Skyborn

by David Dalglish

  “Just more of the same,” Daniel said. “That’s all this place is, more of the same. We’ll learn how to shoot smaller shards instead of bigger shards, I’d wager.”

  Clara stood to Kael’s left, and when he saw her frown, he shifted closer to her, painfully aware of her proximity.

  “It’ll be more fun than that,” Kael said, and he grinned. “After all, Kime said so, and he doesn’t seem the lying type.”

  Saul’s sarcastic chuckle showed what he thought of that, but it made Clara smile.

  “I’m not sure he’s capable of telling a lie,” she said. “It’s a wonder he became a Seraph.”

  “Certainly doesn’t seem like the fighting type,” Kael said. “Maybe he smiled people to death?”

  “Well, it looks like you found me out,” Instructor Kime said from behind Kael. His heart immediately stuttered, and heat rushed to his neck and cheeks. “I saw just one battle,” the instructor continued, “and I thought, Randy, maybe you should just teach these wonderful children coming into the academy instead?”

  Kael turned about, feet kicking the grass as he struggled to meet the instructor’s eye.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he said.

  Instructor Kime patted him on the shoulder with his hand.

  “I’ve heard far worse from experienced Seraphim,” he said. “Now, here.”

  From a pouch strapped about his waist he pulled out four ice prisms, and he handed one to each of them before moving on to the next group. As he walked away, Kael glared at Saul, whose smug smirk was infuriating.

  “Why didn’t you warn me he was coming?” Kael asked.

  Saul shrugged.

  “And miss out on you eating your own foot?” he said. “I can’t imagine why.”

  Kael rolled his eyes as he loaded the element into his gauntlet. From the corner of his vision, he watched as Instructor Kime approached his sister, who’d remained separate from the other two fire users.

  “I’m not sure there’s a point,” she said as he offered her the fire prism. “It just feels like a waste.”

  “Your element has already been allotted,” he said. “And every day is a new day, and might be the one where you finally experience a breakthrough.”

  Bree accepted the elemental prism with a frown. Jamming it into her gauntlet, she turned, stepped a few feet away, and then lifted her right arm. Fire exploded out of her gauntlet with such force she had to brace her legs against it while holding her arm with her other hand. The flame cloud rolled forward, and Kael winced at the sight. While the rest of the class had steadily mastered their element, Bree showed not the slightest hint of progress. The first time she’d unleashed such a blast, he’d been stunned, convinced that, as she had with flying, she’d prove herself superior. But now that Kael had more practice with ice, he saw it for what it was: the infantile flailing of someone completely unable to control her element. It was like a blind person trying to draw, or a deaf one trying to sing.

  There was no hiding the defeat in Bree’s voice as she removed the emptied prism and handed it back to Instructor Kime.

  “Three weeks without progress,” she said. “If I can’t learn by now, I doubt I ever will.”

  Instructor Kime held his wrist stump with his other hand, and he looked so sad.

  “I know you won’t learn when you’re convinced of failure,” the instructor said.

  Bree dipped her head in respect.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “May I be dismissed?”

  “Yes, you may.”

  Bree passed by him as she left, and Kael patted her shoulder in an attempt to cheer her up.

  “Just give it time,” he said. “And see you at lunch?”

  “Sure,” she said, offering him a half smile before trudging north. Kael watched her go, wishing there was something he could do. Each passing day seemed to take that much more out of his sister when it came to elemental training. She couldn’t join in the new exercises or games Instructor Kime taught them. She couldn’t even work at simpler tasks at the same time. Two blasts, draining both her prisms, and then done. For the first week she’d lingered about, talking with others, putting on a pleasant mask as if the failures didn’t bother her. Now she didn’t even try.

  “Your sister’s going to fail out if she doesn’t improve,” Saul said, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Why’s that?” Kael asked.

  “She’s a Seraph who can’t use her element,” he said, as if it were obvious. “What good is she to anyone?”

  There was a painful amount of truth to his words. All their formations, their exercises and drills: it was leading them toward group battle tactics. If Bree’s fire was unreliable and used up within the first few seconds of battle, then she couldn’t fulfill her duties. She couldn’t scare off attackers. She couldn’t defend her fellow Seraphim.

  “She has her swords,” he argued, the only weak defense he could offer.

  Saul smirked.

  “Yes, her swords, which she’d need to break formation and enter close proximity to use. Spare me, Kael. Your sister won’t last beyond the six-month evaluation. Worry more about yourself. At least you’ve got a chance to stick around.”

  Finished with the last group, Instructor Kime stepped a few feet ahead into the field.

  “Line up,” he shouted. Before anyone could ask where, he lifted his gauntlet. Though he couldn’t fly, given his missing left hand, he still wore wings and had his own element. With a flick of his right hand, he unleashed a blast of fire. It curled like a whip, lashing into the grass before rapidly dissipating. In its wake it left a long black line of ash and char. Saul headed for the line, Daniel at his hip. When Kael went to follow, he felt a hand gingerly touch his elbow.

  “I’m sorry about your sister,” Clara said. “Even if what Saul said is true, he shouldn’t be so rude about it.”

  “He’s just saying the obvious,” Kael said, not sure why he was defending Saul.

  “No, he’s enjoying how great it feels to be superior to someone else,” she said. “It’s selfish and juvenile.”

  No bitterness in her voice, no anger, but she spoke with such authority it left Kael’s jaw slack. At all their training sessions, Clara had been the happy, smiling girl without a single cruel word to say about anyone. To hear her tear apart Saul so matter-of-factly was stunning to say the least, and his surprise did not go unnoticed.

  “Bugs will fly in there if you leave your mouth open long enough,” she said, and her green eyes seemed to sparkle. “Now come on, we have pointy shards of ice to throw.”

  Together they joined the rest at the line Instructor Kime had burned. When Kael took his spot, he caught Saul staring at him from the corner of his eye, though he said nothing. Kime paced before them, calling out his instructions.

  “We’re going to play a game,” he said. “It’s one thing to fire wildly out into a field, but another to hit a moving target. This should help you learn how to gauge distances, as well as the speed of your own attacks. Pick one of your group to start with, then take turns as challengers. The person starting is to fire a burst of their element into the air, and then the challenger must try to hit the first shot with their own. If they do, swap places. Otherwise, it’s time for the next challenger. Those of you with lightning affinity, we’ll tweak the challenge a little, so don’t fret.”

  Instructor Kime moved to join the five with lightning. With the rules given, Saul shrugged and gestured for them to give him space.

  “I’ll start,” he said. “Who wants to challenge?”

  “Kael does,” Clara said before anyone else could speak up. Saul lifted an eyebrow as Kael shrugged.

  “I guess I do,” he said, stepping up to the line.

  “You ready?” Saul asked as he lifted his right arm.

  “If you are.”

  With no other warning, Saul shot a long icicle from his gauntlet, keeping its aim low to minimize its time in the air. A cheap shot for a silly game, Kael thought as he lowered his own gau
ntlet, but by keeping its arc so low Saul made it far easier to track and gauge distance. Letting out a low breath to steady his aim, he sent the mental impulse to his arm to fire. His fingers tensed, as did the muscles in his forearm, but he noticed with each day of training the physical reaction lessened, and he had a feeling it might one day vanish altogether. A similar shard of ice shot from his gauntlet, jerking Kael’s arm back with its recoil. The sound of air tearing accompanied the shot, like a miniature cannon.

  The shard flew across the field, its path just below that of Saul’s. When the two shards connected, Kael pumped his fist into the air.

  “Lucky shot,” Saul said, stepping back from the line.

  “I doubt I’ll hit another all day,” Kael said, grinning ear to ear. It was a lie, of course, but he had a feeling false modesty would drive Saul crazy. “Who’s next?”

  “I’ll try,” Daniel said, stepping up.

  “All right,” Kael said. “Let’s do it.”

  He lifted his gauntlet, aiming a lobbing shot much higher than Saul’s. He paused a moment, watching two distant chunks of stone the size of his head miss each other by a foot, then let loose the shard. Daniel tensed, eyes to the sky, and then flexed his arm. A shard of ice raced across the field, just barely missing.

  “Shit,” Daniel muttered.

  “The height was right,” Kael said, trying to be encouraging. “Little bit to the left and you had me.”

  “I’m next,” Clara said.

  Kael fired an even higher lobbing shot, purposefully easing up on its speed by pulling back his arm at the moment of firing. Before it could even reach its full height, Clara whipped her arm up and intercepted it with her own shot. Instead of a thin shard, hers was far, far greater in size. Kael opened his mouth to protest, caught himself when he saw the amusement in her eyes.

  “Kime never said what size to shoot,” she said. “And it serves you right for giving me an easy one.”

  Kael laughed as he stepped back and gave Saul his turn. They alternated for the next half hour, each scoring multiple hits. By the time Instructor Kime joined their group, it was rare for any of them to go longer than three tries before a challenger snagged their shot.

  “Good,” Kime said after watching Kael blast Daniel’s shard of ice into tiny clear pieces. “All of you are doing very, very well. After tracking a target so small, you’ll find hitting a full-grown Seraph an easy target. Soon you’ll be ready to do this while flying. For now, I want you to group in twos. Spend more time with each shot, and help critique your partner whenever you miss. Experiment with different sizes of ice, different angles, until you get a nice feel for all of them.”

  The instructor left them to pair up, and Kael exchanged looks with the other three. He knew exactly whom he wanted to group with, but how the hell was he going to propose it without…

  “Kael, care to be my partner?” Clara asked.

  Kael blinked.

  “I’d love to,” he said. Surprise was the only thing that kept an idiotic smile off his face.

  “Are you sure about that?” Saul asked, and he stepped between her and Kael. “He’s worse than I am at ice. I’d be happy to help you learn instead.”

  Clara smiled at him so sweetly, there wasn’t a hint of her earlier private thoughts she’d shared with Kael.

  “Come now, Saul, act like that and you’re bound to hurt Daniel’s feelings.”

  The wiry Seraph stayed back from the other three, and he shrugged when eyes turned his way.

  “Anyone’s fine with me,” he said, mumbling.

  “See?” Clara said. “So we’ll go over there,” she gestured to the side, “and you two stay here, that way no one’s interrupting or interfering with the other.”

  Saul’s face hardened as if into stone, but he did not argue. Clara hurried farther down the firing line Instructor Kime had burned into the grass. Kael moved to follow, but Saul grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and held him still.

  “You should really trade partners with me,” he said, a hard edge to his voice. Kael pulled free, his own stubbornness rising.

  “Worry more about yourself,” he said, echoing Saul’s earlier words. Putting his back to him, he hurried over to Clara, who was preparing to release a lance of ice. She lifted her gauntlet, a thin shimmer of blue growing from the firing prism.

  “He tried convincing you to switch anyway, didn’t he?” Clara asked. Kael nodded. “I thought he would. Just like his type.”

  Pieces clicked together in Kael’s head.

  “You’re doing this to annoy him,” he said. “So why me over Daniel?”

  Clara turned his way and feigned a gasp, her gauntleted fist closing to seal away the unfired ice element.

  “I would never,” she said. “I’m just a clueless little princess who lucked her way into the academy. But if I were to do something like that, I’d have picked you over Daniel because Daniel would have caved to Saul’s pressure. That, and you seem like a nice enough fellow. Am I right?”

  “I have no idea,” Kael said, lifting his own gauntlet. “But I’m more than happy to be with you. Practicing, of course.”

  Kael silently begged she didn’t notice his awkward flub as he shot a shard of ice into the air.

  “Of course,” Clara said, grinning mischievously as she blasted his shard to pieces, grinning as, across the field, Saul watched and glared.

  CHAPTER 11

  Do you know what he wants?” Kael asked Bree as the two walked the dirt road toward the elemental practice field. Bree had donned her wings and obtained an element from the mechanics, per Instructor Kime’s request.

  “My guess would be another attempt at fixing my problem with fire,” she said. “A trick or gimmick, most likely. Did you see me shooting fire while standing on my head yesterday? It was humiliating.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Kael said. Bree glared at him.

  “Oh, it wasn’t?” she asked. “So the snickers I heard, all in my imagination?”

  “I just said it wasn’t that bad,” Kael said, shrugging. “Not that no one laughed. So what if a few did? Grab a sword and challenge them to a duel. That’ll shut them up quick.”

  Bree smiled and elbowed her brother in the side. “If only it were that easy,” she said. “So, you going to stay and watch Instructor Kime’s latest attempt at fixing the unfixable?”

  To Bree’s surprise, her brother blushed.

  “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’ve got somewhere to be.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. Their classes were over, as were their drills. The two had exited the mess hall after eating supper prior to Bree grabbing her wings from the shed, which left them only an hour or so before dark began to fall. For him to be embarrassed about how he was to fill his free time narrowed the possibilities significantly.

  “Is Clara waiting for you?” she asked, a grin spreading ear to ear on her face. Kael’s blush brightened.

  “Teacher Gaughran’s tactics test tomorrow,” he admitted. “Clara was wondering if I’d study with her.”

  Bree paused a step and gestured back toward the apartments.

  “Well, why the hell are you with me, then?” she asked. “Go. Have fun. I’ll be out here throwing fire with my eyes closed and counting backward from one hundred or something.”

  “Hey, if it works, it works,” Kael said, and he waved. “Good luck, Bree. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He jogged off, leaving Bree alone. Since she didn’t have her brother tagging along, she powered on her wings, taking pleasure in the deep thrumming sound they made. She lifted into the air, flying the remaining distance at a gentle pace. She didn’t need to soar, only wished to feel the wind through her hair and leave the weight of her body momentarily.

  Instructor Kime stood alone in the practice field, and Bree gently eased the throttle so she might land beside him. The sandy-haired man smiled at her and patted his left arm’s stump of bone into his palm. He, too, wore his wings and gauntlet.

  “I’m s
o happy you’re here,” he said. “I was worried you’d forgotten about me, and I’d be standing out here alone until night fell.”

  “Never,” Bree said, smiling.

  “Good, that’s good, because I’ve something special for you to try tonight. Follow me.”

  He led her to the firing line he’d burned weeks ago. Bree overlooked the training field, which after a month of abuse was mostly blackened dirt, much of it uneven due to ice and stone constantly slamming into it day after day. Though the elements themselves faded away into mist, the same could not be said for the damage they caused.

  “This might seem strange,” he said, “but I’m going to try something that I don’t usually have students work on until their second year.”

  “I can’t do the absolute basics, so we’re going to try second-year skills instead?” Bree asked. “You’re right, Instructor, it does seem strange.”

  “Randy is fine,” he said, and his optimism was unfazed by her doubts. “It’s just you and me, and right now, I want you as relaxed as possible. You see, I wonder if, despite focusing so much on controlling your element, you are simply in the wrong mind-set to do so.” Instructor Kime took her right gauntlet in his hand and lifted it up. “Spread your palm wide. Don’t worry about the size of the burst. That’s for later. For now, I want you to imagine the fire exiting your gauntlet as a solid spear of flame.”

  “Imagine?” Bree asked, frowning.

  “Yes, yes, imagine,” Randy said, bobbing his head as if excited by his own creativity. “Do you remember when I said how this connection between prism and Seraph is magical? I wasn’t exaggerating. There is something truly special there, something we don’t much understand. What I do understand, and what I want you to now understand, is that it goes beyond just activating the element so it might release. Your mind, if trained and focused, may manipulate the element into a great variety of shapes beyond the simple variations achievable by widening and closing the focal point.”

  To illustrate his point, he stretched his arm, palm open and facing the battered field. A burst of fire shot out. Instead of in a spray, or a quicker, tighter projectile, it widened out in a rectangular wall, growing for dozens of feet before becoming so thin it dissipated in a puff of black smoke.