Skyborn

by David Dalglish

  “Fuck you, Bree,” Jason shot back, and Bree took immense satisfaction in those muffled, pained words.

  After two hours of waiting, Bree entered into the headmaster’s office. The room was small, the walls covered with paintings of forests, rivers, and waterfalls. Behind Jay Simmons’s desk were plaques and medals showcasing his long, storied career in Weshern’s Seraphim. His desk was empty but for a single sheet of paper, on which he’d scrawled a massive list of notes. An empty chair waited before the desk. The headmaster nodded to the Seraph who’d escorted her in, and the man bowed in respect before leaving, shutting the thick door behind her.

  “Have a seat, Breanna,” Jay said in his deep, commanding voice.

  She did so. The chair creaked as she leaned back, and that noise felt thunderous in the tiny room. The headmaster glanced over his notes for a few long seconds, then crossed his hands and set them on his desk. His brown eyes looked into hers, and as much as she tried, she could read nothing in them to help her out. He opened his mouth to say something, seemed to reconsider, then shook his head and let out a long sigh.

  “Assaulting three of your fellow students with a broom?” he asked. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  Despite knowing better, she couldn’t help it.

  “That I would lose if I just used my fists,” Bree said, then added, “sir.”

  The headmaster exhaled loudly through his nose.

  “Now is not the time for joking,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Confrontations between Seraphs are hardly rare, but I am not going to turn a blind eye to such a ridiculous brawl in the middle of the mess hall. You, and all your fellow students, are here to become disciplined soldiers, not wild animals biting at each other for every little insult.”

  Bree looked to her feet, trying to fight down the steadily growing guilt she’d felt over the past hours.

  “Have you talked with the others?” she asked.

  “I have. I’ve spoken with the three you fought, plus your brother, Bradford Macon, and your instructors. I’ve gone over your introductory evaluations, your attendance records, and even your initial affinity tests. The result is a picture that is far from flattering for one with such promise.”

  “If you talked with everyone, then you know I gave those three what they deserved.”

  “Did you, now?” The headmaster crossed his arms over his chest. “Perhaps you think so. Believe it or not, Jason told me the reason for the fight. Seraphim don’t lie, and he knows I’d have expelled him the moment I caught him in one. I know why he came to your table. I know of his disapproval of Clara Willer’s association with your brother.” He hunched closer, his voice dropping in volume. “Breanna, I know you thought you were helping Kael, but he needs to be the one to handle this. Having you protect him makes him look weak and unable to defend himself. That’s a difficult position for anyone to be in, one you’ve now made worse.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  His brow furrowed.

  “I assure you, I’ve witnessed this sort of group dynamic many times over the years.”

  “No,” Bree said, finally looking up and meeting his gaze. “About why I did it. It’s not because of Kael. I did it because they insulted me.”

  Jay leaned back as if he’d been slapped in the face. Bree felt her anger growing. Of course he’d thought it’d been about Kael. His entire investigation was based around the idea that she’d lashed out to defend her brother’s honor. But now he looked down to his notes and softly grunted.

  “What you shouted to Jason as you were taken from the mess hall,” he asked. “Was that in relation to the insult?” She nodded. “What is it he said?”

  Bree felt embarrassed to repeat it, and she looked back to her feet.

  “That it was a good thing I wasn’t born a man,” she said. “Because I… because I’d blow my load too fast.”

  The headmaster’s fingers tapped against the sheet of paper before him.

  “This referenced your difficulties with flame element, correct?”

  Again she nodded. Jay fell silent, and Bree waited, tired, bruised, and wishing she could go to her room and hide from the world. Would he expel her for this? Take away her ability to train? The idea of losing access to her wings, of spending her life grounded, filled her with such terror she thought she might leap off the edge of Weshern instead. There was nothing she could do. Feeling thoroughly helpless, she waited for the headmaster to condemn her.

  “My talks with your instructors were very interesting,” he said, his deliberations seemingly over. “Instructor Dohn was glowing in praise, at least in his own way. You’re often bored due to a lack of challenge, and your times on the obstacle course have already surpassed those of many second-year students. Yes, I know about your constant runs, Bree, and have even watched you myself. In some aspects, you have more potential than any recruit I’ve seen in a very long time. But then I talk with Instructor Kime…”

  He shook his head.

  “Your tests at Center showed the strongest fire affinity Weshern has ever had in a Seraph. Yet you have no control. No restraint. It’s such a disappointment.”

  Such a disappointment.

  The words stabbed into Bree. Was that all she was? One giant disappointment because of her fire element?

  “I’ve tried,” Bree said. “Every day I try, far more than anyone else. It’s not my fault that no matter what I do, no matter what Instructor Kime has me try, nothing works.”

  “You sound as if you’ve given up hope.”

  The stress of the day was too much. Bree wiped at her eyes, banishing the betraying hints of tears, and then faced the headmaster.

  “No,” she said. “But I’m close.”

  The headmaster rubbed his upper lip with his forefinger as he stared at her, thinking.

  “To bully your brother, and then insult your own skills in such a crude manner, has those three boys crossing the line,” Jay said. “But while they may have stepped over the line, you went sprinting past it like a madwoman. Without considering a single alternative, you immediately resorted to violence. No matter what they said to you, can you accept your fault in that regard?”

  She nodded weakly.

  “Good. You’ll be punished, and more severely than the other three, but I won’t have you expelled. I’ve turned the most troublesome students into fine warriors for Weshern, and I’m not ready to give up on you, either. You’ll be given a heavy allotment of manual labor around the academy, though none of it will interfere with your classes and training. We’ll start with the execution tomorrow. You’ll be in charge of the burial afterward. Miss Waller will give you the information you need as to where and when.”

  Bree tried to hide her relief. She’d accept any punishment so long as she didn’t lose her access to the skies.

  “Thank you, Headmaster,” she said, rising from her seat. “Am I excused?”

  “Not yet,” Jay said as he also stood, smoothing out his shirt and jacket before opening the door to his office for her. “Bree, don’t be surprised if the attitude of certain students turns a lot colder toward you. I’ll do my best to ensure you suffer no retaliation, but I cannot be everywhere at all times.”

  “I’m not afraid of them,” she said, standing tall.

  “Are you afraid of anything?”

  She swallowed.

  “Just the ground,” she said, then shut the door behind her.

  CHAPTER 13

  You don’t have to be here,” Bree told him, but Kael shook his head. They were in the center of a throng of people gathered for the execution held in an expansive field of grass. The morning was young, and hot, and the men and women on all sides did little to help as Kael wiped away beads of sweat from his forehead. Thin clouds drifted above, and Kael wished they could have been puffier, thereby offering a far better respite from the sun. For him, winter couldn’t arrive fast enough.

  “Maybe not,” he said. “But I’m here anyway. Least you could do is appreciate it
.”

  Bree rolled her eyes as the murmurs around them increased. They’d come from all across Weshern, the people eager to witness the execution. Kael had only gone with Aunt Bethy once to see an execution several years before. It’d been a long, boring affair, and only sparsely attended. This time, though? The atmosphere was electric, this crowd ten times the size, and he wondered what might be the cause.

  “How many today?” he asked Bree, leaning closer so she’d more easily hear him.

  “Just one.”

  “Lots of people here for just one.”

  Bree shook her head.

  “This one’s different. Listen to how they talk.”

  Kael did just that, and there was an undeniable anger rumbling throughout the crowd. The field they stood in was just off the main road leading from the Seraphim training grounds to the heart of Weshern. Even now, more people came walking, jogging, and riding carts from the city. Kael crossed his arms, wondering how long until the Seraphim finally arrived with the prisoner. Beside him, Bree stood on her tiptoes, then plopped back down to her heels.

  “I won’t see from here,” she said, and without waiting for him, she began pushing through the crowd toward the front.

  “Bree!”

  She didn’t stop, and muttering curses, he began pushing after her, offering apologies to everyone he bumped. Some glared, some cursed him right back. Feeling his neck flush midnight red, he rejoined Bree, now at the innermost ring. The crowd was formed into circles around a well, halted by thin stones shin-high that had been laid down hundreds of years before. Kael stared at the well, feeling mildly uncomfortable. Bree would be the one in charge of filling it with dirt once the execution was done, and the body dropped within.

  “I hope beating the snot out of those three was worth it,” he muttered.

  Bree shot him a wink, a smile tugging at the left side of her mouth.

  “Trust me,” she said. “It was.”

  Despite the heat, he laughed.

  Time trickled along, and Kael spent it listening in on the men and women on either side of him.

  “Things haven’t been this bad since the ghost plague,” said an old man beside him. Kael turned, confused.

  “The ghost plague?” Kael asked, frowning. The old man shook his head.

  “Before your time, young one,” he said. “Best you not worry about the past.”

  The man pointedly put his back to him, frustrating Kael to no end. He hated when adults treated him like such a child. He was sixteen, and a member of the Seraphim. Surely he deserved better than that. A tug on his sleeve turned him back to his sister, who was pointing upward.

  “They’re here,” she said.

  From the sky came four men. One was a theotech, held aloft with a thin set of gold wings. His red robes flapped in the wind as he landed in the open space left for him around the well. Clutched to his chest was a leather-bound tome, which he immediately opened. Above him remained two angelic knights, come with the theotech from Center to aid in the execution. Their gold armor was finely polished, shining brightly in the morning light. What little he saw of their tunics underneath was startling white. Last, hanging from two separate chains clamped to each of his wrists, was the prisoner.

  “It’s Thane,” Kael said, recognizing the ratty-looking man with short black hair stuck to his face with sweat. Naked from the waist up, his body was thin, his skin bruised in multiple places. “The disciple of Johan who approached me in the field after the affinity tests.”

  “And that’s what they’ll kill him for?” Bree asked, eyes locked on the prisoner. “Simple words and pamphlets?”

  “It seems they will,” Kael said.

  “I hope it was worth it, then,” Bree said, frowning. “Johan must have Center terrified.”

  Johan, Kael thought, and he chewed on the inside of his lower lip. Whoever this Johan was, he must carry a powerful presence to convince so many people to turn against Center and her theotechs, especially with the severe penalty awaiting those who committed such heresy.

  “Why aren’t our Seraphim holding the chains?” Kael asked. It seemed odd that Thane had been captured in Weshern, yet two knights from Center had flown over to aid in the execution.

  “Thane’s not from Weshern,” she answered. “That means he’s not ours to kill.”

  “If they’re killing him, why are we burying him afterward?”

  “A theotech and his angelic knights dirty their hands?” she said. “What world do you live in, Kael?”

  “Apparently not one where people clean up their own messes.”

  As the rumble of the crowd rose in volume, the two knights lowered the prisoner until he hovered just above the stone well. Despite his impending fate, Thane showed no fear, nor did he keep his eyes to the ground. Instead he stared at the people with a strength that Kael found fascinating.

  “People of Weshern,” the theotech shouted, holding his leather book up before him and clearly reading from a prepared script. Immediately the crowd quieted. “This man has spoken heresy in the eyes of our Lord, promoted treason against the Speaker, and attempted to stir rebellion amongst the people of your holy island. He is a vile criminal, and fully unrepentant of his crimes. For this, your Archon, Isaac Willer, has asked us to deliver a sentence of death. As a representative of Center, I come to tell you that we accept this request.”

  So far the prisoner remained silent, challenging none of the claims. The theotech turned, now directly addressing him.

  “Thane Ackels of Elern, you have been sentenced to death. In the rock of our land, you will be broken. In the dirt, you will be consumed. In our fields, you will be made anew, granting life where you once brought death. Have you any last words?”

  Thane looked to the crowd, and at first Kael thought he would go to his grave without protest. He was sorely mistaken.

  “Slaves of Weshern!” Thane screamed, with a voice that surely could not be coming from such a starved, beaten body. “Open your eyes and witness the masters who hold your chains! Already you bow before the Speaker and his dogs, but the time approaches when that will not save you. His armies come! His knights will soar across a bloodred sky, descending upon you with swords, thunder, and fire. In the name of God and his angels, you will be butchered like the sheep that you are!”

  The reaction from the crowd was swift and vicious. People cursed him, calling him dozens of names, not one of which Kael would feel comfortable repeating in Aunt Bethy’s presence. The theotech frowned, and he motioned for the knights to begin the process. Steadily the two lifted, carefully rising equal with the other so that Thane remained centered over the well’s opening. Upon hearing the theotech’s order, the two would release their chains. Thane would fall into the well, out of sight from the people, and land on the stone floor six feet belowground. His body would be crushed by the fall, then covered with dirt so that the well was ready for the next execution, whenever it might be.

  Given Thane’s feverish intensity, Kael feared it might be much sooner than normal. The man pulled on his chains as the knights lifted him, fighting even when facing certain death. Higher and higher they rose, at least thirty feet up by Kael’s best guess.

  “We are the disciples of Johan!” Thane screamed. “We are the eyes with the bravery to see, the tongues with the courage to speak, the hands with the strength to act. Your freedom is an illusion. Your independence is a lie. The time comes, Weshern, the time comes. Will you lie down and die?”

  At fifty feet, the mandated height of all executions, the knights stopped. The strong men looked down to the theotech, waiting for the final signal. The crowd’s anger dipped, seeming to collectively hold its breath at the impending drop. The theotech’s right arm lifted. Still Thane struggled. Still he cried out.

  “The only will that leaves the Speaker’s tongue is his own. God is not with him. Open your eyes, damn fools, open your—”

  The theotech’s right arm dropped, and so did Thane. Kael’s eyes widened, immediately sensi
ng something was wrong. Distracted by Thane’s screaming, and fighting to control his flailing movements, the knights had not released their chains simultaneously. The delay wasn’t much, just a half second at most, but it was enough to cause Thane’s body to swing slightly to one side, and that movement continued as he fell, rotating him through the air.

  The aim was off. Thane’s body was sideways. Instead of disappearing down the well to die unseen, Thane struck the stone lip with his waist. His body folded immediately as if made of cloth. Momentum continuing, his upper body whipped downward, head propelled toward the side of the well. Kael looked away just before impact, but though he could shut his eyes, he couldn’t prevent his ears from hearing the sound, like that of a melon breaking open. When he recovered the strength to look, it seemed the broken mess that had been Thane had slid down the well, vanishing from sight. Kael thanked God for small mercies.

  “Wonderful,” the theotech grumbled as the two knights drifted to the ground. All around, Kael heard the crowd gasping in shock, some even turning to vomit. He didn’t blame them, either. The contents of Thane’s head were spilled across the grass beside the well, with a wide splatter of blood painting the stone side. Kael still couldn’t get the sound of the breaking bones to stop echoing in his head. Kael turned to his sister, trying to block out the repeating images of the death. Mere moments before it’d all been so impersonal, the vanishing of a life he’d met only briefly. Now he saw the blood upon the stone, saw the shovel waiting for him and Bree beside the well, and he couldn’t shake a sudden queasiness gripping his stomach.

  “You all right?” he asked, turning to Bree. His sister stared straight ahead, her face a stone mask. If not for the twitching of her cheeks and trembling of her lips, she could have passed for a statue. When she didn’t respond, he grabbed her shoulder, and she startled.

  “Sorry,” she said. “What is it?”

  “Just wondering if you’re all right,” Kael said, frowning at her. “Did you watch the whole thing?”

  Bree pulled free of his grasp.