by Jann Rowland
“All right,” Skye said. “Give me a moment.”
After finishing with the saddle, Skye gave his pegasus mount a gentle stroke on the neck and looked over at the Fenik. “Strix, you stay with the camp.”
“Very well,” the bird said.
Though Skye had grown more at ease with his feathered companion, he still carefully worded whatever he said and kept a close eye on the bird. If the Fenik ever thought enough leeway had been given to enable him to fly off, Skye might not ever find him.
Nimbus made a gesture and led Skye away from the clearing and into the forest, out of sight of the rest of the party. They went further than was strictly necessary, but Skye refrained from commenting about it.
“What is it?” Skye asked when they stopped, crossing his arms and giving the other man an expectant look.
“You are truly determined to find the Groundbreather princess, then?” Nimbus said, searching Skye’s face.
“I have been since the beginning,” Skye said with a sigh. He had to resist the urge to wipe a hand over his face. “Nothing you say can change my mind.”
“I feared you would say that,” Nimbus murmured. There was a sadness of sorts in his eyes. “I had hoped you would eventually change your mind.”
“If that was all you had to say, then I’m going back to the camp,” Skye said, irritated. He turned and started walking, resisting the urge to curse. He might have been better off not having any guards with him in the first place. He and Gusty would have fared well enough. Maybe they would have even evaded the harpies entirely if it had just been the two of them. And one griffin would not have given the grief that an entire group of griffins had.
If asked, Skye could not have said why exactly he turned. Perhaps it was a sort of charged sensation that caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Perhaps it was a twitch in his gut that was the product of intuition. Whatever it was, Skye turned around to glance once more at Nimbus.
The look of steely determination on the Skychild’s face caught Skye’s attention, but it was the hammer of air speeding forward that galvanized Skye into action.
Skye dodged to the side, rolling on the ground. The gust impacted against a tree with a crash, nearly splitting the trunk in half. As the tree listed to the side, Skye scrambled to his feet. He formed a counter to Nimbus’s attack with his own powers. The two bludgeons met in midair, causing a boom to fill the air.
“Nimbus!” Skye yelled as the tree tumbled in front of him. “What in the name of Celesta are you doing?”
“Righting a longstanding wrong,” Nimbus replied through gritted teeth. “You will never be allowed to sully the pure blood of the Skychildren by begetting children with a filthy Groundbreather.”
Reaching behind himself, Nimbus drew a sword strapped to his back. As he flung one hand forward, conjuring a great wind, he charged Skye with his sword.
At a disadvantage with no weapon, Skye fled toward the camp, deflecting Nimbus’s wind into the man’s face. At the same time, Skye directed a gust to lift a tree branch on the forest floor, raising it a few inches. Nimbus’s shins hit the branch, which was not easily visible in the gloom, and the man then hurtled over it to land on the ground.
“I will kill you!” Nimbus growled as he hobbled to his feet.
The shouts of those at the camp indicated they had heard the struggle.
Skye’s racing footsteps took him from the forest into the clearing in which his party had made their camp. A gust of wind lifted his sword from where it lay beside his bedroll and into his hand.
Skye turned to meet the rushing Nimbus. He gritted his teeth and planted his feet on the earth.
A great gust of wind came charging forward. The angle was such that it missed Skye, but it was close enough and powerful enough that the air whipped at his clothes and hair. The wall of wind slammed into Nimbus with great force, flinging him backward. As it did so, a ground cage sprang up around him.
The man impacted into the bars of the ground cage, his head snapping to the side with a sickening crack. He fell to the forest floor.
Skye turned, his eyes following the path he believed the gust had taken. There he found Gusty, gazing sorrowfully at the ground where Nimbus lay, still covered by the ground cage.
“What’s going on?” Griffin demanded, striding up to the fallen Skychild.
“Vesper!” Skye called. Yet he feared it was too late for her to help.
The woman darted forward and skidded to a stop beside Nimbus, the cage crumbling to the ground around him. Vesper turned him over, but Skye’s fears were confirmed by the sightless eyes which stared up at the heavens. Nimbus was dead.
“You want to know what happened?” Skye snarled, rounding on Griffin. “I’ll tell you what happened. Your friend tried to kill me!”
The shock with which Griffin regarded him could not be feigned. “Nimbus tried to kill you? How could that possibly be, Your Majesty?”
“That’s what I would like to know,” Skye said.
For a few moments, the company stood silent, with everyone trying to digest the unexpected violence which had arisen in their midst. Vesper tended to the fallen Skychild, arranging the man’s limbs in a more dignified position. She then retrieved a blanket, placing it over him while the others watched. When she finished, she turned to Skye.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but there was nothing I could do to help him.”
“There is no need to apologize, Vesper,” Skye said. “This is his own doing.”
“I did not mean to kill him,” Sequoia said, stepping forward. She sounded contrite. “I was only attempting to confine him.”
“Nor did I,” Gusty said quietly from nearby. “I only meant to keep him from getting to you, Skye.”
“I know neither of you intended for this to happen,” Skye said. “This night did not have to turn out like this, and I don’t blame either of you.”
Directing his attention to the one member of the party who might be able to shed light on what had happened, Skye asked, “Well, Griffin? What do you have to say? You knew Nimbus best. Do you have any idea why he would have done this?”
Griffin did not reply; he merely stared down at his former friend’s fallen form, as though gripped with sudden paralysis.
Skye scowled and strode up to him, grabbing the man by his shoulders and giving him a light shake. Darkly, Skye asked: “Do you mean to try to kill me, too, now that your friend has failed?”
“I would n-never—” Griffin managed before he came to a sputtering halt. He looked around at the others, noting their implacable stares. He seemed to suddenly realize he had lost everyone’s trust.
Taking a deep breath, Griffin turned back to Skye. “Your Majesty, I’m at a loss. I can’t explain this at all. But please believe me when I say that I don’t know what Nimbus was thinking. And I certainly would never try to harm my sovereign.”
“But you knew him well, didn’t you?” Gusty asked him. “He must have given you some indication of his feelings.”
“Nimbus and I were . . .” Griffin began, only to pause as he tried to collect his thoughts. “We were thrown together a lot in the past couple of months. But I would not call him a great friend. We were acquaintances in the guard, and we both ended up helping you when your father was murdered, but it was not because we were good friends. In fact, I can’t say that many knew him well. He was pretty closemouthed, as you know.”
“Then how has all this come about?” Skye asked. “For that matter, I’ve never gotten a good answer from Cirrus about his involvement in my rescue. Do you know anything about it?”
“Cirrus was well-respected in the guards, Your Majesty. He was the leader of the group that opposed the Seneschal, but I hadn’t seen him since he was put in prison. We took our orders from another Sentinel who was in Cirrus’s camp.”
“Do you think Cirrus was passing on orders to this other Sentinel?”
Griffin lifted his hands in apology. “I can’t say. It’s possible,
but if he was doing it, he was staying out of sight. I think only a few people had any idea he was still alive at the time.”
A thought pricked the back of Skye’s consciousness, and a sudden remembrance came over him. “What of Gale? Nimbus mentioned her, though I was not aware they were acquainted. Is she a traitor like Nimbus?”
“I’m not sure,” Griffin said. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help, but I don’t know Gale very well. It’s possible she and Nimbus knew each other, but I never saw anything of it.”
“What does this all mean, Skychild?” Sequoia asked impatiently.
“I’m not sure,” Skye replied. He sank onto a nearby log and put his head in his hands. “It seems there may be some Skychild faction working against me. Nimbus went on and on about how I should leave the search for Tierra to you and your people, and Cirrus was adamant that I could not even consider marrying a Groundbreather.”
“Surely you don’t think your friend is part of this?” Gusty asked, sounding concerned.
Skye gave a humorless laugh. “We’ve had some rough times, but I don’t think he would want to kill me. I did see him talking to Gale at the coronation, though, and when I had spoken with her before that, it seemed almost as though she were trying to say something against Tierra.” He swallowed. “But in spite of what I want to believe, taking into consideration the fact that Nimbus implied he knew Gale and the animated conversation I saw take place between Gale and Cirrus, they all seem to be implicated right now in some fashion.”
“Let’s not set the hawk loose on the pigeon just yet, Your Majesty,” Griffin protested. “There may be a perfectly harmless explanation. It doesn’t have to be some grand conspiracy.”
“Maybe not,” Gusty said, “but this situation doesn’t inspire much confidence either. Considering all that’s happened in the past few months, finding a supposedly loyal Sentinel trying to kill his king is enough to raise suspicion. Skye’s fears are more than justified.”
Though unhappy, Griffin conceded the point. All eyes turned to Skye as he sat trying to figure out what had happened. But though he thought the matter over, nothing made sense. The idea that Cirrus might be working against him still seemed a little farfetched, though he had questioned his friend several times since they had been reunited. There appeared to be some strange connection between Nimbus, Gale, and Cirrus, and though Gale had never actively protested against Skye’s engagement to Tierra, Cirrus and Nimbus had made it their business in life to question Skye at every turn. Clearly, something was at play here.
“I don’t know,” Skye said finally, shaking his head and throwing a helpless look at the rest of the company. “I don’t think we’ll be able to unravel this mystery until I can return to the sky realm. For now, we have no choice but to press on and find Tierra.”
The company agreed with his assessment, and they returned to their tasks for the evening. Nimbus’s body was moved to rest outside the perimeter of the camp, and little though Skye liked the necessity, it was decided that Nimbus would be burned on a traditional Skychild bier the next morning before they left.
Skye attempted to meditate before bed, but after what had happened with Nimbus, he could not quiet his mind, so he sighed and gave up. When he finally bedded down for the night, he was surprised when Stone padded over to him, whined, and then lay down by his side.
“What is it, boy?” Skye asked, scratching the animal about its ears.
“He sees you are in danger and wishes to protect you,” Sequoia said. She was standing nearby, gazing at the garm with a frown on her face.
Skye wondered whether the garm had actually told Sequoia as much or whether the queen had merely guessed at what was happening. But it did not bear further investigation, so he simply let what she had said pass without comment. As he settled in for sleep, he noted Gusty’s position on the edge of the camp as the first watch of the night.
Eventually, Skye did fall asleep, but his dreams were plagued with vaguely remembered images of betrayal and death. He woke many times before it was his turn to take the watch, and when he did, he could not help noticing the presence of the faithful garm nearby. Stone had woken up every time that Skye had, and the garm’s placid gaze seemed to tell Skye that he was safe and that Stone would watch over him.
Though Skye might not have been able to imagine it only a few short months ago, he was comforted by the animal’s presence.
When Terrain refused to bow down to the frivolous desires of Celesta the sky goddess, the flames of her anger were fanned, and she resolved to form creatures to fill the skies herself. But despite her efforts, Celesta could not create life, as Terrain had not ceded that power to his followers.
Celesta was wroth when she realized she could not create the creatures she so desired. But Celesta, though a goddess of the winds and skies, was a trickster, clever and cruel. When she could not create creatures of her own, she plucked some of Terrain’s creatures from the earth and thrust crude wings into their backs made of clouds and earth.
Celesta watched the clumsy creatures as they fluttered about, flapping the obscenities on their backs. They cried out in pain and sorrow, as their backs were made to ache because of the changes Celesta had forced upon them. When Terrain heard their lamentations, he hung his head, for he hated to see his creations in pain. They had been made into abominations, but the only way he could assist them would be to destroy them. Destruction was not Terrain’s purpose. But his rage toward Celesta only increased as he thought on what she had done.
And so Terrain watched the creatures wheel in circles across the sky, pouring out their sadness in screeches and squawks, and he took their sorrows into himself, easing their pain and calming their aches. And the creatures stared down with sadness at the earth they had once gladly called home.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Anger
Tierra set aside the book she was reading at the sound of a knock on her door. She found the reading material of the underground Groundbreathers—or the “Chosen,” as they arrogantly called themselves—to be oddly fascinating. They did not have a lot of books available for reading, but those they did have were vibrant and often decorated with tiny glittering gems. It was strange to see jewels in such abundance as could be found in Hearth, but Tierra suspected that the “Chosen” had honed their skills at locating precious stones within the earth and that what she saw was merely a product of that. Yet it seemed at odds with the characteristic solemnity of the “Chosen,” who did not take cheer in many things.
“Your Highness?” Violet ventured.
“Go ahead and see who it is,” Tierra said, watching as the other woman went to answer the door.
Violet and Garnet had been assigned to act as Tierra’s ladies-in-waiting, while River was tended to by Jade. Tierra and River were not treated poorly, yet it was impossible for either of them to forget they were prisoners, especially since guards were always stationed outside their doors. River had plunged into depression, and Tierra saw her less and less often, as the young woman secluded herself in her quarters frequently.
When Violet returned with King Canyon, Tierra was not surprised. The king was Tierra’s only visitor apart from River and Quicksilver. And River would not have used that door.
“Your Highness,” the man said warmly in greeting.
“Your Majesty,” Tierra returned, her tone unmistakably cool. She had liked the man much more when she had not known his role in her current predicament.
“Are you finding your quarters comfortable?” he asked, his gaze traveling the room.
Already, the place was beginning to show her mark on it. The desk she had been provided had books strewn across it; her delicate bedding was slightly wrinkled from when she had sat on it; the vanity had brushes and hairpins haphazardly scattered all over. Violet had tried to keep everything tidy, but Tierra had requested she desist her efforts. It was not home—could never be home—but such slight imperfections made her feel marginally less like a caged garm.
“They are suitable,” Tierra replied at last, making certain he knew she was not pleased. “It is difficult to feel comfortable when one is a prisoner.”
“You are still angry with me.”
“I wonder why that is,” Tierra said dryly.
“You know,” King Canyon said, looking at her, “I had not expected you to have such fire. Before we met, I had been given the impression that you were a little more complacent than this.”
Tierra laughed outright. “While I would never have called myself ‘complacent,’ I suspect my fiancé has rubbed off on me a little.”
His gaze flickered away from hers briefly before returning. “Yes, your Skychild fiancé.”
Tierra smothered her irritation. Canyon often attempted to hide his distaste by speaking in measured tones, yet she could sense his feelings nonetheless. None of these underground Groundbreathers would ever understand how she could have feelings for a Skychild. After all, most of them had probably never even seen a Skychild. All they had to base their opinions on was what the Book of Terrain had to say, coupled with centuries of prejudices.
“He treats me well,” Tierra said. She felt as though she needed to defend Skye, yet she was uncertain what to say.
“Have I not treated you well?” the king returned.
“You have met and exceeded my basic needs,” Tierra said, “but there is more to what Skye does than that. Ours is a bond that has been tested and forged through the waters of Terrain.”
“Every relationship has a breaking point,” Canyon said, “but I shall not press you on that matter now. Instead, I shall ask you a question. Do you not feel closer to Terrain when underground?”
Tierra hesitated. She wanted to say that she felt close enough to Terrain among her own people. She wanted to defend her life and everyone important to her. But there was an earnestness in Canyon’s gaze that gave her pause. She considered the question honestly and reached out with her powers, feeling the comfort of having Terrain’s rich soil on all sides of her. Certainly, the ceiling of the underground cavern was high above her, but she nonetheless felt that gentle pulsing sensation, that comfort in knowing she was embraced by the works of Terrain’s hand.
