Tales from the Earthen Sky

Rumors buzzed about town the next day. The Magnates had let the defenses slip . . . no, no, they had let the monster in on purpose and there were dozens to follow. The monster was one of the explorers who had never come back, but had been turned into a grotesque demon . . . no, the Magnates fed all those explorers to this dark beast and its kind. Solis was just glad none of the rumors had to do with him; if the Magnates had started them, then they likely would have.

To be fair, not all the rumors were quite so negative toward the ruling Magnates, but fear of the unknown coupled with declining public opinion of the three did not make for a happy combination.

The Sun had already fully left the upper horizon, winding its way down to the right toward the great cloud banks, when Solis arose to meet the day. He and Telsan did not have lookout duty today, and in fact the birdman would be training with his courier mentor already. Solis didn’t have an apprenticeship yet, partly from lack of trying but mostly because no one really wanted a protégé they believed would run off and soon abandon the job for something more interesting, like analyzing songbirds and small creatures.

It wouldn’t have stung if it wasn’t so true. But I don’t have to get an apprenticeship if I can just get up there . . . Then they’ll stop laughing and looking at me like I’m useless. Of course, his father had long since stopped asking if his boy wanted to take up an apprenticeship with him in the exterior mines, but . . . Solis had no interest in that.

As Solis made his way through Megeth to the Stone Valley, he noted the number of people missing from the streets, though most shopkeepers were still open as usual, just with more wary eyes. People spared frequent glances over their shoulders, as though expecting that black monster to swoop from the sky at any moment. Solis knew better. Despite not knowing exactly what that “Harbinger” was or what it had been sent for, he knew the Magnates, and they were worried, not fearful. Speaking of . . .

He made it to the Stone Valley, having crossed through the main village plaza and two other places he normally saw them, but he neither saw one of the trio nor heard tell of their whereabouts. That was to be expected, though. They were probably even now putting their heads together to decide how much to tell the villagers and whether they even should. Misers, just like he always said.

We will let you know soon. Melka’s words echoed in his head as he leaped from the chasm’s edge, nearly causing him to falter as he fanned out his wings and glided. The woman must have been truly disturbed to have said that. And he knew full well that she’d deny it next time he confronted them. But maybe, just maybe, something would happen by festival time, something involving this nosy Harbinger. Oh, how he desperately hoped someone from above had seen the negligent way the Magnates dealt with the villagers. Keepers of lore and knowledge, teachers of tradition, arbiters of ancient matters . . . that was what they were supposed to be.

Solis flapped his wings, gaining altitude until he soared above the chasm, and then began his diving drills, careful to follow Telsan's latest advice, using the towering spires near the Stone Valley’s eastern side for precision practice. He wouldn’t care, nor even know, about the Magnates and their duties, had his grandmother not made a point to teach him and Caris. She had spoken out against her colleagues, and even spoken to many of the villagers as well, those who would listen. Somehow, Solis wondered if her passing had fed the distrust between him and the Magnates on both sides. Mutual blame, mutual distrust. Caris had been worse than him in that regard, but she had given up the grudge when she moved away to start a family. Or so she said.

Would he ever give it up? If he grew up and got old and the Magnates outlived his siege on their knowledge? If they successfully kept him out of the Earth?

He put away the thoughts and focused on his practice.

꧁꧂

Phoenix gaped at her mother. “Say what?”

“We are going to Fenaback,” Falla repeated slowly, as though she simply hadn’t recognized the name of Isle Ameros' northern neighbor. Phoenix's mother had long hair of variegated steel blue, which she kept in a perfect ponytail reaching to her waist, just right for stroking when upset. Tugging when very upset. If Phoenix pushed her much further, she would get to the stroking phase, and the outcome was never good if she got to the tugging phase.

I caught that. Phoenix only thought it, as she knew not to tempt her mother’s inner inferno toward the surface. The running joke among her relatives was that her mother’s fiery temper had conceived Phoenix all of its own, but it was a cruel joke, for her father had died when she was very young, before they’d moved to Ameros. Fortunately, Phoenix herself had not received much of that hot temper from her, and it had only manifested as a Kinship.

“Sorry,” Phoenix said instead, trying not to sigh. “I just . . . if the family is already coming out here, what is the point in us going out now?”

Her mother sighed back dramatically. “Because that is what Grandfather ordered. And, I assume, because he is uncertain how many to send.”

Always jumping to conclusions, Phoenix grumbled to herself. Her great-grandfather, Otto Dolce, was not only an exceedingly prideful old man with a family who took reunions far too seriously, but he was a man of decisiveness. As a member of the Southeastern Council and also of the pure elemental bloodline, Otto took great pride—and, it would seem, pleasure—in commanding his family as though they were some sort of military body. It was their own fault for seeing things exactly the same way.

Her mother included.

“When do we leave?” Phoenix asked tiredly. “That’s an hour-long flight. I only have four more days to train for the competition before—”

“Oh, please, girl,” Falla interrupted her with a dismissive wave. “I have no doubts you can pass as is, not that I care for that silly game. But I’m sure you realize this Harbinger could throw the entire thing out the window in a moment. There’s no telling what it might do.”

Phoenix narrowed her eyes. Her mother had already explained the reason for the family urgency, but she hadn’t used that word . . . “Why do you call it a Harbinger?” she asked, trying to sound merely curious. Acting was not one of her strong suits, however.

Her mother returned her slit-eyed look, stroking her hair. “It did not visit only our island. It appeared yesterday evening at Fenaback.”

Ah. “I see.”

“I take it your friend Solis told you something of it? Or convinced the Magnates to talk?” Her mother snorted at the thought.

She had gotten the right of it. As usual, it didn’t take her long. Falla was smarter than she, a fact that continued to annoy Phoenix. But she’d stopped stroking her grey-blue ponytail, so that was a good sign.

A few minutes later, Phoenix exited the house, squinting at the easterly Sun that greeted her. Theirs was a squat residence only one story tall—roughly twelve feet in height counting the peaked roof—which lay on the eastern side of town. Phoenix had long wished to move out and build a proper roost, but Falla always insisted that they didn’t have the money. For some reason, she frowned on using the family money which her relatives would gladly bestow on them. Sometimes she couldn’t tell if the woman loved or hated them. Today, by the looks of it . . . she loved them. At least, as much love as a Dolce could find in her heart.

Falla followed her out, garbed in her customary white hosiery and tan skirts—an outfit indicative of the Dustborn she was—with an off-white ribbon dangling from the top of her ponytail. Phoenix had her own red ribbon tied in her hair, though she mostly wore it to give her mother a shallow sense of familial bond. With a nod, Falla stepped just in front of her daughter and stilled, gathering particles from the air and ground until she had two shapely wings, trailing in dusty crescents along the backs and fading like crumbling paper at each end. The process took all of a second. She flapped them once, twice, then ascended. Unlike those of her Flameborn daughter, Falla’s wings did not require skin contact to sprout up, but they did need residual matter to be present nearby, meaning that, theoretically, she could be caught in the purest of air, unable to summon wings.

Phoenix ignited her own wings, reaching out with molten air from the shoulders of her drakeskin vest, and followed her mother into the sky. Soon they were well on their way northward, toward Isle Fenaback. Though she skimmed the surface of Ameros from eastern hills to town central, she didn’t spot Solis or Telsan, but she’d left a note at the door of her house. Should they worry about her sudden disappearance, which they would, they’d turn up at the Dolce door eventually and find a brief explanation of her trip—and she’d pointedly mentioned the part about the Harbinger’s multiple appearances across the sky, as Solis would certainly . . . find a way to get that information back to the Magnates. He was irrepressibly fun, but also extremely predictable.

They came upon the Isle of Colors, Fenaback, in just under an hour—for all her apparent distance from her family, Falla had kept them at a steady pace, wings trailing dust as they took on more windblown motes, Phoenix keeping up with her blazing wings. Phoenix spotted it as a silhouette behind an expansive cumulus cloud, the Sun’s late morning rays piercing the mists and scattering over Fenaback’s shadow. Fenaback floated at a higher altitude than Ameros, so they had been gradually ascending throughout the flight.

The two women passed into the cool aerial mist, and soon the far shadow coalesced into a proper island. It was much smaller than Ameros, roughly three miles across and shaped like a bug-bitten fruit that had been sliced in half. Fenaback was home to many high-class residents, multiple of which owned estates such as the Dolce family, whereupon they constructed interconnected roost complexes. Did they feel their families would drift apart without being physically attached?

Green and well-watered by multiple ponds and frequent rain, the home island of the Dolce family hosted a bit of agriculture, but most of its economic success came from the artisanship, crafts and trade of the residents, who were primarily elementalists—Flameborn, Waveborn, Dewborn and others like Phoenix and her mother. Thus the moniker 'Isle of Colors.' They had congregated long ago and formed their own small tribe, lending out the services of many of their brightest talents across the sky in return for payment and respect.

It had been only a year or so since Phoenix had been here, but she always felt like a stranger. As overflowing as the island was with people of extraordinary talents, the Waveborn kept a simple force field similar to that of Ameros. Surely they felt that such a beacon of power as Fenaback needed no further defenses. Mother and daughter flew in from the south, passing a few outlying farms and small streams, a pond on the left, and Castile, city of commerce, which lay at the heart. They skirted that, arriving on the east side at the Dolce estate.

The biggest roost stood above the others in the center of the half-moon of buildings, rising some hundred feet in the air. Thick-boled trees made up part of the towers' foundations, peeking out from the lower levels of the complex, overlooking a still pond and paths with intricate stonework. A young woman with flaxen hair and no wings—Phoenix couldn’t remember what her Kinship was, nor her name—hailed them from the highest balcony just left of the center structure. A similarly wingless boy sat on the very rooftop where he wasn’t allowed, and grinned up at the two newcomers.

They landed on the next level down, in an open zone marked just for landing. Two members of the family greeted them, a buff cousin of Falla’s named Marcus and his sweetheart Rena. Tall but leggy, she bore gleaming white wings not too different from Solis’, as her Sunborn powers gave her no alternative means of flight, while Marcus, a Dewborn, made his from water in the air.

They exchanged some could-be-warmer hellos, but Marcus got no further than reintroducing Rena as his new fiancée before another large man bustled in. Marcus’s father, Titus. Much like Rena, he too had wings, as his Kinship was to sound waves, a very rare talent. Marcus had turned with a suspicious glare as soon as he realized his words were being mysteriously dampened, quieting the whole room. If she so chose, Phoenix knew Rena could produce very similar effects with the light in the area, though not on a scale so large as to blot out the entire Sun. Their powers were more local.

“How’s my favorite niece?” bellowed the man, scratching at his thick mustache with the hand that wasn’t clasped around Marcus’s shoulder, as though he hadn’t just hushed the room in anticipation of his speaking.

And grandniece, Phoenix added silently. I’m doing fine, thank you.

Falla gave a small bow of her head. “Titus. It’s been some time. I see you’ll have a new daughter soon.”

“Yes, yes!” He glanced over at Rena as though having forgotten she was there. As an afterthought, he pulled her into an embrace along with his son.

Phoenix figured this was a good time to get going, and her mother seemed to think the same, as she excused them and made for the door to the main tower, asking, “Is everyone getting ready for the meeting, Titus?”

“Yep. Most of them should be up there already.”

“As should we, Uncle,” Falla said, sounding only a touch impatient as she turned and headed through the walkway to the right. The ‘towers’ of the roost were skeletal structures that would be considered very dangerous to a flightless race, with open doors and walkways joining one to another in parallel. A canopy of wood and thatch covered most of these planked walkways.

The next two rooms made up an open-layout dining area, leading to a communal kitchen, a third-story patio, and a corridor that continued on as well as leading up a tall set of stairs. Falla and Phoenix took this stairway. The planks were deeply set and switched back at two landings, reaching the full twenty-odd feet that separated one floor from another.

A burble of conversation met Phoenix’s ears from above, resolving in a dull roar of ambient chatter as they arrived on the top floor, where the roost’s many-peaked roof angled out in multiple directions. Here, the peak rose thirty feet, and comfortable wood seating lined the room, surrounding a table set with refreshments and drinks. Family and guests lined the benches and crowded everywhere, spilling into the hallways, carrying on what could have been any chimera of conversation, depending on what random words Phoenix caught and strung together.

The first people to greet them were her blonde cousins Felicity and Don, who were conversing near the stairwell. Both were of the same parents and at least six years Phoenix’s senior, probably the youngest of all the relatives of her generation, as Falla her mother was far younger than her four siblings. One sister stood near the north wall, Lady Cana, a black-haired Flameborn, with her husband, Driv Shannaset, a handsome Snowborn. And Lord Callo Dolce, the mighty Stormborn, eldest of her mother’s siblings . . . Falla herself was called Lady by a few of her family members, but you wouldn’t catch them—

Oh, the cousins were still talking to her. Mother had moved on, but Don had just asked Phoenix a question. “I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “I’ve been a bit . . . tired today. The trip was sudden. What was that?”

He glanced at his sister, no emotion playing on his lips but a flicker of mockery in his eyes. “I was asking how things have been on the great island, cousin.”

“Oh. They’re . . . fine,” she said. He’s already asked Cousin Erika, I’m sure, and old Uncle Bask. But what else to do but torment her with conversation? “A black demon swooped out of the sky yesterday, as I’m sure you heard.”

His lips and eyebrows drooped just enough to show she’d spoiled his moment, and he gave only a small response before excusing himself. Felicity gave her a nod that seemed to be approval to move on, and so she did, frantically searching the sea of faces for her mother. It was a good thing the walls of this top-floor room were so sparsely crafted, otherwise the trapped sound would be deafening. She hated noise.

There she is. Her mother had been waylaid on the eastern side of the room by her uncle Hammond, who was another Dustborn, if Phoenix recalled correctly. She’d never actually talked to the man and always found him overly tall and intimidating.

Phoenix hesitated, not wishing to get caught in Falla’s conversation. Why was everyone still standing around talking, anyway? It was exactly the Dolce way . . . something important, perhaps historic, happening in the southeast quadrant? Let’s get together and, uh, have a party about it.

Then she realized that her relatives were finally starting to file through the hall on the western side, the opposite side of the room, and someone was calling beyond, beckoning toward the gathering hall. Falla glanced behind her, eyes lighting on Phoenix and sharing momentary relief. She excused herself, taking hold of her daughter’s shoulder and piloting her through the crowd before Uncle Hammond could ask his favorite ignored niece how she was doing.

Multiple others tried to ask, even as they walked, feigning interest, but Phoenix ignored them, intent on finding a seat in the hall. Somewhere near the back. Let the meeting happen. The sooner it happened, the sooner it would be over. Her mother was far better than she at navigating her family’s social sphere, but only because of decades of practice—her tight grip on Phoenix’s shoulder and the stroking of her own ponytail showed her real tension.

They filed through the adjoining antechamber, climbing a linear set of stairs before finally, finally arriving in the grand meeting room, which stood on the high central tower, its widespread roof raised high up, allowing for a near 360-degree view out over the rest of the fourth story of the Dolce mansion and the surrounding estate. Intricate wood-working lined the beams and rafters that supported the ceiling, and an old but ornate rug crowned the majority of the floor. Rows of seating lined the room from east to west, angling toward the center. They were spaced so as to allow room for wings, despite the fact that most of this elitist elemental group had none—it was terrible manners to manifest ethereal wings indoors, anyway. At the front was a raised podium where one or more speakers could get up and either direct the meeting or simply pontificate about whatever their heart desired, usually ones named Otto Dolce.

Even now, her great-grandfather was shuffling up to the podium as the others found their seats. He shuffled with energy but, well, the man looked like he was a hundred years old. He was maybe . . . ninety-two? Plenty old enough to take his final flight, but he seemed to refuse to let go of this life. His wife had died years back, but it had daunted his spirit—and his greed—little. He waited, bent over on his cane, chewing his lips and blinking with his beady eyes, as the Dolce family finished seating themselves.

Then Otto cleared his throat and said in his ancient, raspy voice, “I’m glad you could all make it here on such short notice. As you’ve doubtless heard, we are here to discuss the matter of this creature, this . . . Harbinger . . . which has come down from the Earth. We of the Dolce clan do not like surprises, and this most certainly was one. The Magnates, as well, did not see it coming. It is their insights that I will share with you, asking what we as a family with influence should do to protect our homeland. And of course, I ask for your silence in this matter regarding others.”

Particularly in this matter, he could have added. But he didn’t need to.

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.

Pim Lightwing—Daughter of Fey of Longfell and mother of Solis and Floris.

Arthur Lightwing—An exterior miner, husband of Pim, head of the Lightwing household.

Floris—Solis' younger sister. 11 years old; aspires to be a physician.

Caris—Eldest of the three Lightwing children, now married and residing in the neighboring Tapiq village of Dram.

Falla Dolce—Phoenix's mother, a Dustborn from a powerful elementalist family of Fenaback. Kept her family name due to unfortunate 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.

Marcus—Cousin of Falla.

Titus—Marcus's father, son of Otto and uncle of Falla.

Rena (RAY-nuh)—Marcus's bride-to-be.

Felicity—Cousin of Phoenix.

Don—Brother of Felicity.

Cana Shannaset (CAY-nuh SHAN-uh-set)—A Flameborn Dolce, elder sister of Falla.

Driv Shannaset—Husband of Cana. A Snowborn.

Callo Dolce—Eldest brother of Falla and Cana, old enough to be Phoenix's grandfather. A Stormborn.

Hammond Dolce—Uncle of Falla, younger brother of Titus.

Erika—Daughter of Marcus's elder brother and cousin of Phoenix, currently in training with a courier at the school in Megeth.

Bask—Bachelor uncle of Falla Dolce, who dwells in Megeth.

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.

Castile (cah-STEEL)—The city at Fenaback's center. More a hub of trade and industry than of power, as that lies with the old families who rule the tribe from their great roosts.

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.

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, The—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.

Stone Valley, The—A deep, rocky ravine cut into the eastern flank of Megeth, used by youths like Solis for aerial training.

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.