Tam lifted his head, as if he could see through the dense forest and the mountains to the rich plains below. His eyes were full of unmistakable envy. That was his parents' land. That was his elder brother's land.
And he himself, it seemed, had been forgotten by the world.
Just then, a sudden flapping of birds rose from the woods below the mountain. The wildlings—everyone immediately tensed. Weapons were drawn, and they rushed into battle positions.
Wildlings were all over the Moonstone Mountains. Though they had been hit hard, they had recently spotted signs of them again. No one yet knew whether they had truly returned.
When they finally made out the figures emerging from the thick trees—Lord Solomon's soldiers, along with Officer Brin—their taut nerves finally relaxed. Then that relief was quickly replaced by intense curiosity.
All eyes went to the strange cargo covered in black cloth, being hauled by horses.
The gates were opened, and Brin strode into the camp, walking the place as if he were coming home. He climbed the gatehouse with practiced ease.
His voice was loud as a bell, like a bear's roar, instantly drowning out all the noise in the camp.
"Young men! I am Brin! I have come by Lord Solomon's order!"
The second sons exchanged looks, their eyes full of confusion and uncertainty.
Brin ignored their reactions. He extended his thick arm and pointed toward the rushing waters below Cliffside and the steep, hopeless slope that had defeated them all. Then he shouted:
"I know what's troubling you! Lord Solomon knows too!"
His voice echoed through the valley with unquestionable force.
"Today! I stand here in Lord Solomon's name!"
"I will build you real fields! Fields that hold water! Hold soil! Fields that grow golden wheat!"
A wave of suppressed whispers spread through the crowd.
"Mad. He's mad."
"Build fields on a mountainside?"
"No water, no nothing. How are you supposed to grow anything?"
"Carry it by hand? How much land could you water that way!"
Brin had expected their doubt. He gave no explanation, only waved his hand.
"Bring the goods out!"
The soldiers stepped forward and yanked the black cloth off the carts.
In the sunlight, a pile of oddly shaped wooden components was revealed: huge gears with precisely cut wooden teeth, long polished drive shafts, and bundles of chains fitted with wooden paddles. To the uneducated crowd, the whole thing looked mysterious from top to bottom.
Everyone was stunned. None of them had ever seen anything so complicated. They didn't understand it at all. It went beyond the limits of their simple understanding of how the world worked.
Brin jumped down from the wooden wall and led the second sons, personally directing the soldiers as they began assembling the machine beside the raging stream below the cliff. Above them, the ruined slopes stretched out—the abandoned land the second sons had left half-finished.
A massive waterwheel was fixed securely into the most forceful part of the current. The cold torrent slammed against its paddles. The second sons gathered around, staring curiously. What was this thing? Some even reached out to touch it when they could not help themselves.
Then the soldiers carefully installed the complex gear assembly, meshing each part precisely. They had practiced this countless times. A long drive shaft ran up the hillside and was anchored to wooden stakes driven deep into the earth.
Tam couldn't help asking the craftsman beside him, "What is this doing? My friend?"
The soldier didn't stop working. He grinned, revealing a row of crooked teeth.
"Just watch."
"Lord Solomon's miracle!"
Step by step, the soldiers worked through the final stage. A chain carrying countless little wooden tubes was fitted into a slanted wooden trough. One end of the trough was sunk deep into the current; the other extended all the way up to a newly dug reservoir halfway up the mountain.
Brin walked over to the waterwheel by the stream and personally gripped the braking lever. He looked toward the soldier at the top, the one holding the crank.
Everything was ready.
He took a deep breath, glanced back at the excited soldiers and the bewildered young men, and then sharply pulled the lever away.
All eyes fixed on the slanted chain and the soldier turning the crank at the far end.
The river's force was released in an instant. The waterwheel gave a deep groan and began to turn slowly.
Then came a chorus of harsh grinding sounds as the gears on the bank came to life, driving the long shaft.
The soldier at the top began turning the crank steadily. In a rhythmic clatter, the long chain started moving upward.
One wooden tube after another was lifted from the stream, carried along the trough, and scraped uphill toward the mountain slope.
The water became a silver ribbon, glittering under the sun. With only one soldier turning the mechanism at the top, it defied everyone's common sense and stubbornly climbed upward.
Only one person! A miracle! It was a miracle!
Everyone held their breath, eyes wide open, unable to believe what they were seeing.
The crowd fell into a dead silence.
At last, the first stream of water reached the end of the trough and spilled with a splash into the reservoir halfway up the mountain.
The second sons exploded at once.
One after another, they cried out in disbelief, shattering the silence.
"Seven—Seven Hells, it's a miracle!"
"The water... the water really went uphill!"
Water could really be brought up the mountain!
Their suspicion, discouragement, and confusion vanished all at once. In their place came a frenzy-like excitement. That one fact struck like lightning and split apart the darkness in every second son's heart.
Brin turned to the crowd and roared:
"Move! All of you, move!"
"With water, we'll have fields that hold water!"
The second sons seemed to have been infused with endless strength. They rushed back into camp, grabbed the hoes and spades they had left unused for so long, and charged toward the cliff slope that had once filled them with despair. This time, no one needed to urge them on.
Under the guidance of Brin and the old farmers who had come with him, the war to turn dead land into living land officially began. Hundreds of people worked at once. Hoes dug into the hard earth. Spades shoveled away loose rock.
They worked day and night. Sweat soaked their clothes. Mud covered their faces. But not a single person stopped.
They carved the steep mountainside into layer after layer of flat terraces. The stones and soil they dug out were used to build strong embankments around the edge of each level.
The sun kept rising and setting. No one stopped moving.
When the glow of yet another sunset finally washed over Cliffside, the first rectangular terraced field—no bigger than half a Solomon mu, but perfectly formed—had somehow appeared on the steep mountainside.
Brin walked personally to the reservoir halfway up the slope and opened the outlet valve.
Clear stream water flowed slowly through the newly dug channels and finally spread into the brand-new field.
The sturdy embankments held it in place. Before long, the field was covered in a shallow layer of water. Under the setting sun, it shone like a golden mirror, its brilliance reflected across the faces of the second sons.
"It's a field!! It's usable land!!!!"
Tam was the first to howl. He threw down the tool in his hand and ran barefoot into the flooded terrace.
Seeing that, the second sons went completely mad.
One after another, they rushed into the terraces. Cool stream water covered their ankles, and beneath their feet was soft mud—the kind you could plant hope in.
This was their land!
Land they had made with their own hands. Land that truly belonged to them.
More and more of them rushed in. They shouted in the terraces, jumped, and splashed the life-water mixed with soil into the air and onto their companions.
Brin stood high above it all, looking at the boiling scene below. A grin spread across his rugged face, and the soldiers beside him smiled too.
It really was a miracle.
But it was a miracle created by Lord Solomon.
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