Lords of the Sky

picking out the strange sigils daubed over bearer and basket, fear and fascination mingling in equal measure. I looked back and thought perhaps I should have done better to go after my mother and find the safety of the wood, where the ancient crypts ran down into the earth.

Instead, I ran down to the village, through the emptied houses, to the beach, to my father.

He did not see me at first, for his face was locked on the sky, etched over with shadows of disbelief. He stood with a flensing pole held across his chest, high, the curved blade striking brilliance from the sun. Thorus stood beside him, and in his hand was a sword, not rusted like Robus’s old blade but bright with oil, darker along the edges, where the whetstone had shaped cutting grooves. It was a blade such as soldiers carried, and for a moment I stared and lusted after such a weapon.

I suppose I must have made a sound for my father turned and saw me, Thorus with him, though their faces bore very different expressions. My father’s was angry; Thorus’s amused. I felt a fear greater than anything a Kho’rabi knight might induce at the one; pleasure at the other.

My father said, “What in the God’s name are you doing here?”

I would likely have run away then, back through the village and up the cliff path, across the fields to the wood, far more afraid of the look gouged over my father’s face than of any Kho’rabi knight. But Thorus said, “Blood runs true, friend,” to my father; and to me, “Best find yourself a blade if you stand with us, Daviot.”

My father said, “God’s name, man, he’s only a boy,” but I was swelled with pride and honor and found a discarded net hook that I picked up for want of better weapon and strode to stand between them. Thorus laughed and clapped me on the shoulder hard enough that I tottered, and said, “Blood to blood, Aditus.”

My father’s face remained dark, but then he grunted and nodded and said, “Likely they’ll pass over. So, you can stay, boy. But on my word, you run for the caves. Yes?”

I nodded, without any intention whatsoever of keeping my word: if the enlarging shape of the Sky Lords’ boat dropped fylie of the Kho’rabi knights upon us, I planned to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with my fellow warriors. I planned to die gloriously in defense of Whitefish village, in defense of Kellambek.

I watched the ship grow larger, my hands tight on my hook. It came up faster than any natural wind might propel it. It seemed like a great, bloody wound on the face of the sky. I saw the glimmer of the magic that drove it, trailing back from the pointed tail like the shifting translucence of witchfire’s glow. It seemed to move the faster for its proximity with our coastline, as though propulsion were augmented with attraction, speeding as it drew nearer. The sea gulls that were a constant punctuation of the sky fled before it, and I suddenly realized that the cats that prowled the shoreline were also gone; likewise the handful of dogs our village boasted. That seemed very strange to me-the absence of such familiar things-and I glanced around, my valor threatened. I saw that my father’s knuckles bulged white from his tanned hands, and that Thorus’s lips were spread back from clenched teeth in a kind of snarl. I realized then that a terrible silence had fallen, as if this unexpected Coming drove stillness before it, or the presence of the Sky Lords absorbed sound. No one moved; there was no shuffling of feet on sand; even the waves that lapped the beach went unheard. I stared in shared dread, feeling the shadow of the boat fall over me, which it should not have done, for the sun westered and that shadow should not-nor could-have reached us yet. I trembled, for all my youthful bravery, in its cold. It felt as though a hand reached out from the grave to pluck at my heart, at my courage. I shivered and saw that my father did the same, though he sought to hide it from me, looking down at me and smiling. I thought his smile was like the grin I had seen on the faces of drowned men.

Then the great shape was directly above us, and I thought that this must be how a lamb feels, when it feels the shadow of an eagle darken its vision. I craned my head back, shivering, seeing that the airboat hung high above us, and where it rode the sky, strange prancing shapes showed through the blue, as if elementals sported there.

I looked to my father and saw his face grim; at Thorus, who raised his sword above his head like a talisman. I looked up, nearly overbalancing, as the Sky Lords’ ship floated, serene and ghastly, over my home.

Some arrows fell, unflighted by the height, and fired, I think, in amusement; a fisherman named Vadim even caught one in his hand, that feat producing a shout of encouragement from all the rest.

And then the ship was gone, passed beyond the cliff and out of sight.

It was both disappointment and relief to me: I had anticipated glorious battle; I was also glad that horrible weight had passed. I enjoyed the way my father held my one shoulder, Thorus my other, and both told me I had played my part, even as men went running to the cliff to follow the ship’s passage.

I went running with them, still clutching my hook, for they all still held their weapons. I was suddenly possessed of a dreadful fear that the ship had gone past the village to land in the fields-the wood-beyond and disgorge the Kho’rabi knights to massacre my mother and my siblings and all the others hiding in the caves. But Thorus hauled me back and shouted at my father that the wind was wrong, and whatever magic the sorcerers of Ahn-feshang commanded, it was not enough to ground the boat to disembark the fylie.

Even so, I was not satisfied, nor my father, until we topped the path and saw the ship drifting on over the wood, disappearing into the haze of the afternoon sun, like blood drying on a wound.

Several of the younger fishermen ran to the wood then, to tell the mantis and his charges that the danger was gone by. They emerged, laughing and praising the God for his mercy. Then I basked in the admiring gaze of my friends, for they had all obeyed and hidden, and I alone, of all the children in the village, had remained. I swung my hook in vivid demonstration of how I should have fought, coming close to harming more than one innocent onlooker until my father took the tool from me, his face stern.

My mother’s, when she found me, was haggard and she raised a hand to strike me, but my father halted her, speaking softly, and she sighed, shaking her head, her expression one I did not then understand. Tonium and Delia stared at me in awe.

We went back to the village, and Thorym, who owned what passed for the village tavern, announced that he would broach a keg in celebration of deliverance, promising a mug to every man who had stood his ground on the beach. My mother returned to our cottage, like all the other women, to prepare the evening meal, for by now the day grew old and the sun stood close to setting, but I succeeded in avoiding her and insinuated myself amongst the men. After all, had I not stood with them?

Thorym paused when he saw me in his taproom, unsure-it was not our custom to allow children ale until they reached their fourteenth year and were deemed young men. But Thorus shouted that I was a warrior born and had sided him and so earned my sup. The rest shouted laughter at that, and my father first frowned and then smiled, torn between disapproval and pride, but then he said I might take a sip or two, for it was true that I had stood my place like a man.

I had never held a mug of ale before, and it was all I could do to stretch my hands around the cup and lift it to my mouth, but I was aware that all there watched me and I raised the mug and drank deep. And immediately choked, spitting out the sour-tasting brew and spilling half the cup over my feet, blushing furiously.

My father took it from me, glancing angrily at Thorus as he urged me to try again, and suggested that I go make peace with my mother. My reluctance must have shown, for he allowed me one more sip before finally retrieving the mug and sending me from the tavern. I went outside, but no farther, skirting around the wall to where a window allowed me to spy on the men and listen to their conversation. It told me little enough, being mostly concerned with the unlikely Coming of the airboat, which they agreed was out of time, its appearance unseasonal. I gathered, from what they said, that none had anticipated sighting the Sky Lords for years yet, when the Worldwinds were due once more to shift. Not even the mantis could offer explanation, save that the sorcerers of Ahn-feshang had developed new usage of their occult powers.

That set them all to arguing and muttering, some perplexed, some fearful; some to suggesting that this was but a single event, a foray attempted and failed, that the boat had somehow succeeded in defeating the winds and the emanations of the Sentinels; some to forecasting a strengthening of Ahn-feshang’s magic and a new Coming.

Then, though, I had more immediate concerns-to wit, my mother, who sent Tonium looking for me with word that did I fail to appear at home on the instant, I might anticipate punishment of a magnitude that should render a Kho’rabi attack the merest prickling.

I hurried back, ignoring my smug and envious brother, and found myself-the grossest ignominy, I thought, given my new-proven valor-ordered to scrub cooking pots before I was allowed to eat. She did not cuff me, which at the time I failed to realize was token of her thanks for my survival, but neither would she speak to me; nor