Skyborn

by David Dalglish

“I already beat your record,” she said. “What more is there to do?”

  The commander chuckled.

  “Because you’re never satisfied, not even with being the best. It’s driven you to greatness, and if God is kind, it will allow you to survive far longer than you deserve.”

  Such a comment struck Bree as strangely cruel, and she lowered her swords to glare his way.

  “What does that mean?” she asked.

  “You’re a fire, Bree,” he said, stepping closer. “In all senses of the word. I could not watch you as much as I wished, but I did catch glimpses of you during the battle. You fly with complete, fearless abandon. Reckless doesn’t begin to describe what I saw. You’re going to shine brighter than anyone else alive, but I fear nothing will sustain it. That same fearlessness that makes you special will be what leads you to your death.”

  Once again she felt herself brought before the legendary Argus Summers just to be judged and found wanting. Resuming her stance, she began to swing her swords through her training exercises.

  “Was that what you came here to tell me?” she asked, not looking at him.

  “Not at all.”

  As her right sword came down in a swing, Argus drew one of his own and flung it in the way. Bree startled upon their connection, then immediately felt her neck flush red. She sheathed her swords and turned back to her commander, accepting the obvious rebuke.

  “Forgive me,” she said, dipping her head.

  “You’re forgiven,” Argus said, sheathing his own blade. “And I didn’t come here to make you doubt yourself. I came here to discuss your role in our next battle.”

  “Am I leaving Olivia’s squad?” she asked.

  “In a way,” he said. The man ran a hand through his short dark hair, and he glanced west, as if to the very island of Galen itself. “Our enemies will be ready for you this time. They’ve tasted firsthand the danger you present, and they’ll try to counter it immediately. This means we must react accordingly.”

  “And how is that? Do you want me to fly with Wolf Squad? Come in late to the fight?”

  “Far from it,” Argus said. “I want you to lead the charge.”

  If a breeze had been blowing, it probably could have knocked Bree off her feet.

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “I will accept no argument,” he said. “The terror you inspire is our greatest ally. I want your twin trails of fire leading us into battle. I want Galen’s men to see you coming, and for every single one of them to remember what you accomplished in your very first battle. That doubt is invaluable. While they can predict all our formations and initial assaults, you they can’t. Don’t you understand, Bree? No one has seen anyone like you. Try as they like, they can’t prepare for you. They can’t account for you. I need you wild, I need you reckless, and I need you unstoppable. When the Phoenix comes crashing in, I want them afraid. Can you do that?”

  It was a terrible burden she felt him thrusting upon her shoulders. He wanted her to dominate the battlefield, to frighten her enemies with her very presence as she assaulted their ranks. In short, Argus wanted her to live up to the reputation she’d created from her first battle. Could she handle such a thing? Or would it only backfire as she died during the initial assault, impaled by a shard of ice or crushed by a barrage of boulders?

  “I don’t know if I can,” Bree said, measuring every word. “But I will try.”

  “Good,” Argus said. “I’ll also be creating a new squad, aptly named Phoenix. While you won’t lead them personally, their sole purpose will be to act as your shadow, protecting you with their elements as best they can.”

  “Will my brother be among them?”

  The commander hesitated.

  “If it is important to you, then he will be. I’d prefer more experienced Seraphim, but at least he has spent many hours trying to follow you in flight.”

  Bree took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. No turning back now, if she’d had a choice in the first place. Argus had already set the plans into motion. Her acceptance was likely symbolic at best.

  “Yes, I want him there,” she said. She gestured toward Argus’s swords as she took a step back. “So, since I’m being so nice, care to reward me with the privilege of a duel?”

  A hint of a smile cracked the commander’s cool demeanor.

  “After all the praise our island’s heaped on you, perhaps a lesson in humility would be worthwhile.”

  Together they drew their swords.

  “Careful,” she said. “I’ve already beaten one of your records and would hate to overtake you in something else.”

  “The only reason I ceased flying the obstacle course was because it bored me,” said Argus, pointing a blade her way. “But you, little Phoenix, I find fascinating.”

  To cover her blush, she stepped forward and thrust a sword toward his chest. The commander batted it away, twirled to parry her follow-up attack, and then countered. No smile was on his face, but there was a smile in his icy-blue eyes as their duels stretched on throughout the morning. He won four games to her one, but each game felt closer than the last, and most importantly of all, Bree’s earlier loneliness faded away, all but forgotten in the whirl of sweat and steel.

  CHAPTER 29

  It felt wrong to go behind Bree’s back, but Kael refused to put her at risk for his scheme. Not when he could avoid it. One person, though, was integral, and Kael stood before the door to her apartment, knocking, and wishing he didn’t feel so ridiculously nervous. The door cracked open, then flung all the way as Clara stepped out and wrapped her arms around him in a surprising but very welcome embrace.

  “About time you swung by,” she said, squeezing tightly. “I had to hear about Saul’s abduction attempt from my father. That was very inconsiderate of you.”

  Kael shrugged as he grinned down at her.

  “Um, sorry, I’ll try not to do it again?”

  She kissed his lips, which temporarily blanked his mind. At last he kissed back, and he held her far more tenderly as his body relaxed.

  “You’re right,” he said when she pulled back. “Sorry, Clara, my mind’s been in a hundred places the past few days. I should have come sooner.”

  “Damn right.”

  She pulled him into her apartment. Kael had expected, due to her status as daughter of the Archon, that she’d have far more luxuries than he had. He was wrong. The same blue carpet, the same plain shelves, same basic furniture. As Clara shut the door, Kael forced his mind to remain on the task at hand. His request was dangerous, and not just to himself.

  “Clara, I have a favor to ask,” he said as he stepped away, arms crossed over his chest. Clara tilted her head slightly, and her smile hardened, becoming practiced, as her sharp mind immediately began debating what he might want of her.

  “Which is?” she asked.

  Kael took in a deep breath.

  “I… was wondering if you could tell me who gave you that Johan tract.”

  He thought she’d be disappointed, upset, or worried. Instead she looked excited.

  “And why would you want to know that?”

  There was no point in lying. If he did, she’d see through him immediately, and for that alone, likely refuse him. Kael scratched at his neck and peered about the apartment, unable to meet her gaze as he told her everything. He told her about his findings concerning his parents, the ghost plague, the attempted abduction headed by a theotech of Center. He even told her how he’d originally been marked as having light affinity, not ice, before a theotech interfered with the testing.

  “That’s not surprising to hear in hindsight,” Clara said. “Kael, haven’t you noticed how seldom you need to replace your light element compared to the rest of us?”

  Kael shrugged, feeling embarrassed.

  “Not really,” he said. “It’s not something I ever thought about.”

  “Well, it’s obvious now, trust me. So the theotechs have their eye on you, and might have had their eye on your paren
ts as well. What does this have to do with Johan?”

  Kael slumped into Clara’s comfortable chair and clasped his hands before him.

  “It’s a stretch, but everyone from Center has been lying to me from the very start. For once, I want to see if I can get someone to tell me the truth.”

  Clara’s green eyes sparkled. No hesitation. No doubt.

  “A family member of one of our servants recently became a disciple of Johan’s,” she said. “I can find out where he lives and how to meet him, but only on one condition.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Her grin spread.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Kael met her after dark, just as she’d asked. Clara stepped out, hair tied behind her head, uniform crisp and clean.

  “Last chance to turn around,” she told him.

  “This was originally my idea,” Kael said. “I should be the one asking you that.”

  Clara gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “Not anymore. Let’s go.”

  “So how are we getting out of the academy grounds?” Kael asked as they walked west.

  “Through the front door, obviously.”

  It hadn’t been obvious to Kael, but Clara didn’t show the slightest hint of doubt, so he let the matter drop. Together they crossed the path slicing between the training fields, making their way to the guarded gates. Two Seraphs stood on duty, their black jackets shimmering red beneath the midnight fire. Kael recognized neither of them, only that they were clearly much older, likely third to fourth year. As they neared, Clara grabbed his hand and held it, clearly wanting the Seraphs to see.

  “The gate’s shut for the night,” said one. “Go back to bed, or out to a field if you’re looking for somewhere quiet.”

  Clara stood to her full height, her tone taking on an authority Kael had rarely heard her use.

  “As third heir to the Archon, I demand you open the gate and tell no one of our passing,” she said. “Kael and I would like to have our privacy.”

  One snickered to the other, but neither put up an argument. The gate slid open, and one made a sweeping gesture before they exited.

  “Enjoy the night,” he said.

  Kael’s neck was in full blush as they passed.

  “Surely there are other ways we could have snuck out,” he said as they walked the road. “Why let ourselves be seen?”

  “Because I wanted us to be seen,” Clara said. “If we get caught, or interrogated, which would you prefer, that you went to speak with a heretic preaching rebellion against Center, or that you wanted the two of us to have a bit of fun somewhere off academy grounds?”

  “That depends. Can I be executed for fooling around with the Archon’s daughter?”

  Clara shrugged.

  “It depends on the mood my father’s in when he hears.”

  Kael dug his elbow into her side.

  “You’re not helping.”

  She laughed and squeezed his hand.

  “Come on. We don’t have that much time, so we’ll need to do a bit of running. Besides, the sweat will add to our alibi.”

  They followed Winged Road, passing by several turns north and south, until arriving at Perryton, the first town on its path. Just before the town’s entrance, a single man stood in the center of the road, wearing familiar garb. Kael had seen plenty of it at the Willers’ family ball. The man was tall, bald, and bore twin blue lines traveling from ear to ear, the tattoos just barely curling above and below his eyes. He wore thick chain mail, and a blue sash across his waist. A bundle of clothes rested in his arms.

  “Thanks, Kai,” Clara said as she accepted half of the bundle. The family guard turned to Kael and offered him the other half. Kael took it, saw that it was a pair of brown pants, a loose, long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of boots. A quick glance around showed nothing but tall grass and the road they were on. He looked to Clara to ask where he might change, then realized she was curling around to the other side of her enormous guard. His eyes met the bald man’s briefly, and there was no amusement in them, just a chilly stare.

  Kael turned around, putting his back to the two, and stripped down to his undergarments. The pants fit well enough, as did the shirt, though the wide collar caused it to hang a bit low on his shoulders. Not a style he’d choose, but that seemed to entirely be the point. Last was a pair of boots, plain and thin, without laces or ties. Done, he hesitated, then called out over his shoulder.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  He turned to see Clara stepping back onto the road around her guard. She wore a plain brown skirt instead of her uniform’s black pants. Her boots had been replaced with open sandals, and her uniform with a loose white shirt similar to his own. Her fingers ran through her blonde hair, pulling out the tight knot she’d tied it into.

  Kai snapped his fingers at Kael, then offered his hands. Realizing what he wanted, Kael handed over his old clothes. As he did, the man reached into his own pocket and pulled out two long daggers. Kael took one, sliding it into his pocket, as Clara accepted the other, hiding it in a deep pocket sewn into the side of her dress.

  “Wait here until we return,” Clara ordered the guard. “If we’re not back before sunrise, don’t come looking for us. Go to my father instead, and inform him of what we’ve done so he might organize a search. I release you from your vow of silence for that purpose, and that purpose only.”

  Kai bowed low in affirmation. Clara took Kael’s hand again, and they headed toward town.

  “Seems you’ve thought of everything,” Kael said, shifting and kicking his boots into the dirt in a failed attempt to make them fit better.

  “If you get caught, you’ll be reprimanded, maybe expelled from the academy at worst,” Clara said. “If I’m caught, it’ll be a scandal, and a great blow to my father’s honor. Johan’s disciples preach my family is a cowardly lot who bend to Center’s every whim. They also say we’ll soon be overthrown, so yes, if this disciple we meet recognizes me, I’d like to have every precaution ready.” She patted the knife hidden within the folds of her dress. “Even lethal ones.”

  It was a stark reminder how dangerous Kael’s desire actually was, one he shouldn’t have needed. He’d been there when Thane was dropped to his death, head cracking open on the side of a stone well. Touching his own dagger for reassurance, he focused his mind on the task at hand.

  “What is his name?” he asked.

  “It used to be Ben, but since conversion he’s taken on the name of Marrik.” Clara chuckled. “His mother wasn’t too happy about that. It’s how I heard about it in the first place. Marrik’s hiding in a rented home, and it shouldn’t be too far from the town entrance. When you see a street marked Lily, we turn north and look for a house numbered seven.”

  “Does Marrik know we’re coming?”

  Clara shook her head.

  “If he’s not there, we try again sometime. No reason risking beyond that. Don’t tell him your name, by the way. I doubt he’ll ask it, but if he does, just refuse. He’ll understand. Our own lives are at risk, and if we keep calm, we should appear to be nothing more than a curious couple.”

  It made sense to Kael. There was no way for them to know how such a man might react learning of Clara’s royalty, or Kael’s connection to the now-famous Phoenix of Weshern. Just a simple, poor, curious couple. It wouldn’t be hard. For Clara it might be an act, but Kael had spent more than enough days in the fields and hungry nights at Aunt Bethy’s.

  A line of squat stone homes marked the edge of Perryton. Just beyond was a tall pole dug into the center of the road, and Kael paused before it and frowned. Hanging from thin pieces of rope tied to the top of the pole were two broken halves of a torch, the top blackened and snuffed. The torch was the symbol of Galen, and it was plain to see what the people of Perryton thought of the foreign island.

  “They’re appearing all over Weshern,” Clara said softly, staring at the broken torch.

  “Do the people want war t
hat badly?” Kael asked.

  “A war they themselves won’t fight?” Clara turned away from the effigy. “Yes, I think they do.”

  They continued on, passing quiet homes, the windows dark, the inhabitants long asleep. Kael felt his nerves growing, and his eyes darted side to side, searching for spies that his mind knew were imaginary but his gut insisted were nearby. The town itself wasn’t large, and they quickly spotted the road sign marked Lily and turned north. Kael squinted at the sides of homes, spotting numbers carved into them. They were in the twenties, but counting down, and it took only a few minutes to find the number of their destination.

  It looked less like a home and more like a hive, a stone construction of several floors, seemingly haphazardly thrown together, as if each new apartment was an afterthought to the previous. The grand building had multiple numbers carved into it, but the seven was plain enough to see, carved into the stone beside a thick wooden door at street level. Kael softly knocked on the door. The last thing he wanted was to wake other occupants. He waited a few long seconds, listening, but heard nothing. He knocked a second time, just a smidge louder.

  Above the door was an open window covered by a thick curtain. The cloth lifted up, blocking the light of the midnight fire so the occupant within was just a blob of darkness and shadow. Just as quickly, it dropped. Kael heard footsteps approach the door, the clatter of a lock, and then it opened.

  “Why do you come and wake me in the middle of the night?” a man asked from within, form hidden behind the cracked door.

  “We come asking questions,” Kael answered. “We seek answers we might not get elsewhere.”

  The answer was careful enough, and guarded enough, Kael had no doubt Marrik would immediately understand their true purpose. The door opened farther. Light of the midnight fire trickled in, revealing a man in a dark robe, its hood pulled back.

  “Come in,” Marrik said. “We will talk further where it is quiet, and will not disturb those around us.”

  Kael brushed the dagger in his pocket with his fingertips, then led Clara inside. The home was but a single room, with a bed pushed into one corner, a chair in the other, and a stool beside the door that gave access to the window. A stick with a carved hook at the end rested near the door, and Marrik used it to pull the curtain open fully before backing away.