Sky Child
Page 1
T. M. BRENNER
All rights reserved. Published in the United States.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people, living or dead, events or locations is purely coincidental.
Copyright T. M. Brenner 2014
Cover Illustration by T. M. Brenner
Also by T. M. Brenner
Luminaries
For Riley and Jordan
1
I can hear water dripping, which tells me that the rains have set in. They may not end for a few days. I push myself upright, out from under the tattered blanket I use to fight off the cold of the Crag. The branches that I've tied together into a makeshift bed creak beneath my weight. Off in the distance I can hear the howling of the wind, blowing across the face of the cave that is both my home, and my prison.
Sleeping next to me are my brothers, Jet and Flot. They aren't really my brothers, but I call them that because I look after them as if they were. I watch their blankets move as they breathe. It amazes me how young they look when they are asleep, but how old they seem when they are awake. Flot still sucks his thumb while he is asleep, which is something the new ones stop doing when they are smaller.
I fold up my blanket and set it down on the bed. It takes me a moment to change into my clothes. I try my best to be quiet, so that I don't wake up the twins. I grab a glowing stick to carry with me, since parts of the Crag can be very dark. After passing by some of the smaller rooms inside the Crag, I reach the Great Fire.
Moss is there, one of the gray ones, making sure that the Great Fire never goes out. He takes turns with a few of the other gray ones, watching it, keeping it alive. We are taught that if the Great Fire dies, so do we. No way to cook food, or to heat water, or to protect ourselves from the black flyers that live above us in the Crag.
Moss nods his head. His long, stringy gray hair falls off his shoulders. I put the tip of my glowing stick into the Great Fire, stealing some of its life. It never seems to mind that I take from it, but give nothing back in return. Maybe the Great Fire is just happy to have people watch over it, so it doesn't mind sharing. I smile at Moss, thanking him for the light and warmth then make my way to the entrance of the Crag.
It takes a few moments of creeping past those who are still asleep to get to the mouth of the cave. I look up and see an endless cloud-filled sky. That's how most of my days are; full of darkness and rain. Thankfully, the ground outside the Crag is more interesting to look at. Rocks covered in shades of green. Fields of grass and clover. It would be beautiful, if it wasn't so dangerous.
The sound of footsteps echoes behind me. I can tell by the shuffling of his feet that it's Flot. I turn to look at him. The dim light of the hallway's glowing sticks makes him seem smaller than he really is. His sun-colored face and dark brown hair make it difficult to see him in the shadows.
"Over here," I say.
"Sam, what are you doing?" asks Flot.
"I'm just watching the rain. It's going to make the hunt more difficult today."
"You've hunted in the rain before, and you've always come back with something," says Flot.
"That's true, but do you see those dark gray clouds there?"
"Yes."
"Well those are the type of clouds that bring sky fire."
"I don't like sky fire," says Flot.
"I don't either. But without it, we wouldn't have the Great Fire."
"Is that where it came from? The gray ones said that it was a gift from the Sky Gods."
"It was, but that's how they gave it to us."
"Oh," says Flot. "So when are we going to hunt?"
"After breakfast, just like always," I say.
"Can't we go now?"
"Don't you want to wait for Jet?" I ask.
"No, not really."
I laugh.
"Well, we're going to wait for him, and the rest of the people going out for the hunt."
"But I'm ready now," says Flot.
"We have to wait for everyone else, because it's dangerous outside. You know that. There are wolves with big sharp teeth, and dragons that will burn your skin right off!"
"I don't believe in dragons."
"That's just because you haven't seen one yet," I say. "You've only been hunting for a few snows."
"Have you ever seen one?" asks Flot.
I worry that if I tell Flot the truth, it might scare him. But I know that I should, because it might keep him safe.
"Yes, I've seen one."
"Was it long ago? What was it like?"
I think back to all the people that died that day. The blood covered grass. The smell of burnt flesh. The screams of panic as people ran, trying to find somewhere to hide.
There was a large group of us, and we were out in the fields, hunting deer. I had reached enough snows that I was finally able to go hunting with the group, but I was still very new to it. My sling was ready, aimed at a deer, when the dragon came.
Fire rained down from the sky, burning some of our people. One of the gray ones, Lagan, ordered us to scatter. Running as fast as I could, I hid between a pair of large rocks, out of sight of the dragon.
"I can still remember what its roar sounded like: deep and booming, like sky fire. I only saw it for a moment. Its scales were shiny, just like in the legends, and its wings were massive. The dragon had a pair of glowing eyes that still visit me in my nightmares. It was terrible," I say. "It burned half of us with its fire. I hit it with a rock from my sling, and it bounced off like it was nothing."
"I thought you were good with your sling," says Flot.
"I am good, but the dragon was very strong. There was no way to fight it. Many of us hid. Once the dragon flew off, those of us that survived buried what was left of the bodies."
"What did the dragon want? Why did it attack you?" asks Flot.
"We don't know for sure. Legends tell us that dragons steal great treasures, and keep them hidden and protected. The dragon that attacked us didn't seem to want anything from us. It didn't take our food, or our clothes, or our weapons. It only took our lives. Some believe that it was just protecting its territory, because we were hunting in an area we'd never hunted in before. So we don't go to that place anymore, even to see where our people were killed."
"Why don't we figure out a way to kill dragons?" asks Flot.
"Well, we haven't seen any since. As long as we hunt in the same fields, they don't bother us," I say.
"Maybe someday you'll find a way. Maybe someday you'll catch a dragon, and then we can eat dragon meat forever!"
"I don't think it would taste very good, but maybe we could find the cave it lives in, and keep the treasures it's stolen," I say, smiling.
"Maybe we could live there. Maybe it's better than the Crag!"
"The Crag isn't too bad," I lie. "It's kept us alive."
"But some of the gray ones are bad. They hurt us, and threaten us, and sometimes one of the new ones disappears. I think some of the gray ones kill them."
"Not all gray ones are bad," I say.
"I like Moss, and Lagan, and Charm, but I hate Chaff. His sons, Sickle and Scythe, both hurt me. Sometimes they knock me over and laugh. Sometimes they kick at me, and sometimes they even take my food."
Surprise becomes anger, and I realize that I've curled my hands into fists.
"I... I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I will talk with them," I say.
"No! That will make it worse! Promise me Sam that you won't talk to them!"
I don't know what to say. People respect me, because I'm one of the lead hunters now. Talking to Sickle and Scythe might stop them from bullying Flot. But I've seen murder in both of them, and I worry that if they find out that Flot told me, they might kill him instead.
Decisions like this are impossible, because both choices are bad. The most important thing though is to stay alive, so I have to continue letting Sickle and Scythe think that no one knows they've been torturing my brother. I will get revenge for Flot though, and until I do, I will keep a closer eye on him. I will make sure that I protect him as much as possible without him knowing. Although he is still young and soft-hearted, he is proud, and would hate to feel like he needed my help.
"What are you guys doing?" says a familiar voice.
"We're just talking, Jet. What are you doing?" asks Flot.
"Looking for you. When is breakfast? I'm hungry."
"We can have breakfast right now," I say, as I turn to look into the darkening sky.
2
I hand the glowing stick to Jet, and tell him and Flot that I'll bring breakfast back to our room. Jet heads down the tunnel, with Flot close behind. I turn and brave the rain, leaving the Crag behind me.
The meat we get from hunting isn't our only source of food. Some of us tend fields of wheat, barley and vegetables, and others take care of chickens, goats and sheep. There is some danger to it, but not like the hunt. Most predators stay away from our fields. We've built walls of stone to protect our animals. During the hunt, we have no walls to protect us. We only have our weapons, and our armor.
It takes me a while to reach the chickens, because I try not to slip on wet rocks. I let myself in through a wooden door, making sure to tie it up behind me so that wolves can't get in and the chickens can't get out. I pick many eggs off the ground, check for cracks, and then place them in different pockets that I've sewn into my clothing.
When I was young, I stitched secret pockets into my clothes. That way, when someone bigger tried to take something, it kept the things I really needed hidden. Food, tools, weapons; the things I needed to survive. When I was a new one, I had no parents or older brothers or sisters to protect me, which is why I protect Flot and Jet now. Soon they will be able to look out for themselves, but for now they still need my protection. I have a feeling that if it weren't for me watching over him, things would be much worse for Flot.
I check that the wooden door is tied up good and tight so that the chickens will stay safe. As I leave, I see a flash of light, and with it the familiar boom of sky fire. This time is different. This time, the flash and the boom happen at the same time. I'm surrounded by bright white light. The force of the strike knocks me back, and I can hear the chickens scream out in panic. As I stand back up, I check my pockets, and I'm glad to find that the eggs aren't broken.
I run as fast as I can back to the Crag. Looking over my shoulder, I make sure that I'm not being followed by wolves or other predators. When I get to the mouth of the cave, I jump over a puddle and nearly slip on the wet, moss-covered stone. Knowing that I've reached safety, I turn back to look out at the sky, defying it to try and hurt me while I'm inside the cave.
A streak of sky fire booms right in front of the Crag, charring a large patch of clover. I leap back in surprise then make my way deeper into the cave.
I decide to burn a tribute in case I have somehow angered the Sky Gods. Standing by the Great Fire, I take some small twigs from a pile then twist them into what looks like a person. I go back to the entrance of the cave and collect some moss to add as hair. Even though it is hard to tell at first, it is supposed to be me.
Once I am certain that the Sky Gods will know that it's me by looking at it, I walk back to the Great Fire. I close my eyes, raise up the tribute to the sky then drop it in the fire. It burns quickly, until all of the wrong things I have done are burnt up with my stick person.
Hopefully the Sky Gods will forgive me for whatever wrongs I have done. I can't think of anyone or anything that I have harmed, but there must be a reason why they brought sky fire down at me.
It takes me a moment to remove the eggs from my pockets, and set them down on the cold stone ground. I grab a pan from a stack next to the Great Fire.
When I was still a new one, I asked Charm how pans were made. She told me never to ask where things came from. Questions like that are forbidden. Charm told me that the pans were gifts from the Sky Gods, like the Great Fire. But I think she just didn't know.
I remember looking up the word 'pan' in our Book of Knowledge. Our Book of Knowledge is good if you want to look up what a word means, but it doesn't tell you how to do things. Some of it I think is pretend. Things like aardvarks, and automobiles, and avocados don't make any sense, and I doubt they really exist.
We have a few other books. You may learn what the books teach you, but you must never question them. You must never disagree with them, for they are sacred.
I crack the eggs I have laid out against the side of the pan, and with each egg I crack, I throw its shell into the Great Fire. I dig into one of my many pockets and pull out a metal scoop. I use it to break up the eggs, and mix them in the pan until they are all the same color. Once they are mixed together, I hold the pan in the flames of the fire. The heat makes my hand and arm warm, but I stay far enough away so that I don't get burned.
After a long while, the eggs are firm. I take the pan back to the mouth of the Crag and carefully place the bottom of the pan in the large puddle. It hisses and makes water-smoke float into the air. Once I think the pan has cooled enough, I find my way back to our room.
I notice that Flot had already visited the Great Fire, heating some water in a pot while I was out gathering eggs. He pours some into cups for each of us, and carefully sets them on the ground in the middle of the room. As we sit down in a circle around our feast, we close our eyes and raise our hands up to the Sky Gods as a sign of thanks for our meal. We eat, and we drink, and we talk about the hunt.
"Sam, what are we hunting today?" asks Jet.
"Probably the same things that we always hunt."
"Flot says that you might try to hunt a dragon," says Jet.
"No, dragons are too dangerous to hunt. You know that we try to stay away from them," I reply.
"But there has to be some way to kill a dragon. What about attacking their eyes?"
"Almost everyone that has ever tried to fight a dragon has died. I only survived because I found a safe place to hide."
"Maybe if the entire Crag went out to fight one, maybe then we could kill it," says Jet.
"I don't think so," I say.
"Are you saying that because you're afraid?"
He's challenging me, waiting to see if I am as tough as I act.
"Yes, I am afraid. You should be too. You can't kill a dragon."
Jet looks at me and realizes that what I'm saying must be true. I never lie to them, and I never admit to being afraid of anything. He knows that I don't let much scare me. I can't be scared, because no one will ever save me. I've always had to save myself.
"Sam?" says Flot.
"Yes?"
"Can we play jump stones today?"
"Sure, we can play jump stones."
"Will you go easy on me?"
"Never!" I say.
The twins giggle. I just smile at them.
We finish our meal, and I send Jet off to wash the pan that we used.
"Remember to scrub it, and dry it off really well after you wash it," I say.
"I know, I know. This isn't my first time washing pans," says Jet.
"Yes, but for some reason, when I don't remind you, people complain to me about there being dirty pans. Why is that?" I ask.
"Ungh," grunts Jet as he leaves.
I look over at Flot.
"Jump stones?" asks Flot.
Sigh.
"Sure, we can play jump stones now."
Flot pulls out the piece of wood we play jump stones on, with its many squares, and sets up the stones. He keeps the lighter stones, and I play the dark. Flot, for the small number of snows he's seen, is very good at jump stones. He can beat almost everyone in the Crag, except for me. Because of that, and because people that are too smart end up dead, I make sure that Flot only plays with people who aren't a danger to him.
My thoughts drift away from the game to Sickle and Scythe. I need to come up with a plan to protect Flot, and keep him safe. The hard part is being smart about it, so that they won't come after me. I don't want to kill them, even though that would fix the problem. I don't want to kill anybody. I just need them to stop hurting Flot.
"Rock!" says Flot.
I look down and realize I haven't been paying attention to the game at all. I watch as Flot replaces his stone with a much larger rock. Now he can move it forward or backward. He's also captured a few more pieces than me. Flot has never beaten me, and I won't let him beat me now.
I stare at the board for a moment, thinking about what it will take to win. I make my move. He moves his rock. I keep my stones in a tight group, making sure there is no way he can jump them with his rock. I keep moving, and he keeps following. Eventually I'm able to move a stone into his back row, turning it into a rock, but I lose a pair of pieces in the process. I use my rock to jump his. Although I'm down a hands worth of pieces, he only has stones, and I have a rock.
I use my rock to protect another stone, and as he finally turns one of his stones into a rock, I gain another rock. I use my pair of rocks to take apart his army of stones, and finally corner his rock. He moves his last piece out, and I jump over it to win the game. Flot looks unhappy.
"So what did we learn?" I ask.
"Don't play jump stones with you," says Flot.
"No. What you learned is that you should protect what is important to you. I protected my pieces with my rock, to make sure that later in the game I could turn them into rocks and win."
"But you lost a pair of stones to get your first rock," says Flot.