On Wings of Air (Earth and Sky Book 1)

by J. L. Griffin

  A few moments later, the door opened, and a slight figure slipped through and approached his cell at a run. Even if he had not been able to see her face, he would have known that figure anywhere—Tierra had come at last!

  “Skye!” she called quietly as she hurried toward his cell.

  In an instant, Skye was on his feet, moving to meet her at the edge of the barrier between them. He caught the hand she extended and brought it briefly to his lips before cradling it to his breast as though it was the most precious thing in the world. In that moment, to Skye, it was.

  Tierra stepped closer, and they were able to embrace, after a fashion, through the heavy metal bars of the cage.

  “I knew you would find a way to come to me,” Skye said.

  “I could not stay away,” she replied. Her voice wavered, thick with barely suppressed emotion. “But I have not come to save you,” she continued bitterly. “My mother is having you executed tomorrow.”

  The words sank in, and Skye knew he had been right in his suspicions. But he also knew he had done what he could to protect Tierra, and he was glad that she, at least, would survive and live a happy life. Perhaps he would have liked to have a long life himself with Tierra and . . . well, what he would do exactly, Skye could not state with a certainty. Marry her? Have children? There were problems inherent in having such a relationship with Tierra. Remain distant friends? That was equally unfathomable.

  Skye shook his head. Now was not the time for such thoughts. He needed to be strong for her. He needed to know that she would be well when he was gone.

  “I suspected as much, though none of the guards would tell me outright.”

  Tierra shook her head in anger. “None of them will go against my mother. I do not believe she commanded them not to talk to you, but they have a tendency to take great care to avoid upsetting her.”

  “I never would have guessed,” Skye replied, injecting a bit of wry levity into his voice.

  “If I could, I would break you out of here.”

  That piqued Skye’s attention. “You mean, you can’t? Even with your powers?”

  “They fashion these cages and imbue them with a special kind of Groundbreather power to prevent someone from manipulating the materials to escape. Otherwise, any criminal who was incarcerated would be on his way to freedom as soon as the guards’ backs were turned.”

  “Makes sense,” Skye replied. “I couldn’t let you do it anyway. Your mother would suspect you right off.”

  Tierra rolled her eyes. “What would she do to me even if she did suspect me?”

  “Point taken. But it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  Sighing, Tierra moved his hand up and held it against her cheek. “I have not given up yet. I will figure something out, Skye. I promise you. You have done so much for me . . . taught me so much. I cannot bear the thought of my mother executing you for nothing more than being a Skychild. It is time for both of our peoples to let go of this petty rivalry. Our world would be so much better if we would learn to live and work together without all this hatred and distrust.”

  “I can’t disagree, Tierra.” He paused, searching for the right words to say. Knowing they did not exist, however, he looked the princess in the eye and said, “I want you to promise me you’ll be happy if you can’t save me.” He smiled at her, trying to hide his sorrow. “I don’t want you to marry some crusty old baron who won’t appreciate you properly. Use your knowledge and good heart to make something better out of this world. I have faith in you.”

  The door at the end of the hall opened, and though no one entered, Tierra glanced at it for a moment before she turned back to Skye.

  “I only have a few seconds. The guards are taking a big risk letting me in here. If my mother found out . . .”

  Skye knew exactly how her mother would react. “I understand. Be happy, Tierra,” he said through a lump in his throat. He wondered if this would be the last time he saw her. He did not know if she could bring herself to watch his execution.

  “I will find a way to save you, Skye,” she whispered, strength and determination in her voice.

  At a loss, Skye watched as she hurried back down the hall. He did not take his eyes from her retreating form until she slipped through the door. A moment later, the guards stepped back in, though they did not approach him. Skye was grateful. What he truly needed was to be alone.

  Numbly, he slumped down on the cot in the cell, thinking about everything that had happened. It appeared that it was all to be for naught. The Seneschal had won . . . without even striking the killing blow himself.

  * * *

  “Are you absolutely senseless?” River demanded when Tierra stepped out of the hallways leading to the prison block. “I assume you went to see the Skychild?”

  Tierra glared at her friend, but she did not say anything in return. River was well aware of Tierra’s feelings. They had spoken of Skye several times over the past two days, and though Tierra had never stated explicitly how she felt, her friend could read between the lines.

  In reality, Tierra did not wish to hear a scolding right now. Her mother could go fly through the air for all Tierra cared. An innocent young man was to be executed the next day. Queen Sequoia could do nothing more injurious to her daughter than that.

  Perhaps sensing that she had stepped beyond acceptable boundaries, River changed tack, attempting to console Tierra instead. “You may be fixated on him, but he is not the only man in the world, Tierra. You are young and pretty, not to mention a princess. I am certain you can find someone else . . . someone who is not a Skychild.”

  “You do not need to attempt to understand, River,” Tierra said quietly. She had never talked to her cousin like this before, but she was not about to allow River to dictate her feelings. “I connected with Skye in a way that I have never connected with anyone before.”

  “You cannot use that fool Aspen as your mental representation of the prime Groundbreather male specimen,” River said, shaking her head. “You need to give other men a chance. There are plenty of high-ranking men out there who would please both you and your mother. You have to accept the fact that they will be good for you.”

  “No!” Tierra snapped. “You do not understand, River. Can you stop feeling something just because it hurts? You with your arranged marriage and your life planned out for you—you cannot possibly have any idea how I feel!”

  “What is it you cannot stop feeling, Tierra?” River asked, ignoring Tierra’s scornful words. There was an expectant look on her face, as if she knew what was going to be said.

  Tierra’s throat felt as if it was closing up, and she had to fight to keep her eyes dry. “Love, all right?” she gasped out. “I love him!”

  She descended into sobs then, feeling helpless and worried and desperate. It was as though her entire world were being drawn into oblivion. Once Skye was gone forever, things would never be the same. She would never be the same.

  River took Tierra into her arms, rubbing her back and trying to soothe her. But Tierra simply cried harder, pouring out all her fears and heartache. She was a bundle of emotions, and she needed the release.

  River, to her credit, did not say a word; she let Tierra do what she needed to do and waited for the storm to subside. She had always been there when Tierra truly needed her, even if they disagreed on many subjects.

  When at last Tierra did stop crying, she pulled away from her friend and wiped her eyes, embarrassed at having let herself go like that. “I am s-sorry, River,” she said. “I also apologize for speaking to you like that. Thank you for being here for me. Even if you do think I am a fool.”

  River sighed. “Everyone is foolish in love, they say. I guess I cannot expect my favorite cousin to be any different.” She gave Tierra a smile, obviously trying to cheer her.

  Though she felt like crying again more than anything, Tierra managed half a smile in return. “I guess not.”

  River took Tierra’s hands and
clasped them in her own, imparting warmth and strength. “Come, then. If your feelings will not be put aside, then I suppose we have to decide how to free your Skychild.”

  Tierra gave a bitter laugh. Though she was grateful that her friend wanted to help her, the situation felt hopeless. “It feels like I have considered every possible scenario a hundred times. I can think of nothing else. I cannot sleep, and I can scarcely even eat. My stomach is a giant ball of knots.”

  “Have you thought of trying to free him from his cell?” River asked. “I know you cannot bend the bars yourself, but maybe you can find someone who can.”

  “I already tried that,” Tierra said bitterly. “I only know of a few people who can manipulate the material of the bars, and no bribe I could come up with was enough to induce them to risk my mother’s wrath. I doubt even my father would be able to convince them.”

  “What about waiting until the execution day? You could rush over to the Skychild and let him sweep you up into the sky so you can remove his collar.”

  “During the time it would take for me to remove the collar, I do not doubt we would both be caught in a ground cage,” Tierra said. “My mother might even beat the Iron Swords to it. I’ve seen her create a tall ground cage before.”

  “You could always tell your mother you are carrying his child.”

  “River!” Tierra exclaimed.

  “Well,” the other woman said defensively, “you need to think of something. Would your mother be cruel enough to execute your fictional baby’s father?”

  Tierra shook her head in exasperation. “Absolutely. In fact, if I went that route, she would probably tear the flesh off his body and the fingernails off his hands before putting him on the executioner’s block. She might even cut off other parts of his anatomy first.”

  “I suppose,” River said with a defeated sigh. “It seems like you really have thought of everything.”

  “It feels like that,” Tierra said sadly. “But I will not give up until Skye breathes his last breath. There could be something I have not considered.”

  “Well, I hope you figure it out,” River said. “Not for his sake, but for yours. I would hate to see my best friend looking at the world through jaded eyes. If you really do feel . . . well . . . that for this Skychild, then I know you will never be the same if he dies. I do not want you to become like Wisteria. You have my support, even if I cannot agree with or even understand your feelings. Should I come up with any ideas, I will let you know.”

  “Thank you, River,” Tierra said gratefully. “If you will please excuse me, I want to go and just . . . think.”

  “Of course,” River said, squeezing Tierra’s shoulder. “I understand.”

  They left the room together and then parted ways after River admonished Tierra to get some sleep. The princess waved away her friend’s concerns and then wandered the castle halls, her leaden feet carrying her from one end of the castle to the other. While she walked, she tossed this idea and that one back and forth in her head, trying to come across something she had not considered yet. It all seemed so pointless; no option appeared even halfway viable.

  Stone eventually joined Tierra in her aimless walking, and she took some small shred of comfort in the presence of the garm at her side. He whimpered and whined on occasion, and though he was likely feeding off her anxiety, it felt as if he were a kindred spirit.

  Eventually, Tierra found herself standing in front of the room that held the Pool of Terrain. The guards beside the door dipped their heads in deference, and she thought she saw a flash of pity in their eyes as they exchanged a look. She wondered whether the whole castle was talking about the love-stricken princess whose forbidden lover was doomed to die at the hands of her mother. Somehow, she found she did not care what other people thought.

  She went inside the room with Stone at her heels—she could almost feel the guards’ efforts to bite back their protests concerning her decision to bring a garm in with her—and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the gleaming pool.

  Stone sat down beside her and placed his large head in her lap, letting out a sorrowful whimper.

  She patted his head and murmured, “Stone.” She could offer him no further comfort than that; her heart ached too much.

  Tierra stared down at her reflection, though she was not truly seeing anything. Terrain seemed especially powerful in this place, and though normally she found the room eerie, there was something oddly comforting about it to her this time.

  There were no ground-snakes inside the room, no inquisitive or judgmental people . . . just Tierra and Stone and the imprint of Terrain’s hand. In that moment, she felt closer to Terrain—yet further from her people—than she had ever been.

  Tierra glanced up at the stone shrine to Terrain, and on an impulse, she stood and approached it.

  The shrine was covered in sacrifices made to the Groundbreather god—golden rings, locks of hair, gemstones, and even blood—and Tierra bowed her head over it reverently.

  Tears fell from her eyes and dripped down onto the shrine, bathing it in her despair, and Tierra whispered, “Terrain, please help me . . . .”

  After seeing the example of the integrity of one of her creations, the Groundwalker whom she loved, Celesta decided there was good in the world. It would not do to destroy something that contained so much beauty.

  Gazing upon her, the Fenik asked, “What do you want of me, Sweet Goddess?”

  Celesta said to the Fenik, “I no longer need you to destroy the moon’s companion. Rather, I wish to transform you into a thing of beauty, that the Groundwalker whom I love may look upon your form and smile favorably upon me.”

  And so the Fenik was transformed. Celesta set it free in the vastness of the sky, advising that she would call upon it when she had need of its assistance. Then she cloaked herself in the appearance of a Groundwalker, hiding her glory in veils of light and darkness, so that she might walk upon the earth and not be known for what she was.

  As she walked the earth, Celesta thought of the Groundwalker whom she loved, longing for the day when her love would be requited with a kiss.

  —The Book of Celesta

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY

  Water

  The morning of Skye’s execution came, and Skye felt no more at peace concerning what was to happen to him than he had a few days before. He had spent the entire night awake, hoping against hope that Tierra would return to free him, but he saw no more of the Groundbreather princess.

  It was still early when the Iron Swords began to stir, and despite the early hour, it promised to be the most sweltering day Skye had experienced on the ground world. A few guards entered the cell block, and after speaking with his jailors, they came toward him. Their expressions were grim, yet their frowns did not seem to be directed at Skye, but at the situation itself.

  “It is time,” one of the guards said as he opened the door.

  Two Iron Swords stepped forward with a pair of manacles which were attached to another guard with a long chain. As one man put the manacles on him, Skye looked at the chain with dismay; the main escape plan that had occurred to him was to lift himself up in the air and try to blow himself far enough away that he could escape. But while carrying struggling cargo and facing the collar’s restrictions, he would probably be unable to get high enough, never mind what he would do if he actually managed to get away with a guard or two tagging along.

  “The queen’s not taking any chances, is she?” Skye asked nervously.

  The guard who had manacled him gave him a sour look which could have been taken as either a grimace or an attempt to smile. Then he gestured, and the entire company started to move.

  The prisons were located deep in the bedrock under the Groundbreather castle, and it took them some time to march up through the corridors. It was strange how the long walk seemed to take an instant to the beleaguered Skychild, but he found that soon they had reached the ground level and stepped
out into the courtyard.

  Blinking against the light of the merciless sun and already feeling beads of sweat begin to spring up on his brow, Skye scanned the courtyard to see the mass of Groundbreathers and Groundwalkers who had turned out to witness the execution of a Skychild. While Skye did not know much about public executions—Skychildren exiled their undesirables to the ground world, trusting their loss of honor to keep them from returning—it occurred to him that perhaps the queen had delayed his death for the sole purpose of gathering a crowd to witness it.

  The guards pulled Skye forward, and they began to make their way toward the platform which had appeared at the far end of the courtyard. While Skye would have perhaps expected to hear jeering and to have men and women spit at him and pelt him with refuse, nothing of the sort occurred. Instead, the onlookers were largely quiet, watching him as he walked and whispering to one another.

  Next to the platform in the middle of the courtyard stood a large Groundbreather. Skye saw the stark reality of the massive axe the man held in his hand.

  Shuddering, Skye looked about, hoping to catch one last look at the princess, to see her and console himself that she would be well even after he was gone. But she was nowhere in evidence. The queen, the king, and their worthless excuse for an elder daughter were standing on the large platform with a group of Iron Swords, watching him, but he could see no sign of Tierra.

  The queen beheld Skye with disgust, the king with uncertainty, and Wisteria with loathing. Skye could not say that Wisteria’s sentiment was unreturned, but his glare at her was met with nothing more than a smug glance at the executioner.

  But his mind quickly left off considering that unworthy young woman as he began to think of Tierra once more. Perhaps the queen had forbidden Tierra from attending so as to keep her from his influence. Would he really not have another chance to see her? The thought made him take a shuddering breath.