Shattered sunlight book.., p.82
Shattered Sunlight (Book Five of the Storm Below), page 82
For two months, they’d lived in the mines in the Fobneik Hills southwest of Metsak, hiding in fear like eels in a skyland’s coral. Their few Fleshknitters had struggled to keep malnourishment and sickness at bay. And finally, when it seemed safe, they’d crept out, planting crops and cursing the cold and the sky.
“Gather the children,” Kov’s wife, Nreissa, hissed as she straightened aged limbs. Neither of them were young any longer. They were grandparents. They should have been relaxing in their retirement.
Are you still alive, Heits?
Already, he’d buried two children, crusaders who had attacked Rhogre in a Cyclone. He was lucky not to bury any others, but it had been half a year since Heits had left with the skyers to end the Storm. They had succeeded. But in the four months since, Heits had never returned.
Lightning crackled along Kov’s fingers. He wished he hadn’t given his thunderbuss to Ary seven months ago. He could have used it. Grasping the hilt of his sabre, Kov forced his weary bones to climb the hill where the sentry cried the warning.
“Kov!” shouted his wife.
He glanced back at Nreissa, fear in her eyes. The last months had added new wrinkles to her face, but he could still see the girl who had appeared out of the darkness and tried to kill him for being a skyer.
“I’ll be fine,” he told her. “I just need to see what’s coming. Get the children to safety. Tsoff, watch out for your mother.”
Their son Tsoff, married and with his own children, nodded his head and grabbed Nreissa, pulling her back. Kov took a deep breath. They’d planned for this. The mines entrance had been hidden from the air. There wasn’t much that could be done about the gardens, though.
He grunted up the hill, the joints in his legs throbbing. He missed being young. He wheezed as he staggered up the last few steps to where Arfalig, Yeiss’s youngest son, stood.
Arfalig pointed. “One ship. She’s not that big.”
Kov squinted, scanning the sky. Then he spotted it, white sails and a gray hull that . . . “Is the ship made of metal?”
“Looks like it.” The young man licked his lips. “I thought the skyers didn’t have metal.”
“They don’t,” Nreissa said.
Kov almost yelped in shock as his wife dropped to her knees beside him. She gave him a look promising a fight if he said anything. He didn’t but brushed her hand with his. She had been a comfort these last months. The wedge in their marriage caused by Methench and Isroli’s deaths had been mended by the fear for their families. They had been lucky to be visiting the graves when the Storm ended and the skyers attacked.
Her pale fingers grasped his ebony skin.
The ship sailed closer and closer. A pennant flew from the top of the foremast, white with a yellow circle in the center. Kov frowned.
“I know that look,” his wife said. “What?”
“They’re flying the sunburst. It means peace. No hostile intentions.”
“A trick,” growled Arfalig. “We have enough skydancers. We can take the ship.”
The ship turned, heading straight for their hill. Kov shuddered. A flash of light flared off a spyglass. “They’ve seen us.”
“Is someone waving on the bow?” Nreissa asked. “She’s wearing red and has black hair. Skyers don’t have black hair.”
“Agerzaks do,” Kov warned. He stared at the woman at the prow. She was stout, tall, her face strong and . . . “Usreili?”
Kov stood up and waved. Arfalig cursed, seized Kov’s wrist. He shook from the young man’s grip and marched over the hill’s crest forward. The sails of the ship went limp as it descended. It was Usreili on the prow. Beside her were a young man and an Agerzak woman.
“Heits!” screamed Nreissa, her arms waving with the energy of a woman half her age.
Heits’s arm was around the woman beside him, a smile on his lips. He raised his right arm. It ended at a stump. Tears fell down Kov’s cheeks as the ship stopped. His son stepped onto the rails and then fell, but not fast, drifting like a leaf.
How does he have Minor Wind?
The woman he was with skydanced down, her shirt tight about a belly swelling with new life. Heits landed and waited, his left hand extended. His son looked so mature, so strong. So alive. Kov stumbled after his wife, tears falling down his cheeks. He didn’t understand why his son was returning on a metal ship crewed by Vionese, the brown-faced sailors crowding the rail.
He was just glad to have his son back.
Nreissa hugged Heits moments before Kov threw his arms around both, holding them. The pregnant woman stepped from the sky, a shy smile on her lips. Nreissa broke an arm free and pulled the girl into their shared embrace, welcoming their daughter-in-law. Hope surged through Kov’s heart.
Somehow, the Wrackthar and his family would survive.
*
The Skyland of Hope – Neiddoa 28th, 3 SE (1963 SR)
“Finally,” Estan said as the Varele sailed towards the small skyland floating over the edge of the continent, the ocean waves lapping on the horizon. Behind, the Great Rubble loomed, the remains of the largest skyland ever.
Here it was, the anomaly. Hope.
Esty nodded her head, a smile on her lips. “Why is it still floating? It had to be tied to the Dawnspire on Swuopii.”
“That is the mystery,” Estan said as the Varele approached. It was good to fly with Captain Charele again. They had seen little of her in the last three years.
The world had survived two years without summer. It was difficult, but the lighthouses helped greatly, along with the farms established surrounding the smoldering rubble of the fallen skylands. The heat pouring from the ruins kept the surrounding air warm for miles even during the frigid winters, bubbles of green to grow food for the rest of the sky.
Many had starved, but more had survived without them.
Estan and Esty had flown the skies as advisers, helping the various nations, collaborating on projects to create hybrid engines using both Blessings. The pace of new discoveries had been breathtaking. Research, pure and wonderful, had immersed the pair of them.
But Esty had a nagging question about Hope, the mythical skyland far out in the Great Empty. “Why does it still exist? Why did that sailor gain Major Wind by venturing into the ruins?”
So they’d offered Charele a chance for adventure.
Estan stared at the small skyland. The ruins of the Tower of Morning thrust like a broken crown of red rocks from the green grass growing thick and tall with new spring growth. This had been where Theisseg incarnated the first time as the Golden Daughter after raising the skylands.
It must have been important. Estan was eager to investigate. He squeezed his wife’s hand as the ship came closer and closer. There were always new things to learn, new things to discover, new adventures to be had.
*
New Shon – Hruvvoa 32nd, 3 SE (1963 SR)
The rows of corn blurred beneath Starwalker as Chaylene descended toward the farming village of New Shon. To the west, the smoking rubble of Les lay, columns of white rising from cracks in the ground. Three years later, and it still burned. Even the smaller skylands smoldered. Estan theorized it could be a decade or longer before the fires burning beneath the rubble of Les were exhausted.
The air was warm, and not just from the summer sun shining upon her. She could feel the heat rippling from Les as she banked towards the farming village. New Shon, built roughly where Shon and Camp Chubris once lay on Les, was one of hundreds of villages doting around the ruins of the massive skyland.
For three years, she and Ary had wandered the world. Everywhere they went, people had heard of the Stormender. Luastria priestesses sang his names, village goodwives wept at the sight of him, Wrackthar soldiers saluted with pride. Chaylene and her husband gave what aid they could. It was hard in the beginning.
So many had died the first year.
She’d helped build the pyres for many who’d starved, giving comfort to the survivors, urging people to migrate to the ruins of the skylands. Here, all the races and species had built new settlements. Luastria, Gezitziz, Humans, and Zalg dotted the warm belts around the skyland’s ruins. Wrackthar joined them, making hodgepodge communities. Here a mix of Vionese, Zzuki, and Soweral, there a swirl of Vaarckthian, Agerzak, and Ethinski.
Last year, summer had come. Things were improving. New engines were developed every day and strange wonders sailed the sky. Just last week, one of Gretla’s letters had found Ary and Chaylene thanks to the growing network of Firescribes. What you wrote at one engine would appear burned into parchment at another on the other side of the world. Communication no longer took weeks or months. Her letter was full of her peppy exuberance, describing Meirim’s first pregnancy and how excited Jhevon was to be a father.
The world had changed forever. Metal was no longer rare for the skylanders. They built with it. Even now, one of Estan’s metal ships docked at a scaffolding constructed out of more iron. What once was the wealth of empires was now common.
The buckles on her Pressure saddle were made of metal and not porcelain.
As she flew over the village, she savored the cool winds rushing past her. Flying provided relief from the heat around Les combined with summer’s arrival. She loved the freedom flying on Starwalker provided. She always found a new spot of beauty to admire on her flights. The world below turned greener and greener with every year, seeds from the skylands spreading across the earth. The red plants had withered, supplanted by grasses and saplings.
Chaylene’s destination lay beyond the docked ship. The sick house, laying on the village’s edge, was a long, one-story building. Smoke rose from the chimney. A funeral pyre stood by ready to blaze. For two thousand years, the Wrackthar below and the skylanders above had been separated. In that time, new diseases had bred and festered. What was a simple sickness to Chaylene could decimate a village of Wrackthar.
And the reverse was also true.
The Vaarckthian settlers who’d founded the village had fallen ill of a common ground sickness. When Ary heard, they’d flown here immediately. Not every community had a Fleshknitter—it was a rare Blessing—and even if they did, a plague could overwhelm one person. Chaylene helped how she could, giving comfort to the ill, spooning medicine to ease fevers and pain while those sicker were treated by Ary and two local Fleshknitters who’d come from nearby settlements.
This morning, they finally had it in hand, so she’d slipped away to enjoy a flight.
Starwalker touched down in the grass before the building, a hardy breed planted by the settlers and spreading quickly. The hills for miles in either direction teemed with new growths. No more slimy mud to traipse through. Her pegasus came to a halt and shook his mane. Ary sat outside the sick house, his face haggard with exhaustion.
Healing drained.
She unstrapped herself and dismounted Starwalker. She tied his reins to a hitching post. With an effort, he heaved himself to his feet and crossed the distance to her. Starwalker snorted as Ary stroked his chestnut nose.
“Well?” Chaylene asked.
“We healed the last one. Didn’t lose any more.” His arm came around her waist. He’d found peace as a Fleshknitter. All the pain he had suffered and inflicted lessened with every Human, Luastria, Gezitziz, and Zalg he healed.
“Good.” Chaylene gave her husband a critical look. “You look exhausted. Why haven’t you eaten?”
“Waiting to hear about your flight.” A smile crossed his lips and interest danced in his red eyes. “So, what did you see today?”
Chaylene returned the smile and described all the sights she’d witnessed. Beauty illuminated by the sun because of the sacrifices of Ary, herself, and their friends. The blood they’d spilled had watered a new world which bloomed around them.
Chaylene wanted to see it all and share it with her husband.
The END of The Storm Below
Glossary
Creation: In the beginning, all was darkness. Priopii, the Sky, found her existence dreary and lonely. Everywhere she existed was the same—a black, empty, void. Out of her loneliness was born a world for her to gaze upon, a single, round gem floating at the heart of her—Welkinia. But Welkinia was a dead world. Priopii’s loneliness intensified.
She desired to create life.
To bring and sustain life on her dark world, Priopii sang into being two daughters: Riasruo the Sun and Theisseg the Storm. Riasruo’s warmth and light shone down on Welkinia while Theisseg’s Storm spread sustaining water about the world. Priopii sang into creation all the plants that grew green across the brown world, and populated the earth with animals, the skies with birds, and the seas with fish. To light the night sky, she sang into being the twin brothers: Twiuasra the Swift Moon and Jwiaswo the Graceful Moon.
Last, Priopii, Riasruo, and Theisseg sang life into the five Mortal races: the bird-like Luastria for the mountains and skies, Humans for the plains, the serpent-like Szezziith for the forests, the mole-like Zalg for the earth, and the crab-like Threv for the waters. Later, Riasruo created the lizard-like Gezitziz from the Szezziith.
Songs of Creation: The original harmonies that Priopii used to sing the world into existence still resonates through the bones of the earth and echoes through the ether. With the right training, a person can be a host for the Song and channel the vast power of Creation to perform specific actions or to utilize engines beyond the scope of the Blessings. Legends abound of artifacts that utilize the Songs, but only the Sun Lance is known to survive.
Song of Awakening: It is the initial Song that awakens a person to resonate with the Songs of Creation. May have other uses.
Song of Embodiment: The Song that allows a person to sacrifice their physical flesh to be a host for a hypostasis of one of the Goddesses.
Song of Enchantment: Used to create powerful artifacts. The Wrackthar use it to create the Eye of the Cyclone. The Church uses it to activate the Sun Lance.
Song of Imbuement: The Song used to imbue one of the two Goddess’s Blessings upon a sapient creature.
Song of Imprisonment: A Song used to trap a being in an extradimensional space.
Song of Slumber: More commonly known as the Rosy Prayer, it can put a creature into a slumber. Used by the Church to keep the being chained to the Storm asleep. It has lost its effectiveness since the loss of the Crown of Dawn.
The Blessings of Theisseg: Across the skies, except the Petty Kingdoms of the Agerzaks, the citizens are granted one of four powers by the Sun Goddess on the Summer Solstice. Every citizen who reaches the age of majority (seventeen for Humans, twenty-three for Luastria, nineteen for Zalg, and fifteen for Gezitziz) gather at the nearest Temple to receive their Blessings. The majority of people believe these to be Riasruo’s blessings.
No one understands why the Goddess gives certain Blessings to certain individuals or why some Blessings (Wind and Mist) are more common than other Blessings (Lightning and Pressure). Each Blessing can come in one of three strengths: Minor, Moderate, or Major. Most individuals receive a Moderate and a Minor Blessing. A few receive a Major blessing along with one or two lesser Blessings, and someone may even receive only a single Minor or Moderate Blessing. Without the Blessings, life in the skies would be far more difficult.
Blessing of Lightning: The second rarest blessing. Most commonly used in military and law enforcement where discharged lightning can stun or kill an opponent.
Minor Lighting grants a person immunity to lightning.
Moderate Lighting allows a person to generate a discharge of electricity at a touch.
Major Lightning allows the person to discharge actual lightning bolts.
Blessing of Mist: The second most common Blessing behind Wind. Helpful on arid skylands and necessary to operate the Weathertowers.
Minor Mist allows a person to peer through smoke, clouds, fog, and other hazes without hindrance.
Moderate Mist allows a person to precipitate water out of the immediate air. With this blessing, a person can, on average, produce enough water in an hour to sustain five people for a day.
Major Mist can precipitate even more water, causing limited rain to fall, or the conjuring of a large fog bank.
Blessing of Pressure: The rarest blessing. Allows the riding of various species of flying beasts by generating more lift so the mounts can carry increased weight. Useful for couriers and scouts.
Minor Pressure grants a person immunity to pressure changes.
Moderate Pressure allows a person to change the pressure, often dramatically, in a small bubble around them.
Major Pressure allows a person to control the pressure of the air around them at both a greater volume and at a greater distance.
Blessing of Wind: The most common Blessing of Theisseg and the most necessary for life among the skies. The engines of ships are powered by this Blessing.
Minor Wind allows a person to fall slowly, drifting down like a feather.
Moderate Wind allows a person to see the wind, witnessing how it flows and eddies around object, as well as controlling the wind in a small radius.
Major Wind allows a person to generate great gusts of wind strong enough to propel ships.
The Gifts of Riasruo: Wrongly believed to be Theisseg’s foul powers, the Agerzaks and their kin, the Wrackthar, use these Gifts. As with Theisseg’s Blessings, Riasruo’s Gifts have a similar distribution where most gain a Second and First Gift (the equivalent of a Moderate and Minor Blessing).
Gift of Firedrinking: The most common Gift of Riasruo. It allows the person to manipulate fire.
The First Gift grants immunity to fire and the ability to control the color of flames touched.
The Second Gift can conjure fire to dance around the hands and then set things ablaze.
The Third Gift can throw balls of fire at a great distance.
Gift of Fleshknitting: The second rarest Gift that allows the healing of injuries and sicknesses.
The First Gift can heal non-serious wounds faster and without scars (though the person gifted can control whether or not scars form).
