Chapter 59: Explorer

At the fork in the gorge, Nightingale let the world of fog go and checked Wendy’s arm.

The back of the hand was black to the wrist, and the blackness was moving. She’d seen snake venom work before — Cara had demonstrated it on a guard once, as a lesson about what her ability could do, and the lesson had been effective. Without treatment, it would reach the shoulder in a few hours and after that it would not stop.

She did not let herself think about the hours. She worked.

She tore the sleeve from Wendy’s coat, tied it above the elbow as tight as she could pull it, drew the dagger she kept in her boot, and opened the wound — not with hesitation and not with apology, because neither helped, and what helped was getting the venom out and then moving. The blood that came was darker than it should have been. She pressed around the wound until the color began to improve and then she wrapped it with the other sleeve and tied Wendy to her back with the two straps she’d had the presence of mind to pull from the stake when she left.

Wendy’s breathing was slow and measured against her shoulder blade.

“I can walk,” Wendy said.

“You can’t.”

“I can for a while.”

“You’ll slow us down.” Nightingale adjusted the straps. “Save your energy.”

Three days minimum, she thought. With two people. With the path. With Wendy losing blood every hour and the venom working against the tourniquet.

Nana could heal this. Nana had healed worse. The gap between here and Nana was three days and a mountain gorge and a flat stretch of country full of demonic beasts, and she had a woman tied to her back and a dagger in her boot and an ability that let her go invisible and did not do anything about terrain or blood loss or distance.

She picked up the torch she’d set against the rock wall and started moving.

“Do you need help?”

The voice came from above and slightly to her right, which was the direction of the wall and not the path, and the thing about the gorge was that nothing lived on the walls, so Nightingale had her ability active before the last syllable landed and was pressed against the stone with the dagger out and Wendy behind her.

Nothing. Grey fog. The gorge in its architecture, walls and darkness and the distant warmth from below.

“I’m not fighting you,” the voice said. From above.

She looked up.

There was a person in the air.

A girl, actually — she looked about fourteen, which was Nana’s age or close to it, with short blonde hair cut in a way that suggested she’d done it herself with whatever she had available, and a leather jacket that had been repaired in at least four places, and trousers with so many pockets that they had stopped resembling trousers and become more of a philosophical position about the importance of pockets. She was hovering approximately ten feet up the wall with the casual ease of someone who had been doing this for years and found it less interesting than the person she was looking at.

“You can see me?” Nightingale said.

“In fog? Not at all. But I saw you before the fog. And I’ve been following you for a while, so.” The girl descended slowly, setting her feet on the path with a small delicacy, like she was trying not to make a sound. “I’m Lightning. I joined recently, so you probably don’t know me. I know you, though — you’re the Shadow Assassin.”

“Did Cara send you?”

“Cara—” She made a face that involved her whole forehead. “No. No, she didn’t. I don’t think Cara is in a position to send anyone anywhere anymore, actually. And even if she were, I wouldn’t—” She stopped, recalibrated, started over. “I heard what you said. About the right to choose our own way of life.” A pause. “I’m choosing.”

Nightingale looked at her.

“You’re joining me,” she said.

“Yes.”

“We’re three days from Border Town, one of us is poisoned, and there are demonic beasts between here and there.”

Lightning considered this with the expression of someone assessing a route for interest rather than for danger. “You also have me,” she said helpfully.

“Can you fly carrying weight?”

“Yes. Probably not fast. I’ve never tried two people before, but the theory is—” She stopped, because Nightingale was already looking at her with the expression of someone who did not have time for theories. “Yes. I can do it.”

“Then I’ll take the trouble of accepting your help,” Nightingale said.

They moved in relays.

When Lightning was rested, Nightingale and Wendy climbed onto her back and she flew — not fast, and not without effort, and not without commentary (you’re both much heavier than you look, I mean that as a compliment, dense is good, you’re very solid—), but she flew, and the ground that would have taken an hour on foot went by beneath them in twenty minutes. When Lightning’s arms began to shake, she came down and Nightingale took over, pulling them both into the fog and moving through the grey world where the wind didn’t bite and the path was visible if not warm.

When they were both tired they stopped, briefly, and ate what they had.

During one of these stops, while Wendy drifted in and out of consciousness against a rock wall, Nightingale asked about Lightning’s father.

She got more information than she had asked for.

The father was Thunder — not a name she had to explain, apparently; she said it with the confident expectation of recognition that people deploy when they believe the subject is famous. He commanded an ocean-going fleet. He had taught her navigation by the stars, knot-tying, cartography, the naming of winds, and “the correct approach to discovery,” which Lightning described at some length and which appeared to mean: write down what you actually see rather than what the story says you should see.

Her mother had died when she was young. On a sea voyage, a storm. An island. Two months alone before her ability came to her.

“You flew home across the sea,” Nightingale said.

“Across the channel, yes. The sea is—” Lightning looked at something past Nightingale’s shoulder for a moment. “The sea is large. I flew until I couldn’t and swam the rest.” She said it the way you say things when you’ve made your peace with them. “I’ve been looking for him since. Explorers find things. That’s what I do.”

Nightingale said nothing.

“He’s not dead,” Lightning said. “He’s found things before that people thought were impossible. He found the channel route that everyone said couldn’t be sailed. He’s not dead.” She picked at a loose patch on her leather jacket. “And when I find the steam engine that huffs and puffs smoke, and the powder that splits mountains, I’ll have proof that the world is still making things he hasn’t seen yet. So he has to be alive to find them.”

The logic was not actually logic. Nightingale’s ability couldn’t touch it either way because Lightning believed it completely, in the marrow, in the way children believe things that they have decided they need to believe to continue.

She looked at the girl’s face. Fourteen or fifteen years old. Flying through a mountain gorge in the dark to go somewhere she had never been, to find a father who might not be findable, for reasons that were equal parts grief and wonder and the very specific stubbornness of someone who has not yet learned that the world does not always reward commitment.

Anna at fourteen, she thought. Nana at twelve.

“We should move,” she said.

Wendy woke several times. Each time, Nightingale made her drink water, and each time the water was harder to make her swallow, and each time her skin was cooler than before. On the second day, her lips were going grey at the edges.

They pushed. When Lightning’s arms shook before she’d recovered, she pushed through the shaking. When Nightingale’s legs were wrong from the fog-distance and the weight, she adjusted the straps and kept moving. They did not talk much. They moved.

What would have been three days took a day and a half.

At the entrance to the road south, the horses Roland had left were still there, the pile of straw in front of them half-eaten, patient in the way that horses were patient. Nightingale mounted without stopping, Wendy across the saddle in front of her, and turned the horse toward Border Town. Lightning was airborne before the horse had taken its third step, keeping pace above and slightly behind, hair flat against her head in the wind.

They did not slow down.

Chapter 59 Explorer

“Respected Mentor!” When they saw that Cara had fallen, all the witches around her began to panic.

“Idiots! Ahem…” Cara tried to cover the wound with her hand; she could no longer feel her lower body, “Quickly, go and kill the traitors for me!”

However, at that time Nightingale, who was carrying Wendy, had already turned into fading mist.

When they arrived back at the fork in the road, Nightingale realized that Wendy had fallen unconscious and her arm had turned black, the venom was spreading within her. Now, no hesitation was allowed and every second counted. She gnashed her teeth, ripped off the sleeve around Wendy’s injured arm and then used it to bind the arm as tightly as she could. Then, she drew a dagger from the sole of her boot, and opened Wendy’s wound.

After less than half a quarter of an hour later, she had cut open Wendy’s arm. As long as the arm wasn’t cut off, Nana would be able to heal her. When she had done everything she could do, Nightingale took out two straps and bound Wendy on her back. As long as Nightingale was able to bring Wendy to Border Town alive, Nana would be able to completely heal her.

But to keep her alive for so long… was it possible?

She alone already took three days on the way here, but now while carrying a person she would naturally need longer. If she were to go faster and accidentally slide down the trail, she wasn’t sure if she could climb up again.

Wendy’s arm was still losing blood; she would never last three or four days, but Nightingale had no other choice. She would never be able to leave Wendy – after all, she was only injured because of her.

“Do you need help?” Suddenly, a voice could be heard out of nowhere.

Nightingale was frightened and almost simultaneously opened her own world of fog, and assumed a defensive position.

However, there was no person in front of her.

“You don’t need to be nervous, I didn’t come to fight.”

When Nightingale looked up, she could actually see a person flying in the air. Then, she asked, confused, “Who are you?”

“My name is Lightning, I just joined the Witch Cooperation Association recently. Since I’m always away, it is normal that you don’t know me.” She tried to smile easily, “However, I know you, the famous Nightingale, the Shadow Assassin.”

“Did Cara send you?”

“No, no, don’t misunderstand me,” Lightning slowly came downwards, setting her feet on the earth in the end, “I want to go with you.”

Nightingale couldn’t believe what she heard so she asked, “What?”

“You said, ah, we should have the right to freely choose our own way of life,” Lightning paused for a second and then said, “I choose to go with you, it’s that simple.”

“What is …?” Nightingale was already completely disappointed by the reaction of her sisters; even Wendy hadn’t fully believed in her, but now this girl in front of her – she was actually still a child, around fourteen or fifteen years old, like Nana. She had fresh and neat short blonde hair, a face full of high spirits, and speech and self-confidence that didn’t match her age. Also, she didn’t wear the usual Witch Cooperation Association uniform. Instead, she wore a set of long trousers tailored to match her personal preferences, with many pockets and patches. This could also be said about her vintage leather jacket. The last part of her attire was a crude-looking belt that was

fastened around her waist, only God knew where she had picked it up. At first glance, this just looked like a man’s clothing.

“You said that there’s a machine that huffs and puffs out black and white smoke, and that you can also create stones out of gray powder and even have powder that breaks apart mountains with a thunderous bang. I want to see everything!” Lightning was talking full of enthusiasm, “I’m determined to become an explorer who, of course, only goes to interesting places.”

What kind of a reason was this… Nightingale was startled, and she couldn’t make a sound, but even in this kind of conscious she could still tell that Lightning was not lying.

“I do not understand… If you want to be an adventurer, why would you leave the Witch Cooperation Association and join me?”

“Not an adventurer, I want to be an explorer!” Lightning stressed, “I’m not one of those who are only driven by money, who say that they are risk takers, but in fact are only doing the dirty work of others. Explorers only act out of interest! Are you asking why l don’t want to be with the Witch Cooperation Association… ” explained Lightning confidently, “who are looking for the Holy Mountain, which should be the dream of every explorer? Cara doesn’t understand the spirit of adventure, she is completely immersed in the old book, only looking along the road for the characteristics described in the ancient book. She is walking through the Mountain range only searching for two weathered pillars rising out of the ground. If this is the way she does it, she will never find the real holy mountain. My father always stressed the point that an explorer must honestly record everything they see when looking for a fine horse by using only a picture! That’s just the way a explorer should handle the matter.

Although Nightingale would have loved to know what kind of father would teach such ideas and raise such an absolutely strange daughter, now wasn’t the right moment to chat. After all, Wendy’s life was at risk. Since she didn’t mean any harm, an additional helper would be appreciated.

In the end Nightingale only asked, “Your ability is flying?”

“Well yeah,” Lightning nodded and said proudly, “I can even carry you both, and flow forever forward, just like the wind.”

“Then I will have to trouble you.” Nightingale made sure that Wendy was strongly bound to her back and then she held on Lightning’s shoulders, and wrapped her hands around Lightning’s chest.

“Uh … really heavy.” Lightning grit her teeth, and slowly rose upwards, “I think we probably won’t be as fast as the wind.”

……

Thus, they began their strange form travel. When Lightning was exhausted, she would be carried by Nightingale, who took everyone through her world of fog. When Lightning was physically recovered, Nightingale would then climb onto Lightning’s back, so that she could fly forward again.

When both of them were exhausted and compelled to rest, Nightingale would find the time to ask her some basic questions – for example, who her father was, or the situation with her family.

Lightning said that her father was the world’s greatest explorer and that he even traveled across the ocean. He had an ocean sailing fleet and was affectionately called Thunder by his crew. However, she had lost her mother when she was still very young, so she didn’t have many memories of her. While on a sea voyage, her ship had run aground and capsized during a storm. Lightning was lucky and was rushed to an island by the ocean currents, but she lost all contact with her father. On the island, Lightning used the knowledge and skills her father taught her. She nearly spent two months alone on that island before she had awoken during the winter.

With her new ability she flew westwards across the channel to the south of Graycastle. After going through numerous setbacks, she joined the Witch Cooperation Association in the end. She felt that as long as she adhered to exploring, one day she would be able to come across a miracle and see her father again – as long as he was still alive.

Nightingale didn’t gain much useful information from this dialogue. Her ability could only be used to distinguish if the other side was lying, but she couldn’t determine the authenticity of the spoken content. In other words, as long as the other person said that the sun was square and didn’t doubt it, her ability would still show that they were telling the truth.

However, there was actually some information that could be inferred. For example, she must have been born in a wealthy family – families who were struggling with poverty wouldn’t have the time to explore. The fact that her father had an ocean-going fleet was also consistent with this judgment. Therefore, Thunder’s true identity was perhaps a wealthy ocean-crossing businessman. Lightning had blond hair, unlike the descendants of the Kingdoms of the mainland and more like the sea people from across the fjords.

Wendy had awoken several times. During these times, Nightingale would always try to let her drink as much water as possible, but after drinking, she lost her consciousness again. Nightingale could feel that Wendy’s body temperature was falling lower and lower. This made Nightingale feel increasingly anxious.

The two had no other alternative than hurrying, and the normally three-day- long path took them one and a half days to finish. At the entrance, the horses the prince had left for them were still tied to the ground, and the heap of straw in front of them was still only half eaten.

Nightingale climbed on one horse while carrying Wendy and let it run, followed by Lightning as she rushed non-stop towards Border Town.