On Wings of Air (Earth and Sky Book 1)

by J. L. Griffin

  And so, when Sterling lay on his deathbed, Celesta sat by his side, her hand cradling his, her tears bathing him with her sorrow. In the moment before his passing, he reached up and touched her face, his fingers drying her tears with his caresses.

  “Do not weep, my love,” said he. “I go to join your courts in the stars, and there we shall never be parted.”

  “I do not weep at our parting,” said Celesta, “for I know our separation shall be but for an instant. Rather, I weep because I shall soon leave the world I have created.”

  And though her descendants begged her to stay, Celesta knew it was almost time for the Skychildren to be governed solely by the gifts she had given them. Thus, when Sterling breathed his last, she prepared to depart, though it caused her great sorrow.

  —The Book of Celesta

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Parting

  The first thing Skye noticed when he awoke the next morning was the sensation of something tickling his skin. In the haze of sleep, he passed his hand across his face to brush away whatever was irritating his nose, but a moment later, when he had begun to descend back into sleep, it returned and pushed him closer toward consciousness. What he noticed next was the feel of soft breath on his skin, followed closely by the sensation of a weight on his left arm.

  Blinking, Skye opened his eyes, squinting in the light of the morning sun as he noted it was slightly later than the time he normally woke up.

  His view of his surroundings was curiously obscured by a dark mass near his head, and he leaned back to get a sense of what was situated so close.

  That was when it all came together in his mind. Tierra was lying on her side facing him, her head cradled on his arm, her body pressed up against him, the sensation of her feminine form pleasing and arousing. He could feel her breath as it tickled his arm and caressed the side of his face, and the warmth of her arm resting over his waist was unmistakable. It was the most natural and comfortable feeling that he could imagine, resting there with her pressed up against him as a lover.

  It was that final thought which caused all sleep to be banished from his mind, and in an instant, he was wide awake. Had they really come that far? Were they close enough that he could consider her in such a fashion?

  No, it was impossible. There was more standing in the way of his having any sort of relationship with her than simply regaining his kingdom. Not only was he a Skychild and she a Groundbreather, but he was a prince of the Skychildren, while she was a princess of the Groundbreathers, his mortal enemies. It was utterly impossible. It would be best to forget Tierra and move on, retaking his kingdom and finding some Skychild woman to settle down with to ensure his line continued.

  But as he lay back and considered her entire figure, Skye noted the softness of her skin, the luxurious locks of her chestnut hair, and the absolute beauty of her face. He would have to be blind not to notice her beauty. And what was more, she had proven that Groundbreathers could be as good and honorable as any Skychild. That knowledge more than anything else fueled his attraction to her. She truly was one of the best people he had ever met.

  And now they would be parted. Their time together was finished, just as the flames he had created the night before had fizzled out, leaving nothing more than the glowing embers of memory.

  As he watched Tierra with a sad smile, he noticed that she was beginning to awaken. She moved and stretched for a moment before her eyes fluttered open and she focused on his face. She was obviously surprised to find herself so close to him, but she seemed as content with their position as he was.

  “Is it morning already?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “It is,” Skye said. “And it’s bright and cheery, too.”

  Skye cursed himself for saying such an inane thing, but she seemed to understand. “Then it is just right for my homecoming,” she said.

  “I told you I’d get you home.”

  “Get me home?” Tierra asked with mock incredulity. “Do I not have several hours of walking ahead of me before I can say I am home?”

  “You’ll excuse me if I don’t want to pay my respects to your parents and your sister.”

  That seemed to break the light mood between them, and Tierra gazed at him, a hint of melancholy appearing in her face. “That I understand, though I wish it could be different.”

  “So do I,” Skye said quietly.

  They stayed there in that attitude for a short time, giving and receiving strength from each other without saying a word, storing up this short time for the future. There was nothing else to be done—they had carried nothing with them, so there were no possessions to gather. But they both hesitated, knowing this was likely the end of their acquaintance.

  At length, Skye rose and said, “I think I need to get moving. I don’t intend to spend much more than a day or two looking for the Fenik down here, so I’d better get to it.”

  “Where will you go when you return to the sky?”

  “I might start at the fishing village we went to when I brought you up,” Skye said. “If there are no agents there, then I’ll try one of the other villages.”

  Tierra was silent for several moments—struggling with her emotions, Skye thought—before she fixed him with a tremulous smile, the hint of unshed tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

  “Then you be careful, you hear? And I expect you to find some way to let me know what is happening in the sky kingdom.”

  Skye snorted, though it was simply an effort to cover up his own emotions. “I’m not sure how I’ll do that. It’s not like I can send you a letter.”

  “Oh, never mind!” Tierra exclaimed. She flung herself into his arms, tears streaming down her face as she cried in earnest. “You take care, and whatever you do, do not let that nasty Seneschal win, all right?”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said, squeezing her against him for a brief moment. “Now, you’d better get going. The walk isn’t that far, but it’ll take you a bit of time. I don’t want you caught in the woods after dark.”

  Tierra smiled up at him as she pulled away slightly. “I am a Groundbreather, Skye. I cannot get lost, and I can instinctively find my way home no matter how far away I am.”

  “Then you put those abilities to good use.”

  She nodded, and for a few moments, they each held the gaze of the other, still lightly holding on, not able to let go. Skye’s eyes flickered down briefly to Tierra’s lips before moving back up to her eyes, and the flush that lit up her cheeks seemed to indicate she had not missed the focus of his gaze.

  Taking in a jagged breath, Skye gave her a gentle squeeze before backing up and grasping one of her hands, clenching it tightly before loosening his grip ever so slightly.

  She turned to leave, her eyes still glistening. Their hands continued to be joined until the last possible moment when she moved away and her hand slipped from his. To her credit, she did not look back. She walked out of the clearing through the trees, and the last glimpse he had of her face was her sorrow at their parting.

  With a sigh that seemed insufficient to express the sense of loss that had come over him, Skye turned and began to make his way away from the clearing himself, heading toward the range of mountains to the north of the Groundbreather kingdom. Tierra was lost to him forever, and he had to move on with his life.

  * * *

  With the use of his abilities, Skye was able to make good time, lifting himself up on the wind and flying north, generally above the treetops, though he was careful not to fly so high as to make himself visible by any watching Groundbreathers. Other times, he walked, though he kept a quick pace; the ability to carry himself on the wind was useful to make his journey shorter, but it was tiring if used exclusively.

  He had traveled for several hours when a change in the wind alerted him to another presence. He dove forward to the ground as a gust of wind, wielded like a hammer, slammed into the top of the tree he had been standing behind. T
he collision was like a clap of thunder, and the tree swayed violently.

  Skye leaped to his feet and assumed a battle stance. When his assailant landed in front of him, Skye was surprised to see the features of a man he already knew.

  “You!” he cried in utter fury.

  A smirking Stratus faced him and unleashed a volley of wind attacks. Skye quickly countered the assault with gusts of his own, preventing any of the blows from doing damage.

  “Prince Skye,” the other man said with contempt. “How nice to see you.”

  “You traitorous dirt eater!” Skye growled. He lifted himself in the air and charged toward the guard, sending out gust after gust as he moved forward.

  “That’s rich, coming from you,” the other man spat as he unleashed a veritable wind storm toward Skye. “You actually allowed that dirty Groundbreather to touch you, to lay next to you. For hours, I looked for you, and then I finally saw, much to my surprise, the two of you mingled together like animals, sleeping in the forest. No wonder the Seneschal wanted to get rid of you and your father. You’ll bring us down to their level along with you!”

  “You’ll be below their level when I plant you in the ground,” Skye growled. “You’re nothing but a coward! You knew you couldn’t handle the two of us together, so you waited until we had separated.” He sent a rock shooting through the air at Stratus, who flicked a hand out and knocked it aside with a gust of wind.

  “Nice try,” Stratus said with a mocking laugh.

  “I’m surprised a gutless weakling like you didn’t flee for backup!”

  “I wasn’t frightened in the slightest,” Stratus said, using his powers to attack once more. “I wanted to personally make you pay for humiliating me and sullying the name of all Skychildren by engaging in a dalliance with that filthy Groundbreather! Imprisonment is too good for you. You deserve only death.

  “You know what I look forward to the most of all? I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you go to join that princess of yours in the miserable Groundbreather afterlife.” A wicked smile came over the man’s face as he saw Skye’s flicker of confusion. “Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t know. Before I came here to fight with you, I killed her and left her to rot on the forest floor. And now you’re next.”

  Skye saw red. He lifted his arms into the air, and as if arising from the earth, two whirlwinds sprang up and began spinning ever-faster, bringing in leaves and rocks and sticks into the mix, growing larger and larger, gaining in strength until the air was filled with a roar that matched the fury burning in his breast. Never before had he conjured winds with such intensity.

  The look on Stratus’s face started to approach something not unlike fear. Desperate, he flung several sharp stones at Skye. But Skye deflected them and began to draw the two funnels inward toward the man.

  Stratus shot up into the sky.

  Skye sent up a gale that knocked him off course. Then Skye rose into the air and collided with the man high above the ground. They went careening toward the earth, with Skye drawing them downward. Stratus tried to break away, but Skye kept a solid grip on his shoulders. They struggled together as they fell. At the last moment, Skye forced Stratus into one of the whirlwinds.

  Skye combined the two funnels into a great whirlwind which tugged at tree-limbs and caused the trunks of the smaller trees nearby to bend. The cyclone began to stretch higher and higher, inhaling dirt like some kind of ravening beast. The clouds above darkened and swirled, combining with and feeding into the twister. Stratus was pelted by debris inside the squall.

  Sheer determination helped Stratus break free. He shot out of the funnel and sped some distance away from its dangerous winds. He drew a dagger and then spiraled down toward Skye. “May Celesta thrust you into Terrain’s arms!” he cursed.

  Skye flew upward, but Stratus anticipated his move. Though Skye attempted to dodge Stratus’s attack, he was unable to avoid the dagger that went into his side. With a grunt of pain, he twisted away from Stratus in the air.

  “Now you will die!” the Sentinel said in triumph, landing on the ground. “You have lost!”

  Skye pulled the dagger from his side. “For Tierra,” he said softly. And then he put every ounce of strength he had left into a nosedive that drove the bloody dagger into Stratus’s heart.

  Stratus fell backward onto the ground.

  Skye collapsed beside him on his hands and knees, drained from the excessive use of his powers. His side ached from the wound Stratus had given him, and the adrenaline that had provided him his strength was seeping from his body.

  Struggling, Skye lifted his head and watched as the cyclone—now out of his control—came toward him.

  It lifted Skye and Stratus up into the air and flung them into the trees before continuing on its path of destruction. With one last effort, Skye used a burst of wind to slow his movement, thereby softening the blow slightly when his body crashed into a trunk and then fell toward the ground.

  He remained there, aching, an image of Tierra—kind, lovely, dear Tierra—swimming in front of his eyes. He was so focused on thoughts of her that he almost believed the Groundbreathers who eventually appeared were part of a waking dream.

  “This Skychild is dead,” one called. He must have been talking about Stratus.

  Another Groundbreather stood above Skye, who looked up at him blankly, unable to manage even a sneer of contempt. “This one is alive, but he is in pretty bad shape.”

  The first Groundbreather that had spoken came to stand near Skye, looking down at him. “Is this the slave that escaped the castle?”

  “Terrain’s great green earth,” the other Iron Sword swore. “You are right. We need to take him to the king and queen immediately.”

  “Do you think we can move him? I do not think he will survive. Skychild, can you walk?”

  Skye stared upward. It was tempting to stay there and die. The wound in his side was not too bad, but it would likely worsen if he did not seek assistance. What had he to live for now? Tierra was dead, and his kingdom was in the hands of a power-hungry despot. He could not even summon another gust of wind if he tried. He would not be able to escape the grasp of the Groundbreathers this time.

  His mind flashed to Tierra’s face once again, and he thought of her mother, who might never know what had happened to her daughter. Where was Tierra’s body? What had Stratus done with her? Would she be found before some beast reached her?

  He considered asking the guards to look for her, but he doubted they would leave him alone, and he was not sure he could physically participate in a search. He needed to speak to her mother. She might have him executed immediately, but he owed it to Tierra to make sure her body was returned to Terrain. Her spirit deserved rest.

  “Take me to the queen,” he said in a hoarse voice as he rose unsteadily to his feet. “I have something to tell her.”

  For a time, Celesta gloried in the works of her hands, creating many things which could not be aptly described by the mouths of mortals. But still her solitude rose up within her, crying for a companion with whom she might share the greatness of her works.

  In her loneliness and despair, a sigh escaped Celesta’s lips, and it eddied and flowed until Celesta waved her hand in anger and shattered her sigh into a million pieces.

  She called for a great wind and collected the pieces.

  She took all the pieces inside herself, and from them in her womb grew a child. She meditated on whom she wanted the child to be, and at last she bore a son. She loved him very dearly, and she named him “Terrain.”

  —The Book of Celesta

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Prodigal

  The journey to the Groundbreather castle was the most miserable such trip Skye had ever undertaken.

  He could scarcely walk without the assistance of his captors, Tierra’s death had been added alongside his father’s and Cirrus’s, and the sky realm was caught in the grips of an air-heade
d woman and a madman. To make it worse, he was returning to the two people whose hatred of him actually rivaled the Seneschal’s. With Tierra dead, Skye’s own death was probably not far behind. All it would take was a few minutes talking to Queen Sequoia before he would breathe his last. He felt as if now all that the tragedy which was his life lacked was for the Fenik to be found and for it to destroy the entire world.

  Unfortunately for Skye, his wounds were tiring him out, and pain was making him feel lightheaded, so he stumbled as he walked. He did not doubt that he would have gone down and stayed there had the Iron Swords to either side not steadied him.

  “He is losing a lot of blood,” one guard said. “We should patch him up. Otherwise, he will never make it as far as the castle.”

  With a snort of amusement, the other Groundbreather agreed and halted. Skye sank to the ground.

  “I have a little skill as a healer,” the Groundbreather said, “though it is not much. I will attempt to assist him, but you need to watch him so he does not escape.”

  “No ‘tention of trying to ‘scape,” Skye slurred. He was beginning to feel even more lightheaded.

  The Groundbreather shook his head and set to work. He bound the wound in Skye’s side with strips of cloth torn from his shirt and then put his hands over the wound and began to draw on his healing abilities.

  It was not much of a change, but within a few moments, the pain had lessened, and Skye began to feel more at ease. He was still battered from head to toe, but he would at least make it far enough to inform Tierra’s parents of what had happened.