by Jann Rowland
Fortunately, the garm had not seemed to think anything was amiss with the unusual method of transport. In fact, Stone had seemed to enjoy the experience, as he had looked around with interest, snapping at bugs or birds that came too near or gazing upward at Strix’s bored circles. At times, the garm had even fallen asleep on his cushion of air. Skye had frequently wished he could do the same.
They finally arrived at their destination that evening, and the next morning, Jasper left to procure the needed steeds. Skye had asked Sequoia more than once about the man, but he had thus far been unable to provoke a meaningful response. It did not help that Sequoia continued as she was before, ordering about the Skychildren under Skye’s command, complaining about the griffins, and generally making everyone’s lives miserable.
“Your Majesty,” Skye growled once Jasper had left, “I have been patient, but I want to know more about your companion.” They were standing at some distance from the rest of the group, so he did not particularly fear being overheard, but his aggravation was such that it was hard to keep his voice at a normal volume.
The woman glared at him and then turned away to sniff with disdain. “Jasper is an old friend, Skychild. He is trustworthy and is accounted among the best trackers of my people. Anything else is not your business.”
“It is my business! We are allies. Do you not trust me?”
“Do you not trust me?” Sequoia countered. “You are allowed to have your own people serve you on this mission, but you object to using one of mine? I have known Jasper for a long time, and I trust him with my life. Can you say the same for all those who accompany you?”
Before Skye could respond, Sequoia said, “Jasper has gone to procure horses as he said, not to sell us out to my daughter’s men. You need not worry your little Skychild head over it.”
Skye’s lip twisted as he bit back a response that would have been satisfying yet inappropriate. Irritating though Sequoia’s condescension was, she did have a point. Though Griffin and Nimbus had saved him from the clutches of Seneschal Hawkins, Skye did not know them well, and he knew even less about Vesper. Even Strix was an unpredictable element—all it would take was one ambiguous situation that allowed him to transfer his allegiance, and the entire world would be placed in jeopardy.
Still, the logic of Sequoia’s statements was not enough to erase Skye’s anger, and he opened his mouth to say something caustic and probably undeserved to Sequoia, only to cut himself off once more as Gusty sidled up to them.
“You must be pleased at the prospect of riding a horse, Your Majesty,” Gusty said. He spoke as though he had not been seen that Skye and Sequoia were in the midst of an argument, but Skye knew better.
Sequoia’s irked expression actually softened. “I am. I confess these infernal bird-creatures have not helped my mood.”
“You’ll have to excuse them,” Gusty said. “They aren’t accustomed to large groups and close quarters like this. As I understand it, they tend to be loners who only come together to mate. I believe there are some creatures on the ground that behave in a similar way.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Sequoia said begrudgingly.
“We’ll probably be glad ourselves to give them up,” Gusty said, looking at Skye. “They’ve been a little unruly. They’re good in battle, but they’re too noisy for inconspicuous movement.”
Skye let out a grunt, not wanting to admit outright that there were valid reasons to criticize the Skychildren’s method of travel.
“Pegasi, on the other hand,” Gusty continued, “make great mounts. You have the benefit of a horse’s calm personality paired with the ability of flight. I’d say Skye’s pegasus is also more powerful than a horse when it comes to battle. The perks seem nice.”
Skye could see what Gusty was doing. The other Skychild had begun to demonstrate certain peacemaking qualities of late, and he provided a level head when tempers were high. With two such headstrong personalities as Skye and Sequoia being forced to work together, his presence was a boon. Knowing that Gusty was playing mediator should have made Skye immune to any effects caused by his efforts, but Skye instead found some of the tension draining from his body. He knew Sequoia was as worried about Tierra as he was.
“Stardust is worth his weight in gold,” Skye said, gazing fondly at the pegasus, who was nibbling on some grass. He then met Sequoia’s eyes. “As for Jasper, I don’t like the man, but I’ll take your word for it when you say he’s worthy of trust.” That did not mean Skye would not be keeping an eye on him. He despised that man’s perpetual smirk.
The queen gave the barest of nods, her gaze falling on the Fenik. Strix was perched on Stardust’s saddle, which was resting on the ground, and his eyes were carefully studying his surroundings. “Now, about that bird . . .”
Skye did not know what Tierra had told Sequoia about the loss of Strix (and, more importantly, the devastation Strix was capable of unleashing), and he was not particularly keen on enlightening Sequoia unless it proved to be absolutely necessary. After all, she could consider herself honor-bound to steal Strix from Skye once Tierra was located. That was something Skye would not allow to happen. It was his duty as king to keep a tight grip on the powerful creature Celesta had made.
“He has some skills in battle that I would prefer not to use unless hard-pressed, Your Majesty,” Skye said. “Any more than that is not important.”
Gusty gave Skye a look of disapproval—no doubt he thought Skye should advise one of their most important allies of the full extent of their situation—but Skye maintained a bland expression. Gusty would not tell Sequoia about the Fenik if Skye did not want him to, and even if the other Skychildren had actually had any inkling of what the bird in their midst was, it appeared as though there was nothing they would like less than to speak with their Groundbreather companions. Strix’s identity should be safe from Sequoia for the time being.
“I do not believe it is as simple as you say,” Sequoia said, searching Skye’s face, “but just as you chose not to pry further about Jasper, so shall I drop this area of inquiry. You should remember, however, who your true allies are.”
That was not something Skye could forget. But the beatings he had received as a slave at Sequoia’s orders were not easily forgotten either, and while he and the queen were united in purpose for the present, he knew that Sequoia would not be disappointed if the Skychild race were to suddenly become extinct. He no longer hated the queen as he once had, but he could not greet her with open arms either.
“Now,” she said, looking at him strangely, “who is this Pikestaff we met back at the village?”
Skye laughed in spite of himself. “He is a man who has taken up with your eldest daughter. From what I can tell, she has made him the new Sword of Terrain. He actually goes by the name of ‘Scythe,’ though I do not think that is his true name.”
Sequoia looked at him with confusion. “Then why did you keep calling him ‘Pikestaff?’”
“When we first fought, I taunted him with the unoriginality of his name, which I suppose was chosen to strike fear in the hearts of his enemies.” Skye’s accompanying snort spoke to his feelings about the man’s hubris. “He received his scar during that fight with me, and it appears he has not forgotten it.”
Sequoia paused in thought for a moment before her eyes rose to find Skye’s. “He is dangerous, Skychild. There is . . . something about him, something . . . Well, let us just say that the man does not seem quite right to me. You have made a dangerous enemy. I suggest you take care.”
“I intend to. I doubt we’ll meet again for some time, but when we do, I will stick an arrow through his heart before I get close to him.”
Though it was clear Sequoia did not think it would be that easy, she allowed the matter to rest.
At last, Jasper arrived with the horses.
Skye did not know much about horseflesh, but when he spoke to Jasper about how to assign the horses, he insisted that Gusty be given the second-best horse, with the queen tak
ing the best of the horses. Had it not been for Sequoia’s supervision, Skye might have suspected Jasper of hoodwinking him, but the assignment of horses played out easily enough, and each mount seemed capable of withstanding a long journey.
The next issue they faced was what to do about the griffins. Skye hated to lose such a valuable resource, but the griffins had been more of a hindrance than a help. He considered sending one of the Sentinels to take them back to the sky realm, but the notion of one person trying to corral a group of griffins without assistance was painful, to say nothing of the fact that Skye was not keen on losing another person from his group. In the sky realm, he had protested bringing guards along, but now he saw the wisdom in it. Of course, he had not expected to have any encounters with Wisteria’s men at the time. He supposed he should have known better.
After a quick discussion with Gusty, Skye had conceded that releasing the griffins was the best option available. When he told the other Skychildren of his decision, however, the initial protest came from a surprising quarter.
“Release the griffins?” Vesper asked, her brow furrowed. “You mean to let them fend in the wild for themselves?”
Skye looked at her in surprise. She had probably had the most trouble with the griffins out of the group, as she had taken on calming them frequently. Of course, perhaps she had done so out of a genuine desire to be with the griffins rather than out of a sense of duty. Skye did not know how anyone could actually like the irascible creatures, but it was not outside the realm of possibility. “I’m afraid we can’t take them with us. There really is no other choice.”
“They could die out there,” she said, sounding distressed.
“They’re strong and fast,” Skye said. “I don’t think they’ll have any issues finding prey.”
“They’re smart, too,” Gusty said. “I bet they’ll return to the palace if they have any problems finding food.” The look he slid over to Skye seemed to indicate that he actually had no idea whether they were intelligent or not and was merely trying to placate Vesper.
“I suppose you’re right,” Vesper said, biting her lip.
“I’m not a fan of horses myself,” Griffin sa xxc /id, “but you have to admit those griffins have been a bit of trouble, Vesper.”
Vesper dropped her chin, her cheeks flushing. “I know.”
“Then that’s settled,” Skye said. “We’ll be releasing the griffins.”
“Would you like to say goodbye to them?” Gusty asked Vesper gently.
“Yes, thank you,” she murmured, following him over to the griffins. “Perhaps I can convince them to return to the sky palace.”
“I don’t like this new development either,” Nimbus said. “Riding horses?”
“They aren’t that much different from pegasi,” Skye said. “We have to do what the situation calls for.”
“He’s right, Nimbus,” Griffin said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “We’ve faced worse situations than a horseback ride. I think we can handle this.”
Nimbus’s face contorted, but he made no further protests.
Skye glanced over at Sequoia and Jasper, glad everything had been settled without too much fuss. The queen already sat atop her horse, and Jasper stood beside her, stroking the horse’s nose as he spoke quietly with the queen.
“We should get ready to go,” Skye said. He mounted Stardust, signaling an end to further conversation.
It quickly became evident that it was not Sequoia but Jasper with whom Skye would butt heads the most. Sequoia seemed content with the situation, likely because she was free from hiding and actually trying to do something to find her daughter. She tended not to speak with any of the Sentinels unless required, but she was fairly cordial with Skye and even almost friendly with Gusty.
Jasper was another matter. The man had no respect for any Skychild, and though he was not overtly unfriendly, he did not hesitate to challenge Skye when he thought it necessary. Perhaps not unsurprisingly, the topic of their most frequent clashes was Sequoia. As the Skychild expression went, the man seemed determined to wrap her in layers of blankets to protect her from any possible hint of harm. While she told him several times that she did not need to be protected, Jasper never stopped watching with his glittering eyes. He seemed to feel as though Skye in particular was a threat to his mistress, and he meant to guard her to the death. The brutal energy of a predator coiled in his shoulders, and he waited only for the opportunity to attack.
“How far away is this temple?” Skye asked on the second day of their land-bound journey.
“Four or five days by horseback,” Jasper said. “It is further back in Groundbreather lands, but it is remote enough that our people do not visit it often.”
“Will it be safe for us to go there?”
Shrugging, Jasper turned his attention back to their path. “Though our people make pilgrimages to the temple from time to time, it has largely fallen into disuse. It is far enough from any other settlements that our coming and going should be unnoticed.”
Though Skye would have preferred to pursue the subject further, he realized he would not pull any information from his Groundbreather companions, so he desisted. Trust between them would take time to grow. Probing questions would not aid such an undertaking.
When Jasper called for a halt that night, Skye was treated to the groans of his company and the exaggerated way in which they, to a man, slid from their saddles and walked about the area, rubbing their backsides and displaying stiff muscles while they glared at the horses.
“What absolutely vile creatures these horses are,” Nimbus said.
Griffin only agreed with him, glaring at his own steed with distaste in his eyes.
“Oh?” Skye asked mildly. He had experienced some discomfort with Stardust the previous night, as the gait of the pegasus when walking on the ground was different from his movements when flying through the air, but Skye had awoken that morning fit and feeling no ill effects. Whereas the other Skychildren had complained the previous night of being tired and sore, it seemed as though a second day in the saddle had only further contributed to their discomfort, to the point where they were hardly able to move.
“Skye,” Gusty said, an uncharacteristic shortness in his voice, “trust me when I say riding a horse is no joy. I almost wish we had the griffins again.”
Sequoia laughed from where she had been watching with amusement. “I believe I mentioned it might be more difficult for you Skychildren to become acclimated to horses than you thought.”
“I suppose I was already accustomed to Stardust,” Skye said, “though I don’t remember any particular discomfort.”
“Perhaps we should exchange places tomorrow,” Gusty said, looking at Stardust enviously. “I’m sure you’d appreciate a day in a horse’s saddle.”
“And yet I’m the only one who can ride Stardust,” Skye said. He suspected his attempt to keep the smugness from his tone was a miserable failure, as the other Skychildren favored him with a sour look.
“Oh?” Sequoia asked.
“A pegasus will only accept one rider,” Skye explained. “For Stardust, that appears to be me. Even if I rode another mount, no one would be able to ride Stardust in my stead.”
Sequoia seemed less than interested in the subject, as she left it alone in favor of turning back to address the other Skychildren. “If it is any consolation, you will likely become accustomed to being in the saddle soon. Unfortunately, it may be several days before you are completely pain-free.”
A chorus of grumbles met her declaration, but none of the Skychildren said anything further, and the company began to set up camp. Skychild bedrolls and Groundbreather tents were set up while the horses were hobbled, and for a few minutes, all were involved in their nightly ritual.
“You must not hobble the horses near that plant!”
Jasper’s voice rang out over the encampment, and Skye looked up from where he had been setting up the fire pit, ringing it with stones. The agitated Groundbreather
approached the group of horses, and bending down, he grasped a long, slender plant with silverish leaves. He then pulled it up, root and all, casting it away from the assembled horses. Griffin, who had been seeing to the horses, looked at him, questions in his eyes.
“That plant is called silvertip,” Sequoia said, approaching the horses, “and upon ingestion, it addles the brains. In time, it can even cause death.”
“Addle the brains?” Skye echoed.
Sequoia nodded. “In horses, the plant causes a sickness that will not depart for several days, and enough of it can cause death. But with Groundbreathers, it causes increasingly unpredictable behavior, confusion, short temper, volatility, and a susceptibility to the commands of others.”
All at once, her explanation crystallized in Skye’s mind. “Hawkins must have been using this on my father!”
Regarding him with curiosity, Sequoia said, “Hawkins? And what is this about your father?”
“I . . .” Certain he had found the means by which the Seneschal had controlled Tempest—and wishing to find the man’s body so he could bring him to life and kill him all over again—Skye had difficulty speaking of the matter for several moments. Sequoia remained patient for those few minutes, waiting for him to master himself.
“I believe I have mentioned the Seneschal who had taken over the sky realm,” Skye said when he had gathered his composure.
Nodding, Sequoia waited for him to continue.
“I always suspected Hawkins had some means of control over my father, but I was never able to determine how he managed it. I’m sure, from what you have told me just now, that he learned of this plant and used it against my father.”
“Tell me more about it,” Sequoia commanded. She listened to his description of Tempest’s behavior and inserted a few questions designed to clarify Skye’s words, drawing more information out of him. It was only a few moments later when she sighed and focused on him, an almost rueful expression on her face.
