On Lonely Paths (Earth and Sky Book 2)

by Jann Rowland

  But he also felt desolation. From the way King Canyon had spoken and from what Skye had gleaned from Tierra and the others, a conflict was coming that he knew nothing about. His people would be put at a disadvantage due to the loss of the Fenik. That was sad in itself, but he also felt a deep sadness over the fact that the promise of only a few short months before had been lost so swiftly.

  Over this sense of loss, beyond all the ruin of the previous days, Skye found that he did still love Tierra, and he doubted anything would change that. Yet she did not have his trust at present, which was, like he had told Tierra, the true issue at hand. He could trust her to love him, but he could not trust her to trust him.

  Unfortunately, Tierra was the first one he encountered as he left the room in which he had been staying. The fact that she had been hovering nearby—in an obvious expression of concern—reached into the depths of his heart and reminded him of what he felt for her. But he could not give in to that part of him. Not now.

  “Skye!” she exclaimed when she caught sight of him.

  She rushed toward him and gave every appearance of intending to throw her arms around him, but she reconsidered the movement at the last moment and held herself back. The action brought a pang of remembrance of how things used to be, but Skye suppressed it ruthlessly.

  “Gusty says there is a skiff waiting to take us back to Skymount,” she said quietly. “How are you feeling?”

  Skye shrugged. He had felt unsteady when he had first risen, but that had quickly passed as he had readied himself. If not for the brand, which still seemed to leech his strength and drain his reserves, he could almost imagine that he was recovered from the ordeal and back to his former self.

  “You look a lot better,” Tierra said, stepping toward him and gazing up at him. “The gray is still present in your hair, but the lines in your face have been smoothed away to a certain extent. Do you feel any better?”

  “Well enough to do what needs to be done,” Skye returned. He had not known about the gray in his hair, and suddenly, his vanity sprang to life, and he wanted to look in a mirror. But he did not want to open himself up to even that small vulnerability in front of Tierra, so he said instead, as a sort of test, “Well enough to begin planning how to get the Fenik back.”

  Tierra’s flinch was unmistakable, and Skye felt a small sense of satisfaction at the sight of it. Immediately, however, he hated his own pettiness. Still, he pushed onward, unable to stop himself. “There is no time to waste. I have to get him back. The Fenik must be in the control of the Skychildren once again.”

  “Skye,” Tierra pleaded, a note of pain in her voice, “Canyon and Quicksilver cannot even use the Fenik to do anything—”

  “You don’t know that,” Skye snarled, stepping forward to tower over her. He had not missed the familiar way she had spoken about the Chosen king, and he wanted to intimidate her. He wanted her to shrink away from him. “Strix is clever, and he hates his present situation. He might be able to find a way to bypass the strictures that have been placed on him—to creatively interpret his position. Maybe these new Groundbreathers will get their hands on a Skychild and force him to command Strix to do something. Yes, Strix shouldn’t be able to obey anyone other than me, but we can’t trust in that! With all the upheaval in the Groundbreather kingdom right now, do you really think Groundbreather hands are the ones that should be holding Strix?”

  “I was wrong, Skye,” Tierra whispered. She sounded so broken, and Skye wanted to comfort her, but he hardened himself against her words. “I know the fault is mine. I should have told you what they were planning. But I am worried about my people, Skye. We cannot fly, and an aerial assault would be devastating.

  “And what is worse . . . I feel so empty now that we are no longer connected. It is like there is this Skye-shaped hole inside me that only you can fill.”

  Skye snorted and shook his head. “Your words and actions are at odds with each other. You say you worry about your people? Well, I’m the king of the Skychildren, and the future of my people is in my hands. The Fenik belongs to us. I have responsibilities to my people—”

  “And I have no responsibilities to mine?” Tierra returned. “I may not be queen, but I am the heir to the throne now that my father is dead.”

  “Yes, your father died for the sake of getting the Fenik to your precious Chosen king. Was it worth it?”

  Skye felt rather than saw the hand that flashed up to his face and slapped his cheek.

  “Do not talk that way,” Tierra said in a dangerous voice, tears glittering in her eyes. “I loved my father.”

  Skye looked away. The cruel comment had not been warranted, and he knew it. “I know you did,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry for your loss. But I can’t think clearly with you nearby right now. I need some time to myself. Do you and your mother have some Groundbreathers you can stay with?” He met her eyes then. Perhaps it would have been most logical for Tierra to stay in the sky palace, where she would be safe, but Skye did not want to risk running into her. He needed to be able to lick his wounds in private, and having her around would only serve as a reminder of his pain. The emotional wounds would reopen over and over each time he saw the sorrow on her face.

  “I am sure my mother knows someone,” Tierra murmured, her eyes falling down to her hands, which she was wringing over and over.

  “Speak with her, and then I’ll . . . I’ll have Gusty drop you all off there.” He had to bite back the offer to take the Groundbreathers himself. He needed some distance, and he needed it right away. “He’ll make contact with you once we figure out what to do next.”

  Tierra bit her lip, trembling, her eyes still moist with unshed tears. “Will you still marry me?”

  Skye made a sharp intake of breath. He had not expected that question. “You’re going to help me get the Fenik back,” he said quietly. “But after that, I’m not certain whether I ever want to see you again.”

  The small keen—barely audible—released by Tierra at his words was like a dagger to his heart. The words had hurt to say, but seeing their effect on Tierra hurt still more.

  She nodded three, four, five times, her lip trembling. And then a few fat teardrops leaked from her eyes, racing down her face. “I will go speak with my mother,” she managed, quivering. And then she fled.

  Skye stood there in the hallway, staring after her. He felt such a sense of emptiness, of loss. He and Tierra had not said goodbye forever—not yet—but it felt like they were standing on the edge of the precipice. One slight shove . . . and everything would be over.

  Skye took a few steps so that he could lean on the wall nearby and press his forehead against it. He found it hard to remain upright. His life felt like a series of losses. His parents had been taken from him. His relationship with Cirrus had been taken from him. The Fenik had been taken. And now his relationship with Tierra . . .

  This loss hurt the worst of all. Though he did little to try to improve his faults, he was aware of them. He knew he was a proud man—quick to anger, slow to forgive. Slow to trust. Once his wrath had been awakened, it was difficult to quell. Tierra had done it once, but he was not so certain she could do so again.

  Now was not the time to allow himself to be soothed. Now was the time for Skye to be hard, resolved. The Fenik had been taken from him, and with this talk of the Chosen going to war and the emergence of that massive beast under their control, the Skychildren were at a distinct disadvantage. And though Skye did not wish to think of the Groundbreathers above-ground at present due to their association with Tierra, he was forced to admit that they would be at a disadvantage, even if Tierra could be installed in the place of her loathsome sister. The Fenik had to be recovered, if only to face this new abomination of the Groundbreathers.

  With this in mind, Skye pushed himself off the wall against which he had been leaning and continued on his way. It was time to return to Skymount.

  But as he walked, his traitorous mind returned to the problem of a petite prin
cess with a glorious wealth of dark hair on her head and a pair of beautiful eyes framed by rows of long and lustrous lashes.

  It was then that it hit him. Skye stopped dead in his tracks. Images of Tierra assaulted him—not from events that had played out since he had met her, but images from his dreams during the long weeks of their separation. And though he could not quite determine how he had missed it, his mind traveled further back into his past, linking those dreams with ones he had often had before he had ever met her.

  Thinking back on those images, Skye tried desperately to divorce the two, to tell himself that he had never dreamed of Tierra until after their meeting on the ground world. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not convince himself he had not seen Tierra before he had ever met her. Something—he was not sure what—made him absolutely certain.

  What did it mean? As a Skychild, he was well aware of the fact that prophecy did not exist, that it was impossible to predict the future. That was one of the few beliefs the Skychildren shared with the Groundbreathers. But if Skye had dreamed of Tierra before ever meeting her, did that not suggest some level of prophecy?

  At one time—a time not long ago—Skye would have happily ignored the prophetic component of these images. How much had changed in so brief a time! But he decided he could not think about such issues at that instant. Other matters had to take precedence, and once he had achieved a little distance from recent events, perhaps he could think about the matter with more clarity.

  So Skye put it out of his mind and began to walk again toward his goal. And when he entered the room, he saw everyone look up at him expectantly. Even Tierra was there, though she only spared him a brief glance of her red-rimmed eyes.

  “It is time to leave for Skymount,” Skye said.

  As journeys went, it was uneventful. Traveling on the old vessel provided to them by the people of the sky village where they were staying made it that much quicker. For much of the journey, Skye rode on the back of his trusty pegasus, avoiding the others. And when he was aboard the glider, he typically took the helm, separating himself from the group as much as he could contrive.

  When at last the towers of the Skychild palace rose in the distance, Skye let out a sigh of relief. Though his home had not always been a place of rest, still, it was his home, and he could not wait to be in his own room again. Skye only shifted slightly, directing the glider toward its destination, but the movement caused a twinge in his chest above his heart, reminding him of how much had changed since he had left. Some things would never be the same.

  With an expertise that was the product of both practice and instinct, Skye brought the craft up to the dock, holding it steady while Gusty and Griffin jumped from the vessel and secured it in place. Then the travelers all stepped from the craft, the Groundbreathers stretching their legs in obvious relief. It had been a long journey for them, no doubt. When the Skychildren became cramped, they could step off the glider and carry themselves in the air for a time. The Groundbreathers, however, had no such reprieve.

  “I will contact you when I have an idea of the situation and an inkling of a plan,” Skye said to Sequoia once they had all disembarked. “I trust you have a place you can go in the meantime?”

  Sequoia nodded, though it was a clipped motion, different in tone from the increasing cordiality of their relationship over the past few weeks. “Based on what you told me of the Groundbreathers you spoke with outside the castle as well as other information I have collected, I believe I know where our people are gathering. We will not allow Wisteria to dominate our people without a fight.”

  “Good,” Skye said with a nod of his own. He hesitated and then said, “Until then.”

  Turning, Skye walked away, motioning for Gusty to follow him a short distance away from the others to speak.

  “Please take them to the ground world and see them to wherever they want to go,” Skye said. Pausing for a moment, he wrestled with what to say, but then he added, “Make sure they’re safe when you drop them off. Do a bit of scouting to make sure Wisteria doesn’t have anyone skulking in the area.”

  “Skye?” Gusty asked, the hesitance in his voice bludgeoning Skye with hammers of regret and hurt.

  “Just do it!” Skye snapped.

  Then Skye walked away, heading toward the entrance to the palace. He did not turn and look to see if his orders were being followed. Better he make this clean break from Tierra now rather than agonize over it. He would see her again soon enough, whether he wanted to or not. This was not goodbye forever, even if part of him thought it would be better if it was.

  The guards he came upon snapped to attention at the sight of him. No doubt he looked a disheveled mess, but he could scarcely bring himself to care.

  “Your Majesty!” one of the Sentinels exclaimed.

  “Sentinels,” was the only greeting Skye could manage.

  Once inside the palace, he caught the attention of a nearby servant and said, “Tell Seneschal Bluster I have returned. I’ll be in my rooms if he wants to speak with me.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the wide-eyed man said before he hurried off.

  Everyone he passed seemed surprised—and perhaps even a little worried—upon seeing him, but he could not bring himself to analyze their concern. Instead, he hurried to his room, where he flung himself into a chair and buried his hands in his hair.

  It was not long before a knock at the door drew his attention.

  He let out a small sigh. He should have known better than to hope to be left alone for a little while longer. “Come in,” he called out.

  As expected, Bluster stepped inside. Unfortunately, the man’s expression was not filled with pleasure but worry. “Your Majesty,” he said.

  “You know it is ‘Skye’ to you,” Skye said halfheartedly.

  “Did you succeed in your mission?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Skye said with a grimace. “Tierra is safe now, though I lost something else important.”

  “There’s something you should know,” Bluster said. The fact that he did not ask Skye for more details concerning what was lost served as evidence of his preoccupation. “I have failed you, Skye. In more ways than one, I fear.”

  Skye’s heart, which had already been aching, felt as though it had been squeezed with dread. “What do you mean?”

  “The dowager queen . . . she has been kidnapped.”

  For a few moments, Skye could only blink. “What?”

  “I thought she was being looked after well enough,” Bluster said, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “But there has been a lot of unrest since you have been gone. Factions have arisen. I have tried to hold everything together, Skye, but . . .”

  Of course. It was not enough that the Fenik was gone and Skye’s connection to Tierra severed. Now Mista had been taken, and Skye would have to fight to keep his kingdom from falling apart. And all of that was not taking into account the mysterious plots that were being hatched in the ground realm.

  “A few hours,” Skye said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Give me a few hours, and then you can fill me in on everything that has been happening, and we can form a plan about what to do. Gusty should arrive at the palace soon. When he does, advise him of the situation and ask him to prepare to meet with us in my room. Once I know more, we can figure out who else needs to be involved.”

  Bluster nodded, and he moved as if to leave, but then he hesitated, looking at Skye. “Are you all right, Skye?”

  Skye gave a humorless bark of laughter. “No. But I will be.”

  Bluster studied him for a moment more, and then he went out the door, leaving Skye alone with his thoughts.

  After several minutes of sitting there, suffocated by the emotions whirling in his mind, Skye stood and walked over to his wardrobe. He retrieved the small box at the bottom of the wardrobe and opened it, his fingers trembling as he did so.

  Gingerly, he pulled out the two wedding bracelets nestled inside and dropped the
box to the floor before retreating once more to his chair. He put the bracelets in his lap, fiddling with the clasps, angry and desperate, sorrowful and agitated.

  Then he stopped toying with the two bracelets and stared down at them. He remembered the vow he had made to himself before leaving to find Tierra, the vow that she would one day wear her wedding bracelet. What a fool he had been to think everything could turn out so neatly.

  He looked down at the bracelet that was supposed to be hers. With the clasp undone, it no longer formed a circle. “The circle has been broken,” he murmured to himself. “Can it be mended? Is there anything left to mend?”

  He wanted to throw the bracelets across the room in a fit of petulance. But he only held the two broken circles, gazing down at them. He felt so lonely and devastated. He did not know what to do.

  He feared that he and Tierra might be walking different paths now. He had a duty to his people to find the Fenik. Even if Tierra helped him retrieve Strix, could he ever trust her again?

  “The circle has been broken,” he murmured again, bringing a hand up to his heart. Beneath his shirt, the brand there seemed to burn him, hot as fire and just as cruel. He did not even have the strength to cry.

  And so,

  here ends On Lonely Paths,

  Book Two of the Earth and Sky trilogy.

  Book Three in the series, On Tides of Fate,

  follows the continuing struggles of Skye and Tierra

  as they discover the secrets of the very gods themselves,

  and fight a war that will decide the fate of the entire world.

  Please enjoy the following excerpt from the upcoming novel On Tides of Fate, book three of the Earth and Sky trilogy.

  Wisteria was much as Terrace remembered. She was heavyset, though not quite overweight, with the brown hair and eyes of her people, and though her younger sister was delicate and slender, Wisteria was rather like a battering ram in comparison. She was not unattractive, but Terrace knew many men would be put off by her plainer features and the contemptuous curl of her lips. If, indeed, they had not already been put off by her domineering manner and poisonous tongue. With some interest, Terrace noted a few pockmarked scars on Wisteria’s face, including one—quite deep—just under her left eye. Terrace wondered whether she had been in a battle of some kind.