Tales from the Earthen Sky

Filian Cornel looked up at his father. The man, tall as ever and dressed in an elaborate coat with decorative gold buttons, was a majestic and imposing sight . . . but still just as stuffy. Lord Gustaf Cornel was nearly the perfect embodiment of stuffiness, as far as Filian had ever seen. Of course, many of the traits with which he justified that label he had taken upon himself, so perhaps it was unfair. Even childish, some might say. Lord Cornel was cultured, well-mannered, rigid to protocol, wore his family pride to the point of haughtiness, and replied curtly to most questions. Everything he said, did and ate was with calculated perfection.

What annoyed Filian was that these things applied to everyone equally, including the boy himself. No, at eighteen he was a boy no longer, yet . . . no change. He could see it in his father's every mannerism, that he treated his elder son as one of the lower island folk, those outside the circle of commerce and with little in the way of connections. Why this was, he had never figured out. Mother often got upset and frustrated at him, though he'd long since written off her opinion as, well . . . sloped? Certainly untrustworthy. But Father rarely did so.

Currently, they were in the middle of a conversation . . . to Filian's deepest regret. "Father, you know that's not fair. I have ever—"

Gustaf waved a dismissive hand, stylishly buttoned-back sleeve trailing with it. "We've settled the matter. You will attend the festival, and then you are free to participate in this event."

This event . . . Yes, the event you once took part in three years in a row. To his credit, wealthy merchant had not simply decided in the last few days that it was a waste of time, but rather had been at it for years, pretending that the whole ceremony was a sham. Filian supposed he could be genuine, even justified, in those thoughts, but preferred to believe Gustaf Cornel had felt himself slighted by the Magnates all those years ago, just as young Solis did, and had chosen the opposite of the white-winged idiot: to have nothing to do with the Earth at all.

But of course, now more than ever, what could his father do about his participation? He would join in the fun and show the common islanders what their betters were capable of.

After the big announcement in the plaza, the Lightwing family did their best to make Solis forget his friend. Not that they overtly aimed the celebratory luncheon his way, but he liked to think so. Caris was in town, so that always meant some extra special food, discussions with his brother-in-law which ranged from highly unrelatable to fun, and a lot of tiresome discussion of whatever the latest news was . . . which was of course the festival.

The first thing Caris had done upon meeting up with her little brother after the announcement was to give him a savage embrace that ended with her pounding her fist on his back for some reason. As she leaned in close, the tall woman said, "of course you'd steal my chance, huh? I finally get to have another go at it, and only when I can't?" Pulling back, she'd scanned his eyes for a reaction.

"And? Are you going to participate?" was all he said.

Her face broke into a grin, and she laughed. "No way! With a family? I had you going, didn't I? Look, kiddo, you really need to—oof!"

That was when the kids pushed past their mother to tackle him.

Currently, they were pestering him about . . . well, he could never tell what Donald was saying. Something, though. At two years old, the boy babbled about things too grand for the human mind to comprehend. Meanwhile, his brother Kip, two years older, was pontificating on the virtues of a certain type of bird. He could neither name nor clearly describe this bird, but he wanted to be one someday.

They were in the front yard of the Lightwing roost, where Solis was watching the two kids while Caris helped with meal preparations. Solis took manly pride in abstaining from such things. His father and Spinner leaned against the south side of the house, chatting, leaving only "junior" (as Spinner called him) to watch the little ones. Spinner was what Solis would forever call the man, because Andréas just sounded too important. Most folks called him by his last name anyway. A journeyman wagoner, Solis' brother-in-law claimed to have no knowledge of where the name had come from in the first place.

Spinning something, obviously.

"No, no, Donnie!" Solis ran to catch the toddler, who had made a streak for the nearby street as soon as he turned away. Snatching the boy, who bucked and squealed in some combination of laughter and complaint, he said to his other nephew, "Hey Kip, where'd your toy bird go?"

The boy pointed in a carefree motion that was almost a shrug, and Solis followed it to a point in the yard where the grass beheld nothing. Kip then moved the finger to point to another area, which was also devoid of toy birds, and resorted to saying, "I don't know, it's not here."

"He deeyout bwingidou' heow!" squealed Donald—much too loudly, too. Not because he was trying to shout, for that Solis forgave him, but because he had no concept of volume control yet.

Solis almost thought that might translate to, He didn't bring it out here, but that seemed far too eloquent for a two-year-old. However, his older brother immediately replied, "Yes, I did!" This prompted much arguing. Solis could swear the neither boy was as talkative last time he'd seen them, nor so tiring. In order to forestall a fight, he swept Donald up and into a shoulder ride whilst trotting about the yard in search of the missing bird.

In the end, the younger boy had been right; Kip didn't bring it out there. They found the bird inside on the floor. Stitched by Grandma Lightwing, it was his most treasured possession.

"Solis, it's so nice to see you spending time with your nephews!" his mother remarked with her back turned.

Yeah, because I was totally voluntarily watching them . . .

"Donald, spit that out!" came a sudden cry from Caris. Solis turned to see her rush toward her boy. Floris had already moved, but she couldn't beat the superhuman speed of a mother. One white wing pulled the boy close while, kneeling, her hand reached into his mouth and pulled out . . . a harmless bread crust.

Dinner that afternoon was a bit tense due to the fact that everyone, consciously or unconsciously, was thinking about the day's announcements . . . and more specifically, about Solis' decision to still participate against most of their wishes. Caris hadn't said so in front of their mother, but he knew she approved. Floris, well . . . who was to say? They all knew he was going one way or another, but all the news about the Harbinger and his mission to remake the contest had apparently shaken their expectations.

"Son, where's your feathery friend?" Father asked, surprising him.

"Oh. We're gonna meet up in a bit to . . . well, he was going to show me something." He wished Telsan were here now. Telsan always had his back, and wasn't someone he felt he had to lie to. Floris . . . well, he always felt too bad to tell her how he truly felt. Perhaps it was just the nerves of waiting getting stronger.

He poked at his food while the family looked at each other, then at him.

"So ya got somewhere to be then?" Spinner asked with his mouth half full of food. Pim shot him a frown, but it only caused him to pause for another few bites before continuing. "Shame you can't stick around."

"Yeah. I know. Sorry." Soli shoveled the last of his meat pie into his mouth and washed it down with Caris' special fruit torte. "I should actually be leaving." He cut off their complaints with an apology and turned to head out the door. Floris watched him with worried eyes.

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.

Caris Spinner—Solis' older sister, who lives on a neighboring island.

Andréas Spinner—Or just spinner, as most call him. Caris' husband.

Kip—Their older son.

Donald—Their younger son.

Pim Lightwing—Solis' mother, daughter of the deceased Magnate Fey.

Arthur Lightwing—Solis' father, head of the Lightwing household.

Faridi (fuh-RID-ee)—A Tapiq man who frequently volunteers for lookout duty. Now missing for a few days.

Colla—A female Tapiq; a friend of Faridi.

Filian Cornel—A wealthy merchant's son. A rival of Solis.

Gustaf Cornel—Filian's father. Holds much sway in Megeth.

Terms

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

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.

Magnate—Overseers of the ten tribes who have ascended to the Earth and returned, bearing supposedly infinite knowledge that they choose to keep hidden.

Elementalist—One born with a Kinship to an elemental force. They usually lack wings.

Kinships

Flameborn—Kin of flame. They form their own wings as needed from tongues of fire that sprout from their backs.

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

Windborn—Wind kin. Unlike other elementalists, these often grow wings just like any other, though some possess a heightened ability allowing them to fly without wings—and thus lacking them.

Waveborn (aka Watchers)—Keepers of the invisible wards that protect the sky islands from falling hazards. Also, those with the rare ability of sound manipulation.

Dewborn—These 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, seen largely in the northwestern isles, come in different orders according to a certain class of living creature.

Cragborn—Manipulators of stone.