by Jann Rowland
The bird turned its head and did not dignify Skye with a response.
“Right behind you, Skye,” Gusty called as he hopped off his griffin.
As Skye walked away from the camp, he heard Gusty speaking with Nightwind, his tone admonishing. Skye could not help but chuckle at what his friend said.
“You may as well let him have his way,” Gusty told Nightwind. “He is the king, and furthermore, he is determined to find his betrothed. It’s our place to help him, not get in his way, and he and I know more about the ground realm than any other Skychildren in living memory. It’ll be easier for everyone if you just swallow your protests.”
Skye thought about Gusty’s words as he walked, appreciating again the fact that the other Skychild seemed to understand Skye better than anyone else in the sky realm. Being king seemed to count for very little; Skye was continually beset by others who had different ideas about how to accomplish what needed to be done, and they were not shy about stating their opinion. Skye could admit he did not know everything, but he wished at times that other Skychildren would just follow him and keep their mouths shut. Of course, Skychildren were as a general rule proud and independent, so harboring such a wish was slightly foolish, but there it was.
“Thanks, Gusty,” Skye said when the other man caught up to him.
Gusty shrugged. “They don’t really understand, Skye. To them, being in love with a Groundbreather is nothing less than senseless, and as no one has seen the benefit of the changes you’ve made, they tend to question everything.”
“Don’t I know it,” Skye muttered in response.
Upon arriving at the outskirts of the town, Skye saw further confirmation that it was not large. Regardless, it was ordered as most Groundbreather settlements were, with wide streets and houses built next to one another on an orderly grid. The center of the town held the greatest concentration of people, with a few hawkers bellowing over each other in an effort to sell their wares. A number of people milled about, purchasing foodstuffs, trinkets, and other assorted items, leading Skye to believe that he and Gusty had stumbled upon the town on market day.
The entire place stilled to a great degree when the two Skychildren were noticed, and though they were dressed as Groundbreathers, the color of their hair set them apart, and Skye began to feel uncomfortable with the scrutiny.
Skye stopped to speak to several Groundbreathers in an attempt to gain some news, but his effort turned out to be a miserable failure.
“The treaty still holds,” one elderly Groundbreather man said when Skye stopped to talk to him, “but Skychildren are not welcomed with open arms.”
“That is unsurprising,” Skye said. “I only wished to ask a few questions. Have you seen anything unusual occurring of late? Or has anyone of importance visited your town?”
The old Groundbreather snorted. “We are not so far from the capital that we do not hear of goings-on there, but nothing of import happens here. I cannot remember a single time anyone other than the local baron has visited, and even he does not come often.”
Skye exchanged a look with Gusty and thanked the Groundbreather. But before they could leave, the man arrested their footsteps by speaking up.
“You do not seem like bad sorts, for Skychildren, so I will give you a bit of advice. Though we may be a little suspicious of this treaty between our peoples, most of us welcome friendship with the Skychildren. But there are still those looking to stir up trouble. I do not know what you are searching for, but I suggest you be careful.”
“Thank you for your warning,” Skye said. “It’s certainly good advice.”
The man nodded and returned to his task, which had apparently been carving some sort of figure out of wood with his knife. While Skye, mindful of his discussions of art with Tierra, would have liked to speak with the man about what he was doing, there was no time for it.
“Maybe we should dye our hair,” Skye muttered as they left the town behind. “I bet I could find the right combination of herbs.”
“Our height would still set us apart,” Gusty replied. “Unless you can find a way to make us shorter and change our appearances entirely, I don’t think it would do much good in the end.”
Skye looked at his friend, grateful for the levity. “Unfortunately, I don’t think our wind powers extend that far.”
“Then I guess you’re stuck with your ugly mug, though I admit it would be entertaining to see your features in a Groundbreather face!”
Laughing, Skye could only agree with Gusty.
A few days later, the Skychildren bunked down for the night in another strand of trees. The better behavior they had obtained with feeding the griffins on deer meat had largely dissipated, as the hunters had only been able to kill one more of the creatures. Skye could not be sure, as he was not familiar with ground-realm fauna, but he suspected his band might have moved out of the creatures’ usual ranges. They were still able to catch enough meat for the griffins to subsist, but their nervous behavior in the trees had not abated since that one fortunate night.
As they traveled, Skye attempted to learn more about what Strix knew about the ground world, but with little success. It seemed the only place the bird had been since his capture by the Groundbreathers besides the castle was a temple situated in a mountain range. The fact that he had spent millennia at the castle with little to do was an especial annoyance that Strix liked to discuss in great detail.
“What of Terrain?” Skye asked the bird that night as he prepared to bed down.
“What of him?” Strix asked. He was perched on Stardust’s saddle, as he normally was when they stopped for the night.
“What can you tell me about him? Surely you must know something of him.”
Strix raised his wings briefly. “I’ve never actually seen the little godling, so I’m not sure what you expect me to say.”
“Little godling?” Skye said with a snort. “Sounds like you don’t have a high opinion of him.”
“I certainly do not,” Strix said. “‘Hatred’ is too weak a word to describe the intensity of my feelings for him.”
Skye could claim no positive feelings toward Terrain, but in light of the peace he had made with the Groundbreathers, he was not about to outright denounce the other god if he could avoid it. So he opted for saying, “Well, I suppose your devotion to Celesta is admirable then.”
“Oh, no,” Strix said, his eyes glittering in the moonlight, “I hate her as well.”
“What? Surely you jest. You can’t hate both gods, can you?”
“Yes, I certainly can.”
“Why do you hate Celesta? I don’t understand. She created you. Shouldn’t you be grateful for what she’s done?”
There was a long pause before the Fenik answered. “I . . . do not know exactly why I feel the way I do. I just . . . all I know is that I have always hated her. I do not remember a time when I did not.”
“And your hatred of Terrain?”
“That answer will be easier for you to understand. When I was first captured by the Groundbreathers, I was taken to the temple I have told you about. The Groundbreathers tried to turn me to their side, to convince me to do their bidding and destroy the Skychildren.”
“But you were able to resist them,” Skye said, the hint of a question in his statement. While the Skychildren knew that the Fenik had been taken from them, not a lot was known about what happened after it was taken.
“Yes, I resisted them,” Strix said. “My refusal to do their bidding angered them, and I suppose Terrain was not any more pleased than they were. That is when he transformed me into that other form.” A shudder passed through the bird’s body.
Looking at the bird’s brilliant red plumage, Skye could understand why the Fenik would detest such a transformation. Even after days of travel, Strix still earned appreciative gazes from Skye’s band. Brightnest and Vesper seemed particularly enamored, though Sunray had given the bird a few appreciative glances himself. Even Skye, who knew of the bird’s destructive potential better
than anyone, could not refrain from admiring Strix’s appearance.
“I was sent to the Groundbreathers at the castle,” Strix said, “to be kept as the current ruler’s royal pet, a hideous specimen of bird whom no one wished to look upon. The Groundbreather high priest, under orders from Terrain, charged the king with keeping me a secret from his people. The knowledge of my true self was to be shared only with his heir and the rest of his line. And so it was for generations until one king failed to pass on his knowledge to his heir.” The bird’s tone took on some amusement as he added, “Of course, he could not be blamed for his failure, as it was that very heir who killed him before he could reveal the secret.”
“And they just continued to pass you down the royal line to their descendants?”
“It had become a tradition at that point to do so. I kept a low profile and did not call attention to myself. I sang for them and sat around looking ugly as I bided my time. Anyone who was curious about my longevity did not see enough of interest about me to retain their curiosity for long.”
“Still, considering what exactly you are, it seems strange that your presence could be forgotten like that,” Skye said.
“Groundbreathers have no care for birds, and with no evidence of my powers before them, they grew less wary of what I could do,” Strix said. “To them, I became merely an ugly bird with a pretty song. Their complacence would have led them to forget me eventually, even had regicide not entered the picture.”
“What are your powers exactly? You seemed strong when commanded by Hawkins, but I don’t know that I saw any evidence of world-destroying capabilities.”
Strix flapped his wings with annoyance. “It was that blasted Hawkins. My powers were limited by his vision. I would have been unstoppable if Hawkins had let me loose instead of restricting me. What you saw was merely a fraction of what I am capable of.” He tilted his feathered head, and he almost appeared to be smiling. “I could have taken you and all of your friends out in a heartbeat. But Hawkins might not have escaped harm himself if I had done so, and he was reluctant to allow any harm to befall what he deemed to be his palace.”
“That sounds about right,” Skye said. “For all his bold moves, he was a coward at heart.”
“You will hear no argument from me,” Strix said. “I suspect it will be a long while before I come across another such bold coward, but I shall bide my time once more.”
Skye paused for a moment. “You really are determined, aren’t you?”
“I’m a prisoner of my own body. You cannot know how I feel. This form is limiting; I cannot reach my full potential while in it.”
“While I have no desire to imprison anyone, you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not exactly eager to unleash world-destroying abilities upon lands full of innocents.”
“You are not a bad sort,” Strix commented, “but your efforts to contain me will not matter in the end.”
“Because you’re immortal.”
“Yes. Because I am immortal. And you, unfortunately, are not.”
Skye grinned and tugged his blanket higher. “You never know, Strix. Maybe I’m more special than you think.”
The bird made a strange noise that sounded almost like a snort. “I can say with absolute confidence that you are not nearly as special as you think you are.”
“You were once just an ugly bird. Appearances aren’t everything.”
“No, I suppose they aren’t.”
As Skye’s mind flicked randomly to Tierra, he sobered and looked up at the stars, tracing with his eyes the outline of a sword. He had helped stop the Fenik from destroying the world. Surely he could manage to find his fiancée and bring her home.
A deep sorrow settled on his heart as he once again pushed away the niggling worries that plagued him throughout the day. He would find her.
The established world at his feet, Terrain walked upon it, gazing at all that had been done.
A high mountain loomed in front of Terrain, and he stopped to consider it. The massive monument of stone stood tall against any weather. Its strength pleased him. Its solid existence would withstand the test of time. The mountain would forever exist as a sentinel, watching over the glory of his creation.
But the world was still. There was no movement save for the rustling of the wind. Everything remained unmoving and quiet.
Terrain raised his hand, and from the mighty mountain, he fashioned a creature he called a “garm.” Shaped from granite and shale and obsidian and infused with the snow of the peak, the enormous animal was white and brilliant to look upon. Terrain named his new companion “Stone.”
Stone looked upon his creator, prostrating himself before Terrain, pledging to walk by Terrain’s side and protect him always. Terrain had no need of such protection. But the creature’s loyalty and eagerness pleased him, and he invited Stone to join him on his journey to survey his new creation. Stone moved forward, and the sound of his feet pounding the ground was like thunder, so great was his size.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Mountain
Tierra was sick of horses.
It was a shame, really, as the mount she had been assigned was a calm brown mare. The horse had been given the unimaginative name of Chestnut, but she was a pleasant enough horse regardless. After the first few days of enduring the agony of sitting on a horse for hours, Tierra found herself to be toughening up. That still did not mean she enjoyed it. But given Tierra’s relative lack of experience, she was fortunate to have been placed upon such a docile creature, as many of the others in the party rode beasts that were much more spirited in nature.
Of course, Chestnut might have been assigned to her because it was doubtful the mare would have been able to outrun any of the other horses. Even the horse upon which River rode appeared to have some additional measure of personality, and River rode with competence and even a bit of flare; her mother’s barony was a great breeder of horses, so it only made sense that she was an accomplished rider.
As they rode, Tierra often thought of the predicament in which they found themselves, trying to make sense of the situation and their captors, who were different from any other Groundbreathers Tierra had ever known. It was obvious Tierra and River were made as comfortable as could be allowed, especially given the fact that they were prisoners on a long journey. They were even allowed to dance in honor of Terrain, though the experience was not like what they were accustomed to. The only musical instrument used was a flute that played a somber melody, and the “dancing” of these strange Groundbreathers was more like swaying than anything else. These pale men seemed almost cheerless in some ways. Even the food they provided was as bland as could be, though Tierra supposed she should not have expected much from traveling rations.
“Where do you think we are going?” Tierra asked her cousin one morning after they had been traveling for several days.
“It must be far from anything we have ever heard of before,” was River’s reply. “I have never come across any Groundbreathers like these, and I am certain they have never before been seen in your father’s kingdom.”
The mention of her father brought a pang to Tierra’s breast again, but she forced such feelings aside and gripped Chestnut’s reins tighter. She frequently fought such feelings, as she did not want her mourning to overtake her while she was in the midst of a band of her enemies. “I have never seen anything like them myself. What I wonder, however, is why they brought you along. The reason for my presence is obvious, but what is your purpose?”
“Are you not happy with a familiar face, Your Highness?”
Starting, Tierra sat back on her horse and looked over to where the Groundbreather leader watched them from Tierra’s other side.
“Despite the necessity of this journey, we do not wish to inconvenience you to any great degree. We thought you would be happier to have someone familiar accompanying you.”
“You did not wish to inconvenience me?” Tierra snapped. “I suppose killing my father, causi
ng my mother to flee from her home, carrying me to Terrain only knows where, and forcing my cousin to be involved in something that does not concern her do not constitute ‘inconveniences’ in your mind? Are you people mad? And for that matter, sneaking up behind me all the time and startling me is more than a little inconvenient.”
“My apologies,” the man said, bowing in his saddle with a smirk that seemed to belie his words, “but it was not my intention to surprise you. I will attempt to announce myself in the future.”
“And the rest of it?”
“As I said, it was regrettable but necessary. You will be restored in due time.”
“You will forgive me if I have trouble trusting what you say.”
The man gave a smile and a nod of parting before he kicked his horse and rode off, leaving Tierra glaring daggers at his back.
“He still did not tell us his name,” River muttered.
They were to learn his name at a later date. They had stopped for the night, and Tierra was preparing to retire when the man approached. Tierra immediately pounced on him, wanting to know what he was hiding.
“Where are we going?” she demanded. “Where are you and the others from?”
To say the man appeared unimpressed with her show of displeasure was an understatement, and his blank mask made Tierra even angrier. “All will be made clear in time,” he told her. “For now, you need only know that we are going to a location that you have never visited yourself, though I hope the sight of it will please you. When we arrive there, you will begin to further understand what is happening around you. That is all I can tell you at present, Your Highness.”
“You cannot even share your name with us?” Tierra asked. “Or is it just poor manners that have led you to avoid introducing yourself?”
The man’s amusement only annoyed Tierra further. “If you wished to know my name, you had only to ask. I am called Quicksilver.”