Skyborn Page 7

  Kael would do no such thing. A piece of heretical script like that could get his entire family arrested, if not executed. Doing what he felt was most appropriate, Kael tossed the paper to the ground and used his shovel to dump a layer of manure atop it.

  “I won’t let anyone die for your cause,” he said. “And you know that’s what will happen, don’t you? They’ll find you one day and have you executed.”

  “Indeed,” Thane said. “Right now I scatter seeds, and I do not expect to live to see the harvest. But they will sprout, Kael. The eyes of the people will open. I just pray it is through their own wisdom, and not from the armies of Center storming into their homes with blood on their spears and war on their lips.”

  The disciple of Johan bowed, and he seemed not at all off put by Kael’s dismissal. Kael watched him go, shovel jammed into the soft earth, arms clutching the wooden handle tight enough to give himself a splinter. Once again alone, he resumed his work, but there was no more peace to the isolation, only frustration and doubt as Kael’s mind looped the conversation again and again in his head.

  When Bree and his aunt brought him his afternoon meal, the two covered with dirt and sweat, Kael couldn’t have been happier.

  Kael relaxed in a chair at their supper table, but his mind was far from at ease. Aunt Bethy knelt beside the fire, boiling cabbage and carrots. The smell made his stomach rumble, and he hoped the food would be ready soon. Bree sat opposite him, looking tired and bored. She still looked odd to Kael with her hair so short, though it was better now that Aunt Bethy had taken a pair of scissors to it to even out his sister’s original ragged attempt. Tapping his feet to relieve his nerves, Kael finally decided to ask.

  “Hey, Bethy?” he asked. “What was the ghost plague?”

  “Where’d you hear about that?” she asked, not turning from the pot.

  “One of the farmers mentioned it while I was filling up the wheelbarrow,” he said. “I was just curious what he meant.”

  He hoped she’d believe his causal demeanor, because Bree sure as hell didn’t as she lifted an eyebrow from across the table.

  Aunt Bethy stretched her back as she stood.

  “It was a terrible illness that struck Weshern years ago, before you two were born,” she said, grunting as her back popped. “Nearly claimed your father’s life, and would have without the theotechs’ help.” She lifted a bucket from beside the fireplace and offered it to him. “We need more water. Would you be a dear?”

  “Sure,” Kael said, rising from his chair.

  “I’ll go with him,” Bree said, hopping up as well.

  The door wasn’t even shut behind them before Bree started asking questions.

  “So where’d you actually hear about the ghost plague?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked as they walked down the quiet street. The sun had begun to set, the twilight dark approaching fast.

  “Aunt Bethy may not know the difference, but I can tell when you’re really after something and not just curious. So, out with it. Why the sudden interest in an old plague?”

  Kael debated for only a moment. He had a secret, and now that his sister knew, it’d take the end of the world to get her to stop prying.

  “Fine,” he said. “You promise not to tell Bethy? It’ll only make her upset.”

  His sister held one hand over her heart and another over her lips. Kael sighed, and he tried to figure out where to start.

  “A disciple of Johan came to me when I was alone in the fields,” he said.

  Bree’s eyes flashed with interest.

  “As in the disciples Nickolas said to never believe and avoid at all costs?”

  “Yeah, them. Seemed like he heard I’d been accepted into our academy and came for a chat.”

  A worn path of dirt and loose stones marked the exit from the main road, passing through two similar homes and into a field beyond. In the center of the field was a stone well. Once at its edge, Kael held the bucket with both hands and dipped it into the water, which rippled only a few feet below the highest stones. Bree dipped her own hand in and drank, drops of the clear water dripping down her chin.

  “One day you’ll get in trouble for that,” he said.

  Bree laughed.

  “One day soon I’ll be a Seraph,” she said. “And then they won’t even dare try. So, what did this disciple guy want, and how does that have anything to do with this supposed ghost plague?”

  Kael stared into the well as he debated how to answer. Bubbles floated up from the bottom of the well. It was dark, but he could barely see the grate at the bottom, covering the end of a pipe. The water flowed from somewhere deep inside Weshern, where theotechs blessed the ocean water that the Fount pulled up to the island and then pumped to the many lakes, rivers, and wells.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “He claimed it was an example of Center’s corruption. That’s all he really went on about, insisting the Speaker was the devil and theotechs his pet demons.”

  They started back toward home, Kael carrying the bucket by its thin iron handle.

  “So what’d he want from you?” she asked.

  “You mean, besides believe him?”

  “Yeah, besides that.”

  Kael chuckled.

  “He thought Center would invade us one day. He wanted me to fight back, for all of us to fight back.”

  Bree laughed.

  “A war against Center? We’d be crushed in seconds. He’s delusional, Kael. Nickolas was right, there’s no point in listening. And you heard Aunt Bethy. Dad would have died in the plague if not for the theotechs. If you really want to spend your time worrying about something, worry about how you’ll do on your first day at the academy.”

  “I’d rather not worry about either.”

  Bree elbowed him in the side, and he had to twist to keep the bucket from spilling water across their feet.

  “Just saying, first day of flight training, you’ll be in front of dozens of people you don’t know. One tiny little slip up, like when you landed butt first atop Judy Lakeborn’s house, and they’ll all laugh and laugh…”

  Kael glared.

  “Tell anyone that story and you die.”

  “What? Tell people what?”

  “Bree, I will dump this bucket of water on your head…”

  She flashed him her biggest smile. The blossoming moonlight reflected off her ashen gray eyes.

  “You’d have to catch me first.”

  She dashed off ahead of him, back toward their house. Kael could only walk, lest he lose half the bucket splashing water all over himself. The first stretches of shadow crawled across the western sky. Kael stared at it, fascinated by the way it moved, as if it were a living thing. What caused the darkness? What sparked the fire that followed? Kael didn’t know. It was one of many mysteries, and Kael resolved to put Thane’s words out of his mind forever. So many things he didn’t know, but what he did know was that he wouldn’t risk his family and friends on the words of a heretic.

  By the time he returned home, the smell of cooked cabbage filled the cramped space, and Bree sat at the table looking as innocent as could be.

  One day, Kael mouthed as he set the bucket down and took his own seat. You wait.

  Bree winked back, blew him a kiss, and then tore into her bowl, not afraid of his vengeance in the slightest.

  CHAPTER 6

  Bring only the clothes on your back,” Nickolas had ordered, and so Bree and Kael did just that. Kael dressed as if he were to work in the fields, a gray short-sleeved shirt and rough spun pants cut just above the knee.

  “Still feel like we should wear something more… formal,” Kael said as he came down the stairs. His sister was already eating breakfast. Given how nervous they both were, they’d awoken early enough to catch their aunt before she left for the fields. Unlike the time they traveled for Center, she seemed almost lively, doting over the two of them like a mother hen.

  “I should have made you cut your hair as well,” Bethy said, ri
sing from her seat at the table to lick her palms and then press down on Kael’s head. “You have a cowlick from here to high heaven.”

  Kael groaned, pulling away from her to wipe it with his own hand.

  “There’s nothing I can do about it,” he grumbled. “Thanks for mentioning it.”

  “Don’t worry about your clothes,” Bree said as she ate her oatmeal. “They’ll give us uniforms to wear, won’t they?”

  “They will,” Bethy said. “And get used to wearing them. I can count on one hand the days I saw my brother out of uniform after he joined.” She grabbed Kael’s wrist, dragged him to the sink, and dumped a bucket of water atop his head before he could protest.

  “There,” she said, wiping his face and hair with a towel. “Glare all you want, but at least you won’t spend your first day of training looking like the back of your head’s trying to escape.”

  Kael was too annoyed to say thanks but too grateful to continue arguing, so grumbling to himself, he took a seat beside his sister and began eating.

  “Bethy’s right, you should have cut your hair,” Bree said, finishing her bowl. “It’s almost as long as mine.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my hair,” Kael said, running his fingers through its wet strands. “Stop saying stuff like that.”

  Bree flashed a smile, just quick enough for him to know she was joking.

  “I’m only trying to help,” she said. “You don’t want to be mistaken for your sister, do you?”

  Kael was about to threaten violence for her cruel attempt to make him self-conscious the whole damn day when a knock came from the door. All three froze, smiles vanishing. Aunt Bethy rose from her seat at the table and beckoned them close for a hug.

  “I’ll miss you both,” she said. “Stay strong, and make your parents proud.”

  They hugged her back, then pulled free. Smoothing his hair one last time with his hand, Kael hurried to the door, for some reason feeling like he should be the one to greet the Seraph. Pulling open the door revealed a towering man with gray skin and short black hair. Above his left eyebrow was a long white scar. His armor was similar to Nickolas’s, except silver instead of gold, and whereas the knight had worn a white tunic emblazoned with the symbol of Center, this mountain of a man bore the blue sword of Weshern on his white shirt.

  “Kael and Breanna Skyborn?” the square-jawed man asked, and he had to bend over slightly so he could peer inside. His voice sounded like it should be coming from a stone statue instead of a human being. “I am Seraph Loramere Wallace. I’ve come to escort you to your first day at the Weshern Academy. Are you prepared to leave?”

  Kael looked over his shoulder to Bethy, who gently nodded.

  “I am,” he said, turning back. “I mean, we are, yes.”

  “Yes sir,” Loramere corrected. “Always address a Seraph with respect. Now come. I don’t want my charges to be the last to arrive.”

  “Why is that?” Bree asked as they exited their home and shut the door behind them. Kael was surprised his sister would be so bold as to ask why, and it appeared their guide was likewise.

  “I mean, why is that, sir?” she asked after the Seraph didn’t answer immediately.

  “Because whoever arrives last buys drinks for the others,” Loramere said, a grin tugging at the right side of his lips. “Long-standing tradition.”

  Loramere led them down their small street toward Fountain Road, the twins trailing after. Kael did a quick check in his mind on the distance. Fountain Road would take them north to the heart of Weshern, and from there they’d have to travel east until Winged Road arrived at the academy. All in all, close to six miles, and on foot.

  “If you’re worried you’ll be last, you could probably carry us while flying,” Kael offered. He had a feeling this serious-looking giant wasn’t quite as serious as he let on, and the man’s boisterous laugh proved him right.

  “No can do,” Loramere said. “Another one of those traditions you’ll soon tire hearing of. From your home, you walk to the academy. Once there, you’ll either walk back a failure or fly back a success.” He winked at them. “And don’t worry about us. There’s a bunch who left yesterday to bring in recruits from the western end of the island. Only way we arrive last is if they fly their kids in.”

  “How do you know they won’t?”

  Loramere shook his head as they turned onto Fountain Road, which was still quiet due to the early hour.

  “Something you’ll soon learn. If you’re a Seraph, you don’t cheat or lie to another Seraph. Not at nothing, no matter how small. Breaking your word on the small stuff leads to breaking your word on the big stuff, and when you’re flying through a goddamn barrage of ice lances and flame spears, you’ve got to trust your fellow Seraphim. The tiniest doubt, I mean the tiniest little sliver, can get you killed.”

  It was a sobering reminder to the fate they had signed on for. Kael already felt nervous he’d make a fool of himself on the first day of training. Combining that with the realization that he might soon be dodging elements as other Seraphim tried to kill him? Suddenly Kael felt that a long, quiet walk might be a better idea than joking with Loramere. What was wrong with him? Why in all of Weshern had he agreed to do this?

  An elbow dug into his side, and he glanced left to see Bree staring at him. Her eyes were sparkling, her lips curled into the tiniest of smiles. She’d sensed his apprehension, he realized, and done what she could to shake him out of it. Kael elbowed her right back to show his gratitude.

  “Pants pisser,” she whispered.

  “Crotch sniffer,” he retaliated.

  Loramere glanced over his shoulder.

  “You two better not be fighting like little children,” he said.

  Kael gave him his sincerest grin.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” he said.

  The Seraph shook his head as he turned back around.

  “You two are going to be trouble, aren’t you?”

  Yes sir, mouthed Bree, and they both grinned.

  True to Loramere’s prediction, they were not the last to arrive, only second to last. The gated entrance to the Weshern Academy waited open before them at the very end of Winged Road. For a mile on either side of the gate stretched stone walls marking the limits of the academy and its training grounds. Gathered at the entrance were nearly a dozen Seraphim. The men and women seemed jovial enough, and despite the regal look of their black and blue uniforms and their silver wings they joked with one another as if they were casual friends in a bar. When Loramere reached the group, one of the men clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Just in time,” he said. “I think I see Garrick down the road not far behind you.”

  “A good thing, too,” Loramere said, smacking the man in the chest with his fist. “The islands will fall to the ocean before I’m buying rounds two years in a row.”

  “Go on inside,” a pretty woman with auburn hair told Kael when she saw him and his sister standing amid the group, unsure of what to do. “Follow the path until you see the rest.”

  “Thank you,” Kael said, and he felt himself blushing.

  “Come on,” Bree said, tugging on his sleeve. They entered the gate, following the well-worn dirt path that cut through the enormous green fields. Long, flowing grass grew on either side of them, dancing in the soft breeze. Kael glanced left, then right, seeing very little beyond the rolling expanses and the distant stone wall that enveloped the academy grounds. Up ahead were two buildings split by the path, and between them were several dozen people, mixed together in such a chaotic jumble he had no clue what was going on.

  As they neared, a woman stepped out from the group. She was on the short side, her brown hair pulled neatly back from her slender, freckled face. Though she wore a military uniform akin to Loramere’s, her shirt was black instead of white, and her jacket a dark blue. Her left hand held a clipboard, her right a silver pen.

  “Breanna and Kael?” she asked, eyes flicking to her clipboard for a split second.
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  “Yes,” Kael said.

  “Excellent. That’s almost everyone. Continue so the ladies can get you fitted.”

  She gestured into the group, then stepped aside so they might pass. Kael saw about half were his and his sister’s age, some in crisp new uniforms, most not. Lining either side of the road were women in blue dresses. Behind them, blocking off the two enormous sheds, were dozens of open crates. Kael slowly wandered into the fray, felt the dozens of concurrent conversations wash over him, and wondered what he should do. Thankfully that was solved by one of the women in blue whistling to gain his attention, then beckoning him over.

  “Your name?” she asked as she uncoiled a long, thin strip of white cloth covered with markings.

  “Kael Skyborn,” he said.

  “All right, Kael. Stand still for me, and stretch out your arms.”

  A second woman joined her from the crates, standing beside the other as the first ran the strip of cloth from his wrists to his armpits, then shoulder to shoulder, hip to ground, around his waist, and seemingly everywhere else imaginable. Kael endured it in awkward silence as the measurer rambled out various numbers to the other woman.

  “Ten on the jacket,” she said after measuring his arms a second time. “Same for the shirt. Nine on the pants.” She dropped down, measured his feet. “Eight on the boots.”

  It was strange having his body broken down to a series of numbers, but apparently it worked. The other woman hurried to the crates, which he saw were filled with uniforms of all sizes. Returning moments later with a bundle in her arms, she more shoved than handed it to him.

  “There’s curtained booths to the side of the sheds,” the first woman said. “You can change there. Once you have, return your old clothes to me, and I’ll have them sent to your room.”

  Kael followed her instructions, clutching the clothes tightly for fear of dropping something. What if he dirtied his new jacket? Would he get in trouble for something like that? It was his first day, and he hadn’t a clue what might be a huge deal, what might be nothing, and he desperately wanted to avoid finding that out. Coming around the left side of the sheds, which looked more like wooden barns to him, he found two booths made of plain wooden stakes jammed into the dirt and covered with thick curtains. Both had lines, and Kael stepped into the one on the left. Moments later, his sister joined the other line, her own arms full.