyes but ended the gesture with a wink. ‘And you know what? The Vicaress of David’s Fall will be next.’

A few mouths gasped, but not everyone seemed surprised to see Shilah make such a declaration. Some fists even clenched along with her.

‘Is that the plan?’ Samsah called up, a dark excitement piercing his words. Samsah was a stout Builder, his skin like the underside of a stone at night. He was vocal and proud, constantly trying to prove himself. ‘To kill the Vicaress here?’

‘The sooner that happens the better,’ I interjected, looking over to our weapon wall. I’d heard plenty of stories that claimed this Vicaress was even more unsettling than the one we’d slain, but I’d yet to witness her in person. ‘But the plan is actually much bigger than that.’

Shilah approached the sacred pool, which swirled next to the dancing platform. The pond was moving slowly, unlike when, not too long ago, the whole thing had been forged into Ice. I could still see the black-clad body of the Vicaress sprawled lifelessly across the surface, her terrible blade extinguished. It was one of my favourite memories.

Shilah took one knee. She steeled her jaw and held that very blade over the water.

I gave her a nod to start the reaction.

I’d rigged up a little bit of tinkering on the blade earlier in the day, to give us a small spectacle to go along with the Idea. I’d smeared a thin layer of honey across the metal and then sprinkled it with abb gratings, small enough they kept their form.

Shilah dipped the blade in the water.

The water tinged gold for a moment. The point at which the metal touched the water gaped with colour and crystals, like a beautiful wound. The entire blade was immediately enrobed in a thick layer of Ice.

Shilah struggled to pull the blade back out of the water. She looked to me with a helpless grin, digging her heels into the rock as she strained. I hadn’t known the metal would gather so much Ice – we couldn’t test it earlier, it case the blade broke – and so I went to her side and tried to help her shoulder the weight. We couldn’t lift it, but we were able to slide the huge block of Ice the blade had gathered onto the dancing platform. The metal was now lost deep within a glistening mass the size of a small pyramid stone.

Shilah and I looked at each other, our faces lit up with happy embarrassment. We only intended for the blade to cover itself in a thin layer of Ice so we could shatter the whole thing with a hammer, but there was something wonderful in such small failures. They reminded us we weren’t perfect. We weren’t saviours. I suddenly didn’t feel so heavy.

Shilah wiped her face and stood up, squinting one eye as she thought.

‘As you can see,’ she said, gesturing to the Ice, ‘this is what we are going to do to the Khatdom. Cover them with our might. Show them how something that only seems like a few specks can still have real power.’

I stood by her side, impressed by how quickly she’d come up with something believable.

Excited chatter sprouted across the cave.

‘The plan is,’ Shilah said, reading the crowd, ‘we’re going to take the City of David’s Fall, and with it, every Frost hidden here.’

The Flock went silent.

‘What does that mean?’ Samsah asked.

‘It means,’ Shilah said, ‘with more Frosts come more Coldmakers. So we’re going to drive out the Nobles. All of them. And take their Cold.’

Cam bristled.

Shilah cracked her knuckles. ‘Almost all of them. As you know, Split and Cam are most valuable to our Flock.’

Another murmur. Cam looked at his feet, his cheeks going red.

‘How are we to do such a thing?’ Samsah asked. ‘We are yours to command to the death, Meshuas, but how do we drive them out? There are at least five hundred Nobles in the city, including all of the Khat’s forces from Paphos. Even with the Hookmen—’

‘We have no Hookman,’ Shilah said, glaring. ‘We only have the Five.’

A shudder ran through the cave.

The Five stood off to the side, silent as usual. They were once the most trusted guard to the Vicaress of Paphos, and even though they had betrayed her and turned to our side most of the Flock still didn’t trust them. Behemoth frames and Closed-Eye brands on their foreheads didn’t help. I was beginning to understand the Five as Jadans, and not as monsters, but many still saw them as the nightmares our parents warned us about should we wander too far from obedience.

‘I’m working on a few things,’ I said, gesturing to the tinkershop tunnel. ‘And it’s going to come down to convincing everyone’s old barracks to rise up when the time comes. There may be five hundred Nobles in the city, but there are twice as many Jadans, and sometimes it’s not only about bigger numbers. One Chill is as Cold as a hundred Wisps. One storm can shift a hundred dunes.’

Abb used to tell me that. I always listened to his words, but only recently have I begun to understand them.

‘Within the next week,’ I continued, ‘we will be taking the Sanctuary. After that, we’ll take the city itself. We have the Wraiths, and when we liberate the Frosts from the Sanctuary, we will have all sorts of new power. If there’s any Jadan in here who doesn’t want to fight for that power, don’t be ashamed, because there’s plenty to do here in the cave—’

‘If there’s any Jadan in here who doesn’t want to fight,’ Shilah said, her face going stern and her voice as Cold as a hundred Wisps, ‘it must be because they have forgotten what life is like outside of the Flock. The fear. The beatings. Gasping for Cold as the Sun burns you to the bones, the Nobles lighting up Droughtweed and laughing at our pain.’

My stomach tightened. I didn’t want to force the Flock to put their lives in danger, but we needed as many of them as we could get to fight. Our situation was difficult to say the least, and a single warrior could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

Single fingers are good for poking, but only together can they make a fist – another one of Abb’s sayings.

‘Is there anyone here that won’t fight with us?’ Shilah asked.

No one made a sound. Not even the youngest recruits.

‘Good,’ Shilah said, her jaw sleek and defined. ‘I only ask out of love. Love for our people and for the Crier. And I promise, when the time comes, we’ll be ready.’ She made the crying gesture down her cheek, which the Flock returned in unison. ‘For now, Micah and I have work to do.’

And then with a heave, she kicked the handle of the blade, the block of Ice sliding into the water. She kissed me on the cheek and then stepped off the platform, manoeuvring into the crowd. Cam cut her off before she could get far, giving her the first hug. She seemed self-concious in his grip, but eventually she squeezed back, her hand cupping the bottom of his golden hair. She held on for longer than normal.

The crowd turned to each other and embraced with feverish holds. I stepped off the platform and returned all the waves and worried smiles sent my way. Leah began to rush towards me, and I quickly looked around the room.

Dunes, my ally and friend, broke free of the other Five. He rolled his shoulders together and bent his knees, making his massive frame as small as possible. He always walked around the cave like this so as not to intimidate, even though it never worked. The other Five remained in place on the side as always, waiting for my command.

Dunes rushed onto the platform and embraced me. He smelled like sweat and sand, and had the intense musk I found only in older Jadans. His arms were much broader than my father’s, by for a moment I could pretend.

‘Hold on!’ Samsah yelled, clapping his hands for attention and breaking the din. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not trying to undermine you in any way Meshua, both Meshuas, but someone has to say this. What about the last time the Jadans tried to hold this city? Are we forgetting about the Fall itself? Right now we have Cold and food and a semblance of freedom. Shouldn’t we protect this beautiful thing. We have our own, little version of Langria down here.’

Shilah turned to me and gave a wry smile.

I had a feeling someone was going to bring this up. We encouraged the Flock to speak their minds.

‘It’s a good point,’ I said, stepping back up on the platform. I kept my voice soft, as Split had taught me, to get people to really listen. ‘But it will be different this time. Back then the Khat had a weapon that he used to boil the land. Desert. He planted it outside of the walls.’

‘Do we think that, or actually know that?’ Samsah asked.

‘It’s the only explanation that makes sense,’ Shilah said, holding up Split’s copy of the Book of the March: the one with all the prophecies and secrets the Jadan people had gathered over the centuries. ‘For now we have to have faith.’

‘And what happens if he uses the Desert weapon again?’ Samsah asked. ‘Do we really need more Frosts that badly?’

‘Yes. We Do.’ I took a deep breath. ‘And if the Khat tries to use Desert again, I could get a hold of some, then I could study it. If I figure out how it works we can use it against him.’

Samsah absently rubbed his hand over his forearm, which was thick with scars. The Builders always had rough skin. ‘And if we all burn in the process?’

Dunes came to my defense. ‘Then we burn together.’

‘Then we burn together, priss!’ Ellcia cackled. ‘But no worrying because we won’t burn.’

Leah slunk her way to my side, her hand resting gently on my lower back, sending a shiver up my spine.

‘And we all believe that you’ll succeed,’ she cooed.

I put my hand over hers and patted in a friendly manner. I still couldn’t really look at her directly, as her skin was like smooth chocolate and her hair was thick as yarn. I had to be the most cautious when looking at her eyes. Light green: the colour of life itself. So seductive they could heat me up to the point of melting.

‘Weapons?’ Samsah asked hopefully. ‘The Wraith weapons, is that how we will win?’

‘Yes,’ I said, looking away.

‘And they are strong enough to—’

‘Leave him alone, Samsah!’ Leah lashed. ‘This boy – the beautiful Meshua! – is responsible for the Coldmaker. For showing you Ice and freedom. You owe him blind allegiance.’

Shilah almost gagged.

Samsah lowered into a bow. ‘Of course. And he has it. I just thought a bit of perspective from someone a little more … experienced might be welcome.’

‘And what experience do you have tinkering miracles?’ Leah asked, her voice like a whip with a dozen tails. She lowered her hand to a dangerous position on my back, her nails digging into my skin.

Samsah quickly backed down. ‘Apologies. I feel ashamed for—’

‘It’s okay, it’s good,’ I said, tapping Leah’s hand for release, which did nothing in the way of getting me released. ‘We should all speak our minds. Part of the Opened Eye is seeing the world from other perspectives.’

‘Divine,’ Leah said, hand going up and teasing the back of my neck. ‘You really are the Crier’s son, aren’t you?’

My stomach crawled with heat, sinking downward.

Shilah came over and yanked me from Leah’s grasp, putting her arm around my shoulder and leading me away.

‘Like I said,’ Shilah began, angling towards the tinkershop tunnel, ‘we have work to do.’

‘Can I come?’ Cam asked.

‘You never need an invitation,’ I said.

‘Actually I think Micah and I need some alone time.’ Shilah winked at me. ‘World Partner to World Partner.’

Leah scowled.

Cam sagged into himself. ‘That’s okay. I have some reading to do anyway.’

Shilah and I made our way through the crowd, members of the Flock stopping to declare their allegiance or congratulate us on a fine plan. To their credit, not a single Jadan told us they wouldn’t fight.

Shilah and I were nearing the tunnel to the tinkershop when I stopped and squeezed back towards the Five. Their need for formality still never sat right in my stomach, but they always insisted. I couldn’t have them standing menacingly in the corner, not so much as moving their chests to breathe.

‘Dismissed,’ I said, bowing to them.

The Five bowed back in unison.

‘By your command,’ they said together.

Then they snapped out of attention, breaking rank.

Even though I was closest with Dunes, Jia was the first to scoop me into a hug, his thick belly getting in the way of skinny arms. He’d been the most rotund of the Hookmen to begin with, but since coming to the cave he’d filled out to quite the impressive size. He always offered to share the candied figs he got on raids, but none outside of the Five or I ever wanted to eat with him.

‘Micah, you delightful genius,’ Jia said. His voice jiggled nearly as much as his haunches. ‘The crumbling of the Khatdom is near.’

‘We can’t get overconfident.’

Jia released me and I took a deep breath. He smelled like roasted honey.

Het, the second shortest of the Five, put a hand over his heart and made one of the many secretive warding gestures he knew; smuggled over from the other side of the Drought. ‘I will give you all the wards I know. The protection of the Ancestors will be upon you.’

‘Thank you.’ I didn’t quite believe in the mystical sort of inventing, but still I said: ‘I’ll need them.’

Kasroot stepped up next, holding out a greasy lump. ‘Want some soap?’

These weren’t insults like I had originally thought. To Kasroot, cleanliness and hygiene were signs of divinity: a gift from the Crier. Especially in Jadans. The first time we’d spoken – after he did his part to kill the Vicaress and then pledged his life to me – he’d offered me a sprig of Khatmint to rub over my teeth.

I took the soap. ‘Thank you, Kasroot.’

Cleave gave a small twitch of his neck that I took as a respectful greeting. He was the strongest, fastest and tallest of the Five. Dunes told me he’d made a vow not to speak until he saw the holy land of Langria. I had a feeling his voice was too deep for normal ears to hear; like the sky before a sandstorm.

Dunes reached out and touched my bronze fingers; the ones replacing the ruined flesh I’d commanded Dunes to cut off.

‘Every day I regret this,’ he said. ‘And every day I’m proud that you chose me to do it.’

I moved the brass digits with the ring around my middle finger. It was the next best thing to real, and considering the Cold accident that had burned the two smallest fingers on that hand, I was just grateful I still had so much of my original hand left. ‘Well they were only getting worse, and since someone had to stop the infection from spreading,’ I said, staring up at the long scar on Dunes’ cheek, ‘I’m glad it was friend.’

Dunes stepped back and gave a bow so low that anyone else would have toppled. ‘I’ll take this city for you myself. I’ll maim every Noble and bring you their fingers as tribute.’

‘I know you will.’ I smiled.

Kasroot reached into a pocket and removed the pumice rock he used for scraping away dead skin. He tried to hand that over as well, but I politely declined.

‘Micah!’ Shilah called, waving me back over.

I gave the Five another bow. As I turned, I glanced at the swirling pool. The block of Ice floated on top, a glint of steel buried deep at its core.

Chapter Three

My tinkershop kept me from going mad.

The place had everything I needed. Space to experiment. Thick walls that kept the clangs and churning confined. And enough materials that I could attempt inventing whatever idea called to me.

Best of all, however, was that the tinkershop had solitude.

I’d come to realize that time alone was as important to inventing as the materials themselves.

I had initially done all my tinkering out in the main chamber, set up so everyone could see and help. The Flock had watched me at my craft, and I’d answered questions about materials while I worked. I’d tinkered special requests like crank-fans and indulged Leah’s constant distractions of lounging beside my worktables and offering to hold things for me. Asking me if there was anything I wanted to hold of hers.

I was able to get about an hour’s worth of tinkering done each day.

After the first few weeks, I felt drained, disillusioned, and with my ideas waning with every moment my hands were idle. The confidence in me had congealed to insecurity. Everything felt as hollow as the passageways. Some days my chest was so tight that I couldn’t breathe, having to lay on my back and force my lungs to find air. I’d thought maybe it was a leftover sickness from the time in my life addled by Droughtweed smoke, but the episodes always subsided when I found my space. I had to turn Cam and Shilah down on multiple scouting missions, claiming I had to work on the Coldmaker, when really I was just filled with unrecognizable dread.

So one day I strapped the Coldmaker bag around my shoulder, took a few figs from the communal barrel, and headed out tired and deflated to explore the caverns without saying a word to anyone.

I came back with a plan.

Within hours, Cam and the Five had helped move everything through the damp caverns and into my new tinkershop. Metals, trinkets, vials, clay urns, gears, scrolls and countless other baubles salvaged during the night. Everyone knew where I’d gone, but the Flock respected me enough to let me pretend it was a secret.

I was able to disappear, and through the solitude, find myself once again.

Today’s session in the tinkershop started off as most others did, although how it ended would hold much more weight. In a few hours’ time, the Flock was either going to take the Sanctuary or end up back in chains.

I just hoped my Wraiths would be enough.

I began with my morning ritual of sawing chunks of salt crystals from the walls. The crystal cones were a beautiful pink, and didn’t release without a fight. I ground the salt down in my churning wheel or powder bowl, and the repetitive motion helped centre me. Often my best ideas came while I was churning salt, but right now I wasn’t searching for ideas so much as courage.

The Wraiths were ready. And they were the most vicious piece of tinkering I’d ever done.

The Crier help whoever got in their way.

Shilah entered the tinkershop, pushing aside the two shields that I’d bound end to end to form a door across the fissure. It was the only entrance or exit to my secret space. The shields were heavy and thick, useful for keeping sound inside.

I turned back to the salt wall, sawing another piece. There had been Opened Eyes painted on the crystals when I’d discovered the room, and I made sure never to defile any salt chunks with the symbol on them.

‘How you feeling?’ Shilah asked.

I gritted my teeth, the muscles in my arm straining. ‘Truthfully?’

‘I didn’t know you and I spoke anything else. Just tell me, Spout.’