by Lelia Eye
One Groundbreather who was particularly dark of eye stepped forward and said, “Behold! We have the great beast before us and shall now tame it!”
The descendants of Terrain smirked at each other and rubbed their hands together in greed and malice.
Alas, the Fenik had been commanded by the bright-eyed Celesta herself that it could not act without the blessing of one of her descendants, and no Skychild was present to prevent the Groundbreathers from carrying out their crime.
And so it was that the Groundbreathers were able to bind the great creature and carry it off to their stolen glider, all to the triumphant acclaim of their loathsome people. Their success in stealing the Fenik was cause for rejoicing.
—The Book of Celesta
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Enslavement
The first few days after finding Aspen with Wisteria were miserable ones for Tierra. Not only did Wisteria take delight in rubbing Tierra’s nose in the fact that the boy who had been paying attention to Tierra preferred her, but she also had no trouble flaunting his affections in front of anyone and everyone. Wisteria’s actions had always pushed proper behavior almost to the edge of breaking it, but in this instance, she appeared intent upon scandalizing everyone in the castle. It had finally taken a sharp word from Queen Sequoia to make Wisteria desist, though her smug smile did not diminish in the slightest.
As for the boy himself, he made a few halfhearted attempts to explain himself to Tierra, but she told him she had no interest in what he had to say. She had decided that Aspen was not what she desired in a marriage partner, and she had informed him, quite forcefully, that she did not want to hear his excuses and that she wished him well with her shrew of a sister.
In truth, Aspen and Wisteria’s behavior was occasionally a source of amusement for Tierra. Aspen clearly did not excite Wisteria’s affections in anything other than the most rudimentary fashion, as she generally had no attention to give him when she lacked an appropriate audience. When Tierra was watching, of course, Wisteria showered him with warmth. After several instances of this treatment, Aspen had begun to look forlorn, and Tierra guessed that he was regretting his decision to throw off the younger princess for the elder. When it became too much for him after a few days, he departed for his father’s home, presumably to lick his wounds in private. Neither sister was disturbed by his departure.
After Aspen left, things seemed to settle down. Wisteria focused her attentions on other pursuits, and her taunting lessened to its usual level.
It was not too long after Aspen left that Tierra sat in her chambers with River, her cousin and best friend. River was a precocious young woman who was slightly older than Tierra and of a much more practical mindset. River’s mother, Terrace, was King Tillman’s younger sister and had married a wealthy baron soon after coming of age. While Tierra was not close to Terrace, she and River had been friends for as long as she could remember. In fact, River was more of a sister to Tierra than Wisteria had ever been.
They did not always see eye-to-eye, however. One subject in particular which caused tension between them was Tierra’s desire for adventure. River had never been able to understand the appeal of such a thing, and she could sometimes be caustic in her denunciation of Tierra’s longing for excitement. Of course, River had always had her life mapped out for her. As a traditionalist, Terrace had betrothed her daughter to another baron’s son when River was very young. That River emulated her mother’s rather pragmatic outlook meant she had never needed to look beyond the confines of her life, and she was content with that. Tierra did not share these feelings, and whenever they discussed River’s wedding, which was less than half a year away, Tierra always felt uncomfortable. How could River accept marriage to someone who had been chosen for her?
“I wonder what Skychild settlements are like,” Tierra mused during a lull in their conversation.
River’s reaction consisted of a huff and a severe look directed at Tierra. “Why would you ever want to see such a savage place?”
“Just think of it, River. They have villages in the clouds! What an adventure it would be to see such exotic places!”
“More like savage places,” River replied with a disdainful sniff. “I cannot imagine that a village in the clouds could be in any way civilized, peopled as it is by such animals as the Skychildren.”
“The slaves in the castle appear to be anything but savage. They seem to be nice . . . for Skychildren.”
“It would not do for you to be seen speaking with the slaves,” River said in admonishment. “Your mother would not like it at all.”
Tierra rolled her eyes. “I am well aware of what my mother would consider improper. I have not been talking to the Skychildren. I am only observing that on the occasions I have had contact with them, they appeared to be very nice, and I did not find them to be in any way ‘savage,’ as you put it.”
River shook her head, but she did not reply. In truth, Tierra knew that she should not be speaking to River of such things, but the young woman was her only confidant at the moment, and Tierra felt the need to confide in someone.
“Have you never wanted to see other places?” Tierra asked despite herself. “Or are you content to spend your life in a confined space and never see or do anything of any importance? I would even be satisfied if something big happened here to make things more interesting.”
“I have been to other places,” River enunciated as though speaking to a small child. “I have been to my father’s home and to my betrothed’s home, and I have traveled in between and seen many parts of the kingdom. I have never been able to understand why something like that is never enough for you.”
“I feel trapped in this castle. Having to live near Wisteria does not help.”
At that, River gave her a sympathetic look. River did indeed fully understand the difficulty between the siblings, and she knew how Wisteria acted. In fact, though she would never say so in front of others—it would not do to offend the future monarch, after all—River did not like Wisteria much at all.
“You need to find someone to take you away from this castle and out from under your sister’s thumb. But do not worry, Tierra. It will happen eventually.” Her smile became absolutely wicked. “And if Wisteria will not let up, then we will simply have to encourage her to do so. Do you think she would appreciate a ground-snake in her bed?”
The thought induced a few giggles, and then the friends began laughing outright at the image. It would serve Wisteria right, Tierra thought. She truly deserved it. Then again, Wisteria was as much a slithering snake as any reptile Tierra had ever seen, so it was possible she would not react the way Tierra imagined.
Their mirth was short-lived, however, as soon there was a knock on the door to Tierra’s chambers. The Groundbreather princess exchanged a look with her cousin before bidding the visitor enter.
A female Groundwalker came in and bobbed a curtsey. As was typical of the Groundwalker people, she was shorter and lighter-skinned than Tierra and River, and her demeanor was submissive. Like all the servants in the castle, the Groundwalker wore a loose dress made of serviceable cotton. The long dress had a brown bodice and a forest-green skirt, the colors vibrant in an understated manner like most Groundbreather clothing. The male servants wore a similar outfit, with a brown tunic over green trousers, also loose, as was the Groundbreather custom.
“The king and queen have summoned you to the throne room, Your Highness.”
Tierra frowned, trying to remember the girl’s name. “Your name is Lianne, correct?”
The servant nodded, her eyes down-turned. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Do you know what my parents want from me, Lianne? Are you sure they were not asking for Wisteria?”
The Groundwalker shook her head. “They said that you should come right away, Your Highness, not your sister.” She glanced back and forth between Tierra and River, obviously unsure as to whether she should say more, but then s
he finally told them in a low voice, “I suspect it has something to do with the Skychild who was just captured.”
“They caught a Skychild?” Tierra asked in surprise. “Was it the one who escaped before?”
“I do not know, Your Highness,” Lianne said in a small voice. “I only know that there is some talk among the servants about a captured Skychild.”
River looked at Tierra and smiled. “You may get your excitement after all.”
* * *
In light of what Lianne had said about a Skychild being captured, Tierra was not surprised when her parents told her she was being given a slave. What she did not expect, however, was the condition of the young man.
His clothes were the traditional slave garb—a rough gray smock over a heavy tunic with a belt and loose trousers—and his neck was encircled by the collar that enslaved Skychildren were forced to wear in the ground realm; that was all very typical. But what drew her eyes were the fierce red lines on his face and arms. Though she had never personally seen such a thing, she knew the marks could only have been caused by a garm attack.
Her mother, noticing Tierra’s examination of the man, said: “The healers cleaned him and healed a wound he had on the back of his head, but he awoke fighting before they were able to finish with him. I am afraid the slave you are being given will require discipline.” The queen’s lips were pursed in disapproval.
The other three Skychild slaves in the castle were very deferential, seldom meeting their masters’ eyes and always doing what was asked of them without question. This slave, however, held his head high and proud, and the expression on his face could best be termed as a glare. His straight hair was short and blond, and his eyes, which were the dark hue of cobalt, seemed filled with disgust. He appeared so tall and exotic standing near her parents, and Tierra was reminded of a feral beast. He did not give the impression of being cowed by any means; rather, he held himself as though he allowed his captors to exist on nothing more than his sufferance. He might have been captured by the Groundbreathers, but he would be waiting for a chance to strike. Even as that observation caused Tierra to shiver, she was struck by the fact that he was quite handsome.
As she watched the Skychild look over the assembled Groundbreathers with an expression much like that of an arrogant king examining his subjects, Tierra felt a tug on her consciousness. It was impossible to understand, much less explain; the only thing she could equate it to was the sensation of a child gently pulling on her hair. It was as though she had seen him before in a dream. It was an odd feeling . . . and even somewhat frightful.
Dismissing such thoughts, she continued to study him. Wisteria would have been much better equipped to handle a recalcitrant slave such as this, but Tierra would have no choice in the matter. The Skychild was Tierra’s by her parents’ decree, and that was that. Furthermore, her mother would expect her to exert some control over the man. So she set her shoulders, thanked her parents, and told her slave to follow her.
She took a few steps, craning her neck to watch him, but he refused to move.
“I’m not an animal,” he told her in a guttural growl that seemed to belie his words. But though he spoke to her, his wary eyes remained on the beast that rested between the king and queen.
The garm that stood there was named Stone, and he was the largest of his kind that Tierra had ever seen. His shoulders bulged with muscles, and his albino coloration was also unlike any other garm that Tierra had ever come across, as most garms were possessed of a dark brown coloring, with a hint of red highlights. It would be no wonder if the Skychild felt intimidated by the creature . . . particularly since Stone’s gaze was fixed unblinkingly on him.
“Go with her, slave,” Queen Sequoia said in disgust, “or we shall break out the whip.”
The slave’s eyes moved to the queen and then to her daughter, and Tierra felt she was being measured, every piece of her judged and categorized. And then the Skychild gave a slight smile, as if he had successfully filed away each of her weaknesses, and he stepped forward.
After glancing at Stone, who took more interest in the Skychild than she had ever seen him express in a newcomer, Tierra began to walk once more, feeling puzzled. There was something in the way that the Skychild moved—something that said he was taking his leave of the king and queen because he wanted to, not because he had to. It was as if he thought himself a baron rather than a slave, and Tierra could not help but give her father a pleading glance, though what she was asking for exactly, she did not know. Tillman simply smiled at her and gave her a nod, as if indicating he had confidence in her abilities.
* * *
Skye had been less than pleased to wake up with the filthy hands of Groundbreather healers upon him, and he had started to give them the fight of their lives before his struggles had finally been quelled by his realization that he was trapped, for the time being, in their world. The slave collar, the Groundbreather healers had told him, would keep him from flying away, so he might as well accept his fate without protest.
The collar had been the first indignity he had suffered. It was made of broad links formed from a type of metal Skye had never before seen, and it fit snugly around his neck, making him feel like he was choking at times. He had instantly despised the Groundbreathers’ way of marking their slaves like animals, but there had been no way for him to remove it himself. However, in spite of knowing that he could not escape the Groundbreathers at present, he was unable to become docile in an instant, and he had refused to allow the Groundbreather healers to continue healing his wounds. He did not want their hands touching him for a second longer than necessary.
The next indignity he had suffered had been the clothes they had forced him to wear. Not even the most impoverished Skychild in the kingdom would have ever been caught wearing something so colorless and unadorned as the uninspired pieces of cloth they gave him to protect his modesty. He would have almost preferred to walk around nude than wear what was provided to him by the dirt-lovers.
And then, after he had been marched away from the healers’ ward, he had been assigned as the personal slave of Princess Tierra. When he first rested his eyes on her, he had felt something niggling at the back of his consciousness, as if he had seen her before. He had quickly pushed the feeling aside and looked her up and down, labeling every piece of her as if it would succeed in giving him power over her.
She had amber eyes that lacked the harshness found in her mother’s, and her dark chestnut hair cascaded down her back with a sort of abandon that seemed atypical for one of her kind. Her high-waisted dress, which was loose and conservative in the Groundbreather style, was a muted yellow—not one of the earthy tones favored by the other Groundbreathers surrounding them, but certainly not one of the eye-catching colors worn by Skye’s people. Her face was a little broader and rounder than a typical Skychild’s, though it was not so broad as her father’s, and there was a certain quirk to her full lips that made Skye wonder what she was thinking as she gazed upon him. Her form was slight, as if she could be crushed by a Skychild with an especially large hand, but she was not so short as to seem utterly dwarfed by Skye. She did have one surprising embellishment, however, in the form of a single silver stud in one of her ears, and he wondered what her mother thought of it.
When Skye had sneered at his new “mistress” after studying her appearance, she had seemed taken aback at the expression, and he had felt an odd sense of satisfaction over her reaction. While he could tell she was nothing like her mother, he had no intention of cultivating any sort of relationship with her, and he wanted her to know he found her to be utterly beneath him.
As they walked through the hallway, the princess said quietly, “I am taking you to my room so we can talk.” She spoke in what he had learned was the typical Groundbreather speech pattern, slow and formal, with a bit of a drawl.
He continued walking, refusing to say a word.
“I apologize if my mother seemed harsh,” she said when h
e did not respond. “It is merely her way.”
Again, he remained silent. Perhaps the princess would soon realize he had no desire to speak with her. He could only hope.
* * *
When Tierra arrived at her chambers with her new slave, she was relieved to see that River was not waiting for her. She wanted to talk to the Skychild in private, but she had already learned that such a thing would be much easier said than done. Whereas the other slaves in the castle were quiet in a way that was meant to be submissive, this one was cloaked in silent fury.
Closing the door, Tierra turned to look at him once more. He stared back at her, a mountain standing proud and immobile in the midst of a storm, and she asked him, “What is your name?”
A flicker of surprise broke through the angry mask on his face. His brow curved inward while he looked at her, as if he were trying to discern whether she had a hidden agenda. Then he answered simply, “Skye.”
He had obviously not expected her to care enough to inquire after his name, and in truth, she was not supposed to show interest in learning what slaves called themselves. But she had managed to coax names from each of the Skychildren in the castle, though her sister’s slave—Gusty—had been slightly more willing to tell her than her parents’ slaves had. Since her parents’ slaves had been in bondage for years, they were particularly caught in the mire of submission.
“My name is Tierra. I do not know what you have been told and how much you know about the Groundbreathers, but my parents are King Tillman and Queen Sequoia, and my older sister is named Wisteria. We are the ruling family.”
When he did not seem inclined to respond, she continued to talk. “I would be interested in learning more about you and your people. We do not . . . we have no real knowledge of your kind down here.”
