Tales from the Earthen Sky

Solis went to visit Faridi that evening as his friends left. Something about the way Mother had said it . . . it sounded important. She had a way of saying things off-handedly that were of great import. Though there was no real indication, he often felt he could distinguish between the two with some sixth sense.

Songbirds sang sweetly from the datem and fir trees as he made his way toward the center of town. If Faridi wasn’t at the training yard, he’d try his house. It’d be one or the other this time of year. He didn’t have lookout duty today.

Solis had just parted ways with Telsan, who was off to his dormitory at the academy, when he got the first chill. This was followed by a shudder in the ground and a feeling of sudden tension in the air. Pressure. Stopping, he glanced around and noticed other pedestrians looking around nervously. One middle-aged man caught his eye and gave a confused look. Solis shrugged back across the street, trying to look less worried than he felt.

Maaaaaybe now would be a better time to go visit the oldies, he thought to himself. No, no, probably a bad idea. He did want to try again to get some details out of the Magnates—perhaps Donnor, who was the one to get annoyed enough to slip up and tell him things, if his mood of late said anything—and now may be a good opportunity, but . . . well, he had just promised Mother that he would try to stay out of trouble. That meant not repeatedly barging in on their fearless leaders.

Before he could decide which way he was headed, the warning calls sounded from scouts above the city. Though they caused him to jolt, they did not surprise Solis. Taking to the sky, he flapped to gain altitude and looked around, searching for a sign of the harbinger’s expected return. The sky began to grow dark, just a tinge, despite no thickening of the cloud coverage, and . . . had the birds stopped singing? Yes, everything seemed quieter.

There. A flash, but one of darkness, came from above, and soon Solis could make out the figure hurdling down out of the sky. He imagined the Megeth sky patrol and guards getting ready as they had last time, as though they could do anything to stop him. The black, fur-clad monster dove downward at an angle, spreading his wings as he skimmed the low altitude where the wards stopped potential dangers from reaching the town. Only they didn’t. He dipped and descended right through it.

Good. They let it down for him this time. At least not everyone was panicking. Or . . . they were expecting him? Most of the townspeople weren’t; that was for sure.

The Harbinger landed in the square not a hundred yards in front of Solis. He’d glanced the boy’s way as he passed, but now paid attention only to the Magnates, who were already approaching from farther in.

Donnor took the lead this time. “Lo, Harbinger,” he called across the square.

The massive black creature, taller than all the Tapiq and other tribesmen despite hunching like an ape, said nothing. He merely stood up to his full height, squaring his powerful shoulders. Solis watched as he stared down the Magnates for what seemed a full minute or two. Then he spoke: “Magnate Donnorié. Melka, Sporatus.” It took Solis a moment to realize, through his deep, rumbling voice, that the names belonged to the three Magnates.

Each of the Magnates bowed in turn. They seemed a bit better prepared this time. “You have the final instructions for the festival?” Melka asked after a glance at Donnor.

The Harbinger nodded. “Indeed, although my superiors are far more interested in the upcoming tournament than the festival itself. I will meet you soon to discuss the final details.” Casting his gaze about the area—and probably not trying to be quite as menacing as he was—he said to the citizens still hovering around, “Citizens of this tribe! Spread the word! There will be a new event following this year’s festival, a new and deadly game. Those too afraid to participate may sit it out, but all those who seek to go to the Earth and learn what these negligent keepers have kept from you, or those who seek power, riches, eternal life; those of all ages . . . speak with your Magnates and they will grant you entry. That is all.”

With that, the black-furred beastman turned back toward the Magnates, sweeping his leathery wings and obscuring himself. No, in fact he seemed to wrap them fully around his body, sheathing it in shadows too thick for the Sun’s waning light to penetrate, and then . . . the shadows released, and out stepped a man. A tall man, but no longer so freakishly huge, nor as thickly built. His head was that of a human, topped with shaggy black hair, and he wore a dark grey robe of a material Solis could not identify. And he lacked wings of any kind.

He spoke in a similar voice, but not so guttural or brutish. “Follow me, keepers.” He arose into the air through no discernible method, and the three Magnates followed, heading northeast. Solis didn’t tag behind them, though he did consider it.

Truth be told, he didn’t mostly because he was too preoccupied with what the harbinger had said to the villagers. He had to tell Telsan and Phoenix . . . and Caris! Although, if what she said was true, she didn’t care anymore. Telsan was right after all . . . no, Erika was right. This could either be the most exciting year in recent history for the Tapiq people, or it could be a gigantic nightmare. The shapeshifter had called it a “new and deadly game,” which implied that some contestants might die. Where would they hold the games? What would they be? He desperately wished the Harbinger had been willing to give them just a bit more—

“Excuse me, sir,” came a small voice from beside him.

Startled, he glanced down to see a winged boy of some twelve years looking up at him from under a mop of blond hair. “What, uh . . . what’s up?” he asked the boy, lacking a better response.

“Oh! Well, you looked like that Solis kid everyone talks about.” The boy looked jittery and nervous, like he wasn’t accustomed to meeting new people. Or perhaps like Solis was his hero or something.

No, definitely not that. And ‘kid’? Solis was just barely an adult, true . . . “That’d be me. What do you need?” he asked, trying not to let his feathers be ruffled.

“Oh!” The boy appeared to only just remember that he had something to ask. “I was going to ask you about what that big man said, the shapeshifting one with the . . .” He made some uncertain hand gestures, as though trying to visually convey this man he was talking about.

Solis brushed aside one of his hands gently, one that had strayed a little too close for comfort. “The Harbinger,” he said. “He didn’t say much, did he? Just enough to rile the whole town up. It’ll be interesting.”

“Yeah, but . . . but . . . he said all ages will be welcome to try this year, didn’t he?”

Solis narrowed his eyes. “Don’t get any funny ideas, kid. You’re what, eleven?”

“Well, yeah, but—well, almost eleven, but same thing—but what’s gonna stop me from—hey!”

Solis had taken hold of the kid’s shirt, though he glanced around furtively just to make sure someone wasn’t watching, thinking he was beating up some young boy. “Listen, kid! He didn’t mean that; he meant no more upper age restrictions, so all adults can join. Adults. He said it would be dangerous this time.”

“But I’m not helpless! Everyone treats me like some baby just because I’m young. I’m a Snowborn, and I’m good at what I do.” The blond boy pawed at his hands, and Solis let him go.

If he were to be honest, the boy’s argument rang familiarly in his ears, echoing what he’d said for most of his life about the way everyone older than him treated him. It never seemed fair, even at a young age. Wait . . . did he say he’s a Snowborn? With wings? “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lane. My nana says I’m really powerful. She’s a Snowborn, too, but she can’t make a squall when it’s above fifty degrees, not without thick clouds.”

Solis stared, not in wonder but in thought. A squall? Isn’t that . . . a small storm? His vocabulary wasn’t the best, and it didn’t take his grandmother to point that out. “Well, Lane,” he said at last. “Hopfully we meet again, but I should go for now. Just don’t do anything rash, OK? Think of how your nana would feel if something happened to you.” The hypocritical words made his gut twist just a little, but he knew it was what the boy needed to hear. He tried not to think of how his family would feel if something bad happened to him. Even if he went up to the Earth and never returned, they might worry to death over his absence.

But this boy was ten. Surely the Magnates would turn him away on sight. Surely. As politely as he could, Solis excused himself and got away from Lane, though it took him a few moments to realize he wasn’t even going the right way. He was going to tell Telsan, then Phoenix, about the news, though they would surely hear it before long.

He hadn’t flown far when a female voice called out to him from behind. “Solis! Wait up!”

He put out both wings and braked, turning to see Colla, the Windborn woman who often did lookout duty with Faridi. “Colla? What’s wrong?” Does this have something to do with . . .

“It’s . . . well, I’m not sure if anything’s wrong.” She caught up to him and alighted on a nearby rooftop, panting with hands on knees. She wore a satchel slung over her grey hava by a long leather strap, and loose trousers that hugged her boots at the ankle. Sweat was nearly dripping off her angular face.

Solis hovered beside her, treading air with his wings, and waited for her to catch her breath.

“I was just looking for him this morning,” she explained, “because he said he wanted to tell me something, but I couldn’t find him. I had to go to work, but then I looked again and no one seems to know where he is. And then . . . this happens.” She gestured backward at the city in frustration, clearly referring to the Harbinger’s return and the state of uproar it caused.

“You heard the news, then?”

She nodded. “I saw his landing from afar and caught some of his speech. But . . . I’m just starting to really worry about Faridi, being gone without telling anyone.”

Solis landed beside her and sat down on the thick thatch. She did likewise. “Where did you see him last? Mother said he stopped by this morning looking for me. I’m sure something just came up, though.”

Colla looked at him with a pitiable frown. He wasn’t used to seeing her up close, and her face was surprisingly cute when exhausted and worried. He wasn’t used to seeing most women up close, and actually felt his face heating up for no reason. Roughly ten years his senior, she was as far from a romantic interest as he could think. Why did awkwardness just take over out of nowhere? He cleared his throat to try to improve the situation.

If Colla noticed his discomfort, she certainly didn’t show it. She looked down at the street, sighing heavily, shoulders rising and falling quickly. “Last I saw him was this morning at the café. You know, Dinah’s place on Art Street?” She paused. “I know. You’re right, I shouldn’t get so worked up. Can’t help it, though. We’re . . . you know, kind of close.”

Solis laughed. “So you two are dating.”

She rolled a disapproving frown his way, but it quickly changed to a wistful half-smile. “Maybe. At some point. Never thought I’d settle down, but . . . maybe soon. Waiting on him.”

Solis nodded slowly, as though he understood at all. He didn’t. This is just getting more awkward, huh? Good job, Sol. “Well, uh.” He coughed again. “I’ll ask around. If I turn up anything, I’ll let you know, all right?”

She smiled gratefully and nodded. He took that as her permission to leave.

So . . . where is he, then? And what did he want? The question remained. It was at least one thing to distract his mind until the Magnates got back with news from the Harbinger.

Characters

Solis Lightwing (SOLE-iss)—The main character, a white-winged boy of unceasing curiosity who longs to see inside the forbidden Earth.

Telsan (TELL-suhn)—Solis’ best friend, a young man of the Bird Tribe.

Phoenix Dolce (DOLE-chay)—Friend of Solis and Telsan, a Flameborn girl of sixteen years. Daughter of Falla Dolce.

Melka—One of the three living Tapiq Magnates.

Donnor—Said to be the eldest of the three living Magnates.

Spore—One of the three living Magnates. Doesn’t say much.

Fey—Solis’ deceased grandmother, a former Magnate.

Floris—Solis' younger sister. Eleven years old; aspires to be a physician.

Falla Dolce—Phoenix's mother, a Dustborn from a powerful elementalist family of Fenaback. Kept her family name due to events she'd rather leave buried.

Otto Dolce—Old but strong leader in his elementally gifted clan, which consists mostly of his own direct descendants.

Erika Dolce—Phoenix's cousin, currently in training with a courier at the school in Megeth.

Jeyga—A master Courier at the Megeth Academy. Picky about the apprentices he takes on.

Filian Cornel—A stuck-up boy who likes to pick on Solis. Mostly harmless.

Daryn Gobross—A burly bully who likes to feel superior. Surrounds himself with boys who like to feel inferior, but only barely.

Vor—Filian's right-hand lackey.

Terms

Megeth (meh-GETH)—Hometown of Solis and his fellow Tapiq people.

Ameros (AM-uh-ros)—Largest island in the southeastern quadrant of the sky, where the Tapiq village of Megeth lies.

Fenaback—Also called the Isle of Colors, this island is home to many elementalists, including powerful families such as the Dolce clan.

Tapiq (tuh-PEEK)—The tribe of winged men who dwell in Ameros and the surrounding islands. As with most tribes, they have adopted some from other tribes and races as their own, while others are visitors.

Ornis—Also called the Bird Tribe, though this isn’t entirely accurate, as there are multiple subtribes; most simply live farther north.

Hiding, The—Six hours of midday shadow when the Sun’s low-angled course takes it behind the infinite cloud layer that looms beneath the sky world.

Earth, The—An immeasurable continent that looms over the entire sky. Forbidden to all save those whom the Magnates choose each year.

Magnate—One of the three living souls of the Tapiq tribe who have ascended to the Earth and returned, bearing supposedly infinite knowledge that they choose to keep hidden.

Terrology—Study of the Earth. Terrologists have made a science out of useless observation of the world's ceiling, or so many see it.

Orniteia (orn-ih-TAY-uh)—Land of the Ornis Tribe in the far north.

Kinships

Elementalist—One born with a Kinship to an elemental force. They represent one of multiple types of Kinships.

Flameborn—Those blessed with Kinship to the power of flame. They are characterized by their lack of wings, as they form their own as needed from tongues of fire that sprout from their backs.

Dustborn—Manipulators of soil and dust. They fly with wings created from nearby dust particles.

Windborn—Kin of the wind. Unlike other elementalists, these often grow wings just like any other, though some are blessed with a heightened ability allowing them to fly without wings—and thus lacking them.

Waveborn—Also called Watchers, they control the invisible wards that protect the sky islands from falling hazards. Also includes those with the rare ability of sound manipulation.

Wards—Magical barriers put in place by the Magnates and managed by the Watchers.

Dewborn—Those who can control moisture and redirect water.

Stormborn—Creators of small storms and electrical currents.

Snowborn—Bringers of frost and snow on a small scale.

Sunborn—Manipulators of light.

Beastborn—These rare kind are seen largely only in the northwestern isles, and actually come in different orders, each with an affinity to a certain class of living creature.