by Jann Rowland
With some difficulty, Skye dressed in his smallclothes. When he finished, he looked at her expectantly, holding out a hand for the jar.
“I know you Groundbreather nobles abhor touching Skychildren. If you’ll give me that jar, I can handle this myself.”
River looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise. “How can you reach your back?”
Skye gave a wry smile. “I used to do it when Tierra gave me salve after I was beaten in the castle. I’m certain I can handle it now.”
After staring at him for several moments, River shook her head. “Not with your back the way it is, not to mention that wound on your chest.” Her hand raised hesitantly to his brand, but she stopped short of touching him. “Turn around, and let me handle it.”
Something was happening in that instant, and Skye was not certain what it was. River was looking at him, and he could almost see something shift within her, something basic to her character. He had never seen eye-to-eye with the woman, and her acceptance of his relationship with Tierra had always been based on a wish for her cousin to be happy rather than any real affection for him.
But now, after having been forcibly brought to this unholy city and after seeing the results of the vindictive depravity of her so-called god before her, River finally appeared to be softening toward Skye.
“Please turn around,” she said, her cheeks turning slightly pink. “We must hurry!”
With a nod, Skye gingerly settled down on the floor, turning his back to River. Her sharp intake of breath told him that his back was in even worse shape than what she had been able to see previously.
“I am going to clean your back first,” she told him.
“All right,” he said, bracing himself.
Though the first touch caused him to hiss in pain, Skye could make no complaints, for River remained remarkably gentle as she dabbed at his back with the wet towel. She repeatedly paused to rinse out the towel, and when he glanced back, he reflected on how it had not taken long before the water in the basin had become tainted with blood and oil and dirt. He would be fortunate if his wounds did not become infected.
As River worked, Skye’s shoulders remained tense through the effort he was making not to cry out, and he could taste the metallic tang of blood from his lip, which he was biting down on.
“I am sorry for causing you further pain,” the young woman whispered. “I will give you the healing cream now. I hope it will help you.”
A few moments later, there was a slight scraping sound as the jar was opened, and then River’s hand floated across his back with the cool lotion.
Nothing prepared Skye for the pure feeling of the salve as it immediately began healing the hurts, softening the edge of the pain, and knitting the skin. The soothing feeling was almost sensual in nature, so much so that Skye thought that if it had been Tierra tending to him, then it might have led to something decidedly improper.
When River had finished with his back, Skye turned around and gestured for the jar, but River shook her head, instead picking the towel back up—bloodied, as he had expected—and cleaning away as much of the filth on his chest as she could. When she finally set the towel and basin aside once more, she reached out with a dollop of the salve and began slathering it on his chest. Skye watched her as she worked, noting the look of concentration on her face, the almost desperate manner in which her eyes did not rise to meet his, and the way she tenderly touched the brand over his heart.
“It is done,” she said after a moment of observing her finished work.
“Thank you.”
“I am sorry, but I don’t think the salve can quite overcome . . .”
Skye looked down, seeing that the brand was still a vivid red, though the coloring was less angry around the edges. But the salve had done nothing to reduce the lines of the brand—it still sat there, an angry canker upon his soul, and he swore he could feel it sapping his strength.
“No apology necessary,” Skye said. “It’s not your fault.”
Suddenly, a commotion rose up in the outside room, and the sounds of shouts and the clash of weapons rose up. River darted a glance back and then turned to Skye, motioning toward the rest of his clothes.
“You had better get dressed.”
Needing no further encouragement, Skye grasped his clothes and quickly donned them.
“What is going on?” he asked as he finished putting on his shirt.
The door opened, and Jasper, dressed in the attire of a Groundbreather guard, strode into the room.
“We are here to save your hide,” the man growled.
“Are you certain this will work?” Tierra asked.
Her mother glared at her as though she had already asked the question a thousand times. For all Tierra knew, she had.
“Would you prefer to stay here? I am sure the king of this place would love to have you.”
Tierra scowled, but her mother only looked away, attending once more to her task. That task consisted of trussing up the three servant women like bales of hay. Though the hour was late and most of the Groundbreathers in the city were asleep, the three attendants had not yet sought their beds, and their neutralization had been necessary. Jade was glaring as was her wont, but the other two women regarded Tierra and Sequoia as though they were loathsome traitors.
“Come, Tierra,” Sequoia said as they finished their work. “We must go.”
Though Tierra nodded, she looked down at Violet, observing the almost palpable hatred with which the woman regarded her. Face set in a stony mask, Tierra bent down close so that the woman could hear her clearly, feeling an almost savage glee when Violet recoiled.
“You may tell your king that I could never marry a man as disgusting as he is. And you may tell Quicksilver that if I should ever see him again, he will wish for death before I am through with him.”
With those words, Tierra rose, noting the woman’s wide and almost disbelieving eyes staring back into her own. She glared at the woman and then departed with her mother.
The hall outside their rooms was bare of any activity, and even the guards normally stationed at her door were absent. Tierra looked at her mother askance, expecting an answer as to what had happened to them. Sequoia only motioned impatiently and started off down the corridor.
“With the Skychild’s connection to you being cut, it seems these people do not consider you as much of a threat any longer,” Sequoia said.
Tierra could only agree with her. The security at this castle was lax, nothing like what had been found in her father’s court. Centuries of being underground, hidden from the knowledge of the world, had made the “Chosen” complacent.
Sequoia led them through the maze of castle hallways to a corridor just off the main entrance, where they stopped and waited.
“You remember what you need to do?” she asked.
Tierra gave a feeble nod. “Are you sure we should do this? I would not wish to be responsible for the death of everyone who lives down here. They talked about the tunnels being unstable.”
Sequoia snorted. “If that is true, then we will all have a lot more to worry about than trying to get out of here.”
Surprised, Tierra shot a look at her mother, but Sequoia did not deign to glance at her; instead, she peered across the way at the entrance on the far side of the courtyard outside their present position. From what Tierra could see, the courtyard was mostly deserted, with only a pair of guards stationed at the exit to the castle complex. Wary of what had happened last time, Tierra turned to her mother.
“How do we know there are no soldiers hidden away, waiting for us to make this move?”
“Why would they suspect that? I am the one who so blatantly threw your Skychild over in favor of their machinations, and they have no knowledge of Jasper’s presence at all.”
“Jasper?” Tierra asked, curious about this man whose name she had only heard on occasion and whom she had never in fact met.
Sequoia ignored her, continuing in a casual tone, “In fact,
the king of these people thinks I am firmly on his side. We spoke only this evening of how we would go about ensuring you ‘come to your senses’ and accept a proposal from him.”
“As if that will ever happen,” Tierra growled.
“Just as I would never truly side with the men who caused my husband’s death,” Sequoia rejoined.
“And what of Skye? What were their plans for him? I understand their desire to capture the Fenik, but that does not explain why they would go to the trouble to sever my connection with Skye. Our bond really does not matter, does it?”
Sequoia turned a displeased frown on Tierra. “Come, Tierra. I taught you better than that. You must understand what is driving them in this.”
When Tierra gave her a blank look, Sequoia shook her head and turned back to the courtyard. “The vitriol with which these people view your use of Terrain’s water is particularly virulent. While we have become much more secularized, they have remained fanatically religious. The fact that a Skychild used something as sacred as the water of Terrain causes them to become almost frothing beasts when it is mentioned.”
“They must have been holding back from expressing the depth of their feelings when they spoke to me about it.”
“They were still intending to use you for their own purposes—namely, to capture the Fenik and the Skychild king. But as I said, their vitriol is there, and I do not doubt that it will be unrestrained in the future.”
Silence descended over them, and Sequoia turned her attention back to the courtyard. For her part, Tierra focused on the passage behind them, patting the short sword at her side that her mother had given to her. They had no defense if someone came on them from behind, and they had stood there for a sufficient amount of time that it was becoming a concern.
But as Tierra moved to speak to her mother, a commotion penetrated her senses. She looked back. Three figures sprinted toward them from behind.
“Mother, we have been discovered!” Tierra exclaimed. She positioned herself toward the corridor, drawing her sword and preparing for battle.
She then noticed that one of the approaching figures ran with a stiff gait and had the tall height and blond hair that was characteristic of the Skychildren. As they approached, Tierra began to make out a lined face, with gray hairs peppering the blond.
And then she realized who it was.
It was Skye.
Though Skye and his companions had come across several Groundbreathers on their way to the courtyard, the Groundbreathers were quickly subdued, and soon Skye noted two women standing in the shadows of an archway. He saw at a glance that the two figures were Tierra and Sequoia.
A softly spoken “Skye?” floated up to him, as if from a great distance.
“He should not even be standing here,” River muttered as she stepped toward Tierra and Sequoia. “You did not see the state he was in.”
Skye ignored Tierra’s shocked expression and turned to Jasper. “I hope you have a plan to get us past those guards. They will raise the alarm long before we can silence them.”
The other man shot him a feral grin. “Leave that to me.”
“Ever the cocky Groundbreather,” Skye muttered, though he spoke without malice. “What do you have in mind?”
“Skye,” Tierra pleaded.
But Skye ignored her, keeping his gaze on Jasper. He could not bear speaking to her at that moment. It was taking all his energy to simply participate in this escape plan without hampering everyone’s success. He could not handle the emotional anguish of speaking with Tierra. Furthermore, it was all he could do not to charge back into the castle and try to find where those thieving Groundbreathers had hidden the Fenik away. It went against all he had to leave Strix behind, but he was in no shape to reclaim him.
Jasper’s gaze flickered toward Tierra, but he evidently realized Skye had no intention of replying to the princess, as he soon responded. “I have identified several major tunnels leading toward the surface. I have arranged for some of them to collapse.”
Skye raised an eyebrow. “But not, uh, all of them, I hope?”
“Of course not,” Jasper said, sounding insulted. He closed his eyes and lifted a hand in the air, slowly clenching it.
A low rumble sounded.
Skye raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I hope that’s one of them.”
The guards at the exit to the castle complex began to shout and abandoned their post, no doubt investigating the collapsing tunnel.
“It is,” Jasper told Skye, sounding pleased. “I ensured that one was hanging by a thread so I could bring it down even at a distance. I will need assistance with the others. Timing will be everything.”
“In that case, let’s go. Please lead the way.”
The whole group moved forward at a brisk walk, needing to move quickly but not wanting to draw attention with the sound of feet clopping across the ground. Unfortunately, it would not be long before more guards left the castle to investigate what was happening.
But though Skye was moving with all possible haste, the brand on his chest felt like it was sapping away his strength. He hoped he could remain upright long enough to get out of this wretched place.
Skye and his companions made it out of the castle complex. They even made it within several meters’ distance of the tunnel they intended to use for their escape.
“Four Groundbreathers and a Skychild walk out of a castle,” Skye muttered, feeling a hint of sardonic humor at the unusual situation. “Sounds like the beginning of a joke.”
“Quiet, Skychild,” Sequoia admonished, though she sported a hint of a grin on her face.
But then the sound of the ground breaking up came from behind them, and they all swiveled around.
Someone—likely Jasper, from the sense of concentration Skye saw on his face—brought up great chunks of the earth in front of them to block the impending blow, using soil from nearby as a shield.
Then a different sort of rumble filled the massive underground cavern, and Skye looked up with dread as he saw the giant creature from before rising into the air.
The beast was at some distance, but it fixed its eyes on Skye and his group, and he knew it would not be long before it reached them.
“We have to go!” Skye shouted.
Jasper gestured to the other Groundbreathers, and the whole party began backing up toward the tunnel as they blocked their opponents’ attacks. Dirt and rocks filled the air, and the visibility in the area began to suffer.
Skye attempted to send off a wind attack of his own, but the result of his attempt was so pathetic that he gritted his teeth and left off even trying. He would do better to conserve his energy. If he collapsed on the floor due to overextending himself, he would only do his companions harm.
With only four Groundbreathers defending them against an army, Skye could see that the attacks were coming closer and closer to them, and it would not be long before they were overwhelmed. He reached for his powers, cursing the brand that sapped his strength, desperate to do something to assist.
A sudden change in the air around him alerted Skye that the tides were shifting slightly, but before he could do anything, arrows began to fly out from behind them, driving into the pursuing Groundbreathers’ ranks, felling many men and causing disarray.
Turning, Skye saw a wonderful sight. Gusty and Griffin were standing at the edge of the tunnel, alternately raining death down on their opponents and shooting off whirlwinds, further confusing the enemy Groundbreathers. Stone stood beside them, growling all the while.
Giving a savage smile, Skye turned and sprinted as best as he was able up to the ledge on which the other Skychildren stood. He held out his hand for Gusty’s bow, yelling, “Give me that! You hit them with the wind!”
Gusty threw Skye a startled glance, but he did as he was told. With a bow in hand, Skye began wreaking his own brand of vengeance on the Groundbreathers. He picked out several he thought appeared to be fighting skillfully or giving orders, and he killed them without hesit
ation or mercy. Soon, the attacks were sporadic enough that the four Groundbreathers below them were able to turn and make a final dash for the tunnel.
Finally, all the members of their party made it to a temporarily safe spot. Then Jasper, Sequoia, Tierra, and River began pulling down soil and rocks from the tunnel and sending it out toward the Chosen.
“Is this tunnel about to collapse?” Skye asked uneasily. They were pulling down an awful lot of the roof of the tunnel. A tinge of panic began to rise up, but he quashed it immediately.
Jasper gave Skye a wicked grin. “You Skychildren might want to run.”
Skye, looking up at the tunnel, did not feel inclined to argue. It would be much more difficult for a Skychild to combat falling debris than a Groundbreather. “Gusty, Griffin,” he called. “Let’s go!”
The two Skychildren threw out a few gusts before following him, moving deeper into the tunnel. Griffin, as he did so, muttered a constant litany to himself: “I hate tunnels. I hate tunnels.” Skye, who shared the sentiment, did not bother reprimanding him.
As the roof of the tunnel began to fall in earnest near the entrance, Skye felt a flicker of worry, but the Groundbreathers of his party soon began sprinting toward him, and he put aside his concerns.
A muffled screech made its way through the large pile of dirt and debris, a testament to the fact that the great beast pursuing them had come across the unexpected roadblock.
Skye grimaced and asked Sequoia, who was running nearby, “Can that thing burrow through rocks?”
“How am I supposed to know that?” Sequoia snapped. “If it can, we might be in trouble.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” Skye grumbled. But he just kept on running.
As they fled, the Groundbreathers continued to bring down occasional tunnels under Jasper’s direction. Skye hoped the man knew what he was doing. It would be unfortunate if the entire tunnel system collapsed on them. Fortunately, however, Jasper appeared to have thoroughly studied everything, and he had even put markers in place to ensure their party did not inadvertently bring down the wrong tunnel.