by Devan Skyles
Benji smiled and said, “Oh, don’t worry. That rarely happens, and if it does, there’s a backup.”
“But what if the backup fails, too?”
Benji pondered this for a moment. “Well, you’re going to be strapped to me, so hopefully you’ll break my fall,” he joked.
The woman didn’t find this amusing.
Ellie fastened on her headgear and cued into the radio, “Clearbrook traffic, November three eight six two five, departing Bower Field, climbing to thirteen-hundred feet en route to the drop zone, Clearbrook traffic.” She then released the parking break and slowly pushed forward the throttle levers. The propellers whirred loudly and the plane started moving forward along the field, bumping slightly along the terrain. The plane gathered speed now, prompting excited whoops from some of the passengers.
She pushed the throttle all the way forward now and pulled back on the yoke, and that’s when it happened: Ellie’s heart lightened, a brilliant smile on her face as the bumping stopped and the plane lifted up into the air. She looked out and watched the ground drop away, taking all her cares with it. Higher and higher she climbed, and the further she got from the ground, the more she felt she was going home. She pressed down gently with her left foot and turned the yoke, tilting the plane into a circular motion.
After a few minutes, she glanced at the altimeter, which indicated they were at the intended height. The buildings and streets were barely visible at this point; the mountains looked like mole hills. She adjusted the flaps and throttle, slowing down and leveling the aircraft.
She then switched the coms over to the fuselage so she was addressing the passengers over the loudspeaker. “Okay guys, we’re at thirteen hundred feet! You know what that means! It’s time to get off my plane!”
A frenzy of excited hollers and whoops came from the passengers. All but one of the teenage boys were sobbing and freaking out. The one who wasn’t was laughing. They all stood up awkwardly, being strapped to the front of their instructors in the tiny fuselage. The nervous woman seemed to be muttering a frantic prayer while Benji chuckled to himself. The one who had been bragging about his experience was screaming, “Heck, yeah! Let’s do this!” Then the door slid open and the deafening sound of rushing wind drowned out all other sounds. Two-by-two, the passengers leaped from the security of the aircraft and plummeted to the earth far below.
Ellie glanced back at the various colored chutes opening beneath her, drifting gracefully back toward the ground. Benji’s parachute was the last to open, and she watched in amusement as it unfurled to display a big, yellow smiley face with its tongue sticking out.
She drifted back and forth for a while, enjoying the most complete feeling of freedom she had ever known. This, she felt, was where she truly belonged. For as long as she could remember she’d dreamed of the sky; dreamed of someday living there among the birds and the clouds, sleeping among the stars. Eventually, however, she knew she’d have to return to reality. The problem with flying, she thought, was that she eventually always had to return to the ground.
Falling
Rhydian, feeling on top of the world, rode a tailwind along the canyon wall toward home with another wineskin full of rich, dark ilïmbalm from his secret threshold. On occasion Auram would go with him, when he had time between his Fleet responsibilities. But even when he couldn’t, Rhydian would always bring him back a bottle of ilïmbalm. He had made several trips there and back lately, every time bring back a few gallons of the precious fluid. He gave enough to his mother that the two of them could live in lavish comfort, and the rest he horded in jugs beneath his bed.
On this particular afternoon, he planned on spending some of his newfound wealth at the Treetown marketplace. The tree-dwellers were renowned for their exquisite products and sophisticated trade agreements with the neighboring nations. If there was something you wanted, something difficult to acquire, you could usually find it at the Treetown exchange. It was an exciting place. Shops and traders would stay open late into the night, and the whole town was lit by the most brilliant light stones in every color imaginable. He had fond childhood memories of sneaking out after dark and going there with Auram.
Rhydian was drawing close to the Treetown. The sun was not yet down, but he could see that several colorful lights had been illuminated already, and the whole place buzzed with life and excitement as Ilimíri from all over the country came to visit and trade there. The whole town was built from wooden timbers suspended between the treetops by sophisticated architectural bridging and tension ropes. Many of the shops and structures were built right into the trees themselves, and there were countless tiers and levels of the town throughout the canopy of the canyon forest. The massive trees supporting the village stood over a quarter mile high.
Rhydian drifted down through the Treetown and alighted on a wooden platform about five levels down. The noise of merchants and traders conversing and trading their wares was next to deafening. He walked past several shops, perusing their contents casually, until one merchant called out to him.
“You there! With the timepiece!”
Rhydian turned and looked at the merchant. He could tell by the look of him that he was a tree-dweller. Generally speaking they were several inches shorter than average, and they always sported black feathers with a bright colored patch at the wing joint. Their wings were shorter, more adept at fluttering from tree to tree than flying in the open sky, and their tails split into a fork, usually extending all the way to their feet as they stood.
“Me?” Rhydian replied, gesturing to himself.
“Yeah,” the merchant answered eagerly, gesturing at shelves full of food and other various items. “Come take a look! I have everything you need for your travels to the other side. I specialize in products you can take with you across the barrier without them changing!”
Rhydian was intrigued. The very laws of physics were vastly different on the human side. There were very few substances that were the same on both sides. Most things would undergo a change on a fundamental level when they crossed over.
“How does that work?” Rhydian questioned.
The merchant smiled. “Well, as you know, a few things undergo only the slightest, indiscernible change but stay basically the same, like glass or steel. Well, I’ve made it my mission to find as many of these substances as possible and combine the ingredients to make other things. Mostly foods, really, but I’ll tell you what, some of these taste better over there than they do here!”
Rhydian was curious if this was possible. He had tried taking food with him to the other side before. Even something as basic as an olüri fruit turned to inedible mulch.
He peered around at the wares on the shelves, when his eyes settled on two small, round stones, just big enough to fit in the palm of one’s hand. They were polished and smooth and made from what appeared to be purple and white crystal.
“What are those?” he asked, pointing at the stones.
“Oh, you’ll like these,” the merchant said enthusiastically. “The humans call them amethyst. They just wear them as jewels, but when they are brought into Ilimíra, they become attracted to one another.”
As a point of demonstration, he set both stones on the countertop about two feet apart and let them go. They instantly rolled towards each other and clinked together in the middle, spinning around each other for a moment.
Rhydian was impressed, but he didn’t see much use for the amethysts. “How close do they have to be for that to work?”
The merchant scrunched up his face, as if considering. “It varies, but most of them, as long as they are within a couple of miles of each other and there are no obstacles in their way, they will keep rolling until they meet.”
This surprised Rhydian, and while he still didn’t see any practical application for them, he couldn’t help but think they would be entertaining to own.
“I’ll take them,” he conceded.
The merchant smiled, pleased with his sale. “Good choice. For that
I’ll take, oh, a unit of five-grade or equivalent.”
In the past, Rhydian would never have dreamed of spending so much on something so unnecessary, even if it did have special properties. But his fortune was different now, and he wanted to enjoy it a little. He agreed to the price and the merchant placed a glass beaker on the counter with measurements along the side. Rhydian uncapped his wineskin and measured out a half unit of the dark, crimson fluid, which was substantially more than the asking price.
The merchant’s eyes widened. “You should be careful who sees you with that,” he cautioned, and then grabbed the beaker and tucked it away under the counter before Rhydian had a chance to change his mind. Then his conscience seemed to get the better of him because he grabbed a small vial of colorless fluid and offered it to Rhydian. “For that price, I’ll throw in this oil. It’s perfectly useless over here, but on the other side, all you have to do is expose it to a heat source and it will burst into flames!”
Fire? Rhydian had heard of heat based combustion before, but he’d never seen it in all the times he’d traveled across the barrier. He thanked the man and pocketed the vial.
Before he could walk away, however, the merchant stopped him, eyeing the wineskin, and said, “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can interest you in?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied, then cordially excused himself.
As he explored the diverse wealth of goods throughout the city, Rhydian began to notice the same two men almost everywhere he went. What’s more, neither of them seemed to be buying or trading anything. One of the men was a short tree-dweller with black feathers and orange patches at the wing joints. The other was a tall, muscular man with a dark complexion and big, brown wings he held aloft much of the time. The presence of the two, paired with the fact that he was carrying gallons of pure ilïmbalm, made Rhydian more than a little nervous. He decided it was probably time to head home.
The sun had just set behind the distant mountains, making the air cool. This meant that there were no updrafts for him to ride, so he labored through the still air, rising slowly through the beautifully lit, vibrant city. When he cleared the treetops and the town was nothing more than a glittering spectacle beneath him, he angle over and sailed toward home, using gravity to give him speed. He looked over his shoulder, making sure he hadn’t been followed. Seeing no one, he decided to relax.
Before he had time to react, a loud fluttering sound came from below and an arrow whizzed by, flitting right through Rhydian’s wing feathers. Startled, he veered left just as the orange-winged tree-dweller flew by beneath, a high powered bow in hand. Only seconds later, the big man descended on him from above.
The muscular man came down hard with his feet onto Rhydian’s back, forcing him down toward his counterpart, who was fixing another arrow to his bowstring. Rhydian, panicked now, tried to adjust his flight and get away, but the man’s boots came down again, even harder this time. Rhydian’s back cracked uncomfortably. The tree-dweller, fluttering hard to keep up, flipped over, his back to the ground, and fired another arrow.
Rhydian, acting instinctively, flared his wings in a dead stop, the arrow missing him by less than an inch. The two thugs sped forward, shocked expressions on their faces. He knew this would buy him only seconds, so he wheeled around in the air and flapped hard back toward the Treetown. Soon, though, he heard the fierce fluttering of the tree-dweller’s wings and the heavy beating of the other’s close behind him. Another arrow zipped by, grazing Rhydian’s chest. His heart pounded in terror.
He could think of only one thing to do. He slipped the strap of the wineskin off his shoulder and turned around. “Here! Take it!” he cried, and he tossed it toward the thugs.
The tree-dweller merely veered sideways, evading the path of the satchel, and let it drop through the trees. Why wouldn’t they take it? What else could they be after? The two continued their pursuit, and Rhydian, knowing he could not escape a second time, now became angry.
The tree-dweller nocked another arrow and drew it back while the muscular man swooped around behind to block any escape. The three hovered there, flapping hard to stay aloft. Rhydian looked back and forth at his attackers nervously.
“What do you want?” Rhydian shouted.
The tree-dweller, his aim fixed on him, answered, “The timekeeper! Give it to us and we won’t hurt you.”
The timekeeper? Why in the world would they steel that? They would never be allowed through a threshold with someone else’s timepiece, and even if they could, the Gatemakers Guild would void it at all registered thresholds as soon as the crime was reported.
“Why?” he inquired.
“We don’t ask why,” the big man replied in a deep voice. “We just do as we’re told. Now hand it over.”
“You can’t have it!” Rhydian insisted.
The tree-dweller laughed. “Bad choice.” And he released his arrow.
Rhydian, at the same moment, tucked his wings and dropped like a rock. The arrow subsequently passed over his head and buried itself in the chest of the other attacker.
The big man stared at his counterpart with a look of betrayal and writhed in the air, flapping frantically to stay aloft. Soon, though, he stopped moving and his lifeless body plummeted into the dark void beneath the canopy.
The tree-dweller, furious, tossed his bow away and drew a long, wavy dagger from behind his back. He angled down and dove for Rhydian with the cruel looking weapon point down in his hand.
Rhydian tried to prepare for the onslaught, but his attacker barreled into him full force and knocked him backward. He felt a searing pain as the dagger sliced into his shoulder. He beat his wings hard to steady himself and grabbed the attacker’s wrist, pushing the dagger away from him. They struggled there, barely staying above the treetops, tumbling and fighting for the upper hand. Soon, they both became too exhausted to fly and the tree-dweller was force to release him.
Rhydian opened his wings wide and soared down to the nearest available landing site: A large tree branch, about eight feet wide and a hundred feet long. He landed heavily, completely out of breath, and let his wings drop to his sides.
A moment later the tree-dweller landed several paces in front of him, panting and sweating. “Just give up the timekeeper and we can both go home.”
He clutched the device hanging from his neck. “I’m not giving you my father’s timekeeper!”
The man laughed. “Is that all the great Warlord Gideon had to offer his only son before dying in the dirt like a wounded baby bird?”
Rhydian fumed at the slander. “My father was a great man, you gutless, filthy perch!”
Perch was a particularly derogatory term for a tree-dweller, and the attacker did not take lightly to it. He raised the dagger above his head and charged Rhydian, screaming as he ran. When the two collided, Rhydian grasped the attacker’s wrist again to protect himself from the blade and they sprawled onto the branch. The attacker tried to pull his knife hand away, but Rhydian’s grip was too strong.
The tree-dweller wrestled his way on top of Rhydian, placing his knees heavily on his wings to immobilize him. Rhydian, still grasping the man’s wrist, banged his hand against a smaller branch several times until the dagger fell from his grip and tumbled over the edge. Now that the knife was gone, he released the man’s wrist and punched him square in the face, sending him sprawling backwards.
Rhydian scrambled to his feet and swung his powerful right wing forward, colliding heavily against the tree-dweller’s temple. The man flapped hard to keep from tumbling off the side of the branch, and came at Rhydian again, this time grasping only for the timekeeper. He didn’t need to win the fight. He just needed to get away with his prize. He yanked hard and the chain snapped. He then jumped away and dropped backwards off the branch with a triumphant grin on his face.
Rhydian, determined now, lunged off the branch after the thief and gave chase. The tree-dweller looked over his shoulder, panic in his eyes upon seeing the angry Rhydian at hi
s heels. Rhydian caught up quickly and grabbed the man’s ankle. Flaring his wings, he tugged the thief backward until they collided in the air. Rhydian wrapped one arm around his opponent’s wing and squeezed tight so that he couldn’t fly, and with the other hand he grasped the dangling chain of his father’s timekeeper.
The flailing tree-dweller was too cumbersome to support in the air, and the two fell down through the trees together, tumbling head over feet as branches whipped and tore at them along the way. The thief struggled to free himself, but Rhydian refused to release him. A big branch whipped up and opened a bloody gash on the side of his face, but he still held firm.
Now sheer panic showed on the attacker’s face, eyes wide. “LET GO!” he pleaded as they continued to fall.
“You first!” Rhydian insisted. The sky was quickly disappearing behind a thick layer of forest canopy.
The attacker, panic-stricken, released his grip on the timekeeper and shoved Rhydian away. Rhydian released him and the man promptly fluttered off, disappearing into the dense trees.
Rhydian fought to slow his descent, but he was tumbling too wildly, his wings a tangled mess. Finally righting himself, he unfurled his wings, only to have them snapped back painfully by the dense branches around him. The gravity of the situation set in as the sky sunk further and further away and it became harder for him to see in the dwindling light. At long last, the branches seemed to become sparse and he extended his broad wings to catch the wind. Only a moment later, he hit the forest floor hard and the wind was knocked from his lungs.
Rhydian panicked in the pitch darkness, gasping for breath and fading in and out of consciousness. His head was reeling, his flight feathers a crumpled, torn mess. And there he lay, wounded and defenseless.
On the ground.
Enemies in the Dark
“What do we have here?” a deep, sinister voice came from the pitch darkness. “A wounded bird, fallen from its nest?”
A deep-throated growl came from another direction.
