Air

by Rosie Scott

  Every side thinks it is right in a war, I mused to myself, as my eyes finally found the man we were waiting for walking toward us from the cliffs of Mistral. But only one side will write history.

  Bhaskar came to a stop just before me, looking much the same as he had the last time we'd seen each other a year and a half ago. A shimmering bronze ax hung from the belt at his right hip, and a small golden-plated buckler was attached directly to the scabbard. I was intrigued to see him fight without his powers.

  “Let's get this party started, ey?” Bhaskar nodded past me to the soldiers waiting over the field. “You all waiting for me?”

  “Your participation is quite imperative,” I replied. When the god's golden eyes met my own, I smiled.

  “So is yours, friend. You'll need to make sure those shields of yours are stronger even than the one you used in Tal, or none of us will make it out of this alive.” Bhaskar slapped me playfully on the shoulder.

  “Your stalker has given me ways to do just that,” I commented, to which the other god laughed.

  “So I've heard. Stories have been circulating about your tsunami near Narangar.” Bhaskar's golden eyes flicked back and forth in mine with intrigue. “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were just trying to give me fuel for the insults I'll hurl at my brother when I see his ugly mug again. It seems your spells aren't the only things you have which are bigger than his.” The god raised an eyebrow in humor before he looked at all the others standing around me. “Where is the little feisty Renegade? The one with the parents who worshiped me?”

  My stomach tightened. “That was Jakan. He was a casualty of the Battle of Highland Pass.”

  Bhaskar nodded slowly, the golden skin between his eyebrows creased. “I'm sorry for your loss, Kai. I had hoped to talk with him more. I think he liked me.”

  I smiled sadly. “Yeah, I think he did. He grew up in your temple in Nahara.”

  “Is that so?” Bhaskar beamed with happiness. “Learning of me?”

  “Stealing your gold,” I replied, with a small chuckle. “Jakan was a thief.”

  Bhaskar shrugged playfully. “Ah, well, I hope it served him better than it ever did me. Perhaps the coffers of my temples will be overflowing after our little visit to Glacia. I know you hold no love for the gods, Kai, but surely you won't keep quiet about my deeds there.”

  I found it amusing that a god could face almost certain death with his only concern being the acclaim he would receive for how it had happened. I exhaled swiftly, the breath jumpy with a tease of a chuckle. “Bhaskar, I have no love for the gods just because they are gods, but you are my ally in this. As with all my allies, I will tell the honest stories of their deeds. If I make it out of this alive, you will go down in legend.”

  The god grinned widely at me. “You better make it out of this alive, or my story will not make it very far at all.”

  “Your story will never have a chance to happen if we never leave Mistral,” Cyrus jested, coming to a stop beside me.

  Bhaskar chuckled. “Forgive me. Let me fetch a wagon to carry my ego, and we shall be off.”

  Our army departed from Mistral and moved along the lowest branch of the Ternion Trail that would take us southeast to Scirocco. Travel with ten thousand soldiers in tow took us just over half a moon, which gave Azazel, Uriel, and I the time to teach the soldiers alteration magic. Though I had wanted to also educate them on illusion simply to provide them with more options at their disposal, Cyrus informed me that the queen had forbidden it. She had been told of how we'd taught soldiers illusion magic in preparation for the Battle of Highland Pass, and that hadn't made her happy. Tilda had only allowed alteration magic to be instructed because we needed its shields against the Icilic, and though illusion magic was helpful in all battles, the queen's distaste for the lesser magics would not budge. She had even advised against our teaching any alteration spells other than the absorb magic shields and alleviate, which meant that after our battles with Glacia, she clearly did not want to spread the magic's use.

  I didn't agree with such restrictions, but I respected the request. Even if I'd wanted to teach illusion magic to the soldiers, I would have been overwhelmed with work. The other two Renegades who had known the magic were both gone.

  Zephyr met up with our army halfway through our trek. A griffon messenger had been sent informing both her and Altan of our plans before we had left the capital city. The quick pace of the griffons ensured a speedy delivery, and Zephyr had chosen to take one of the beasts herself to meet us. The griffon she rode was white with black feathers speckled over its body like dark spices, and it swooped down to land beside us with a gigantic wingspan that caused the frigid air to whistle overhead.

  “Long time no see!” Zephyr greeted, pulling back on the creature's reins. The griffon bobbed its head up and down with resistance even though it complied, coming to a stop beside Uriel, who reached out to grab hold of its reins as Zephyr dismounted.

  “How is the pass?” Uriel questioned.

  “Ah, you know. Coming along.” Zephyr raised her eyebrows at me. “We've been having a hell of a time chipping away at that cooled lava you forced through the pass. Had to get the giants from Reva to bring some pickaxes.”

  “My apologies,” I offered.

  Zephyr wrinkled her nose. “Don't worry about it, Kai. If it weren't for you, someone would be scraping me off the ground somewhere.” She hesitated. “I never got a chance to speak to you after the battle. Rumors of legends are often exaggerated, but I found your skills even more impressive in person. I am grateful you are on our side, and I look forward to fighting with you overseas.” When the Sentinel reached out her hand, I took it.

  “I look forward to our future battles as well, Zephyr,” I offered. “Thank you for your kind words.” I figured she had not been privy to my personal tragedies of the day since she hadn't spoken of it. Her army had been far from ours, after all.

  “And you must be Bhaskar,” Zephyr redirected her attention to the other god standing a few feet away, the sun glimmering off of his golden armor as if calling him out as its disciple. The Sentinel reached out a hand, and the two shook.

  “It's nice to finally meet you,” Bhaskar replied, looking at her with great interest. “We just missed each other when I arrived in Mistral, so I was told.” The god hesitated. “Forgive me if this is personal, but you are lighter-skinned than most Vhiri. Does our war with Glacia concern you personally?”

  Zephyr's silver eyes observed Bhaskar carefully, before she glanced over at the rest of us, her gaze lingering on Cerin. “Let's just say my loyalties to Eteri aren't the only reason the Icilic want me dead.”

  Puzzle pieces connected in my head, and I interjected, “We heard the Icilic Army talking in the Highland Pass about multiple half-breeds. We weren't aware there were any other than Cerin.”

  “There are a few,” Zephyr replied. “Most of them are assassinated in one way or another. The smartest ones get as far away from Glacia as they can.” She smiled at Cerin with sympathy. “And here we are, friend, planning on going there.”

  “So you are the other half-breed they spoke of,” Cerin said for clarification.

  “I am,” Zephyr replied.

  “We never knew of this,” Uriel protested. “You could pass for Vhiri. I am full-blooded Vhiri, and I'm quite light-skinned.”

  “Your skin is light, but it is golden in tone,” Zephyr replied, putting an arm beside the other Sentinel. “Mine is closer to pure white. The Icilic can tell the difference. I've been tailed before.”

  “How did you end up in Eteri?” Cerin questioned.

  “I've lived here all my life, friend,” Zephyr answered. “Eteri and Glacia used to trade centuries ago out of Esen. I'm told my Icilic father would have made a good whore had he insisted on payment. He was a trader who had a thing for Vhiri women. He went around Esen spreading his seed until one finally planted.” She waved a hand before her. “Here I am.”

  “And your mother?” Ceri
n asked.

  “She was smart enough not to keep me in Esen, that's for damn sure.” Zephyr pointed behind her in the general direction of Makani. “She picked up and moved us to Makani. The Icilic never came that far south. They eventually found out I existed. Maybe someone in Esen talked. Who knows?”

  “Did they kill her?” I asked.

  “No. My mother and I both joined the army. It kept us on the move. She died simply defending Tal from some sirens which migrated north from the wildlands some decades ago. I'm not sure the Icilic would have killed her, anyway. She's not the abomination, according to them. I am.”

  “Why wouldn't you have told us this?” Cyrus questioned.

  Zephyr raised her eyebrows. “Are you kidding? If Tilda finds out I'm not full Vhiri, I could be demoted from being a Sentinel. Just telling you all now is a risk. If word gets back to Tilda, my career could be ruined.”

  Cyrus and I exchanged glances. He already had his suspicions that she would be willing to see Tilda dethroned. This new information certainly clued us in to even more contention. It was a good sign for us.

  “And anyway, it's not like I needed tons of people knowing,” Zephyr pointed out. “Sentinel or not, the Icilic still want me dead. If we succeed in Glacia, it won't matter as much if some are aware of my true identity.” She stared evenly at the other Sentinels. “As long as you say nothing about it to the queen.”

  “You know I don't care about race,” Cyrus replied. “Being a half-breed has never affected your abilities. You are the only dual caster of the Sentinels. You are an asset.”

  “Thanks for the compliments, Cy, but it won't matter how well I perform if she finds out,” Zephyr insisted.

  “What she doesn't know won't hurt her,” Uriel murmured low, keeping his voice out of earshot of the other soldiers.

  I stifled a chuckle when it threatened to escape my lips at the ironic statement. Uriel smiled as we shared a knowing gaze, but neither of us said a further word.

  We arrived in Scirocco on the 57th of Dark Star, 422. It was the city we were supposed to reach first in Eteri over three years earlier if our trip with Calder had gone as planned, and ironically, it was now the last significant settlement in the country we visited. Scirocco was, by and large, the most magnificent city in Eteri. Its stone buildings spilled over the plains surrounding the elongated inlet, and the lack of cliffs nearby did not dissuade the city from having buildings which rivaled the towering structures of Al Nazir. If Makani had surprised us with its reliance on imported sandstone, Scirocco promised to one-up its sister city in every way. Most of the buildings nearest the harbor were made of smooth golden sandstone, and the open skies over the city made the structures glow like beacons in direct sunlight.

  Even when the buildings did not need height, the Vhiri had granted it. Many sections of the city were built up on top of massive platforms the size of neighborhoods that were accessed by four side ramps large enough for civilian, wagon, and mount alike. There were many of these which dotted the grasslands like flat-topped pyramids. While the Eteri Army utilized griffons for its soldiers, the civilians of Scirocco relied heavily on cattle for the transport of goods and service in agriculture. As we walked through the outer edges of the city, we passed fields of growing crops. Given the colder weather, the most popular plants now were root vegetables and various types of berries. Vhiri fruit pickers scavenged along rows of dark green bushes dotted by multiple colors, their work clothes splotched with shades of blues, purples, and reds.

  Scirocco's harbor was gigantic, starting at the tip of the inlet and working its way down the western side. Even before we were close to it, I could hear the creaks of warships awaiting us in the waters. Between towering businesses and Scirocco's unique monoliths, flashes of yellow and black sails rippled in the open skies.

  Civilians in the streets parted to the side to let our army through, some bowing politely as they recognized the Sentinels. Many youths watched us pass with a mixture of awe and adoration in their eyes. Perhaps the Sentinels were looked up to like heroes by children who aspired to become soldiers. At one time, I'd been just like them. I had so many memories of watching armies leave and come home to Sera because I'd never wanted to miss one come through. It was endlessly exciting to watch a group of well-armed and skilled people leave the city, just to anticipate their return sometime later. Perhaps there would be less of them. Perhaps their wills would be broken. But all that mattered was that most of them returned alive and victorious.

  I hoped the same would be true for us. I smiled at those who appeared awed by my presence here, connecting my place beside the Sentinels to the rumors they'd heard. Perhaps some of them would be inspired by the view of the army and allies which sought to protect them and join the fight when they could. After all, I had once been in their place, and here I was. The simple fact that I had become what I once could only admire flooded me with confidence and purpose. Our arrival in Glacia was still at least half a year away, but I did not fear the large battle ahead.

  When we finally reached the port, I found it was the largest I'd ever seen, dwarfing even Narangar's. The harbor I'd destroyed had been gigantic and impressive but contained by land. Scirocco's stretched so far south down the coast that I could not see the end of it. There were close to fifty warships awaiting us here, though we would be leaving some for the city's defenders. The galleons swayed slightly in the natural water current, casting shadows over the shoreline in the afternoon sun. Dock workers scurried around the harbor, loading the ships with supplies and making last minute checks to ensure the ships were ready for a long voyage.

  Scirocco's harbor was undoubtedly the reason the city was so massive since it allowed open trade while being easy to defend. Because it sat on the end of an inlet, Scirocco was hard to reach by those who would mean it harm. The warships cluttered the harbor, and given the narrow channel I figured we would need to pull the navy south only two or three ships at a time. Thus, maneuverability was not good here at all. It was why the city had rarely been attacked. Scirocco had only grown over the centuries because of its natural defensive location, while Makani was in a state of constant rebuilding.

  Dotted throughout the waters were also traders, mercenary ships, and fishing boats. I recognized the red and yellow sails of Nahara and witnessed human sailors unloading goods on to the docks. I saw many Alderi men delivering products from the wildlands, and one of them even glanced up and nodded at me in friendly recognition. I gave him the same greeting, but I couldn't remember him. My travels over the years had brought too many people before me.

  As Azazel had informed us back in Mistral, new ships were being built in the southern harbor. Wagons of wood from the Silvi rainforest were being imported from the wildlands by beastmen of various races. Given the beastmen were not ones for trading with gold, I was curious to watch their exchanges with the Vhiri. As we waited to speak with the harbormaster, I observed a handful of beastmen stop a wagon full of timber beside the dock. As some Vhiri workers started unloading it, others brought various supplies out to the beastmen in crates and bundles. The beastmen went to work inspecting the trade goods, which included packages of stone from Eteri's cliffs, dried herbs and spices only found in the north, and hand-crafted weapons. Once these were loaded up on the wagon, crates of small creatures were stacked on top to be used for the beastmen's blood rituals.

  Open trade with Eteri would be immensely helpful for the wildlands, and I was happy to have been the one to encourage it. The people there deserved better than to be forgotten and looked down upon. For now, the wildlands had only a few leaderless settlements built out of necessity, but it was possible my work over the past few years had planted seeds which would allow it to grow into a country of its own that could demand respect and a significant place in the world. For a fleeting moment, I thought of Cyrene back in Misu and her resistance to this war and my goals. By now she would know the progress made and the positive changes that had taken place without her input. She'd had a chance
to be a part of history and squandered it. Other than feeling a bit of satisfaction for delivering on my promises, I decided to think no further about quiescent people. I had no time for it. I was a woman at war, and I had work to do.

  “Ah! Zephyr, you've returned.” The voice brought my attention to an overwhelmed looking woman in dockworker clothes and a lazy ponytail. Brown hair had escaped its tie and stuck wayward from around her tired face, coated in sweat. I assumed she was the harbormaster we'd been waiting for. “I've had men preparing the ships like the messenger requested.”

  “I see that, and I'm grateful,” Zephyr began, “but the harbor has not been cleared.” The Sentinel nodded to the wide variety of mercenary ships in the waters of the inlet, their sails rippling in a rainbow of colors. “Our navy looks to leave today.”

  “Today?” The word was a squeak. The harbormaster looked nervously out over the ships. “Forgive me, but we had such short notice. Tilda requested we start building ships here, and then the messenger was here, and now you're here...” she trailed off, stress weighing down her voice until it was quiet.

  “Shouldn't you wait to build ships here until we know how our mission in Glacia will affect this city?” Zephyr pointed one light arm down the coast. “Tilda requested you pull people back from the shoreline.”

  “Yes, but not until you left,” the harbormaster replied. “We have nearly a year to prepare after you leave here. Until then, we were to start working on the ships.”

  Zephyr exhaled roughly, before glaring over at Cyrus and Uriel. “I swear, sometimes I think Tilda tries to make our jobs harder.”