Skyborn

by David Dalglish

  “Give me two seconds,” Bree said.

  She tightened strap after strap, each one more satisfying than the last. The set was tailored for her, of that she had no doubt. There’d be no adding holes to get the buckles tight enough. This set felt like a second skin. When it came to strapping in, though, everything was the same as the fisherman’s set. There were only two major differences. The first were the two additional buckles on the heavy loop that went about her waist, which she assumed would be for her swords. The second was a thin circle of soft leather that extended out from the top of the harness by a black cord. She pulled the circle over her head, and as she did, she heard a whirring of a gear as the black cord pulled farther out from the harness. The leather itself was so thin it was like putting on a necklace. She wasn’t entirely sure the reason for it, nor the pale crystals woven into it, but she figured she’d learn soon enough.

  Finally done, she flexed her arms and pulled her shoulders back and forth. With a soft clatter of metal, the wings shifted with her. So smooth. So easy. The silver seemed to sparkle in the light that shone through the cracks in the wall’s wooden planks. Despite being larger than the training set, the new ones felt much lighter, and she wondered if it was due to the significantly lower lift requirements, or perhaps it was made of better material than…

  “Bree?” said Amanda.

  “Sorry,” Bree said, snapping out of her daydreaming. “Here, let me take you through it step by step. Just like a jacket, slide your right arm in here…”

  It took a few minutes, but at last Amanda was fully strapped in. Bree made sure to guide her only with words, doing none of it herself. That was how Jevin had taught her, and she had no reason to doubt his teaching methods now.

  “There we go,” Bree said, tugging on one of the leg buckles to ensure it was tight enough. “How’s that feel?”

  “Like I’m being hugged by snakes.”

  Bree grinned.

  “That sounds right. Time for our swords.”

  On the way out, they found Kael and two other boys walking alongside Bartow to get their own sets.

  “How do I look?” Bree asked, stopping before Kael and giving him a half twirl.

  “Like you were born with them,” he said, smiling. Bree laughed, and she had to hand it to him. Every now and then, on very rare occasions, her brother knew exactly what to say.

  The rest of their class was filtering in from the east when Bree and Amanda crossed the dirt path to the shed on the other side. Only one mechanic waited there, a burly woman with brown hair and a tan so dark her skin resembled tree bark. She didn’t introduce herself, but Bree felt confident she was the Sara they were to meet with next. There were two different doors leading into the shed, one open, one closed, and Sara stood between them with her arms crossed.

  “In there,” Sara said, pointing to the open door. “Left wall. The swords are named, so find yours and bring them out to me so I can make sure they fit like they should.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Amanda said as the two stepped inside. Bree heard Sara chuckle behind them.

  “No ma’ams here,” she said. “Just us mechanics.”

  Although the buildings were of similar size, the interior of the southern shed felt much smaller, and Bree realized it was because it had been sectioned in half. In the half they entered, the lower portions of the walls were covered with pairs of swords set along thin wooden pegs bolted into the wood. As with the wings, little wooden plaques hung above each set, and, starting on the left wall, Bree began scanning for her name.

  “Here’s yours,” Amanda said, pointing. Bree grabbed the two swords (her two swords, she realized with a thrill) and examined one closely. Its scabbard was finely sanded wood painted blue, with a decorative steel point on the very bottom. The hilt itself was silver, and she noticed how both had a strange loop upon the top. Also unique was the tight clasp that connected the hilt to the scabbard, and it took a surprising amount of pressure to pop it open. Closing her hand around the handle, feeling its soft leather grip, Bree pulled it free of the scabbard. It made not a noise as it slid out, revealing a thin, razor-sharp blade. Bree stared at her reflection in the blade, and the image gave her goose bumps.

  “I guess the swords go here?” Amanda asked.

  Bree looked over and saw that her roommate had found her own two swords and placed them into the waist buckles.

  “Looks like it,” Bree said. Looping each of the buckles shut, she slid her swords into them. Deciding they felt loose, she tightened both of them, then shifted side to side to test. The swords were tilted backward slightly, and when she stepped, the tips hovered mere inches above the ground.

  “Let’s go see what Sara says,” Amanda said. “Hopefully we did this right.”

  It seemed they did, for Sara took one look at them and then nodded.

  “Go on out to the northwest field,” she said before addressing another group come for their own blades. “Instructor Dohn is waiting for you.”

  The fields in the western half of the academy grounds were sectioned into four quadrants, and just off the road in the northwestern quadrant Bree and Amanda waited. Before them were the beginner flight training fields, vast and empty but for the occasional hoop or bar held aloft in the air atop thin wooden poles. With them was Instructor Adam Dohn, the tall man standing patiently with his arms crossed behind his back. His hair was dark and short, his eyes the color of muddy water. He, too, wore a pair of wings. At no point did he attempt small talk, and his silence spread to Amanda and Bree as they waited for the rest of their class to arrive.

  At last it seemed they were all gathered in a line before their teacher. Bree stood between Amanda and Kael, and it felt good to be surrounded by that tiny sliver of familiarity.

  “I was given nineteen names, and I count nineteen before me,” Instructor Dohn said. “I’m sure you had your fill of introductions yesterday, so we’ll skip that for now. I’ll learn who you are soon enough, assuming you don’t crack your head open before the day’s end. First off, how many of you have had flight practice before?”

  Nine hands went up.

  “How many of you have flown out over the open?”

  Only two this time, Bree and a red-haired boy on the far side of the group. Dohn looked to each of them, as if making a mental note, and then continued.

  “To those of you who’ve done this before, this will likely be a very boring day. I don’t care how good you think you might be, I want everyone paying attention. Whoever taught you might have known what they were doing, or they might have been some fish-brained idiot who thinks himself more clever than he is. So, step by step, you do as I say, no skipping anything, no making assumptions. I hope I’ve made myself clear. Now, let’s start with your left-hand gauntlet…”

  Bree was surprised at how closely Instructor Dohn’s orders followed Jevin’s checklist. Telling herself to remain patient, she went through each bit, inspecting the element, fastening the gauntlet, checking the switch; all of it. Somewhat new was her second gauntlet for her right hand, the apparatus through which they would soon project their chosen elements. As exciting as that thought was, she knew it’d be days, if not weeks, before they moved on to that particular skill set.

  After checking the gauntlet came the swords, the only other new part of the routine.

  “You’ll notice just below your wrist on each gauntlet is a hook-latch,” Instructor Dohn said, lifting his arms so he could point to his own. Grabbing one, he pulled on it to show that it came out with a whirring sound, revealing a thin black cord. “The latch is designed to only open inward. Make sure the cord comes out easily and the latch opens and closes without issue. When it comes time to use your blades, you’ll jam these against the loop at the top before drawing them. This will keep you from ever losing them during flight maneuvers, as well as injuring yourself or others should you lose your grip.”

  Dohn smacked his wrists atop his swords to demonstrate, and Bree heard two clicks as the latches secured o
nto the loops above the hilts. With the ease of a lifetime of practice, the instructor flicked open the clasps and then drew his swords. When he released them, they hung mere inches down from his wrist, the cord built into the thick gauntlets stopping them, the weight of the swords not strong enough to draw the cord out farther. Dohn unhooked one, sheathed it, then the other. That done, he clapped his hands.

  “Harness check is over,” he said. “Let’s get to flying.”

  Instructor Dohn had them space out at approximately ten-foot intervals, the nineteen of them dotting the field like silver pieces on a game board. Bree’s thumb tapped against the switch, for she was barely able to contain her excitement. Today she would discover what a true set of wings could do. At least she hoped so. Dohn’s foreboding words about boredom worried her.

  “Before we begin, one last change to those who might have used other sets for training,” he said. “Push the throttle forward just the tiniest bit until the wings begin to hum. Don’t go anywhere, just do this.”

  Bree obeyed, and as she did, she noticed that her vision seemed to slightly blur, the effect lasting no longer than the blink of an eye.

  “Did any of you catch a blurring?” their instructor asked. “Shut off your wings and start them up again until you do. What you see is a shield forming about your eyes, nose, and mouth, created by the little crystal bits built into the harness’s neck collar. I don’t know how it works, but men and women smarter than I tell me it uses your light element to help protect you from the effects of flying at high speeds. In short, you’ll have no problem seeing and breathing during aerial maneuvers. You’ll soon stop seeing that blur entirely as you get used to the effect, but make sure you do indeed see it before taking off, because if not, you need to let the mechanics take a look.”

  Bree turned her wings off and on a few more times, noticing the subtle blur, which never lasted more than a heartbeat. She glanced to her left, curious if she could see the shield on Kael’s face, but other than a bit of nervousness, he looked normal.

  “That done, time for your first exercise,” Instructor Dohn shouted. “I want all of you to rise off the ground.” Thrumming his own wings to life, he rose several feet up from the field, then halted. “Once you’re off the ground, settle into a hold. Don’t go anywhere, not up, not down, and certainly not toward anyone else. Just get comfortable. Show me that you can control the wings by the positioning of your upper body.”

  Bree felt disappointment sink into her stomach. Boring? God, this wasn’t just boredom. This sounded torturous.

  Letting out a sigh, she shifted the throttle. While the deep, satisfying thrum of her wings should have excited her, she only felt disappointment realizing she wouldn’t get to see a fraction of their abilities. Bree rose several feet, lessened the throttle, and then hovered there with her arms crossed over her chest. Her spot was at the front of the group, and she spun in air to see if the others were as bored as her. To Bree’s surprise, several bounced up and down from the ground, using too rough a touch on the throttle, causing them either to fall or jerk upward. Others shifted and twisted their upper bodies to keep themselves from drifting. Her brother, who she’d always thought was slow on the uptake when it came to flight, appeared to actually be one of the better fliers.

  Instructor Dohn flew from student to student, shouting out advice, sometimes even grabbing their wings or their gauntlet to correct them manually. Bored, Bree bobbed up and down with a slow, steady rhythm, only partly watching the others. It felt like such a tease. Her wings, they lifted her so easily, and with her barely pushing the throttle past the one-fourth mark…

  Bree spotted the instructor approaching her next, and she ceased her bobbing.

  “Having trouble maintaining a consistent height?” he asked as he flew up beside her.

  “No sir,” she said, shaking her head. “My apologies, sir. I’m just eager for the real lessons to begin.”

  The instructor stared at her with his beady eyes, and he lifted an eyebrow.

  “You’re one of the two who’s flown over open air, aren’t you?” he asked. He pointed to the sky above her. “Go up there and fly me a loop. Nothing fancy, and don’t go crazy on the throttle. I’m guessing you trained on one of those fisherman sets, and they don’t have a fraction of the speed ours do. If you push it anywhere near full, I’ll be scraping your carcass off the field.”

  Bree nodded, heart suddenly aflutter. This was it. Finally she’d have a chance to see what the wings could do… but at the same time, her instructor was watching, as were several of the other students nearby. Swallowing her fear, she rose into the air, her excitement increasing with her elevation. Who cared if anyone watched? She was born to fly.

  Once she was a good twenty feet above all the others, she leaned while stretching her legs. The motion rotated her forward and would have brought her into a dive if she let it. Instead she gently increased the throttle. Too fast would jar her body, make her lose control. Bree let her wings gain some speed as she flew, her body parallel to the green training field below, before arching her back and spreading her shoulders. The motion pulled her upward, and she naturally felt her head tilting with it. As the wind blew against her she curled through the air, careful to keep her body still. The sky shifted, dipped, and then she stared at grass. The downward slope increased her speed, and she felt a thrill shoot through her. Still curled, shoulders still pulled back, she watched the ground grow momentarily closer before she was lifting again, staring up at the beautiful blue sky. If not for the blast of wind against her body, she’d have thought the world itself turned, and she was its steady, immovable center.

  Before she could stop herself she was curling again, arms out at her sides, a smile on her face as the wind tore through her short hair. The world spun around her as she looped again, except this time when she completed it she straightened her body while simultaneously lessening the throttle. She felt a momentary sense of complete weightlessness as her rise ended, her body floating above the fields, looking down at the silver dots that were her fellow students.

  Bree decreased the throttle, steadily drifting back to the grass. Instructor Dohn was waiting for her when her feet touched down, and his expression was difficult to read.

  “I asked you to perform only one loop,” he said.

  “I performed a second in case the first was not satisfactory,” she said, knowing full well how stupid it was but unable to help herself.

  The instructor shook his head.

  “What is your name, Seraph?”

  “Breanna Skyborn, sir.”

  “Breanna, you’re dismissed.”

  Bree blinked, stunned. She’d barely even tested out her new wings, and the instructor was sending her away already?

  “Sir, I think it’d be best if I…”

  “Do not tell me what would be best,” Instructor Dohn interrupted. “I asked for one loop, and you gave me two, plus some lip. What we do here today might be too easy for you, Breanna, but it’s necessary nonetheless. Go on back to the barracks, and we’ll see if tomorrow you’re more open to learning. Besides, your boredom will just prove dangerous to the others. The last thing I need is a collision from someone shooting too high while you’re busy pulling loops.”

  Bree lowered her gaze, and it seemed all eyes were on her, not just of those nearby. She desperately wished she could go back in time and follow instructions, but it seemed there’d be no fixing this.

  “Yes sir,” she said, her voice so soft she worried he’d make her repeat it. Thankfully he did not, the instructor instead lifting back into the air to check the next student. Her wings suddenly feeling heavy, the sky not quite so blue, Bree walked back to the dirt road that split the entire academy. Like a hive of strange bees, the other wings thrummed behind her, their deep sound now a taunt. Slowly, glumly, Bree approached the gear sheds as if they were an execution. She saw Bartow chatting with one of his other mechanics, the two of them leaning against the side of their shed.

 
“Something wrong with your wings?” Bartow called out to her as she neared.

  “No… no, nothing wrong,” Bree answered. She knew she should return her wings, but she just couldn’t.

  Bartow gave her a funny look, but he shrugged and resumed talking with his friend. Bree veered off from the path, turned south, and entered the southeast training field. Like all the other fields, the grass was a vibrant green, and cut ankle high. Unlike the other fields, however, this one had plentiful obstructions. Curious, she walked through them. There were a dozen in fairly close proximity, each one made of thin wood painted white. They had long, slender bases, and at the top they opened up into enormous rings. Each base was numbered.

  An obstacle course, she thought, and the realization gave her a chill.

  It was terrible. It was stupid. And she was going to do it anyway.

  Finding the ring marked with a one, she spotted a solid white line in the grass made from half-buried bricks. Standing before it, Bree surveyed the course. Twelve rings, each successive ring guiding the challenger around in a circle back to the start. A grin on her face, she put her thumb on her switch, tensed her legs, and counted down.

  Three.

  Two.

  One…

  Bree leapt into the air, pushing the throttle so that it thrummed to life. The sudden acceleration yanked her harder than she expected, but she recovered quickly enough to correct her angle of elevation. She slid gently through the first ring, found the second. It was to her right, and she rotated her body clockwise while pulling back her shoulders. Her movement curved, but her aim was off, and if she didn’t correct it she’d go flying past. With no other choice, she reduced her speed, swung her body the other way, and then slowly passed through. The same happened for ring number three, which was to the left of the second ring. She tried to go a decent speed, yet her path was still far too wide, and she had to kill the throttle so she might twist about and correct her course. Doing so nearly sent her tumbling across the grass, her toes dragging over the ground before she could reverse her momentum.