Free The Far Dawn by Kevin Emerson

Rana looks up. Her eyes flash to Lük and she finishes twisting her hair in a long braid.
    Lük stands and crosses the room, his black-booted strides causing the planks to creak. He slides a small viewing panel aside, and sees familiar eyes on the other side. He unlocks the door. A boy with shaggy hair steps in. I have only glimpsed him, on the pyramid roof where the Three had their throats slit.
    â€œReady?” Kael asks. He is taller and thinner, with sharp features and dark eyes. He is dressed in black, too. He pulls aside his long shirt, revealing a thick belt. Loops hold shiny triangular metal pieces with slightly curved points and holes in the centers. I can feel Lük’s knowledge that these are throwing blades and that Kael wields them with lethal accuracy.
    â€œYeah,” Lük answers, and he reveals that on his own belt, he carries a device that looks like a slingshot, along with a line of tiny metal darts. These weapons cause a moment of nervousness in him, and I feel him think: I would rather fly, maybe even far away from here. . . .
    I want to tell him that I know the feeling.
    â€œHey.” Kael is peering at Lük, examining his eyes. “You okay?”
    â€œFine,” says Lük. “It’s just . . . this is a big night.”
    Kael smiles with bravado. “The biggest.”
    In the distance, a long, low chime sounds, its depth vibrating the walls.
    â€œWe should go,” says Rana, wrapping a cloak around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. “It’s about to start.” She says this with weight, like this is the beginning of the end; and I can tell that she is serious, like Lilly, maybe too serious at times.
    â€œRight,” says Kael. “We wouldn’t want to be late for the masters’ big show.”
    He turns and opens the door. Lük follows Rana. I feel his heart rate rising. He pauses in the doorway and looks back at the room, and I feel him wondering if he will ever see this place again. I sense that he and Rana have spent countless hours here, feeling safe, and in love, so much so that Lük has wondered if his sacred mission is even worth it. He has imagined taking Rana’s hand and stealing away in his craft to some far island, somewhere perhaps in the northern reaches of Pacifica, where they could just be together. And with every step they take on this night, that possibility grows more and more distant. His heart aches at this, and he doesn’t even know what I know . . .
    That his dream will never happen.
    We step out onto a narrow balcony. Stairs crisscross the side of a curved building made of stone blocks. A craft like mine floats serenely, tied to a copper ring on the railing, its vortex engine glowing. Far below, I see dark water.
    This building is perched on a jagged cliff, and we are in a vast city built on an archipelago of rocky islands. Foamy ocean sloshes through fjords between them. In some places these are spanned by wide, arching bridges, but mainly the city is connected by glowing ships gliding from one spire or pyramid-shaped building to the next.
    In the distance, the moon illuminates jagged peaks and curling glaciers on a large land mass.
    There is a hum overhead and Lük looks up to see the belly of a huge Atlantean craft sliding overhead, glowing blue, its massive sails billowing in the stiff breeze. It has long, curved markings along the base of its hull on either side of the rudder.
    â€œYou know it’s a big event when the Polarians make the journey down,” says Kael.
    â€œI’m pretty sure that attendance was mandatory,” says Rana. “Besides, their city is sinking. The whole north land is going under. The Polarians have much to gain if the Paintbrush of the Gods works.”
    â€œI still hate that name,” says Lük. “As if Eu and Ana would ever approve of us plying our hand to reshape the world in our image.”
    In