The Semaphore

When the first rays of the sun appeared over the horizon, the white lights of the creature’s eyes went suddenly dark.

Pontis and Varia remained still as the sky brightened, watching the creature perched atop its hill. Its body was silver, and low to the ground. Its mouth was squarish and rigid, as if grimacing in pain. Stout limbs protruded from beneath it. It did not move, not even to breathe.

Eventually, Varia unfolded the girl’s cloth and gave her water. When she was done she fastened the satchel to her back and stood.

“If it wanted to hurt us,” she said, “it’d’ve done it last night. In the dark.”

She took down their makeshift tent and stuffed the blankets into their bags. Pontis rose slowly, keeping his eye trained on the silver creature as he helped gather their things. When they were packed up they turned west—away from the creature—and started off in the direction of Allegewi. Pontis walked stiffly, looking back continually, ready to be set upon.

Varia on the other hand never looked back, and after awhile, when the creature had not moved from its perch, Pontis stopped looking back too. Within a half hour they lost sight of it, and within another half hour the threat of the creature altogether was replaced with the threat of impending heat.

By noon Pontis had nearly forgotten about it altogether. The sun bore down angrily. They draped their blankets over their heads. They hydrated intermittently. They never released one another’s hand. The hills rolled on and on and on.

Then there was a sound. It rose up behind them like rushing wind, like a sudden storm. They turned into the sun.

The creature barreled toward them over the dunes with ferocious speed. Its eyes were wide. Its teeth were bared.

Pontis started to run. But Varia caught him by the sleeve.

“Wait,” she said, either with calm or fatigue. “Wait.”

Pontis clutched Varia’s hand. But as the creature neared, whirring and grinding like rent metal, his legs began to carry him away.

Varia held him tight, her palm sweating on his skin.

The creature raced up alongside them, and then ground to halt.

For a moment, Pontis’s adrenaline prevented him from making sense of what he was looking at. It was not a creature—not as Pontis had construed. Rather it was some kind of carriage. He recalled photographs in his school textbooks of vehicles, powered by machinery. And sure enough this one had an enormous engine hunkered in the back—dusty metal pipes coiled like a knot—and atop the engine was a rectangular plate made of what appeared to be the same dark, gold-hatched material from the glass cylinder adjacent to Hummel’s house. The vehicle’s roof was a trellis of metal bars. What Pontis had mistaken for a grimacing mouth was a metal grate. It had no limbs, but rather four wide, rutted tires caked in dirt and yellow grass. The eyes were lamps, larger versions of Hummel’s. And there was a man inside.

He was anywhere from thirty to fifty years old. His face was in need of a shave and his hair was braided down his back and tied with rows of varicolored bands. He wore a shawl made from layers of colorful fabric stitched together with conspicuous black thread. He smiled at Pontis and Varia, exposing a bank of gold and silver teeth, then tilted his circular glasses—each lens an impenetrable mirror—down the bridge of his nose, revealing a pair of startling blue eyes.

On the empty seat beside him was a long, curved sword, sheathed in black leather and metal studs, its twine-wrapped handle faded from use.

“Hoi there,” the man said, his voice smoky. “Fine day for a stroll through the belly of Rapidan. You two on a picnic?”

Varia eyed the sword on the seat beside him.

The man followed her gaze and patted the sword casually. “Sarabeth,” he said. “She’s just for show.”

Varia transferred her walking stick from one hand to the other. “What do you want?” she asked.

The man scoffed. “Can’t even say hoi these days.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose, concealing his gaze. “I’m Lady Mondagreen of Tecca,” he said. “But you can call me Mondagreen. Or Mondie, if your mouth’s tired. And I don’t want for a thing.”

Pontis and Varia stared at their small reflections.

“I’m Varia Longley,” she said. “Down out of Lowood Den. This is Pontis Inoue.”

Mondagreen cocked an eyebrow over his glasses. “That’s somewhere in the Lowoods?”

Pontis waited for Varia to respond, but she said nothing.

Mondagreen hung his head and rubbed his temples. “Reckon I spooked you dingbatters. I was just out minding that hillfire last night and spied your camp. Woulda come right over and said hoi then and there, but you never know who you’ll run into out on these hills. Come daylight, I saw you’re just fellow travelers.” His teeth glinted in the low sun. “No danger here.”

Varia shielded her face from the sun with a quavering palm.

“So, anyhow…” Mondagreen drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Where you headed? Want a scud? This sweet honey’ll carry you anywhere you need to be. Case you ain’t noticed, there’s no shortage of sun out here.”

Pontis looked at Varia. He imagined trudging over the boiling hills for another day—another five days—and the thought made his toes curl in his shoes.

“Our route’s to Allegewi Forest,” Varia said.

“Allegewi?” Mondagreen’s face lit up. “Have you there by nightfall.” He pulled a long, black cigarette from the collar of his shawl and set it in his lips, then once again lowered his glasses down the bridge of his nose.

“That’s it?” Varia asked.

Mondagreen smiled his bank of gold and silver teeth. “What’s in the satchel?” he asked.

Varia turned without a word and resumed walking westward. Pontis stood for a moment, blinking after her, and then jogged to catch up.

Mondagreen’s vehicle hummed up alongside. “Alright, alright,” he said, using a knee to keep the steering wheel straight. “Forget the satchel. What else you got?”

Varia ignored him.

“Up to you.” Mondagreen shrugged. “But it’s gonna be a hot as fuck one today. And tonight’s fixing for frost. Allegewi’s four days off on foot. Five at your pace.”

Varia walked faster.

“Suit yourselves.” The vehicle’s engine roared, yellow grass spraying from below its back tires.

Varia stopped abruptly, causing Pontis to nearly collide with her. As she did, the vehicle’s engine relaxed, and the tires stilled.

Mondagreen grinned around his cigarette.

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“We don’t have much,” Varia said firmly. “And what we’ve got we need. So if your offer hangs on a trade, we’ll just as soon walk.”

Mondagreen’s smile waned. “Well now, that might be a problem,” he said. “See, I don’t go round doing favors for nothing. My old man was a bastard, but he learnt me that much at least.” He produced a match from the folds of his garments, swiped it on the vehicle’s steering wheel, and lit his cigarette. Blue smoke billowed from his mouth and nostrils. “Let’s find some middle ground here.”

Pontis pulled out his voice pad and jotted a note, which he handed to Varia.

‘Can’t be out here another five days.’

Varia read the note slowly, as if it was very long.

“Hoi, now—that’s a right interesting pen,” Mondagreen said.

Pontis’s ethergrain pen glinted in the sun. He thought for a moment, then wrote another note and handed this one to Mondagreen.

‘Will it get us to Allegewi?’

Varia read it upside down from Mondagreen’s hand.

“You can’t,” she said. “Your Ma gave you that. And what’ll you write with?”

Pontis reached into his bag and produced a stick of charcoal, which he used to write a note to Varia.

‘This works.’

Mondagreen extended a hand. “Let me see it here,” he said.

Pontis handed him the ethergrain pen. Mondagreen peered at it, then drew a circle on the back of his hand.

“Ethergrain,” he said through his cigarette smoke. “Right nice condition.” He looked at Pontis over the rim of his glasses. “This’ll scud you to Allegewi,” he said. “Not back. Understand?”

Pontis and Varia exchanged a look, and the two nodded at Mondagreen.

“Exceptional.” Mondagreen disappeared the pen into the collar of his shawl. “Well, let’s get moving!” He slapped the side of the vehicle. “You’re gonna love Rapidan once you ain’t stuck walking through it.”

Pontis waited for Varia’s lead. They were taking a risk trusting this man, with his gold and silver teeth and his long, curved sword. But there was a risk in continuing their trek through Rapidan’s heat and cold. More than a risk. Pontis conceded that there had been a risk in leaving Lowood Den, and everything that followed.

They climbed into the vehicle’s backseat, setting all their luggage between them save for the satchel, which Varia clung to.

“Best keep seated,” said Mondagreen, craning his neck to look at them and securing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “She gets a little rough.”

Pontis gripped one of the roof’s metal bars. Varia did the same, and tightened her grip on the satchel.

Mondagreen exhaled a cloud of acrid blue smoke and set both hands on the steering wheel. The engine roared. The vehicle rumbled. The air filled with a pall of yellow dust, and all at once the vehicle careened forward with the speed of falling.

#

They rocketed across the dunes.

Mondagreen hooted from the driver’s seat.

“Wooohooo!” he cried as they bounded from hill to hill, going airborne off crests and crashing down slopes.

Pontis held the metal bar so tightly that his hand throbbed. Varia’s face went from ashen to green, her mouth a thin line. She clutched the satchel to her chest as if it would protect her from flying out of the vehicle. The engine gnashed and the tires screamed, catapulting them onward. Overhead, the sun seemed to race to keep up.

“Wooohooo!” Mondagreen hollered, turning around in his seat and offering Pontis and Varia a gold and silver grin. “Wooooohooooo!!!”

Eventually, Mondagreen’s shouts of glee petered out. At one point he turned around in his seat and began telling a long, rambling story about something that neither Pontis nor Varia could follow over the roar of the engine. When he laughed, they laughed with him, and when his face expressed gravity or tension, they matched it with their own. He smoked long black cigarette after long black cigarette, the blue smoke sucked into the rushing air.

After the first hour, the vehicle’s ceaseless momentum began to have a surprising effect on Pontis: it made him sleepy. At one point he drifted off and dreamed about gliding over the trees of the Lowoods, up and down over the canopy’s topography until the city of Lowood Den appeared ahead. He drifted down through the leaves, landing softly on the roof of Ien’s building. A girl with long white hair stood on the branch that stretched across the roof. Pontis was happy to see her, though he wasn’t sure he knew who she was. She held a white string that stretched up into the sky. Pontis reached for it.

“There it is,” said a voice elsewhere.

Pontis opened his eyes. The sun was a low disk trembling over the horizon. Mondagreen pointed ahead, where a dark rampart of forest sprawled, abrupt against the stark hills of Rapidan. The vehicle slowed to a healthy crawl, its engine dropping an octave. When they were a few hundred yards from the tree line they rolled to a stop. The vehicle seemed to sigh with relief.

“Allegewi Forest,” said Mondagreen, leaning back in his seat and kicking a leg up on his steering wheel. “And look—sun’s not even down. I’d say I’ve outdone myself here.”

Varia smoothed the blustery shape of her hair and half-stood in her seat. “We’re looking for Rainelle,” she said. “Or Arborvale. You know where those towns are?”

Mondagreen lit his tenth or eleventh cigarette. “Sure,” he said. “Arborvale’s close. I can carry you to the head of the trade road.” He pulled a lever beside the steering wheel and the vehicle lurched forward.

“And Rainelle?” Varia asked.

“Allegewi’s all roads, all connected,” Mondagreen said. “And plenty of signs.”

“When’s the last you put time in either of those towns?” Varia asked.

“I don’t spend much time in Allegewi. Was in Arborvale for a festival last year, come the fall. Ain’t been back since… You two ready to tell me what your business is, so far from the Lowoods?”

Varia sat back. “It’s not important.”

Pontis jotted a note on his voice pad and handed it to Varia.

‘We should tell him.'

“Why?”

‘Maybe he can help.’

Varia stroked the shape of the satchel and chewed her lip. “Stop here,” she said, touching Mondagreen’s shoulder.

Mondagreen stopped the vehicle a hundred yards from the tree line and turned around.

“We’ll tell you,” Varia said. “But it’s a hard story.”

Mondagreen shrugged. “I’m a hard fella.” He leaned against the steering wheel and clasped his hands behind his head. “Let’s hear it, long legs. What brings you two out west?”

Varia cradled the satchel to her chest. “It started just over a week ago,” she began, “when a girl came and wandered onto a farm in Lowood Den…”

#

By the time she finished, the sun had long set, and stars consumed the sky.

Mondagreen sat in silence, his brow furrowed, snacking from a pouch of dried fruit he’d pulled from one of the vehicle’s compartments. They had spread their blankets over the trellised roof to retain warmth. In doing so they also retained the smoke from Mondagreen’s long black cigarettes, and Pontis felt sluggish, loopy, and dry.

Varia had told the story with meticulous detail except for one major omission: she never mentioned Laszlo. Pontis understood that something had come between them, something beyond a disagreement over the girl. But what, exactly, he wasn’t sure he could articulate. He wondered if Varia could. Or Laszlo.

Mondagreen broke a stretch of silence. “So that’s her, there?” He gestured to the satchel.

Varia nodded.

“And you think she came from Allegewi?”

“Yes.”

“And the folk who did this to her—or maybe did—what’d you call them?”

“Hemmick,” said Varia.

Mondagreen ran his fingernails along the stubble on his jaw. “Never heard of it,” he said. “But my old man—a real ripe fuck, he was—used to fright me and my brothers with stories about Malory. Called him the Blisstaker. Told us all the crazy shit he’d do to us if we didn’t behave. Turn our blood to gravel. Fuck our minds so we couldn’t make sense of words. Rearrange our limbs.” Mondagreen shook his head. “He was an Agaatist, my old man, born and raised in Cade. Nobody else in Tecca’s religious, so he stood right out. Prayed to the Semaphore before every meal. Dressed us all in green come Viridian Day, and fasted a week leading up, to mind the War. Even made pilgrimages to Osseon every couple years, to leave dead dogs and cats at Malory’s throne. Douceurs, he called them. Meant to keep Malory sleeping.”

“Did you ever go with him?” Varia asked.

“No. My brothers and me weren’t worthy.” Mondagreen chuckled. “I’ve been to Osseon once, though. Well—almost. There was a… an incident, in the exurbs. All a big misunderstanding.”

Pontis and Varia shared a look in the smoke.

Mondagreen cleared his throat. “So can I see her?” he asked.

Varia caressed the satchel softly. “I’ll need give her water soon,” she said. “You’ll see her then.”

“What’s the plan here?” Mondagreen upturned a hand. “You bring her home and then what? Go after whoever done this to her?”

“If we have to,” said Varia, confirming aloud for the first time what Pontis had wondered for days.

Mondagreen shrugged. “Sounds like a chore.”

Varia was silent. Pontis thought about his Ma and Harper and Ien.

Mondagreen adjusted his collar over the bottom half of his face. “Maybe I’ll tag along a spell,” he said, stretching back until he was nearly supine and crossing his legs at the ankles. “Ain’t like I got anything better to do. And it’s been a while since I put in at Allegewi.”

Varia rocked the satchel gently in her arms.

“And these Hemmick folk sound right dangerous,” Mondagreen went on. “You run into them, you’re gonna want me alongside.” He nudged his sword with his knee. “Sarabeth here, well, she’ll keep you safe. And I’m more than a chauffeur with a pretty face, myself.”

Neither Varia nor Pontis protested. Pontis, for his part, was grateful to have Mondagreen with them, especially since losing Laszlo. Everything else aside, an extra set of hands could never hurt.

When it was time to give the girl water, Pontis helped Varia draw back the cloth in the backseat of the vehicle. The wounds on her chest were so festered that they no longer appeared as words but instead as gaping holes through which her ribcage was exposed. Her eye sockets had sunken further, and nearly all of her hair was gone. In the darkness afforded by the blanket suspended over the vehicle she appeared as a sickly shadow of bone and dead flesh. When Varia poured water into her mouth she stirred only slightly, and the sound that came from her was weak and brittle. A cry for help, Pontis thought, too late and too far away to reach.

In the front seat, Mondagreen watched on from the corner of his eye, his mouth drawn into a tight, thin line.