On Wings of Air (Earth and Sky Book 1)

by Lelia Eye

  “You want to tear down my palace?” Skye asked, aghast.

  “We can build you another,” Tierra snapped. “This is about our survival.”

  Aware that Tierra had a point, he turned back to those who were awaiting his orders.

  “Do as she said!” he commanded. “Skychildren, those of you who aren’t helping with the stone lances, try to make flying more difficult for the Fenik. Onward!”

  As Skye rose in the air, several members of the resistance did the same. Gale, Typhoon, and Cirrus were among them. Some of his followers, however, stayed where they were to coordinate attacks with the Groundbreathers. Part of him wanted to be down there with them, guarding Tierra. Yet he could hear her giving directions, and he knew they were both where they needed to be.

  The Fenik roared at the sight of him, spewing forth a torrent of flames. Skye and the soldiers near him flung up a wall of wind to redirect the fire. They were successful, yet Skye feared they would all tire soon.

  He glanced at Hawkins, who was hovering in the air by the Fenik and muttering orders which the dragon seemed none too happy to receive.

  “Resistance,” Skye called out, “everyone needs to send a gust of wind toward the Fenik on three. One . . . two . . . three!”

  The air howled as wind went shooting forward. The Fenik reared up, buffeted by the attack. The Seneschal cursed as he was pushed back.

  The Fenik snapped his long neck backward to say something to the Seneschal. Skye was not sure, but he thought it was a warning for Hawkins to stay behind him.

  Meanwhile, the Groundbreathers had prepared their first set of stone lances. Their Skychild partners sent the lances shooting through the air at the dragon.

  Skye held his breath. But as he watched, the lances bounced off the Fenik, utterly ineffective.

  He could feel Tierra’s own disappointment through their bond. “Try one more time,” he suggested. “Tell your people to aim for the head.”

  “All right,” she sent in return. “But I do not think it will work. The Fenik’s scales seem impenetrable. He may truly be the ultimate weapon.”

  Skye did not reply. His thoughts were in line with hers. But they had to try.

  The Fenik opened its mouth, and a stream of flames came forth. The blistering heat spiraled outward.

  “Wind barrier!” was all Skye had time to bite out. He and his soldiers threw up a wall of wind. The flames disappeared, but it was a close one.

  “Skye!” Cirrus shouted.

  Skye glanced over at him and saw him pointing. Skye looked down. Then he snapped out a pair of whirlwinds as a volley of arrows came hurtling through the air.

  Not all of his soldiers were as quick to react. An arrow sprouted in Typhoon’s chest. His mouth opened wordlessly, and he fell to the ground.

  Skye bit back a cry. He moved his gaze to Hawkins, feeling an even deeper hatred for the man welling up within him. The Seneschal would pay for all the people who died this day.

  “Move closer together!” Skye shouted to the other Skychildren in the air. “Everyone grab a partner and stay back to back. One of you will defend against those arrows. The other needs to beat back the Fenik’s flames and keep it from assaulting people on the ground.”

  Gale and Cirrus moved down the line of Skychildren to assist with assigning partners.

  To buy some time, Skye sent a great cyclone rushing forward. The Fenik eyed it warily as it came but had little difficulty withstanding its fierce winds. Though the funnel was not as big as the one Skye had created when fighting Stratus, it drained a lot of energy from him. It was difficult to stay airborne.

  “Your Highness,” Gale said, coming up beside him to take his back. “You deal with the arrows. I’ll take the Fenik.”

  Skye nodded in gratitude and switched places with her. It would not improve the morale of the resistance if their leader were to drop out of the sky from exhaustion.

  He turned his head as another volley of stone lances came surging forward. Yet though the majority succeeded in hitting the Fenik’s head, all they did was irritate the beast.

  “Surrender, Skye!” the Seneschal called out. “You’ll never penetrate the Fenik’s scales!”

  Skye looked down, batting away arrows with a gust of wind. “It’s not working,” he said to Tierra over their bond. “I don’t think we can hurt the Fenik. We’ll need to go after Hawkins instead. You should concentrate on attacking him.”

  “I agree,” she returned. “But Skye . . . I can sense you holding back. Why?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I can’t put you at risk, Tierra.”

  “Then we might all die. These people are depending on you. We need to figure out something fast!”

  His thoughts darted to Cirrus and Gale and the downed Typhoon. Tierra was right. He had to end this battle soon. “All right. I’m going to create a distraction.”

  “I love you, Skye.”

  “I love you, too,” he told her, his chest constricting. He took in a deep breath and turned to Gale. “Stay here and cover me from afar. I’m going to the Fenik and Hawkins.”

  “Your Highness—” the woman protested.

  Skye ignored her and shot forward.

  The Fenik, as if waiting for him, let loose a ball of flames. But Skye was expecting that. A gust of wind took him out of the fire’s path.

  The dragon’s eyes watched as Skye went higher. Then the beast sent another barrage of flames forward, this one a constant stream. Skye rose further into the air, feeling the heat from the fire as it drew closer to him.

  Skye ascended into the sky at an angle, going directly above the Fenik. The great dragon’s wings beat furiously at the air as it strove to get close enough to roast its target alive.

  Skye went into a nosedive. The wind howled in his ears as he plummeted to a space behind Hawkins. “Tierra!” Skye thought urgently.

  The Fenik struggled to correct his course. His body was made for power, not speed. “Skychild!” he hissed, realizing too late what Skye had done.

  A salvo of broken stones flew through the air. They pummeled the Seneschal, who was no longer shielded by the dragon’s body.

  “Good shot!” Skye sent to Tierra. He dropped further down, grabbing the disoriented Hawkins. Skye knew he was safe from the Fenik’s fire in that moment. He threw a punch at the Seneschal’s face, watching with pleasure as the man spat blood.

  “Filthy dirt-eater,” Hawkins growled. He began struggling in Skye’s grip. “I’ll feed you to the Fenik!”

  Ignoring the Seneschal, Skye called out to the Fenik, “Come now, Strix. What are you waiting for? Finish me off now, and you shall have your victory. Immolate both of us in your fire, and you shall be free to do as you wish!”

  “Skye!” Tierra cried out in his mind.

  “He won’t touch me while I’ve got Hawkins,” Skye replied, soothing her. “Just get ready to take Hawkins out if he manages to get away from me.”

  “All right.”

  The Seneschal attempted to twist about. Skye’s full attention was therefore drawn back to the struggling form he was holding. Hawkins tried to throw back his head and catch Skye in the face, but Skye avoided the blow. He then landed a punch to the man’s kidney, causing him to wheeze in pain.

  “I’ll kill you, Skye,” Hawkins spat. He finally succeeded in turning and produced a dagger from within his clothes. Then he jabbed the dagger outward.

  Skye released Hawkins and dodged to the side while raising a whirlwind. It caught Hawkins and flung him in circles, disorienting him. A blast of wind caught Skye in the chest, knocking him back several feet.

  Strix, who had been hovering overhead, abruptly went into a steep dive at Skye. Skye forced the wind to the side and moved away. The beast flailed about, attempting to knock Skye out of the air. A volley from the joint forces of the Groundbreathers and Skychildren caught the Fenik unawares, pelting it about the head and neck. Primal roars vibrated the air.

 
Allowing the dragon to pass by, Skye darted forward. He used every last ounce of power to speed toward the Seneschal. Hawkins shot backward in panic, but Skye tackled him in midair.

  Hawkins stabbed at Skye. In one fluid movement, Skye captured the man’s hand, wrenched the dagger away, and buried it in the Seneschal’s neck. Hawkins’s eyes bulged out for a brief moment before rolling to the back of his head. Then he began to plummet from the clouds.

  A scream of fury erupted from the Fenik. Skye looked up to see the crazed jeweled eyes affixed on him in rage. For an instant, Skye thought that the Fenik would attack him for killing his chosen master. But then it abruptly turned and dove toward the palace.

  Uncertain as to what new devilry was afoot, Skye started to follow. Yet he paused briefly to give Tierra a mental nudge and gather the winds around her form, lifting her up with him. Though exhausted from the battle, he needed her at his side.

  Tierra took their flight in stride, and as they moved toward the Fenik, she asked him, “What is Strix doing?”

  “I don’t know,” Skye replied. “But it can’t be good.”

  The Fenik alighted among the broken flagstones of the palace floor, and as Skye swooped in with Tierra, he heard its words.

  “Queen Mista,” it said, “what is your bidding?”

  Skye’s eyes widened in astonishment. It was surprising that the Fenik thought it could look to Mista for guidance . . . and that it had immediately been able to determine where she was. While Skye knew Mista had not participated in the battle, he had not maintained any sense of where the woman was. Either the Fenik had guessed at the queen’s fear, or it had some sort of sense regarding where members of the royal family were. Either way, it obviously hoped to use Mista to achieve its goals—whatever those happened to be.

  “I don’t know,” the trembling voice of the queen floated up from behind a tapestry where she had been hiding.

  “What’s he saying?” Tierra murmured to Skye.

  “The Fenik asked Mista what her bidding was. It wants directions from her.” Though Skye wanted to say more, he clamped his mouth shut as the dragon spoke again.

  “I can give you anything you want,” the Fenik’s voice took on a patient yet pleading tone. “With me, you could rule over the sky and cleanse the stain of the Groundbreathers from the world. You have only to command me.”

  “What do I care of ruling over people or killing the Groundbreathers?” Mista’s voice came again. “I don’t want anything like that. I’ve always just done what my uncle told me. He beat me if I did not.”

  “Mista,” Tierra spoke up, “you need to listen to me. You do not have to deal with this if you do not want to. Your uncle is dead now.”

  “Silence, Groundbreather!” the Fenik hissed, moving toward Tierra. A rumbling growl had begun in the depths of his chest.

  But she did not appear to be impressed with his show of pique. “Say that you relinquish the throne, and all will be made better.”

  “No, Skychild queen!” the Fenik thundered at Mista. “You must listen to me!”

  “Listening to you didn’t get my uncle anywhere,” Mista replied, her voice growing in strength as she looked from Tierra to Skye.

  Mista took in a deep breath, her burgeoning confidence causing her to stand tall. “I hereby declare that I relinquish the throne and give up my position as queen. Let the rightful ruler take his place!”

  Celesta’s first creation had one flaw from which all his other flaws stemmed: an inability to be content with what he had been given. Terrain’s heart was filled with envy at the power and majesty of his mother, and he could not understand that she had passed a mere portion of her power to him. He was nothing compared to his mother.

  Eventually, the time came when dark-eyed Terrain grew weary with the world he could never rule over. And in the manner of a petulant godling, he grew disappointed at his followers’ fickle natures.

  When he saw the Fenik had been captured, his discontentment began to recede, though it would never leave him completely. While he could not determine how to use the Fenik in the manner he had intended, the joy he felt at having barred the Skychildren from access to the creature was enough to pacify him.

  So without the slightest word to his followers, he left them behind and buried himself deep in the ground, intent on watching over his descendants from afar, just as Celesta watches over her descendants from the stars.

  —The Book of Celesta

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SIX

  Explanations

  A great silence filled the air. Then, with agonizing slowness, the Fenik turned toward Skye.

  His golden eyes burned with rage as he inclined his head. “What is your bidding?” he grated. Smoke curled out of his nostrils.

  Skye felt as if a great tension had lifted from his shoulders. The Fenik could be pacified. He straightened, garbing himself in the mantle of authority, and asked, “Can you change forms upon my command?”

  The Fenik’s eyes gleamed with barely contained anger. “Yes. You can command me to switch between this form and the bird form given to me by Celesta.”

  A smile grew on Skye’s face. “Then I command you to return to your bird form.”

  The malice and rage on that scaled face was unmistakable. The Fenik threw his head back and let loose an earth-shattering roar.

  Skye and Tierra stepped backward as the beast burst into flames. Skye shielded his face from the bright colors, scarcely able to withstand the flare of light while standing so close. Recalling the whirlwind that had occurred when the Fenik had taken on its dragon form, he pulled Tierra close and held on tightly. Mista would live if she were flung from the clouds; Tierra would not.

  The expected swirl of wind ripped through the air, picking up loose stones and shattered pieces of art and the other remnants of the partially dismantled palace.

  Skye cursed and flew backward with Tierra as they were pelted by the debris. The whirlwind gained in intensity, consuming the form of the Fenik, and then the Fenik’s guttural roar became a plaintive yet melodious cry that sent a shiver down Skye’s spine. It filled the air, reverberating throughout the throne room like some unholy creature’s wail.

  At last, all fell silent, and Skye turned a wary eye on the Fenik, moving forward with Tierra when he was certain it posed no more threat.

  The Fenik glared up at him from a pile of ashes, and were it not so consumed with fury over how the battle had ended, it might have taken pride in the fact that Tierra and Skye were staring upon its form in awe.

  The Fenik’s color caught the eye first. While the majority of its plumage could be said to be a deep crimson, its feathers were iridescent, gleaming with gold, yellow, red, and orange hues in every shade as it moved in the light. The tips of its tail and wing feathers and the crest that adorned its head were purely gold, lending Strix a fiery appearance unlike any bird Skye had ever seen. Its neck was longer and more graceful than a swan’s and led up to a soft face with a long ebony beak which curved slightly downward and formed a sharp point like a cruel bird of prey. And perhaps the most distinctive feature in a form which was wondrous and unique was the dark eyes which expressed a malice at odds with the ephemeral beauty of the Fenik’s body. Its legs—slender and gleaming, themselves the deepest black—clutched at the ground, as if the bird were preparing to launch itself in the air.

  While Skye would have appreciated some time to study Strix further, he did not want to give the bird the satisfaction, so he merely commanded, “Stay there. I won’t have you flying away in an attempt to flout my authority.”

  The Fenik’s expression seemed to darken, but it did not move.

  “Mista,” Skye called. “Are you all right?”

  His stepmother had been flung some distance away by the Fenik’s winds, and she was curled up in a ball on the ground. “Is it over?” she asked, her voice almost a sob.

  “You’re safe now, Mista,” Skye said kindly, feeling pity come
over him for this pathetic young woman. He had been hard on her, he knew, but now that Mista would no longer be used against him or Tierra, he felt he could at last soften toward her. “Please come here.”

  Mista still hesitated, so Tierra began to inch toward her, saying, “Your uncle is dead, and the Fenik is a harmless bird now. Skye can control him. You have nothing to fear.”

  Slowly, Mista lifted her head, and when Tierra reached her, Mista took the hand that was offered and rose to her feet. “It is really over?” she asked quietly. She seemed a little battered, but she was relatively unharmed.

  “Yes, it is,” Tierra said, putting her hands over the other woman’s. “You no longer have to be afraid. Skye will be your king, and you need never fear again.”

  Mista looked up at Skye and burst into tears. Tierra gathered Mista in her arms and patted her back.

  “I’m so s-sorry,” Mista wailed. “I nearly ruined everything for him, Tierra. My un-uncle forced me t-to t-try to seduce him. I didn’t w-want to.”

  “It will be all right,” Tierra said in a low voice, patting her back.

  “Skye?” a voice came from behind him.

  The prince turned and saw that Gusty and Cirrus had joined them. “Gusty,” Skye said in relief. “I’m so glad to see you’re all right. Could you . . . could you take Mista away from here and try to calm her down?”

  “Yes, I can,” Gusty said distractedly, staring down at Strix for a moment. “It’s just . . . so strange to think that . . .”

  “Yes, I know,” Skye said, his own eyes dropping to look at the bird. How could Strix have turned out to be the Fenik? Perhaps Skye should have been suspicious of the bird’s intelligence, but still . . .

  As Gusty ushered the crying Mista away, Skye turned to Cirrus. He gazed at him for a moment before moving forward and embracing him. “It’s so good to see you, Cirrus. I thought you were dead.”

  “Then I’d say I look pretty good for a dead man,” Cirrus said, pulling away and grinning at him. “Of course, I’d look good in any form.”