Free The Far Dawn by Kevin Emerson Page A

Lük’s mind I see them: Eu the jaguar, and Ana the turtle, like the statues I saw in Rana’s skull vision, in the courtyard in Tulana.
    â€œThere’s always Master Solan’s teaching,” says Kael with a hint of sarcasm as he steps into the small craft, “how our will and the will of nature are, by design, the same.”
    â€œMaster Solan smells like sloth dung,” says Rana. “So, who’s driving?”
    â€œThat’s funny,” says Lük, stepping in and taking the pilot’s seat.
    â€œI could always fly myself.” Rana holds out her palms, two stones glowing blue, and floats up from her seat.
    â€œWell then, may I have the honor of transporting you?” asks Lük.
    Rana smiles. “Spoken like a true noble.”
    â€œLike a true fool,” chides Kael, but he smiles.
    I feel Lük’s limbs moving as mine used to, untying the tether, aligning the sails, and activating the vortex. He’s a better pilot than me, though, trained since childhood; and in spite of the whipping winds, he guides the craft away from the apartment in a smooth arc. He brings them up over the next jutting island, above a tight labyrinth of sandstone buildings lit by globes of light. He picks up speed and banks quickly around the Polarian ship. Its railings are lined with people looking out eagerly, some pointing to different buildings, the spires and pyramids.
    â€œFirst time in Atlante for many of them, I bet,” Kael says. “Probably a big change from mammoth furs and cliff caves.”
    â€œWhat do you know?” Rana snaps. “Polara is a beautiful province, or was. All these people may be rolling their mammoth furs out on our floors soon enough, if they keep losing their land.”
    Lük rubs her leg supportively. She leans an arm against him and I feel him stir, and there is the doubt again. If only they could run . . .
    â€œYou sound like you’re going to side with the masters’ plan,” Kael mutters.
    â€œWell, at the ceremony I’ll do my best to heed Master Alara’s advice and look like I’m siding with the masters,” says Rana. “You both need to remember that, too. Our plan will be ruined if anyone suspects. But it’s okay to be sympathetic. We don’t have to like what’s happening to the world. We can love our vortex energy and yet know that its effect on the planet’s magnetic fields has had dire consequences. But that doesn’t mean the masters are right in what they mean to do. You remember what Alara said.”
    â€œOf course I remember what she said.” Kael’s voice rises. “I’ve pledged to die for what she said. I just want to be sure you’re committed, too.”
    â€œWe all are,” Lük says sternly. “Always. If that is what it comes to.” And I feel that he can’t bear to look at Rana as he says this.
    Lük aligns them with the other craft in the sky. There are ships of all sizes, from four-person vessels like this one to giant barges ferrying hundreds. Some are open topped, built for quick transport across the archipelago, while others have decks and cabins and look ready to cross the planet. All the ships are orienting in the same direction, and ahead I see the largest island yet and rising in its center, a giant curving structure.
    It looks like a dome.
    But as we get closer I see that its exterior is made of stone rings with gaps in between, and the top is open to the night. The rings are connected by staircases that also act as supports. Stripes of brilliant light shine between the levels.
    While most of the larger craft settle on the stones of a wide plaza surrounding it, Lük flies to the topmost ring of the dome, where he ties off at a staircase.
    â€œLook at them all,” Rana says, peering down at the masses filing in. “Good little lemmings.” She sounds like Seven.
    â€œThey don’t know any