“Get a move on, Val!” Orion shouts. “Unless you want towalkback to town.”
Dammit. I take two running steps and launch myself into the air. I have a second in midair to think—I’m going to miss it, I’m going to land face-first on the alloy, I should’ve just phased even if it meant that Atlas saw—and then Orion’s long arm clasps mine, swinging me around and into his back. There’s an awkward moment of scrambling to get my seat right, and then I wrap my arms around Orion’s body and hold on for dear life as the automaton mounts peel away from the lightningrail and race off across the Plains.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“THE HERALDS BUILT TRINITY FROM THEIR OWN DIVINE BODIES, TURNING THEIR SKIN TO METAL SO THAT WE HAD A PLACE TO WALK, THEIR BREATH TO AIR SO THAT WE COULD BREATHE, AND THEIR BLOOD TO WATER AND NAPHTHA SO THAT WE COULD LIVE AND THRIVE.”
—THE DIVINE ORIGINS OF TRINITY, THE ARCHIVAL COUNCIL OF THE HERALDIC MINISTRY
I was born in the middle of the stacked buildings and twisting streets of Covenant, so I’ve never been out on the Copper Plains before, let alone ridden across them. As dangerous as it is in the city, at least it has shade. Out on the Plains, the metal ground bakes in the sun, creating a furnace of heat that lingers even in the dead of night.
We slowed our mounts to a walk about an hour ago to conserve a little power and have been plodding along under the open blue-black sky, moving steadily toward Covenant, keeping the distant, pitch-black ribbon of the Elysian Depths square to our backs to make sure we’re going in the right direction. The dry and dusty wind cuts across us in a way that seems to pull evenmore moisture from my body, quickly leaving my lips cracked and mouth parched, even after I guzzle down the water Atlas offers me.
I’d always assumed the Plains would just be an unchanging spread of smooth coppery metal, but it’s more dynamic than that. The high winds have worn gradients into the color, subtle shifts that are hypnotizing close-up, and the magnastorms have left shallow crater points and dramatic black scars that soak up all the light. I can’t get over how big the sky looks out here. How sharp the stars are and how the moons actually have a pale lavender sheen to them, something I’d never noticed before what with all the skyliners cluttering the view.
And Trinity’s song right now—it’s so strong. It’s like the whole Copper Plains are ringing with it, vibrating up through the automaton beneath me. There are more voices, more harmonies blended into it than I’ve ever been able to hear before.
I’m not holding on quite as tightly to Orion now that we’ve slowed down, but I can’t let go of him entirely. For one thing, it’s not like there’s enough space for me to go anywhere, and for another, I still feel uneasy riding it. The sway of its motion, the mixed sensation of sun-warmed metal and cool naphtha, the sense that I’m not in control of this thing in the slightest… It’s just better if I keep a grip on Orion’s shirt and ignore how closely we’re pressed together.
I focus instead on Trinity’s song, humming in the back of my head. It’s strange—to have something you always hear but haven’t really listened to in such a long time. I keep picking up on little things I’d half forgotten about. Soft harmonies and blended chords,even notes that sound off here and there, like little mistakes Trinity is making as it builds the song. It catches me up inside it, and I start to hum along without even realizing.
The gusty wind drops away abruptly, and a deathly stillness falls over the Copper Plains. Shivers skitter across my skin. Not like fear, though. More… anticipation.
I twist like a compass needle toward the pull of the song—north and east, always north and east—and scan the flat horizon. Trinity’s song calls me toward it, rises in volume and pitch until it is a roar inside my ears, and then—
A flash of blue-white light. Just like what I saw on the steps of my boardinghouse the other day.
It surges up out of the Depths and spreads in all directions, filling the sky until I can see nothing else.
Everything is light and song.
I’m suspended inside it—timeless, limitless. I can’t see Orion or Atlas. The melody keens, high and sweeping, sharp and wild, resonating in my bones. It vibrates so loud and fierce inside my chest that I can hardly hear or feel or think about anything else. I tilt my head back to the sky and the stars I know glimmer somewhere out in the blackness that surrounds Trinity.
A voice inside me, muddled and distant. I can’t tell if it comes from me or from the song.
Where are your wings, Valene? Why can’t you fly?
“Val!”
I snap my head back down, blinking in the sudden darkness. I’m standing on the ground, a few steps away from the automaton mount, and Orion is in front of me, his hands clamped tight onmy arms, his eyes wild with worry. The blue-white flare is gone again, although bits of it still halo around my vision. Trinity’s song has dropped to a soft melody, and the hard wind of the Plains snaps at my clothes.
I frown down at his hands. He’s gripping me so tight it almost pinches. “What are you doing?”
“What am I— Is that a joke?” His hands drop to his sides, and he straightens, staring down at me. “First, that light comes out of nowhere, with no warning—”
My eyes narrow. “Wait, you two saw it?”
“Of course we saw it!” He’s staring at me like being out in the heat has finally fried my brain. “We saw the one a few nights ago, too. Big light, very alarming. But then you—your face went all blank, and you just jumped down and started walking toward it?”
I look behind me, to where Atlas and his mount are stopped several feet away. I don’t even remember moving.
“I must’ve just gotten disoriented,” I say, putting a dismissive edge on my voice. I don’t know what just happened, and I really don’t want to think about it. Or how it had me hypnotized or the voice I heard inside it. My skin is still tingling all over. “Come on, we should get moving. We want to make it back to Covenant by sunrise.”
I spin and clamber ungracefully back onto the mount, and after a moment, Orion joins me, his brow furrowed as he takes up the reins and starts toward town again. Atlas looks me over in that steady, searching way of his and then kicks his mount into step beside ours. I don’t say anything to either of them—I don’t feel the need—but Orion keeps clearing his throat as heshifts around, like he’s searching for something to fill the awkward silence. His eyes keep flicking over his shoulder to me and then away. The weight of it is itchy, heavy.
“Stop that,” I finally snap.
Orion raises his eyebrows. “Stop what?”
