Tales from the Earthen Sky

Telsan, it should be noted, was an exceptional flier, one of the best Solis had ever seen. Being of the Bird Tribe, that gift came naturally to him, as the Ornis were born with their wings and grew accustomed to them from a young age. Solis could not help but envy him, as he did not have such an advantage.

Phoenix was his fierce competitor in the art of flight, despite being no better than Solis. Competition was her greatest joy, or so it seemed ofttimes. Thus she should fare well in this year’s competition, whatever it was revealed to be, as long as she could keep her cool. She had been just barely too young to enter last year—she was a few months younger than Solis and Telsan, who were a short ways into their seventeenth year.

“Phoenix, you really need to work on those dives!” Solis called unhelpfully, unsure why he felt the need to give such pointless advice. Pointless for two reasons, which will be explained shortly.

The girl was just pulling out of a beautiful dive in the Stone Valley, streamers of red flame tracing her trajectory from the pinions of ethereal incandescence that sprouted from her shoulders. The wings spread broad, as though physically catching the wind, carrying her in a low swoop as she rose toward the level of Telsan and Solis, who watched from the valley’s northern side. Solis’ nitpicking was unfair, as he could not possibly have executed the dive nor the swoop out of it any better, but also because hers was an entirely separate learning curve. Ethereal wings were not controlled using muscle and tendons, and thus did not behave like the feathered appendages most Sky denizens bore.

As though to prove this point, Phoenix came up for a landing, rising on the momentum of her prior plunge, glaring at Solis while Telsan chided his friend for his comment. Phoenix flapped her fiery wings once, twice, rising and slowing her forward momentum, and alighted on the grey outcropping of the Stone Valley. The valley was carved into the surface of the island here, more a rocky trench, considering Solis and Telsan’s vantage barely overlooked the town behind them.

“Solis!” she said, flicking her amber hair over her right shoulder as one might an insect. It took two attempts. “Just what are you trying to say?”

“Nothing,” Telsan interceded. “That was a fine dive. You’ve been improving.” He gave the black-haired boy a stern glance, receiving an apologetic shrug in reply.

Solis turned the shrug to Phoenix, who was still steadying her balance on the stone, stretching her legs and vibrating her molten ghost wings before banishing them. “Sorry,” he mumbled, not so much because he was sorry as because it seemed the appropriate response. He had already nearly forgotten what he’d said to her anyway.

“Mind if we join you for practice?” Telsan asked her.

“Sure,” she replied, scratching her shoulder where her fiery wing had been moments ago. Her fire could not burn her, nor affect her at all, yet she claimed a feeling of discomfort when she touched the wings while they were visible.

Over the next hour, the three ran flying drills: racing to the opposite side of the chasm and back, rise-and-dives, gliding, rescue carry, and even free climbing on the steeper parts of the Stone Valley, where ravine became cliff. As usual, Telsan was the example they both tried to follow. There really was no telling what the approaching competition would involve, other than overall flying skills and stamina.

Afterward, the friends were on their way back to town when they encountered a group of youths heading in from farther north, presumably having been doing much the same activities as they. Filian, an uppity blond boy a year Solis and Telsan’s senior, complete with the three boys he’d convinced of his importance. They stuck by him most everywhere.

“Well, well,” Filian said majestically, gliding to the ground and approaching Solis’ group. His long legs gave him extra height to look down on his fellow man. “Look who we have here.”

Solis was convinced the boy wasn’t as mean as he tried to be; it’s just that he tried so hard. The way his gaze flickered to Phoenix showed that, despite the fact that he addressed Solis, Filian was directing at least ninety percent of the pleasantness in his words toward her. She pointedly ignored him.

His lackeys muttered indistinct ponderings, perhaps in agreement with their leader’s drivel.

“Oh, come on,” Filian said a bit more jovially. “How did practice go?” When Phoenix still didn’t turn, he directed his words toward Telsan. “Well, bird man, we all know you’re the greatest flier in your massive circle of friends, so I’m sure you’ve been giving these two some lessons?”

Telsan spared him no more than a glare, but Solis finally growled and turned around. “Why don’t you just go jump off the nearest Skyfall? Make sure to bind your wings first.”

“Why, that was unnecessarily nasty.” Filian crossed his arms and looked to his cronies for support. “Though I’m sure that’s pretty much what you’ve all been doing for practice so far, hmm? See, we know the game already.”

Solis paused, eyeing the taller boy through suspicious slits. He was probably lying, but who was to say? He’d have had to get that info out of the Magnates, or perhaps headman Bors.

“Sol, forget about him!” Pheonix called. She still hadn’t stopped walking.

Solis huffed. “She’s right. We’ll see you at the contest, guys, and we’ll win.”

“Right, right, our brave explorer. Well, ta-ta. Don’t want to keep mommy waiting.”

Solis growled again as he took flight, catching up to his companions.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” called the Herald. “Thank you all for gathering today for the announcement of our annual festival and games.” The man, named Hash, only got to take the title of Herald a few times a year, so he relished and basked in it in a very transparent way.

He stood on a dais in the central plaza where the people of Megeth gathered for such announcements. Some two thousand people stood in attendance today, most of the village’s population, though a good number were visiting from neighboring villages and tribes. Herald Hash continued to speak, largely of the dull details of the upcoming festival, which was to be held in one week, on the fifth day of the third month. Behind him stood all three Magnates, hoodless but expressionless. Headman Bors, one of the paunchiest men in town, and his wife, Drusilla, stood to one side of the Magnates, probably trying to look equally expressionless.

Solis yawned, looking around at the surrounding crowd. They hemmed him in on every side, so that he could barely get a clear view of the announcer, and tried their best to drown out the Herald’s words with excited chatter, overloud whispering, coughing, foot-shuffling, and such things. Someone’s breath smelled terrible, although the breeze made a petty attempt to drive it away. Clouds pressed in overhead, trying to dampen the lively mood.

Telsan and Phoenix had abandoned him for a better view, while his family stood on the north side of the plaza. His little sister Floris had waved earlier upon seeing him, and he’d waved back before getting yelled at for blocking someone’s view. It was curious how most of the crowd was here for the social event, while he wanted to know what the games would be. He cared nothing for the festival itself and instead, like all the others around his age who’d dreamed of seeing the Earth for themselves, had his sights fixed on the competition.

“. . . And as for the competition, it will be held on the following day at the grand arena,” Hash said, finally cutting to the chase. “As this is the tenth year in the ten-year anniversary cycle, we will be arranging a grander spectacle than any seen in recent memory. So I’m sure you’re all excited to hear, and hear you shall. Three games there will be this year, a trial of earth, of sky, and of bonds. Bonds, yes, between friends and companions. The contestants must formally apply by no later than the third. We are expecting at least sixty contestants, so eat well at the festival and bring your resolve and best effort on the sixth, young men and women of the Tapiq!”

With that, the aging Herald stepped off his platform, awaiting his next opportunity to orate before a crowd. Headman Bors took his place, giving a great harrumph and an unconscious paunch-pat before proceeding to adjust his belt and assume the proper straddle-legged stance to situate his bulk.

“My good men!” he proclaimed. “And good ladies. Thank you for attending today, and we hope to see you all next week at the festival . . .”

He droned on for another half a minute, drawing at least one yawn from Solis and no less than five from his vicinity, until . . . something strange. The temperature dropped noticeably, causing many in the crowd to glance around uncomfortably and hug themselves. Light levels dropped in sync with the cold, and the air seemed to thicken. Solis watched as even the Magnates shifted uncomfortably and muttered to one another.

Headman Bors cut off as a shadow passed over the plaza, and Solis turned to see a black shape zooming toward the town. It was indistinct, but . . . large. Too large to be human. Countless cries of alarm rose throughout the square, until one of the Magnates initiated a sound suppression field to quiet things down while they conferred apprehensively. With grim nods, they turned to watch as the dark shape sped inward, finally turning to glide parallel to the protective field.

It didn’t hit it, Solis realized. It saw it coming and avoided it just in time. Or . . . it knew about the wards. He got a fair look at the creature. Thick and furry, with an unreasonably large head and many horns sprouting from above its eyes. Its wings, also black, were similar to those of the bat people: leathery, ribbed and clawed.

Solis wrested his gaze from the black figure, seeking the Magnates through the mess of waving hands. There. Aha. The three, ignoring panicked calls from all around, continued to cast furtive glances skyward at the monster that glided overhead as they discussed amongst themselves. Spore, usually so quiet, turned and snapped at Bors, who was practically clinging to him, and the headman shrank back, though he looked no less terrified.

But Solis saw it. The look on their faces and the tone of their voice was one of uncertainty, hesitation, even panic. But not fear. That indicated either the Magnates could easily deal with this threat, or it was somehow not a threat at all.

The black demon adjusted its angle and beat its leathery wings, slowing to hover directly above the square. The crowd grew more still as the townsfolk gazed upward, cringing. Then it dove. The Magnates backed up, and Donnor pulled Bors away while Melka and Spore seemed to judge whether there was enough space in the crowd for the beast to . . . land? Were they really going to let it through?

The creature did not wait for their permission. It pierced the invisible wards and streaked for the stone cobbles directly beside the vacant dais. People shrieked and backed away, some trying to run, but others seemed to realize that the shaped merely crouched there on the ground, making no aggressive moves. Solis watched as it rose to its feet and unhunched its shoulders, flaring its wings and tucking them neatly at its back. The catlike ears on its great head flicked repeatedly, as though they itched. Its arms and legs were somewhere between animal and human, not altogether dissimilar from the bears that Solis had once seen when visiting the great central island. It was larger than a man, but not so large as to dwarf the three Magnates, who stared at it with apprehension and expectation. Again, not fear. Not . . . exactly.

What is this evil creature? It is evil, right? Certainly dangerous.

Then it spoke, in a harsh, guttural language that Solis was relatively certain was intelligent, though probably not human. Most of the crowd was silent, including Bors and Herald Hash, watching as though fearful that any motion or sudden noise would bring the beast straight to them to eat them. The Magnates listened in rapt attention, Spore gnawing at one lip while Melka looked like she had an itch to scratch. Maybe she needed to sneeze.

The Magnates exchanged words quietly with the demon, quietly enough that Solis could not quite tell if they were speaking its own language or Sky Common. Neither would have surprised him. Despite having grown up around them, the three were foreigners to him. Then . . . it stepped back, beat its wings, and in seemingly an eye-blink, was just . . . gone. In fact, as people began to murmur and push around him, Solis was left staring stupidly, wondering if it had really vanished that quickly or if his mind had been tricked in some way.

There came a wordless agreement that the meeting in the square was done, a notion which the Magnates reinforced with words of dismissal. No one was listening. Did they still have the magic sound suppression in place? Solis stumbled through the crowd in their general direction, unsure why, and caught the eye of Donnor and Melka just as the last of the people were clearing out of his way. Their faces very clearly said, Oh please, not him . . .

Shoving his nervousness deep inside, Solis plodded on, wings twitching either from being cramped in a crowd for so long or as a visible sign of his rattled state. “What was . . .” he began, and then stopped as Melka gave him a particularly harsh glare and glanced at the headman. Solis only came closer, though he lowered his voice. “What was that?” he demanded.

Spore glanced uncomfortably at the other two Magnates, while Donnor said, “Lightwing . . . please.”

“It’s from up there, isn’t it?” Solis asked. “It’s—hey! What!”

Melka had seized him by the shoulder, pulling him face to face. Hers was a disquieting one to look at closely, more ageless and unreadable than his grandmother’s had ever been and far less friendly. Her hair was straight and cold, blonde yet colorless. “This is not the time, Solis. Don’t test us.”

“That was a Harbinger of the Earth,” Donnor muttered in his direction, a peace offering to ward against Solis’ curiosity before sending him away. That or a lapse of judgment. The glower that Melka lavished on her colleague certainly indicated the latter.

“I knew it,” Solis said almost gleefully, momentarily forgetting his fear both of the black creature and the Magnates. Grandmother had spoken of the Harbingers, among many other forbidden tidbits. “What did he say? You can really understand that language?”

“Boy!” Melka hissed. “You above all people know we can’t speak of these things to tribesmen. We will let you know soon. Now begone!”

Solis shied back even as she cast him away, though he was half-grinning. He’d gotten something out of them, little though it was. Melka never said things like, We’ll let you know. He’d also . . . annoyed them. He scampered off with a quick bow to Bors, who gave him an amused nod. Solis had never made a habit of showing respect to the Magnates, but Bors was more deserving of it. Mother had always taught him to respect his elders, but in the case of the Magnates . . . they were something different; elder than old, perhaps no longer entirely human.

Speaking of Mother . . . where had his family gotten to? He couldn’t wait to talk to them about 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—Longtime friend of Solis and Telsan, a Flameborn girl of sixteen years.

Faridi (fuh-RID-ee)—A Tapiq man who frequently volunteers for lookout duty.

Colla—A female Tapiq; often works with Faridi.

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.

Hash—Proudly takes on the title of Herald of Megeth every time there's an announcement to make.

Bors—Portly headman of the village of Megeth.

Drusilla—Wife of Bors.

Filian (FILL-ee-uhn)—A stuck-up boy who likes to pick on Solis. Mostly harmless.

Terms

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

Skyfall—The edges of an island.

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

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; most simply live farther north.

Datem (DATE-um)—A species of tree native to the island of Ameros. Deciduous, with shaggy leaves.

Hiding, The—The six hours in the middle of the day when the Sun’s low-angled course takes it behind the infinite cloud layer that looms beneath the sky world.

Earth—Ground, dirt, namely the gigantic continent that looms above the 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.

Deadfall—This refers to any large or otherwise harmful trees, branches or sometimes rocks that fall from the Earth, caught by the protective wards and subsequently used for timber or fuel.

Alliance—The Alliance of Wings is a group of ten tribes encompassing most of the charted sky. They have had a peaceful history for the past decade.

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

Watcher—One with the inborn ability to control the invisible wards that protect Megeth and other sky villages.

Windborn—Those blessed with Kinship to wind. Unlike others with an elemental Kinship, these often grow wings just like any other, though some have been blessed with a heightened ability allowing them to fly without wings—and thus lacking them.

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.

Kinship—The intangible, inexplicable bond between certain children and an element or other force of nature that follows them all through life. Kinships can be neither changed nor banished, but they can be quite useful.

Harbinger—???