by Jann Rowland
“From what you have told me, Skychild, I believe you are correct.” Dimly, Skye heard the inflection in her voice, and for once, “Skychild” did not sound like an epithet. “Groundbreathers generally know to stay away from this plant, but every so often it is consumed. The effects will recede over time if its use is discontinued quickly enough. Unfortunately, it is also known to have an . . . addictive quality. If your father was given it for long enough, taking it away might have killed him.”
“But how would the Seneschal have known about it?” Gusty asked. “Most Skychildren don’t know much about the ground world.”
Sequoia shrugged, still looking at Skye, who felt like he was floundering. “I cannot say, of course.”
“I . . . I’m afraid I don’t know much of Hawkins’s past,” Skye finally managed. “I know he came from a small community that is a journey of many days from the palace, but I don’t know much more about him.”
“What about Mista?” Gusty asked.
Skye snorted. “Mista is not exactly a reliable source of information.”
“But if Hawkins really was her uncle, then she should know something of him,” Gusty countered.
But Skye was in no mood to be taken to task by the other Skychild. He murmured his thanks to Sequoia for telling him of the plant and solving the mystery of his father’s behavior, and then he excused himself to return to the fire pit. By now, bewilderment had been replaced with ire. It was reflected in his actions as he first dropped rocks in place with irritation and then threw sticks down with pique.
“Will this location do as a campsite, Your Majesty?” he heard Gusty ask Sequoia. “There is no stream nearby for us to use.”
“It is fine,” Sequoia replied. “Jasper and I can use our powers to bring water to the surface.”
Skye glanced over at her, annoyed by her smugness. While she was simply stating a fact, his anger with Hawkins was still foremost in his mind, and he was not inclined to listen to reason.
Looking up with a frown, Skye noted that there were few clouds in the rapidly darkening sky. The previous evening, Sequoia had seen to the lighting of their fire, though Skye had not witnessed how she had accomplished it. Since she was busy with Gusty, Skye decided he would attend to the lighting of the fire himself this time.
Reaching upward with his powers, Skye felt among the firmament for what he needed, finding an especially damp patch of air above him and to the north. With some effort, he drew the clouds nearer, pushing them along with a strong wind. When a large cloud was roughly over the pile of sticks Skye had encircled with stones, he backed away and lifted a hand in the air, pointing one finger upward almost lazily.
To someone watching him, he no doubt seemed unconcerned and almost even bored. Inside, however, he was a bundle of nerves, knowing that what he meant to do could not easily be performed with any accuracy. Skychildren who attempted it had even been known to harm themselves on occasion.
Holding his breath, he focused all his concentration on his present task. Then he called down a bolt of lightning.
The flash and subsequent crack made even him jump. From the outcries nearby, he realized that it might have behooved him to warn his party about what he had intended to do. A few of the horses had even startled and might have fled entirely had they not been hobbled.
The fire blazed into existence—at least the lightning bolt’s aim had been true—and after a moment of stunned silence, Sequoia cried out, “What in the blazes are you doing? Did you just . . . call down lightning to start a campfire?”
“It’s a Skychild ability,” Skye said, crossing his arms. He felt like a petulant child defending himself, but he was not about to back down.
The queen moved closer to him. “Did you ever stop to think that creating fire with lightning might be a little too conspicuous?”
No, he had been too caught up in his anger with Hawkins. But he was not about to admit that. “And how would you create a fire?”
After staring at him for a moment, Sequoia cast her gaze down to the ground. Due to the dimness of the night, Skye suspected she was using her Groundbreather powers to feel for something rather than using her eyes.
At last, Sequoia found what she was looking for, and she stooped, only to straighten a moment later with two rocks in hand. “You see these, Skychild?”
The use of his race as an epithet was back, and he did not appreciate it. Sourly, he said, “Yes, I do.” He believed the rocks she had were flint, but he was not well-versed in types of stone. He was not about to ask her to enlighten him.
Sequoia crouched and gathered a few dead leaves together in a pile. Then she struck the rocks together, causing a significant spark which set the leaves ablaze. The fire was slight at first, but it steadily grew. Before it could become too large, Sequoia stood and used her shoe to stomp it out. In triumph, she crowed, “There! You see?”
“Easy enough for a Groundbreather,” Skye said with a grunt. At another time, he might have taken the time to consider how the Groundbreathers and Skychildren were united in their ability to create a fire—if by different means—but his present mood would not allow him to marvel at anything.
After muttering a few more words, Skye walked away, grumbling to himself. Sequoia’s method was less conspicuous, but her smugness irritated him. At least Tierra had not inherited her mother’s personality. Of course, Skye would never have been chasing after her if she had.
Skye was so preoccupied that he did not notice his footsteps were taking him over to Nimbus until he was practically upon him.
“Oh!” Skye said. “Sorry, Nimbus. I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Your Majesty,” the other man mumbled. He had not been as vocal that day as was typical, and Skye suspected the change could be attributed to Griffin’s influence.
“I know you may not be happy with how matters have gone,” Skye said, “but I do think we are making progress now.”
“Gale said—” Nimbus began, only to cut off, looking away.
“Gale?” Skye repeated. “You know Gale? The same Gale who assisted in the battle with Hawkins? I didn’t know you were acquainted.”
Nimbus gave a curt nod. “We’ve spoken a few times.”
“What did she tell you?”
“Oh, just that this wasn’t going to be an easy journey,” Nimbus mumbled. “I’m trying to keep that in mind. That’s all.”
“Well, I appreciate your efforts,” Skye said slowly, not certain at all that Gale had told Nimbus what he claimed. But he knew Nimbus could be closed-mouthed, and he was not keen on trying to draw him out of his shell.
“Thanks,” Nimbus said awkwardly.
Skye moved to stand at a distance from the rest of the party, wanting space to be alone with his thoughts. As the Skychild king, he would not draw resentment for not helping further set up the camp.
He found his gaze drawn toward the stars. They twinkled unconcernedly in their dark bed, drawing eyes but never speaking of the secrets they had witnessed.
Every time he looked at the night sky, he searched for the grouping of stars he had proclaimed as a boy to be a bow. Then his eyes always moved to Tierra’s sword constellation. His heart ached, knowing that she could be gazing upward at the same sky as he was while still remaining so many miles away from him. Parallel thoughts were not enough. He wanted her by his side. He wanted to pull her up against him and embrace her so tightly it was hard for her to breathe. He wanted to plant small kisses on the side of her neck and then meet her lips with his own, drinking of her everlasting love and her indomitable spirit. He wanted her whispering sweet words in his ear, trailing her delicate fingers along his arm, causing goosebumps to pop up as flesh caressed flesh.
He sank onto the ground, his heart full and heavy. He wanted Tierra. Stars, how he wanted Tierra.
“What is it, Skychild?”
The sound of Sequoia’s voice was the last thing Skye wanted to hear at that moment, but he looked up anyway. She was watching him, h
er expression more unreadable than usual, and Skye scowled at her.
“I am sorry my words about that dangerous plant brought up painful memories of your father,” Sequoia said before he could form any words. “It was not my intention.”
Skye waved her off. He was touched, almost against his will, by her concern. Certainly, he had not expected an apology from her. There was a time when such a thing would have been inconceivable.
“You couldn’t have known,” Skye said. “Besides, I made my peace with my father’s death long ago. I was angry all over again with that dirt-licker Hawkins. I would like to have him here just so I could shove my dagger in his throat again.”
Sequoia appeared amused by his response. “I had not known you Skychildren were such bloodthirsty savages.”
Baring his teeth at her in a wild grin, Skye replied: “Given the right circumstances, we Skychildren can be just as ferocious and bloodthirsty as you Groundbreathers.”
“I do not understand you,” Sequoia said with a frown. “Thoughts of your father’s death bring up anger at his killer rather than sorrow at his passing?”
“My father and I were never close,” Skye said after a moment’s pause. “He was not much of a father. We were estranged long before Hawkins arrived at my father’s court. We never saw eye to eye, even when my mother was alive. Really, I’m just—”
Skye stopped, reluctant to reveal his innermost feelings to this woman. Though Sequoia was the mother of the woman he loved, Skye and Sequoia had a complicated relationship.
Skye suppressed a snort. Calling their relationship “complicated” was an understatement. Simply put, he did not trust the woman. He had never been given any reason to trust her. Tillman had spoken of the marital devotion shared between him and Sequoia, but Skye had never witnessed any real affection expressed by Sequoia. In fact, Skye sometimes wondered whether the woman could feel anything other than cold resolve and anger.
“What is it?” Sequoia prodded.
Glaring at her, Skye rose to his feet. As he was tall for a Skychild, he towered over her, but he did not feel as though he could intimidate her. In fact, it often felt like the opposite.
“I miss your daughter,” was all Skye said before stalking off.
It might have been a trick of the night, but as he walked away, he thought he heard her say quietly, “Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”
Determined to ignore her, Skye walked back toward the camp. The night had darkened to the point where it was difficult to see, especially when he looked into the fire burning in the center of the clearing and then tried to examine the landscape. Jasper crouched beside the fire, stirring something that simmered in a pot. His eyes gleamed in the flickering light as he watched Skye, and then his attention moved to another part of the clearing as his lips curled in what could have been either amusement or contempt.
Following his gaze, Skye turned to see the three Sentinels gathered at the far side of the clearing, watching something and talking softly among themselves. Wondering at them, Skye looked to Gusty, who was sitting by the side of the fire and rummaging in his pack. Gusty glanced up briefly and noticed Skye’s scrutiny. When Skye gestured in the direction of the three guards with a questioning look, Gusty only smiled and shook his head.
Curious, Skye approached the Sentinels, noting in the back of his mind that Sequoia had followed him.
“What is it?” Skye asked quietly.
The other Skychildren looked at him in surprise, and then Vesper gestured off into the trees. Looking up, Skye saw a few brown squirrels running up and down the branches, stopping at times to look about. Night had fallen only recently, so the squirrels were no doubt settling down to sleep for the night after investigating their large visitors.
Skye laughed. Such an expression of fascination with the ground realm’s denizens had happened several times since the group of Skychildren had started their journey, and though Skye and Gusty were accustomed to seeing squirrels due to their time in the castle, the other Skychildren present had not yet become accustomed to the fauna that inhabited the ground realm.
“You are intrigued by a bunch of squirrels?”
The skepticism and outright sarcasm in Sequoia’s voice caught Skye’s attention, and he turned, taking in her incredulity. In an effort to prevent an argument, Skye approached her.
“We do not have this kind of animal in the sky. In fact, other than cattle, goats, and a few other animals we keep in pens in the sky, there aren’t a lot of wingless creatures in our realm.”
Sequoia shook her head. “You Skychildren are a strange lot.”
Skye grinned. “To us, you are the strange ones. Those tents you use to sleep in obscure your view of the night sky, and Jasper looks ridiculous setting them up.”
“If it were wintertime, you would be begging me for one of your own.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” Skye said with a snort.
“Well,” Sequoia said, a slight dip in her brow indicating that she was thinking about something, “you will need to excuse Jasper and me for a bit.”
“Why?” Skye said, barely able to quash the rising sense of alarm he felt. “Is something wrong?”
She pursed her lips. “We wish to dance for Terrain.”
“You mean you don’t just do it in large groups?”
“As long as there are two Groundbreathers able to come together, it is enough to create music and express our joy.”
“And I suppose you don’t want a bunch of Skychildren gaping at you.”
“It would be distracting,” Sequoia said. “Do you think you could provide us with some privacy?”
“I’ll keep the others away. You and Jasper don’t need to worry.”
Sequoia nodded and then moved off to speak with the other Groundbreather. Jasper surveyed the area, looking at each Skychild in turn, before his gaze finally settled on Skye. He murmured something, and then he and Sequoia disappeared off through the trees.
True to his word, Skye kept the other Skychildren away from the Groundbreathers’ religious observance for what was not the last time on their journey. And if he ventured close enough to the pair that he could see their movements through the trees, well, it was only because he wanted to make certain they were still safe. It had nothing to do with a desire to see Sequoia’s joy-filled face during a time when she was unfettered by troubles. And her countenance most certainly did not remind him of Tierra.
Each of the gods and goddesses held a particular affinity for their own realm. As was natural, some of the lesser gods and goddesses turned their attention toward the intelligent Groundwalkers, eager for the adulation of mortals.
One such eager goddess was Cascade the water goddess. The waters she had formed were much admired by the Groundwalkers. Their depths were plumbed for fish, and the Groundwalkers devised ingenious methods to use the waters of the earth for sustenance and for passage to far-off locations.
On a clear day, a young fisherman was sailing on the crystalline surface of a lake beloved by Cascade, and as he took in the last of his fish for the day, he raised his voice: “Great gods of earth and sky, I thank you and give praise for my bounteous catch.”
So moved was Cascade by the man’s adulation that she stepped out of the lake and walked toward him. The man stared at her, spellbound.
Cascade spoke not, but she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the man’s lips. His love for her bloomed in an instant, and they lay together on the bank of the lake. Cascade later lay with other men as well, though none ever saw her more than once.
From these unions sprung children who had been imbued with some small portion of Cascade’s powers, and she taught them how to use the gifts they had been given. And she called them “Waterweavers,” for they could weave magnificent patterns out of water.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Waterweavers
It took several more days to travel to the Groundbreather temple. They were days of frustration for Skye, who wished they woul
d make more progress, and days of mounting tension for the other members of the strangely matched company. The terrain through which they traveled was smoother than the lands around the castle, which was, after all, in the foothills to the north of the body of land in which most Groundbreathers made their home. But the terrain they traveled was also broken up with rolling hills and strands of woods. It was well that such terrain existed, as it provided cover for them when they stopped at night. Furthermore, the temple was located on the side of a mountain, which only provided problems of its own.
What the land was not was heavily populated. The group had only needed to skirt around a few villages, none of which were of any significant size, and they saw almost no one the entire time they traveled. Whether they had lost the pursuing Iron Swords was uncertain, but Skye was grateful for their mostly uninterrupted progress.
Without the griffins, the movement of the party was marginally less stressful. Of course, it helped that Skye could escape with Stardust into the air whenever tempers appeared to run too hot. And if he took an abnormally large number of scouting missions, nobody was about to call him on it.
And then finally, one of Skye’s scouting missions did bring good news.
“It looks like we’re almost to the temple,” he reported to Sequoia as he brought Stardust down to the ground beside her. Jasper, who stuck to Sequoia like some sort of sticky sap, was on the queen’s other side, and he listened as he rode.
“I suspected as much,” Sequoia said. “There is a certain quality to the stones nearby that is peculiar to this area.”
Skye glanced down at the ground. The rocks did not seem noteworthy to him, but he was not well-versed in stone identification.
The group moved forward at a measured pace, and it was all Skye could do not to send Stardust surging ahead. However, he knew that a lone Skychild on a pegasus would not receive a warm reception from any Groundbreathers at the temple. It would be better for Sequoia to decide how to handle the situation.
