COLDMYTH
Daniel A. Cohen
Book Three of the Coldmaker Saga
Copyright
HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2020
Copyright © Daniel A. Cohen
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Cover design and image © Collaboration JS.
Daniel A. Cohen asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008207281
Ebook Edition © March 2020 ISBN: 9780008207274
Version: 2020-01-21
Dedication
To Jardin
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Part Two
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Part Three
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Part Four
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Daniel A. Cohen
About the Publisher
Map
Chapter One
The stars looked brighter while I was recruiting.
Pins of light became luminous spears, puncturing the darkness and pointing to the cracks in the barracks walls. Loose stones big enough to crawl through were hard to find on purpose, keeping the passageways secret. I found it impressive that even with the stone boot of the Khat on our backs for eight hundred years, heavy enough to crush granite to sand, some Jadans were always willing to risk death just to sneak out and take a small breath of freedom.
Those particular Jadans were the first to join our cause.
Tilting my head back, I stared into the night sky and drew two fingers down my cheek. My ancestors once used this gesture to honour the World Crier. Tears acknowledged the pain and sacrifice that went into creating something beautiful, something full of life and wonder.
The world was a different place now.
Eight hundred years ago the Great Drought had struck, and the land began to die. Cold, which had always fallen from the sky, began to disappear. Eventually the pieces became so scarce that they only fell in one place – the Khat’s Cry Patch.
Without nourishment from above, the Sun took free rein and burned the land to sand and dust. Animals, plants and entire civilizations withered away under its merciless, scorching power. The Khat claimed he was the only one worthy of relief, and the world had to accept chains of death. Any trace of culture from before the Drought was burned or buried. Songs were silenced. Dancing feet were bound. Even the smallest traditions were stamped out in in order to cleanse the past from the present.
The crying gesture had been one of the many things made illegal after Cold stopped falling for my people.
Shilah looked over at me and mimicked the movement, letting her fingers linger on her cheek. Her knuckles touched her long braid, which hung on the front of her shoulder. Her dark skin had a luminous glow, like it was drinking in the starlight and shining from the inside out.
‘After you, World Partner,’ she said.
I looked down at my left hand, flexing my little invention and stretching the bronze fingers straight. The guiding rings that went around my middle finger tended to slip, but it felt good to once again look down and see the shape of a full hand. Ever since I’d lost the last two fingers I’d felt somewhat incomplete – I couldn’t have them back, but tinkering had at least made me useful again.
I rubbed my metal pinky, checking the friction of the rubber-strip finger pads. The grip was still quite sticky, which let me know I’d picked a good material. I couldn’t tinker as well as I used to, but at least with bronze fingers I could hold the glass chalice during our recruiting ritual.
‘Unless,’ Shilah said, tracing a jagged crack in the barracks wall. Her almond eyes wouldn’t meet mine. ‘Leah holds that position now. How are things with your new shadow, by the way?’
I paused, my stomach clenching tight. ‘You mean how she won’t give me a moment’s peace?’
‘I’m sure you just hate the lingering touches.’
Heat rose into my cheeks. ‘What do you mean?’
She shrugged. ‘I mean she lingers.’
‘She doesn’t linger.’
Shilah turned and tapped my shoulder, her palm gently resting along my collar bone. ‘“Meshua. How does this potion work? Meshua can I help you make that crank-fan? Meshua you’ve made the cave so cold that I wish I had someone to sleep next to.” She’s not even being subtle anymore.’
I turned my concentration back to the barracks wall, searching for any telltale signs of a secret panel. ‘I’ve made it very clear that I’m not interested in her. I’ve got enough to worry – we’ve got enough to worry about with everything – with the cave – and the recruiting and—’
Shilah squeezed my shoulder. ‘Shivers and Frosts, Spout, I was just kidding around. I know.’
I swallowed hard.
She paused, a teasing smirk coming to her lips. ‘But she does linger.’
I chuckled. ‘“Shivers and Frosts,” huh? You’ve been spending too much time with Cam.’
Shilah blushed. ‘It’s not like he invented the saying, and it’s got a nice ring to it. Also, know thy enemy, right?’
I gave her a stern look. ‘Cam is hardly the enemy.’
She looked down at her sandals. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. He’s been teaching me more about Noble life. About his father and brothers, and how those bastards think and what they say. Got to know all the loose bricks in the Pyramid if you want it to come crumbling down.’
‘Poetry.’ I nodded, tapping my knuckles gently across a curious patch of wall.
‘Boy or girl tonight?’ Shilah asked.
I gave her a look. ‘Girl. Definitely.’
‘Why so confident?’
I thought about all the new recruits back in our caverns. We were twenty-six Jadans strong. A true Flock. Still nowhere near close enough to take on the Khat’s army of thousands, but we were at least approaching the numbers we’d need to begin my next Idea.
‘The strongest Jadan I know is a girl,’ I said. ‘And if we’re going to do what we’re planning to do, we need all the strength we can get.’
Shilah paused, facing me and taking my broken hand in hers. She gave the bronze fingers a squeeze, but she wasn’t gentle with the rest of my hand. She knew better then to show me pity. ‘Well then I hope it’s a boy. The most brilliant Jadan I know is a boy.’
I looked away, blushing. A large rectangle of stone seemed to protrude just a hair from the wall. ‘I think we found our spot.’
Shilah glanced up at the stars. ‘Perfect timing, too. The Crying will be happening about now.’
I looked over my shoulder. Wind howled over the cliff, carrying up a light dusting of sand from the desolate land far below. High dunes and Sun-bleached rocks spread as far as the eye could see, in every direction the only sign of life being the odd patch of boilweed now and again.
Just like everywhere outside of Paphos, the land here was dead.
And with dead land came dead spirits.
I thought whispers of Ice might be enough to change things here in the City of David’s Fall. It should have been enough to do something. I’d hoped the rumors would cause rebellion. I hoped word of the miracle material would spread throughout every house, shop and barracks, causing the Jadan people to rise up and toss our oppressors over the same cliff they once forced us over.
My thoughts had proven optimistic.
In the City of David’s Fall, fear ran deeper than hope.
Ever since our battle at the Sanctuary, the Khat’s forces had been showing up in droves. The city had grown tense and overcrowded. Streets teemed with Khatfists and armoured guards, doing everything they could to prove their superiority.
The night air shook with the sounds of cries and lashings, worsening with the arrival of each new Noble caravan. If any Jadan so much as mentioned Ice, the taskmasters would brand their tongues unusable. Most of my people shrank deeper into their shells. Most stepped tighter into line.
Most, but not all.
I nodded for Shilah to join me. The large stone of the barracks gave under my palm. This was the right spot.
Now all we had to do was wait.
Shilah reached into the sheath I had designed and retrieved the blade. It was still strange to see the weapon of the Vicaress without a wreath of flames, or without the merciless blue eyes sizzling behind it.
Abb used to tell me that revenge is an empty journey; that there can be no satisfaction until one has the courage to let go of the past.
The Vicaress stabbed him to death with this very blade.
She’d been killed in return, by the hand of my Flock. And I didn’t regret my revenge.
I only regretted not getting more of it myself.
Shilah sat down at one side of the secret panel, crossing her legs and waving the Vicaress’s blade in front of her face. I took the opposing side, my back hovering right up against the wall. The brick was terribly hot as after being battered by the Sun all day.
We waited patiently. The wind laughed across the nearby cliffs.
The City of David’s Fall was set on a series of plateaus. It struck me as purposeful that the Jadan barracks were usually built as close to the cliffs as possible. Not only would it keep the unworthy masses away from the city centre, but it was a subtle reminder of what happened here the last time our people tried to rebel.
Shilah scraped the blade across the ground and picked up the handful of dirt and sand. She rolled the land around her fingertips and then opened her hand, letting the grit be carried away by the wind.
I pulled out the chalice, staring into my choice of glass – Glassland Green. I owed a great debt to desperation in my journey to becoming an Inventor, but it was quite refreshing to get to use the best things for my work instead of just what I was able to scavenge. For the chalice, I’d needed something that wouldn’t shatter.
‘I hate that we have to scare them,’ I said.
‘I scared the crap out of you at first too. You turned out all right.’
‘You absolutely did not scare me.’
She wrapped an arm around her chest and pretended to shiver. ‘Ahhh, don’t kill me, sand wraith! I don’t know how to get my own invention off!’
I shushed her with a smirk. ‘Quiet. We don’t want to scare anyone back inside.’
She thrust the blade into the ground by her feet, sitting back and closing her eyes.
The wind up here was lovely. The Nobles had been wrong in their placement of the barracks. The air was much more bearable, cool and fresh, and the views were spectacular. This location was a gift.
I relished this time, just Shilah and I, more than anything.
Having so many Jadans look to us as saviours was exhausting. It was nice to get away. I breathed a little easier looking out over dead land and dreaming of a better world. Together.
A sound from inside.
I held a finger to my lips, Shilah and I simultaneously rising to our feet. After a moment the brick scraped backwards. Scabbed hands took its place, grasping at small freedom.
Shilah flattened herself against the wall, which didn’t take much effort as her back was as deadly straight as always. She held the Vicaress’s blade in one hand, a fresh rip of boilweed dangling from the other.
A shock of curly black hair appeared in the opening of the wall. A girl. Perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, only slightly younger than us. On the back of her neck was the tattoo all Jadans were forced to wear, denoting our barracks and slave number. The ink was always black as a starless night, so it could be read on our dark skin. Her elbows were cracked and ashen, and her ears were rather large for her head. I wondered if she’d already heard us.
We kept flat until the girl crawled out and then turned.
She opened her mouth to scream.
Shilah hopped off the wall, holding out the knife and hissing through her teeth. ‘Make one sound and I use this.’
The girl’s eyes flashed wide. Arms immediately wrapped around her chest in protection.
I hated this method of introduction, but we couldn’t have the girl screaming. Harshness was the quickest path out of the confusion.
Shilah let the blade fall to her side, putting on her most charming smile. ‘I’m just kidding. I would never do that. I’m Shilah. This is Micah. We’re here to change your whole life.’
The girl looked at me. Her face flushed with terror. She was unsteady on her feet, poised to flee.
‘Hello,’ I said, giving her a friendly wave with my damaged hand.
I knew the rumours spoken in the shadows – a Jadan with golden fingers, gifted from the Crier so he could make and touch Ice. I hoped this girl had heard at least some version of the tale.
Fear continued to darken her face.
‘Please. I wasn’t going anywhere,’ the girl said, a lump visible in her throat. Her lips were cracked and bleeding. Her nightly rations were probably withheld. ‘I was just checking for—’
‘Really, we’re not going to hurt you,’ I said. ‘We just have to be private.’
‘I don’t have any figs or anything.’ The girl’s voice was meek; her fingers rubbed her elbows. ‘I never save rations.’
‘What’s your name?’ Shilah asked sweetly. It was not a tone I was used to.
The girl’s eyes flashed to the blade. ‘Whatever will keep me alive.’
Shilah stared at the girl with pinched lips.
‘Cassay,’ the girl said.
Shilah angled the blade to catch more starlight. ‘You recognize this blade, Cassay?’
Cassay thought about it for a second and then nodded. Her curls did not sway with the motion, crusted over with dirt. ‘How’d you get it?’
Shilah gestured to me.
‘Cassay,’ I said, handing over the green glass chalice. ‘Please hold this.’
Cassay kept her arms wrapped around her torn shirt. ‘Why?’
‘Please,’ I said gently.
Eventually she yielded, taking the cup in trembling hands. I tipped my waterskin over the top and filled the glass precisely halfway.
Shilah stepped in front of the girl, slicing off a tiny sliver of abb.
A part of me winced. We only had so many abbs left, and the Coldmaker, the finest invention I’d ever created, couldn’t produce them forever. The machine was dying, and if we didn’t find a Frost to power the charge inside soon, we’d lose what little advantage we had. Abbs may have been the most powerful form of Cold in existence, able to make Ice, but they were finite, like every other piece of Cold.
I wished the recruits could fully understand the honour we were bestowing. These were the last of the abbs we were giving them. Sacrificing power for family; although my father would have said they were the same thing.
Shilah held the abb sliver over the cup between her thumb and forefinger.
‘Cassay,’ Shilah said in a dramatic voice, ‘ever heard of Langria?’
Cassay nodded, the water trembling in the glass. ‘Yes?’
I rested my hands gently beneath Cassay’s. Our first three Jadan recruits had dropped the chalice when witnessing the Ice. And I needed them to feel the Cold instead of just seeing it. The gap between knowledge and understanding could be as wide as the Great Divide.
‘Welcome to real freedom,’ Shilah said.
The fleck of gold dropped into the water.
The reaction was instantaneous.
I’d tried Glassland Blue and Glassland Black for the chalice, but neither could withstand the pressure. I’d thought about just using bronze – to match the Coldmaker, as well as my fingers – but the material needed to be translucent, so our recruits could fully see what was happening.
Crystal arms reached the lip of the glass as the Ice expanded. Shilah and I had to practise the sizing of the slice of abb, making sure it was small enough to ensure there was still some water left to drink.
The girl gasped.
‘You’re them,’ Cassay said, her body ready to collapse. ‘You’re real. I didn’t believe what Hadim was saying, but you’re real.’
‘Drink,’ I said, filing the name ‘Hadim’ away for later. We needed as many recruits as possible. ‘We’re just Jadans, like you.’
‘Drink,’ Shilah echoed. ‘Drink and be free.’
Guiding her shaking hands, I brought the glass up to her lips. Cassay closed her eyes and she sighed with her whole body. It was quite a long moment before she opened them again, tears dotting the corners of her eyes.
She turned her face to the stars.
I imagined they looked brighter.
Chapter Two
A shout from the crowd: ‘Put on the dancing vest!’
I didn’t need to see the mouth to know who it had come from. I cleared my throat, trying not to crack a smile. ‘As I was saying—’
‘The vest! Put it on! You’ll look dashing!’
Shilah glared down off the platform by my side. She also struggled to keep the laughter off her lips. These daily gatherings could get rather bleak, and Cam always tried to infuse the room with laughter. It practically never worked, and tonight I’d hoped he would refrain.
Because tonight’s discussion was going to be different.
We’d reached thirty recruits, and so finally Shilah and I were going to reveal the Idea.
The Idea was something Shilah and I had been working on since we’d taken up residence beneath the city, turning the Coldmarch caverns – once an underground haven for Jadans escaping north – into living quarters for our Flock. This vast space had a source of clean water, and plenty of room for those who needed to heal. It even included my very own tinkershop, isolated from everything else and brimming with materials we’d gathered.
But the new Idea wasn’t something physical, something to be tinkered together. The Idea was to be a shift in our identity. It was a mad dash to the dead-carts in nearly every sense. It was scary, daunting and seemingly impossible.
Which meant we were probably doing the right thing.
One cannot change the world without risk. I used to think differently, until it was time to effect real change. In creating the Coldmaker, even in the relative safety of the Tavor Manor, I had put many lives in danger. First and foremost my own, but more importantly, the lives of Shilah, and Cam and my barracks family.
This Idea would imperil every Jadan in the City of David’s Fall. It would be like collectively ripping all the pages out of the Khat’s Gospels and spitting at the Sun. We would be invoking the wrath of the entire Khatdom, and even if all went well, there was a large chance that many or all of us would die.
Which meant Cam’s outbursts were out of place.
‘Like I was saying,’ I said to the crowd. ‘I know there has been a lot of confusion lately about what we’re actually—’
‘Dashing, I say!’ Cam shouted. ‘Totally dashing!’
A collective murmur of disbelief ran through the crowd. Many of the recruits still didn’t understand why we were hosting a High Noble with blonde hair, fair skin and a silly grin in the first place. A few stunned children looked at their new parents, trying to decide how to react.
Shilah and I thought that the whole idea of ‘parents’ and ‘children’ might dissolve down here in the caves – considering we were all one Flock now – but we’d been proven wrong. Pairs naturally formed. Rebelliousness served as a surprisingly unifying trait around which to build relationships. The younger Jadans looked to the older Jadans for guidance in their dissent. The older Jadans looked to the younger Jadans to be reminded of hope. Family could mean a lot of things. I thanked the Crier every day for putting me in the same barracks as my father, Abb, the best Jadan I’ve ever known.
My smile finally broke. ‘Cam, I’m not going to put on the dancing vest.’
‘No offense, Spout,’ Cam said. He pointed a thin finger toward the beadwork vest, draped over the cone of rock on the platform. ‘But I was talking to Shilah.’
Shilah ran her tongue across her back teeth, her eyes alight. She waved her fist at Cam. ‘I’ll wrap this around your face if you interrupt again, Camlish Tavor.’
‘Anyway,’ I said, stifling a laugh, ‘I know a lot of you have been asking about Langria lately, and why we continue to hide down here instead of continuing the Coldmarch …’
‘Bunch of priss nonsense!’ Ellcia shouted out, her face darkening to the colour of her freckles. ‘Langria ain’t no bettah than what we got. Langria being just stories.’
Ellia gave an affirming nod from behind her sister’s shoulder.
This was a common belief. Even I doubted the existence of Langria, and knew we couldn’t count on the legendary city to help. For all I knew, our Flock was the only community of free Jadans in the entire World Cried, and what mattered was finding more Frosts here in the City of David’s Fall.
‘We’re honouring the Coldmaker,’ Leah shouted out, her fingers dancing through the air in front of her. Whenever she spoke, others went quiet. I was used to her incomparable beauty by now, which included large eyes and a full bottom lip, but I understood how others could still get stunned into silence. ‘We’re honouring you! You’ve saved us all, Meshua.’
Heat rose into my face. I kept my gaze off Shilah. ‘Thank you.’
‘You look Cold, Meshua Shilah!’ Cam called, clapping his hands in a fast beat. ‘If only there were some dancing garment you could put on to help with that. If only there was some way to move your body to warm up, with rhythm and a shaking of the hips.’
Shilah blushed, but there was also a smirk beneath it.