by Jann Rowland
Skye was not fooled, of course. Jasper had rarely felt the need to continue so far from camp in the evening except when he and Sequoia danced to honor Terrain. The man simply wanted to be alone.
Sighing, Skye turned back to the camp, only to be arrested by the sight of Sequoia watching him. They stood still for a few moments, neither saying anything, while Skye wondered how much of his conversation with Jasper she had heard. Judging by the expression on her face, she must have heard something.
“I am aware of Jasper’s feelings,” she said at last. She did not meet Skye’s eyes.
He blinked and then said, “I guess I’m not really surprised.”
Nodding, Sequoia said, “I do not know what your purpose was in questioning him, but I would appreciate it if you would leave the matter be.”
“I have no intention of pursuing it further. If I had, I would have done so just now.”
Sequoia dipped her head. “Just so that we understand one another.”
The further the company traveled, the further they went from any true Groundbreather lands, leading Skye to wonder where this company of rogue Groundbreathers was taking Tierra. The land was hilly, dotted with strands of trees, rocks, and thick underbrush, making it inhospitable and dreary. It was no wonder the Groundbreathers had not claimed the area. It was not suitable for growing food, and other than trees, the wood of which might be harvested for Groundbreather buildings, there was little of value to be found there.
“I have never been so far south,” Sequoia said one day as they rode. “We Groundbreathers tend to worry only about the places over which we hold sway. We are not an exceptionally curious people, as you are well aware.”
“And you, Jasper?” Skye asked the man. “Have you been here before?”
“I have never ranged in this direction,” Jasper said. “I have never had any need to. I can tell you one thing, though. Wherever we are going, we are getting close.”
Skye regarded him. “What makes you say that?”
“The trail we are following is getting newer, which means we are gaining on them. And there is nothing in this area that could attract them unless they have some hidden camp set up. Beyond these lands are lands belonging to the Groundwalkers, and I doubt these Groundbreathers are hiding among the powerless ones.”
“I suppose you are correct,” Skye said. “But how could these Groundbreathers have some sort of camp in this region and remain unknown to your people? How could they have hidden themselves? How long have they been separate from your people?”
Jasper shrugged, but out of the corner of his eye, Skye saw Sequoia open her mouth as if to say something, only to pause, hesitating.
“Sequoia?” Skye asked. “Do you know anything of this?”
“I do not know much,” Sequoia replied slowly. “Tillman and I were kept abreast of any significant rumors by virtue of our positions.”
“What have you heard about these Groundbreathers?”
Sequoia grimaced. “Nothing of substance. There have been stories of strange Groundbreathers appearing from time to time in various places, but these stories have persisted since the earliest days of my people. Yet my people are not completely tied to their homes, and we do have some people who travel. Jasper here is one such example.”
“And what of you, Strix?” Skye asked, turning to the bird perched on the pommel of Stardust’s saddle. “Have you heard anything of these strange Groundbreathers?”
“Why would I know anything about Groundbreathers?” the bird replied petulantly.
“Maybe because you lived among them for millennia?”
“Do you think I ever actually got out of the castle? That some adventuring Groundbreather prince took me with him while he explored everything in earth and sky? I have already told you that I know little of the ground realm. I certainly don’t know who these Groundbreathers are or where they’re from. You’re wasting your time asking me.”
“Perhaps I’m wasting my time, but it’s mine to waste. For that matter, I still haven’t been able to figure out what you were going on about back at the temple.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
The bird’s sulky response provoked Skye’s anger. “That is enough, Strix. Now, I order you to tell me what you saw back at the temple. If it has a bearing on what’s going on, I must know about it!”
“What are you talking about with that bird?” Sequoia demanded.
Skye shook his head and continued to focus on the Fenik. Strix leveled an eye on him and appeared to be about to refuse to speak again, but something in Skye’s manner evidently gave the bird pause. Skye was not certain how far his influence over the Fenik extended, but past history showed that Strix could not disobey a direct command. Strix seemed unwilling to say anything further, but he spoke reluctantly, as though the words were being pulled from him.
“I don’t know anything. I can’t tell you anything.”
“But you obviously saw something at the temple. What was it?”
“A memory, nothing more.”
“A memory of what?”
Strix trilled, a grating sound which was reminiscent of the harsh squawks he had sometimes used when in the ugly bird form forced on him by Terrain. Skye reached out to prevent the bird from flying off, as he appeared to be about to do, but then Strix settled down again on the saddle and directed a baleful glare back up at Skye.
“When I saw the frescoes in the temple, I had a flash of a memory appear concerning something that I had forgotten long ago.”
“Are you prone to forgetting things?”
The bird’s glare hardened. “When you have existed as long as I have, you’re bound to forget a few things. Still, this memory is unlike anything else I have known. I wasn’t Celesta’s servant, and I don’t remember what I was doing. But I distinctly remember working alongside Celesta in some capacity.”
Skye frowned. “How is that possible? You were created by Celesta to destroy the ground world. The Book of Celesta is clear on this.”
“Then your precious book is wrong,” Strix said. “I have no more memory than this, and it lasted only an instant. But I know without any doubt at all that Celesta did not create me. In fact, she perverted my purpose, whatever that was.”
“And for that reason, you hate her—though you do not even completely understand what you saw in the temple.”
“Do you have to completely understand the sun to be able to enjoy its light?” the Fenik asked. “You are able to judge it based on how it makes you feel, are you not? So it is with my feelings for Celesta. I hate her. The mere thought of her causes my feathers to stand on end.”
“I still wonder whether this all might have been some sort of powerful dream—”
“It was not!” the Fenik snapped. “I may not be able to tell you any significant details, but I can tell you this much.”
“Fine. But it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Think what you will,” Strix said, looking away. “I do not care.”
For some reason, Skye almost felt like the bird did care, but he nonetheless dropped the conversation and turned toward the expectant Sequoia. He then began summarizing his conversation with the Fenik in a low voice, though there was not much to tell. Skye was beginning to think he would never get all the answers he sought. But if he could find Tierra, that would be enough. He could face anything then.
Celesta the sky goddess grew jealous of the attention Terrain paid the Waterweavers, and she began to yearn for the power of Cascade the water goddess.
And so Celesta disguised herself in a form like unto Terrain, and she called out in a deep voice, “Cascade, walk with me.”
“Of course, Mighty Terrain,” said the water goddess, fearing nothing, for guile was not known to her.
And the sky goddess and water goddess walked deep into a forest. And when Cascade paused by a nearby lake, Celesta reached into her back and ripped out her heart. Cascade fell to the ground with a cry. Celesta gazed upon the lifeless form b
efore her and brought her sister’s heart to her lips, taking it into herself.
But the powers of Terrain are not so easily stolen. Terrain felt the return of the powers over water, and he knew what Celesta had done. His fury was awful to behold as he strode through the forest, calling in a mighty voice: “Celesta, why have you done this?”
Celesta fled to the sky before the might and majesty of Terrain, and he could not reach her. Terrain then hung his head in sorrow at the loss of the water goddess.
Celesta’s anger and jealousy only grew because of her failure, and she resolved to deny the other gods and goddesses of their powers since those powers could not be taken. And through trickery, stealth, and treachery, she killed all those whom Terrain had created to assist in the creation and maintenance of the world.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Yearning
As Tierra walked through the castle with her two attendants and a pair of guards trailing her, she found her thoughts drifting back to the conversation that had taken place between her and River shortly after Tierra had snapped at King Canyon and stomped away from dinner.
Tierra had been sitting on the bed and fuming in her room alone—her attendants had wisely chosen to make themselves scarce for a while—when River had entered through the door that joined their rooms.
Tierra had glared up at her cousin. In spite of River’s declaration of support at dinner, Tierra had whipped her anger up into such a fury that she could scarcely recall anything other than River’s negative words. She had never expected such a betrayal from a beloved cousin. In spite of that, however, Tierra found herself brought up short by River’s quiet spoken words.
“I am sorry, cousin.”
Tierra blinked at her. Those words were like a lightning bolt in the midst of her emotional storm, and she could only manage to ask, “What?”
“I am sorry for a lot, actually,” River said, slumping on the bed next to Tierra. She then threw herself backward, lying down on the bed, her feet still on the floor.
After a moment of hesitation, Tierra imitated her, trying to release some of her anger and allow herself to relax. She stared up at the ceiling and listened as River continued to speak.
“I am sorry that I spoke against you at dinner, for one. I know we need to present a unified front against the people holding us here. I just have not been thinking clearly lately, in case you have not noticed.”
“I have noticed,” Tierra said dryly.
Rather than respond to that, River pushed forward: “I want to blame everything and everyone for my situation. I may never see my betrothed again, and it hurts. More than I thought it would or could. I have always accepted the idea that I would marry Basil, and I have never really given it another thought. I never realized that I had actually grown to care for him . . . that I actually wanted to marry him.”
“Oh, River—”
“But now that I may be trapped here for the rest of my life, I want to panic. I have considered sneaking off in the middle of the night without you. I even almost convinced myself that they would let me go free if I left you behind. But it is all foolishness. They want Hearth to remain hidden, for whatever reason. And I could never forgive myself if I abandoned you.” Strong, pragmatic River sounded like she was almost in tears, and Tierra forced herself not to look at her cousin. River would not want Tierra to see her break down.
“You must hate me,” River whispered.
At that, Tierra whipped her head to the side to look at her cousin. River was staring up at the ceiling, her expression made up of a pitiful numbness that touched Tierra’s heart.
“I could never hate you,” Tierra said emphatically, sitting up and grabbing her cousin’s hand. “I know you are upset. I am upset, too. Do you know how often I blame myself for you having ended up here? They would never have brought you here if not for me. I do not blame you for resenting the situation—for resenting me.”
“I could never truly resent you, Tierra,” River said, her fingers squeezing Tierra’s as she gazed up at her. She looked as though she lacked the energy to even sit up. “But this place . . . I feel so closed in. I feel suffocated. I thank Terrain for all he has done for us, but living deep inside the earth like this is not for me. I never realized I could become this desperate to just sit beneath a tree.” She let out a weak laugh. “It is pathetic.”
“No, it is not,” Tierra said firmly. “I miss the trees, too. There is a certain comforting warmth and smell about the outdoors that is missing in this dank and musty place. And the darkness is so oppressive. I am worried that I may never see the stars again.”
“You had better not let your attendants hear you saying that,” River said. “All Jade has for this place is praise.”
“I think most people prefer the home they know to the prospect of living somewhere drastically different.”
“Do you feel that way?” River asked her seriously. “If you marry Skye, you will have to spend a lot of time away from your home. He will not be able to whisk you down to the ground realm for a visit anytime you would like. He is a king. He will have certain responsibilities to attend to.”
“I know,” Tierra said. She smiled at the thought of Skye rolling his eyes at a request that she be allowed to visit her mother and River. He would do what he could to make it happen, of course, but it would not always be convenient for him to do so. “But I actually enjoy the sky realm. It has some similarities with the ground realm. Believe it or not, it is more similar to our home than this place is.”
River grimaced. “I believe that. I almost miss the sound of birdsong here. That is how much I despise this place.”
“Well, I do not like this place either, but I fear we must both try to make the best of our situation for now. Until we can figure out a way to slip past our attendants and the guards posted at our doors—or until Skye comes storming in to rescue us—we are stuck down here. We might as well try to keep a positive attitude.”
“Like the one you demonstrated at dinner?” River asked wryly as she sat up.
“I need to rein in my temper,” Tierra admitted. “But the two of you made me so mad I could not stand it.”
“That Skychild is a bad influence on you.”
Tierra raised an eyebrow, and River said hastily, “I am only jesting, Tierra. I think he has actually helped you become a stronger person. You may be surprised to hear that coming from me, but it is the truth. I have seen you change for the better, and that is why I believe you.”
“Believe me about what, exactly?” Tierra asked with a frown.
“About everything, really. I believe that your love for that Skychild is real and worth something. I believe he can make you happy, even if you may rarely leave the sky realm.”
“Thank you, River,” Tierra said quietly.
“But there is more,” her cousin said with a smile. “I have always worshiped Terrain because that is what Groundbreathers do. I dance for him every week as we are supposed to. I do what is required and nothing more. I have never stopped to consider whether there is something more to create thought or give pause. The notion that Terrain might expect more or give more has never really occurred to me. And then you said that Terrain actually spoke to you when you were sitting by his pool, and it seemed too fantastical to be believed.”
“It is true,” Tierra said, looking down at her hands.
“And that is part of what amazes me—I actually believe you!” River exclaimed. “If there has ever been a person I can trust, it is you, Tierra. You are so genuine and caring and unlike anyone else I have ever known. If you say that Terrain gave you a message, then I have to believe you.”
Choking up, Tierra threw her arms around her cousin, embracing her tightly, feeling her tears mingling with River’s. “Thank you, River. That means more to me than you will ever know.”
“Oh, I think I have an idea,” River replied, returning the gesture in full. “I will try not to let our situation affect me so much. It is difficult
, but we cannot give up all hope.”
Tierra drew away and fixed her cousin with a tenacious stare. “I have no doubt of it. I am certain that Skye is on his way and that he will do everything he can to rescue us. If he has difficulty, then we will have to help him on his way.”
“Somehow, I think someone as determined as your Skychild will need no help from the likes of us.” River’s tone was wry, and Tierra almost thought her cousin felt some affection for Skye. “He is the only Skychild in living memory to have engineered an escape from the castle, you know.”
“He never would have managed it if I had not already been half in love with him.”
“That is what makes it that much more special, dear,” River said fondly. “You both have brought two peoples together, though much work still needs to be done. I have never been certain of this course of action, as you know, but you are beginning to make a believer out of me.”
It had been a watershed moment in several ways, and as Tierra thought about it and reflected on what had passed between them, she was awed all over again. Through the years, though they had become the closest of friends and confidantes, Tierra and River had always known that they were very different people, and that knowledge had, at times, caused friction between them. River tended to carry pragmatism to extremes, and Tierra often spent too much time in her dreams. Furthermore, neither girl was shy about pointing out the other’s character flaws, though it was always done with the greatest affection.
But Tierra had changed, she reflected. She had always wished for adventure, for something outside the confines of the Groundbreather castle, but now that she could be completely honest with herself, she knew that her adventures always consisted of daring quests, heroic deeds, and romance. She had never taken thought for what would comprise those deeds or what it meant to be involved with great events. Now, she felt that she could live her life with Skye, tending to matters in both their homes, dedicating her life to his and to the cause they had taken up. She had matured, becoming more than she had ever been before.