Skyborn

by David Dalglish

  Nickolas stared a moment longer, then rose back to his feet and beckoned them to follow. Tired and harried men and women parted when they saw him, clearing a way through the craziness. As they passed, Kael heard men arguing over shipments, waving pieces of paper, and pointing at crates that all looked the same to him. Others carried heavy sacks over their shoulders, making their way up and down Wooden Road, toward Lowville or Glensbee to the north. At the lifts themselves gathered a small crowd, waiting for the next to arrive. At the lift’s arrival, Nickolas cleared his throat but said nothing.

  A man at the back glanced over, saw Nickolas, and then dipped his head and stepped away. Others turned at the commotion, or had people with them tap their shoulders or tug on their sleeves. Soon a path had parted, and Kael and Bree followed Nickolas to the edge of the wooden platform. The crowd grouped back together behind them, sealing them in. So many eyes were on him, Kael felt his neck beginning to flush from the attention. Trying to think about something else, he stared into the sky, where one of the lifts was approaching.

  It was a simple enough structure, a large square platform made from split logs that were lashed and nailed together. A thick rope formed its only barrier across the four sides, the rope attached to thick posts built into the corners. From those posts hooked the carrying chains, which in turn were locked to the chest harnesses of four ferrymen, one for each. The ferrymen flew above the structure, thick wings glowing. Though they did not need to carry the chains themselves, their arms rippled with muscle from having to guide the platforms to their destinations. The ferrymen traveled even slower than the fishermen, but their wings could handle far greater weight. Together the four lowered the lift so that it hovered smoothly before the end of the built docks. More than twenty people stood in the center of the lift, forming a circle around a stack of five small crates.

  “Welcome to Weshern!” shouted another of the ferrymen who wore a heavy brown robe and remained on the ground, guiding the traffic. He unlatched the rope to allow people to exit. The men and women did, with some of the men carrying two crates apiece.

  “Sothren Lift!” the ferrymen called once it was empty.

  Nickolas stepped onto the lift, Kael and his sister following.

  “We fly to Center,” the knight said to the ferrymen. “And we fly alone.”

  The man in the brown robe nodded, and he looked up to the four carrying the lift, relaying the orders. The men saluted, and once the ferryman had latched the rope, the lift rose from the dock. The sudden lurch startled Kael, and he cried out as he regained his balance.

  “Steady,” Nickolas said. “You are in no danger.”

  “Just awkward is all,” Kael said, feeling embarrassed.

  Attached to the center of the lift was a long, thick rope. Nickolas knelt down to grab it and then offered it to Kael.

  “Hold it if you must,” he said. Kael stared at it as if it were a snake ready to bite him.

  “No thanks,” he said. “If I’m about to fly around in the sky as a Seraph, I can’t be scared of a slow-moving lift, can I?”

  Only a tiny bit of it was bluster. With wings, he could fly anywhere. With a lift, if he fell, well… there was only the ocean below to catch him. Swallowing his nerves, he joined his sister’s side. Together they held the outer rope, leaning against it as they took in their surroundings.

  All around them were puffy white clouds, nowhere near as thick as those below Weshern but enough to obscure the view after a few hundred yards as well as provide their island with the occasional gentle mist. Their platform rose through them, and Kael’s mouth dropped open in wonder once they emerged. The sun seemed to shine brighter, and suddenly he saw the other floating islands.

  “There’s Sothren!” Bree said, pointing to the nearest of the islands. Unlike Weshern and her many lakes and rivers, Sothren appeared mostly green, her various towns little gray dots amid fields and orchards. The island was their close ally, and Kael remembered hearing their father talk highly of their Seraphim on many occasions.

  The platform continued, and Kael craned his neck trying to see the other islands. He could have easily placed them on a map, but to see them hovering in the actual sky made those maps pale in comparison.

  “Which nation is that?” he asked, pointing to an island to the far southwest. Her surface was far more yellow than green, covered with fields of wheat and deep canyons carved into the stone. Nickolas joined them at the outer rope and leaned close so they might hear him without need of shouting.

  “Elern, the peacekeeper,” the knight said. “Those canyons hide the caves where they grow their famous mushrooms.”

  Bree frowned at him, confused.

  “Peacekeeper?” she asked.

  Nickolas nodded.

  “We have our nicknames for the various islands among the knights. Elern has earned hers through the rule of the Gemman family. They’ve pledged assistance to any island threatened by invasion from another. If not for their protection, I’d wager Weshern and Galen would have declared all-out war long before you were even born.”

  Kael stared at Elern’s canyons, which looked like deep scars upon the land, and wished he could visit those numerous caves.

  “What is Weshern’s nickname?” he asked.

  Nickolas grinned at him.

  “Ice-blooded,” he said. “Don’t worry, it’s a compliment. Your island has never backed down from a challenge, and so long as Isaac Willer is your Archon, I doubt you ever will.”

  Bree looked about, searching.

  “Where is Galen?” she asked. The name made Kael’s face twitch. Galen, ally of Candren and home of his parents’ murderers. Why would she care to see such an awful place? Nickolas put a hand over his eyes to block the sun, searched for a moment, and then pointed.

  “There,” he said.

  They followed his gaze, but Kael only saw a vague brown dot mostly obscured by the clouds. Bree stared at it, and it seemed like she was trying to send it crashing down with her mind. Kael nudged her side, and when she looked his way, he grinned.

  “Just making sure you’re awake,” he said.

  Her concentration broken, Bree rolled her eyes, but she did not return to staring. Not that she could have, anyway. They were passing through a deep stretch of clouds, and even Weshern behind them was hard to spot. The cloud rolled across them, immaterial as mist, and then ended with a brightening of the sun. In the sudden clarity, Kael first laid eyes upon Center, and his mouth dropped open in awe.

  If the outer islands were children, Center was the parent. Larger than all five put together, the sight of it made Kael’s head spin as he tried to grasp its enormity. Three gigantic founts led up to it, each a tornado of water of frightening size. Fields covered the outer rim, and beside many green and lush forests he saw towns like white dots. Rivers ran throughout, all flowing to the edge and then dropping back down to the Endless Ocean, solid blue lines that eventually became scattered white spray. And unlike the other islands, Center had a mountain at its far side, deep brown rock that rose up like a ragged finger. Built into it were the holy temples of the theotechs, far above and separate from the great cities that spread out near the heart of the island.

  It took half an hour for them to cross the many miles separating Center from Weshern. Kael and Bree passed the time by peering down at the ocean or pointing out a new sight or wonder on the surface of Center. As they approached, Kael better saw the many wood structures built along the edge, fishing docks and places for lifts. The very air was crowded with the platforms, forming into long lines. Ferrymen were like birds in a great flock, the air seeming to vibrate to the hum of their wings.

  “Where are they taking us?” Bree asked, needing to turn and shout to be heard over the growing din.

  “Look to the colors,” Nickolas shouted back.

  The landing platforms were bunched into groups, and as they neared, Kael saw each group flying a different flag. The ferrymen carrying their lift shifted their angle, joining a line leadin
g to docks flying a flag that was half white, half blue. The colors of Weshern, Kael realized. He looked to the other flags, black and yellow, green and white, red and orange. All guiding lifts from the various islands to their proper place.

  It took over twenty minutes for it to be their turn, the ferrymen settling the lift before a platform. Rope pulled away, Nickolas stepped off, only to be greeted by an elderly man with a red robe and a pair of spectacles hanging low off his nose.

  “Name and rank?” the man asked.

  “Knight Lieutenant Nickolas Flynn,” Nickolas answered.

  “And the two with you?”

  “Kael and Breanna Skyborn, of Lowville, Weshern. They’ve come for their affinity tests.”

  “Very good,” said the man in red, marking something on the board and parchment he held. “Carry on.”

  Nickolas led them through, and the bustle there made Kael realize how calm and small the lifts in Weshern truly were by comparison. Everywhere he looked were hundreds of people, carrying belongings, shouting, making deals, and asking questions. Staying close, they followed the gap made by the large knight as he pushed his way from the lifts and to the smooth stone road beyond. Wagons rolled to and fro, the sight of the rare horses pulling them putting a smile on Kael’s face.

  “The tests are held at the base of the mountain,” Nickolas said, not turning to address them. “It is a taxing walk for those not used to it, but I am forbidden to carry you. Consider this part of the test.”

  Merchants lined either side of the road they traveled, tanned men wearing clothes of all combinations of colors. They held out shirts, pants, glittering jewelry, and exotic pets. There was so much for sale Kael could barely take in it all. Whatever peace they’d known in Weshern for being in Nickolas’s presence was absent there in Center. Ahead of them Kael saw an enormous city, its buildings constructed of white marble, and the thought of how many people must live there made his stomach twist. He could not begin to count how many different homes and streets he saw within. Already he felt crowded, and the closer they walked to the city the worse it became. Even the air was filled with knights flitting about. Thankfully the road forked, and Nickolas led them northwest, the road skirting around the city’s edge.

  It took more than two hours for them to pass the city. A great forest grew to their west, and Kael felt a strong impulse to go running into it to explore. Instead of the broad leaves sported by the trees that grew on Weshern, these had thousands of little needles, and it seemed they did not grow quite as tall, either. They grew so tightly packed that within was dark and mysterious.

  “Does anything live in there?” Bree asked at one point.

  “Only that which is allowed,” answered Nickolas. “And I did not address you.”

  It was a gentle rebuke, but still Bree frowned and looked away, her gray eyes peering into the woods with a sense of longing he understood well. Deep pine forests were but stories to them, for it was their clear water the people of Weshern prided themselves on. In a brief moment of clarity, Kael realized he looked to the forest the way he sometimes saw strangers from Sothren look at their rivers and lakes.

  Steadily the forest withdrew west, and the path followed. Fewer people traveled there, and those who did seemed to more often wear the red robes of the theotechs. Ahead of them the mountain loomed, and the path veered higher and higher. At sight of the mountain, Nickolas suddenly broke the silence.

  “We approach the site of the tests,” the knight said. “But before we arrive, I want to make sure you two know what it is you are seeking to become, and that you understand the sheer importance of the position.”

  Nickolas gestured to the forests and mountain.

  “For all of Center’s grandeur, she is but a splinter of the majesty humankind once possessed. Forests once sprawled for hundreds of miles in all directions. There used to be entire ranges of mountains, peaks upon peaks that a man could spend his entire life climbing and never see each and every one. Plains of grass stretched beyond sight, grazed upon by a legion of animals that now exist only in drawings and paintings. Before the Ascension, humanity counted its numbers not in the thousands, not in the millions, but in the billions. Then came the shadow that swallowed the world. Then the demons of old, the sky of fire, and the Endless Ocean washing over all. We faced extinction, and only God’s angels pulling our six islands to the sky gave us one final chance to continue living.”

  Nickolas paused, and he turned to them and crossed his arms over his chest. His tone shifted, less lecture, more warning.

  “As a Seraph of Weshern, you will fight the battles she cannot. Wars between nations once spanned thousands of miles, with the dead outnumbering every single man and woman currently alive. Such instances cannot occur, not with our very existence teetering so close to oblivion. That is why over the years the Speaker for the Angels has set up the many rules of combat you will learn to follow. Each one is to minimize the number of dead while still allowing each of the five outer islands some measure of independence. If you are blessed enough to become a member of the Weshern Seraphim, know that while you serve your island, you also accept an agreement with us here in Center. You will honor that with your very lives, is that clear?”

  Kael and Bree nodded in unison. His gaze was so powerful, so intense, Kael wished the man would look away.

  “Tell me,” Nickolas said, “have either of you spoken with a disciple of Johan Lumens?”

  The two siblings glanced at each other, confused.

  “We’ve never heard the name,” Kael said, answering for both of them.

  The knight frowned.

  “Listen well, for this may save your very lives. If you have not heard his name, you soon will, for he is a worm burrowing into the heart of all six islands. He preaches a dangerous dogma, denying the divine wisdom of our Speaker for the Angels, insisting Marius Prakt does not hear the words of Heaven’s host. Johan claims the theotechs are not servants of God but enslavers of mankind. It is all nonsense. For more than five centuries we have endured, and it is only through the aid of Center and her theotechs. Only the theotechs know the secrets to create the prisms we need to power our entire societies. Only they know the mechanics of the wings that give us flight. The Fount that keeps each island aloft, the systems deep underground that purify the water you drink, even the divine prayers that protect us from the midnight fire, they are all carefully managed by the theotechs.”

  Nickolas put a hand on a shoulder of each of them.

  “The theotechs are not jailers,” he said. “They are the hands of the Speaker, carrying out God’s will. Through their sacrifices, we live. Your island of Weshern, your Seraphim academy, your farms and towns… they endure by the hard work of the theotechs, who live and serve among you out of a desire to see all of humanity thrive. Should false prophets or rebels come with poison on their tongues, remember that, and remain faithful.”

  “We will,” Kael said, his sister echoing him. It was strange hearing such a warning. There were those out there who would deny the obvious gifts Center’s theotechs gave to other islands? It made no sense. A simple glimpse at the Fount below their island, or a single drink of water that flowed from the many underground caves, should have been enough proof. Sure, the red-robed men were often a rare and strange sight in Weshern, but who was this Johan to make claims about the Speaker and his theotechs? What could he have seen or learned that others before him had not?

  These thoughts passed through Kael’s mind as they climbed the base of the mountain. At first it was little more than ascending a gentle hill, but soon their steps were labored. The forest closed back around them, hiding the distant city and the sprawling fields about it from view. Should the slope ever become too steep, logs were dug into the ground to form steps. Time dragged on and on, the silence painful, the inability to speak with his sister bothering Kael to no end.

  If Nickolas was taxed by the incline, he didn’t show it. Even though he wore his elegant set of wings, he never used them to
fly ahead or lessen his burden. Instead he led the way, step after step, until at last they arrived at a building with long stone walls and a tall, triangular roof built of wood. Carvings lined the stone, depictions of the elements, roaring fire, pounding rain, billowing snow, and blinding lightning. Two angelic knights stood near the entrance, blocking the path that continued up the mountain.

  “Welcome back, Nickolas,” one of them said, a man with fiery red hair and a smoothly trimmed beard.

  “Won’t be here long, Kyle,” Nickolas said, saluting. “How many came today?”

  “Just nine,” Kyle said. “Not counting your two. Any chance we know them?”

  “It’s Liam Skyborn’s kids.”

  At that, both knights lifted their eyebrows.

  “Well, then,” said Kyle, “this should be a breeze.”

  One of them gestured to continue. The door to the building was thick, stained wood with a brass handle. Carved into the wood was the symbol of Center, a great circle with five smaller circles intersected by its perimeter. It seemed Nickolas had no intention of leading anymore, so Kael crossed the grass, his sister trailing after.

  “Good luck,” Nickolas called from the road. “To both of you.”

  Taking in a deep breath, Kael looked to his sister, who nodded. Despite his nerves, he smiled anyway.

  “After you,” he said, pulling open the door and then following her inside.

  CHAPTER 3

  Inside was surprisingly dull. Kael had expecting something… different, something imposing. Instead they entered a small rectangular room with white walls and a wooden floor. There were no paintings, no murals, just two windows along the front of the building and a single door leading farther in. A dozen or so wooden chairs lined the four walls, all but one of which were empty. In it sat a girl with long blonde hair and an open book covering the rest of her face. Before the lone door stood a woman in the red garb of the theotechs.