Tales from the Earthen Sky

As if in answer, a call came from outside, muffled by his door and possibly the outer door, if Lonny had yet to shut it: “Hey, birdman!”

Telsan frowned, then turned. The voice was young and feminine, not a good combination. Judging by pitch and general qualities, he could think of three young women at the academy that it could belong to, but no reason why any of them would want him. Unless . . . Aw, maybe she’s back already.

With a sigh, he opened his door, shifting his right wing as he turned the corner and strode with the most efficiency toward the door—which was, yes, still open. Dangling a half dozen feet in front of the entrance were a girl’s feet and the lower half of her hava, white trimmed in gold. Under the hava, she wore the tan trousers of a Courier.

As he stepped out, Telsan saw that it was no other than Phoenix Dolce’s cousin Erika, who had been out on assignment in the west. “What’s up, Erika?” he said without formality. She had used none, so he returned the same.

“Got a message for you, Junior,” said the tall girl, dropping lightly to the ground in front of him. Her arms were crossed, having not moved, but her pale, silver-streaked wings retracted gracefully to her sides. Her blonde hair looked surprisingly unruly, despite being pinned up top in a ball and tail. As always, she stood some two inches above him.

She must have just gotten back, Telsan thought to himself. Fenaback. She must have been there for whatever gathering Phoenix had.

Erika started a list with the fingers of one hand, using the index finger of her other as a counter, and said, “First, I’m going to crush you on the fifth, so keep that in mind. Phoenix too. I know you’re going to try to get on the same team. But also . . . here.” She pulled a thin envelope from the satchel slung over her shoulders, glanced at it with amused indifference, and handed it to her Ornis colleague. He took it with a frown, and she backed away with a replying smirk, lifting off with her silvery wings.

It took Telsan only one look at the stamp to know what it was, and one look Erika’s smug face to know what it meant. “Thanks,” he grunted. He turned away as she sped off into the sky. Where to, he cared not, but her disdainful sneer stuck in his head. He shrugged to himself as he made to open the message with his finger . . . and then hesitated. Why bother opening it? Unless she knows me that well . . .

He had only sent the request to Fenaback out of formality, as it was one of the most successful and prestigious communities in the quadrant, and had been expecting to turn it down even were he offered a position as a Courier there. He’d sent out at least one query to each of the ten major tribes, even the infamous Bat Tribe. It wasn’t that he had anything against Fenaback, but rather he wanted to go farther away, to see more of the world in his flights. As a junior Courier, he was only entrusted with certain locations and less important missives.

Erika, despite being the same rank in her Courier training as Telsan, was five years his senior, around the same age as Solis’ elder sister Caris. She had undergone years in the elementalist training schools at Fenaback—expensive training, no doubt—and convinced her wealthy father that she really wanted to be a Courier. As that was one of Megeth’s specialties, thanks to Master Jeyga, that meant coming to Ameros.

Telsan opened the letter anyway, taking out the parchment and skimming it with his eyes. He didn’t get to the dismissive signature at the bottom, however, before frowning and looking upward, eyes tracking the sky where Erika had departed. Where had she been going anyway? Or better yet: where had she come from?

Because she knew something he did not. The games had changed rules. He’d expected such, but . . . how could he not even realize it as she said it: First, I’m going to crush you on the fifth. She was twenty-one, possibly twenty-two now, and thus too old to compete in the annual games.

Just wait till Phoenix finds out. She could be lying. But more than likely, the Magnates had changed the rules of the competition to include a wider range of contestants. They were already rearranging plans for the events, so anything was possible. But just how did Phoenix’s cousin already find this out? Had she been too excited to keep her lips shut about it, or had she been intentionally trying to let it slip? And why to him? This is going to bug me all day . . .

“So anyway,” Phoenix was saying, “they decided against sending warriors for now. Too risky.”

“But . . .” Solis said with emphasis, either to prompt her or highlight the gap left at the end of her story. “You said they sent out messengers to the tribes, right? So who was the envoy to Megeth?”

Phoenix was just starting to speak when Telsan cut her off.

“Erika Dolce,” he said, with a surprising amount of resentment.

Especially considering Solis couldn’t even remember who that was. Some relative of Phoenix’s, obviously. “And she is . . . ?”

Phoenix rolled her eyes with a sigh. “My cousin. He goes to school with her.” The unceremonious way she gestured at Telsan as she said it indicated that she thought no more highly of the girl than their Ornis friend. “She’s training to be a Courier for some reason.”

“Okay . . .” Solis dragged out this word too, glancing between his friends. They sat on three of the pillars of rock that jutted from the ground near the north end of the Stone Valley, grouped closely and between five and ten feet in height. Most winged sky denizens didn’t care at what height a good seat sat, and these were the best around. Farther north, other village kids trained or chatted, and the same was going on farther south on both sides of the chasm. It would only get busier as the festival drew closer.

Phoenix frowned at him. “You going to finish that sentence?”

Since when did she become a grammar queen? Solis griped to himself. However, Phoenix had already swiveled her head to Telsan with a quizzical frown.

“How do you know that anyway? Did she tell you?”

The Ornis boy shrugged. “Kind of. I gathered it. Oh, speaking of which, she also bragged about beating us in the games. What’s that about?”

Phoenix snorted. “Probably nothing. She’s probably just . . . wait, why would she say something like that?”

“It’s possible she meant that the Ornis would do better than the Tapiq?” Solis asked. “But why would that matter, unless they’re really changing the rules this year?”

“They need to get us the updated rules soon,” said Phoenix. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I hope your coz gets through to them,” Solis said, stretching his arms above his head. “Not like they’re . . . yeah, she’s probably not going to.”

Phoenix snorted again. Why was she doing that?

“Well,” Telsan said with a groan, “We’re not going to get any stronger just sitting around talking.” With that, he dropped the eight feet to the ground, landing lightly after a single fwoosh of his bronze-hued wings. “Come on guys.”

The birdman’s two companions hopped to the ground together and assumed a matching pushup position, following his lead. One, up, two, up, three . . . Solis lost himself in the exercise. Phoenix voiced no more than small growls in complaint, despite missing the last couple practice sessions. They had begun adding more items to their training list, like hand-to-hand combat. Telsan had a firm foundation in Makat-do, the “Way of Wings” taught him by his grandfather in Orniteia, and he had taught Solis what he knew of it years back. Phoenix, of course, stayed back when they reengaged in this exercise.

Her wings did not exactly feel good.

She did, however, follow along with some of the moves, just in case. One was particularly devastating to any aggression on Solis’ part: Telsan would enwrap him with one wing, pulling whichever hand he had led with and somehow guiding his entire body right down to the stone. And he wasn’t gentle. Not even with friends.

Phoenix, despite Solis’ objections, asked Telsan to perform the move on her so she could see what it was like, and that ended up with her on the hard ground as well, stifling a cry of pain and hugging her hip. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she muttered, getting up without the use of her Flameborn wings. “Show me again.”

The beaked boy shrugged apologetically, then gestured for her to take up an offensive stance. He gave her a pointer on balance, which she promptly ignored as she rushed him.

Phoenix was far from helpless in a fight. She had learned from her family’s martial arts instructors, the ones that taught the Fenabackan warriors. Solis recalled her showing him some techniques, although . . . technique might be putting it grandly. It was a brutal, pugilistic style that focused on aggressive punches, speed, and . . . more punches.

This time, she managed to get inside Telsan’s grip range before he completed his throw, and his arm fumbled against her wrist instead of twisting it. Perhaps it helped that she had lunged forward with her lead foot far enough to tramp right on his toes. Her jab caught air as he twisted away, using his wing to guide her to the opposite side. They traded blows, most of which did not land, while Telsan kept adequate spacing between them.

Solis glanced at the steep ravine edge, which gaped some dozen feet to the right of their chosen arena. Neither one of them was likely to get hurt if they fell, not before their wings buoyed them to safety, but . . . still.

Telsan used his wings like a second pair of hands as he staved off Phoenix’s onslaught. They were both zoned in on the contest, breaths sounding out a syncopated rhythm. The unfair advantage of his wings was obvious, however. While her initial attack had caught him off-guard, Telsan was clearly was taking it easy on her. Finally, he caught her with the wing-roll on her right shoulder and tripped her leg, spinning her away from the cliff and rolling once with her. They each caught their balance as he let go with his wing. It looked painful to Solis, mostly for Telsan’s wing. But they were strong, some of the strongest wings he knew.

“All right,” she said through gritted teeth as she picked herself up. “You didn’t . . . have to be that rough.”

The Ornis was already on his feet, and performed one of his signature shrugs. “You kept coming at me.”

“Yeah, but you had an obvious advantage. I could have pulled out my wings and scorched you something nasty.” She rolled her left shoulder with a grimace.

“But you still kept coming at me. You were trying to prove a point. Plus—” he gestured toward the Valley’s drop “—we were right near the edge at that point. Bet you weren’t paying attention to that.”

She paused, glanced at the cliff, then stuck her tongue out at him. Appearing to feel Solis’ amused gaze, she turned a glare his way. Yes, she definitely got all that from her mother.

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. 11 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.

Corwin—Fellow Courier student to Telsan.

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.