On Lonely Paths (Earth and Sky Book 2)

by Jann Rowland

  “Thank you, Head Priest,” Tierra said, raising her head. “May Terrain reward you as you deserve.”

  The Head Priest gave the slightest of smiles before he bowed. Whether he caught the veiled nature of Tierra’s words was not apparent. “Please find a place at the altar to rest your feet and commune with our magnificent god.”

  Quicksilver glanced at Tierra before he moved some distance away. With a frown, she watched as he lowered himself to his knees with an odd sort of reverence. Canyon moved to a part of the altar close to Quicksilver, though not before giving Tierra a small smile. She did not understand why Canyon was the only one of Quicksilver’s party present, but it was not the time for such questions.

  “Please,” the Head Priest said to Tierra, gesturing to the other end of the long altar.

  Tierra moved to the place he had pointed, resisting the urge to trail a hand across the cool surface of the altar. She felt like an errant young girl being forced to sit in the corner and contemplate her mistakes. She could easily choose a spot of her own to place her requests before Terrain, yet she felt compelled to place herself at a distance from Quicksilver, as the Head Priest had suggested. Did Quicksilver wish for privacy? Why it would matter, Tierra did not know. Surely he could be vague in his supplications without giving Tierra clues concerning whatever his secret mission was. Or perhaps he had some wish to speak with Canyon privately, though why he would have needed to do so in such an unlikely place was beyond Tierra.

  At the edge of the altar, Tierra knelt and placed her fingers on the stone before her. Unlike most of the temple, the altar had been dusted and polished, and the glints of blue and green within the rock were beautiful. Any offerings had already been removed from it, and Tierra began searching her pockets to find something of value. As she had been spirited away from her home, she did not have any coins or jewels to offer to Terrain. All she could find in her pocket was a bit of bread she had tucked away.

  Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the bread and set it on the altar. Terrain knew that she had nothing of value on her, and he would not judge her for the meager nature of her offering.

  Tierra bowed her head and began murmuring to Terrain. She began with a traditional prayer for strength and health for herself and her family, and as she started to follow up the prayer with a more specific one, she happened to glance over at Quicksilver, and any other prayer she might have spoken died on her lips.

  Though the man was some distance away, Tierra could see the tension in his shoulders as he hunched over the altar, gripping it with hands that had turned white from the pressure. A shudder passed through his body, and he began to shake, inaudible words falling from his rapidly moving mouth.

  Tierra nearly rose to go to him—despite her severe dislike of the man, she did not wish him to die in front of her—but a glance at the Head Priest revealed him to be looking at Quicksilver with a slight smile on his face. It looked as though he approved of what was happening. Even Canyon seemed unconcerned, if mildly interested.

  Was Quicksilver receiving a message from Terrain? He had clearly been overtaken by something. Yet why would Terrain send a message to someone who was kidnapping a princess of the Groundbreather people?

  Tierra did not usually attribute much importance to rank, but she was a princess, and as a result, what Quicksilver and his men were doing—and what they had done—was punishable by death. Would Terrain truly disregard the ancient laws of his descendants?

  “Marvelous are the works of our god, are they not?”

  Startled, Tierra looked up to see Stonedagger standing beside her, his eyes fixed on where Quicksilver still knelt. Satisfaction was evident on the priest’s brow as he watched, as though some great event were taking place that he alone was privileged to witness.

  “Is he a priest?” Tierra asked, coming to her feet.

  “He is not,” Stonedagger replied. “He is so much more than a mere priest.”

  Confused, Tierra looked at him, wondering at his meaning. But before she could say anything, his gaze was back on her, the coldness she had seen before once again glinting in his eyes.

  “You would do well to follow him and listen to what he says,” the priest told her.

  “He is a man who has brought about the death of your king and kidnapped one of his daughters,” Tierra said, returning the man’s frigid glare. “I was not aware that this was in any way commendable.”

  “You do not understand, young princess. But understanding will come in time. For now, relish the fact that you are among your people, and rejoice over the removal of the stain of the Skychildren from you.”

  “What stain? We should foster better relations with our neighbors. This constant conflict is pointless, and it drains our strength. The Skychildren have much to offer us, just as we have much to offer them. Why should we not grasp that in order to make our world a better place?”

  Stonedagger shook his head. “It seems this Skychild of yours has turned your head with his sibilant whispers.”

  “Skye is a good man!” Tierra snapped. “He is much nobler than this rogue Groundbreather you venerate! And he did not ‘turn my head’ with anything. The dream of better relations is shared by us both . . . and by many Groundbreathers and Skychildren besides!”

  All further conversation was interrupted when Quicksilver rose from his prayers and walked back toward them with Canyon at his heels. It almost seemed as though Quicksilver moved with renewed purpose. Tierra was disquieted to see the change in him.

  “Head Priest,” Quicksilver said formally, “thank you for the use of your temple and your continued faithfulness. It is time for us to leave.”

  “Of course, Quicksilver,” Stonedagger replied. “May you find success in all your endeavors.”

  The sidelong glance he directed at Tierra suggested that she was accounted as one of those endeavors, and she scowled in response.

  Stonedagger then turned to Canyon, his mouth open to speak, only to fall silent as Canyon lifted a hand to forestall him.

  “Thank you for your support,” Canyon said firmly.

  A nod was Stonedagger’s only response, leaving Tierra wondering what hold these men had over the priests of Terrain. But before she could spend more time thinking about the matter, Quicksilver led her and Canyon from the room and away from the temple.

  “It is time to go, Princess,” Quicksilver told her as they walked. “We need to make more speed, so there will be little time for conversation. Our god calls.”

  The destruction of the people of the waters was not enough for Celesta the sky goddess, for they were not the only visible reminder of the limitations of her power. The Waterweavers had been the first target of her hatred, but her eyes had ever been on the greater prize. The slaughter of the Groundbreathers, the most beloved of Terrain’s people, would, in her own mind, serve as evidence of her dominion over all.

  Yet the Groundbreathers were too clever. They trusted in Terrain, so they did not fall victim to Celesta’s tricks. They endured the attacks of her children, and they multiplied and spread across the land, and as Celesta saw their achievements and their contentment, she gnashed her teeth in anger.

  In her rage, she conceived of a terrible plan to rain destruction down upon the Groundbreathers’ unsuspecting heads. She gathered together a hundred ground creatures and a hundred flying creatures, combining them with fire to make a monstrosity she called the “Fenik.” And while she worked to create this abomination, she instructed the Skychildren to torment the Groundbreathers living beneath the clouds.

  And the Skychildren swooped down like harpies and raided the fields of the Groundbreathers, laughing as they undid all the hard work of Terrain’s people.

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  Abomination

  The days wore on, and the party of Skychildren continued as they had before. There was no further success in the quest to find Sequoia, however, leaving them all frustrated and missing the sky realm. No one had made any direct comme
nts to Skye, but the lack of progress was taking a toll on the party. Gusty alone remained his normal sunny self, but the fact that he had actually met Tierra—and, just as importantly, liked her—had an effect on his outlook. Griffin and Nimbus had only had limited contact with Tierra, and Skye could sense their antipathy toward the mission in general. The other Sentinels did not even have that, and dissatisfaction bubbled beneath the surface.

  Still, the Sentinels in the band were competent and accustomed to obeying, and as a result, there had been no dissent. They continued to follow orders without comment. Vesper had even sat down with Skye once and asked some questions about Tierra, proving that she, at least, had some interest in finding the kidnapped princess. The other guards, save for the loquacious Griffin, essentially kept to themselves and did not speak much to either Skye or Gusty.

  Their forays into Groundbreather towns had brought about the same results as their first such venture—distrustful glares, curt answers to questions, and little in the way of information. At times, Skye wondered what Wisteria was doing. Surely word of her coup had reached this far by now, and if it had, the rescinding of the treaty negotiated by her father must have also reached the towns they were visiting. But though the Groundbreathers did not trust the Skychildren who had appeared in their midst, they were not overtly hostile.

  After they had been searching for more than a week’s time, the Skychildren once again stopped for the night, holing up in a small grove of trees. The strand was smaller than those they had preferred since arriving on the ground world, but there was nothing else nearby, and Skye decided it would do. They picketed the griffins, sending Griffin out on his mount to do some hunting, and settled in for the evening.

  After allowing himself a few minutes for meditation, Skye began to roll out his bedding. The squawking of the griffins suddenly caught his attention, and he looked over, noting their restlessness.

  “They are unruly creatures,” Stardust said as he looked at them before turning back to graze among the undergrowth. “My kind avoids them, for nothing good can come of behaving like a griffin.”

  “I don’t disagree,” Skye said, stretching out to run an affectionate hand across the pegasus’s neck. Then he rose and went to speak with Nightwind and Vesper, who were attempting to calm the griffins.

  “They are creatures of the sky, Your Majesty,” Vesper said as Skye approached, apparently anticipating Skye’s question. “The nearness of the trees makes them nervous.”

  “They’re not exactly known for being gentle and loving,” Skye replied in a sour tone.

  “Would you have your warriors inclined toward mildness?” one of the griffins nearby asked Skye. “Like your equine friend?” The griffin shook its head. “His kind is nothing more than prey for mine.”

  Skye glared at the fractious beast. “Can you not persuade your fellows to be quieter? We are not exactly in friendly territory.”

  “Then return us to the sky!” the griffin bellowed.

  “Calm yourself,” Nightwind said to the griffin with a wry grin, smoothing the feathers on the creature’s neck. That was one of the only ways that the creatures allowed Skychildren to touch them when not mounted.

  Nightwind then looked at Skye. “They may not be gentle, but they are fierce predators, and they can cause as much damage as any Skychild in battle. We might be happy to have them with us before all is said and done.”

  “That may be the case,” Skye said, “but we’ll have a fight on our hands soon if they give away our position.”

  Nightwind nodded. “Stealth is our best bet. Vesper and I shall do what we can to keep them quiet.”

  “My kind has no need for stealth!” the griffin screamed. Its fellows nearby shouted in agreement. “We will rend and break any who dare to challenge us!”

  “See that you do,” Skye grumbled.

  “We hunger for fresh flesh!” a griffin called out.

  Skye turned with the intention of returning to his bedroll when a shriek from the griffins caused him to look back. Two of the beasts were snapping at each other with a fury that indicated they were out for blood. Skye wondered whether they ever grew hungry enough to eat their own kind.

  Nightwind began pelting them with small gusts in an attempt to distract them, but the noise only grew louder. “I’m sorry,” he gritted, speaking to Skye.

  Vesper tried to talk to them in soothing tones, but they were too irritated for her efforts to bear fruit.

  Skye rushed over in an attempt to assist, as did the other members of the party, save Griffin, who was still out hunting. Strix even left his perch to watch their struggles.

  Though each griffin’s post had been set at a distance from its fellows, these two griffins were straining to break free of their restraints.

  “They’re going to draw attention to us if they don’t kill each other first,” Skye growled. “I’m not sure this is worth it.”

  In frustration, Skye sent a large whirlwind rushing forward. It buffeted one of the griffins. Unfortunately, the griffin only became angrier.

  And then a screeching call rose up, as though something had been born from the earth within the depths of the forest and was taking to the air in dark triumph.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Strix said flatly.

  The griffins stopped fighting, and every member of the party—man and beast alike—looked up as the night sky became dark with flying figures.

  As the figures came closer, Skye’s blood ran cold. “Harpies!” he cried out in recognition. “Skychildren, to your mounts! Stardust, to me! Strix, go hide!”

  The bird seemed less than enthused as he began, “Are you sure—”

  “Yes, I’m sure!” Skye snapped. “Hide!”

  The flutter of wings indicated Strix’s compliance.

  The screeching became louder as the harpies descended. Their heads were like the heads of women, but twisted in anger, with narrowed eyes, snarling lips, pointed ears, and filthy, tangled hair. Their bodies were that of birds, but birds with dirty, clumped feathers and talons like thick black daggers. Skychildren viewed them as Terrain’s attempt to mock Celesta’s creations, an abomination that should have been wiped out eons ago.

  As Skye sprinted forward, Stardust trotted to meet him halfway, jerking his head back and forth in the air in an attempt to knock aside a few harpies and their claws. Most of the creatures dodged the pegasus’s flailing, but his head connected with one. It fell to the ground with a shriek.

  Skye came up to the pegasus awaiting him, all the while blasting whirlwinds up into the sky. Stardust suddenly reared up in the air as a harpy dug into his back.

  Sharp hooves cut through the space in front of Skye. The pegasus jerked its head back and forth. Harpies screeched overhead.

  Skye sent a gust forward, knocking the harpy off Stardust. Then he ran around to the other side of the pegasus. He lifted himself up with the wind and dropped onto the pegasus’s bare back. He clung to Stardust’s neck with everything he had, and finally, the pegasus dropped his forelegs to the ground.

  “Easy, Stardust,” Skye said. “We can handle this. Now, let’s take to the sky!”

  And then they flew up into the air, passing through a clump of screaming bird-women.

  Though both Skye and Stardust had been nicked by the harpies’ claws on their ascent, they remained unfazed. Stardust kicked outward with powerful hooves, and Skye sent out gust after gust. Harpies cried out in pain from the assault.

  As the sky around him cleared slightly, Skye chanced a look at the ground. Unfortunately, the Sentinels were having a hard time with the griffins. Nimbus, perhaps through brute force, had managed to take to the air on his griffin, but Sunray and Nightwind were still struggling to free their mounts. Brightnest and Vesper appeared to have been injured—whether by their mounts or the harpies, Skye did not know—but they were not standing idly by.

  In a panic, Skye twisted around to look for Gusty. He heaved a sigh of relief when he found his friend. Gusty had given up on g
riffin-wrangling and was shooting rocks up into the air at the harpies with fair results.

  The air seemed to grow thicker with the nasty harpies, yet it might still have gone well for Skye’s band that day if not for the appearance of further foes.

  A giant column shot up from the ground into the air. Stardust was flying low, and if not for his quick reflexes, he and Skye might have met their end. As it was, the unexpected nature of the attack and the resultant haphazard dodge placed them in a clump of angry harpies.

  Skye threw an arm up in front of his face as the harpies slashed out. “Higher, Stardust,” he shouted over the din of enraged bird-women. He jerked on the pegasus’s mane and shifted his weight.

  Stardust complied, shooting higher into the air and hovering above the flock of harpies. Through the swirling mix of beasts, Skye confirmed his suspicions. Groundbreathers had joined the battle. And they were not on his side.

  “Wisteria,” Skye growled to himself, knowing that these were her Groundbreather soldiers. If he had entertained any doubts, the garms at their sides decided him. They had finally found him. But he was not going down without a fight.

  A stray harpy left its flock and approached. Stardust let out a kick that sent it spiraling back down.

  “Keep on doing that,” Skye said encouragingly, giving the pegasus’s neck a grateful stroke. Then he pulled out his bow and tried to aim an arrow.

  Unfortunately, the harpies were so thick that it was impossible to get a clean shot on the Groundbreathers. The Groundbreathers were constantly manipulating the earth into shields or weapons, and Skye’s guardsmen were finding it difficult to determine how to fight them in the confusion. A Skychild’s normal impulse when fighting a Groundbreather was to fly up into the air, but with the harpies above, that was a dangerous option. If the griffins would have cooperated, taking to the air would have been easier, but that was like wishing for the wind to rest in one’s palm.