Lance of Earth and Sky

The first fat drops of a cold rain broke him out of his reverie, the first real solace he'd had in days. A dull headache clung to the back of his skull and his eyes would focus only with deliberate effort. But where his mind faltered with exhaustion, his spirit rested for the first time in weeks, perhaps months. Still, exhausted as he was, he had no reserves with which to fend off the deep chill of the rain.

When he looked up over the bow, coal-black clouds rolled along the sky's edge, dampening Vidarian's spirits further. As if acknowledging his attention, an icy storm wind swept over the craft, flattening the gryphons' feathers and finding every nook and cranny in the small ship. Lightning flickered, echoing through the distant thunderheads, and from Vidarian's side, the pup lifted his head and let loose an eerie howl.

Was it the everstorm, the perpetual blizzard that hung over the Windsmouth? But no—they'd passed over those spectacular mountains not long after leaving the gate site, and the everstorm itself had dissipated (for esoteric elemental reasons the gryphons had argued over at length) with the gate's opening.

In moments the storm was upon them, flying with unnatural speed. As it drew closer, it raised the hair on the back of Vidarian's neck, and not out of merely electricity or fear. There was an elemental force behind the storm.

And that wasn't all. The storm did “fly”—it had a shape: a giant hawk with outspread wings, lightning crackling from its “feathers.”

The craft rocked suddenly, and behind him Calphille yelped as she grabbed for a handhold. Vidarian turned to assist her, clinging to his own seat, and saw the source of the impact: Isri had landed, not gracefully, on the port quarter.

“There is an elementalist at the center of this storm!” She shook water out of her eyes and arched her wings over her head to block the rain.

// We noticed, // Altair called, and Vidarian lifted himself slightly to look for either or both of the gryphons. At first they were nowhere to be found—then he saw the flash of a white wing, signaling Altair's presence several ship lengths away. He and Thalnarra had given the Destiny a wider berth when the storm hit, almost certainly to avoid being driven into the sails, or worse, by a blast of wind.

But how could there be an elementalist this high up? A gryphon?

“They are seridi, but my mind cannot reach them! Their defenses are formidable!” Isri answered his unasked question, an unnerving habit she had. More disturbing still was the thought of a seridi that could block her out, and create or control the storm at the same time.

Humans were rarely gifted with either telepathy or elemental magic, but Vidarian knew now that both the seridi and gryphons could carry them at independent levels of strength. Still, even for their kind, someone with Isri's mind-strength and Altair's elemental ability was extremely rare.

// She is an electricity mage, // Altair offered. // A lightning-wielder. //

“How do you know it's a she?” Vidarian yelled, in between bursts of thunder.

// Electricity is a specialization within air magic, // he said, tearing through a bank of cloud and coming into view only for a moment. // And her energy has a female signature. //

“Is she sane?” He clung again to the seat as the Destiny pitched. Calphille, pressed to the deck, cried out again, but held herself steady even with one arm wrapped around the wolf pup, who continued to bark at the sky.

“I cannot tell…” Isri began, then closed her eyes, head-feathers rousing. “She is Alar, storm clan!” Isri cried over the storm.

“Like the last one we captured!” Vidarian shouted back, and Isri nodded emphatically. “You said they were dangerous!”

Just then, the wolf pup ceased his barking but wriggled free of Calphille's grip and scuttled to the forward bow. He put his paws up on the rail and howled.

Three arcs of lightning shot down out of the thunderhead above them, striking the pup, who howled even louder. Vidarian was knocked back off his seat and into Calphille, blinded and senseless.

Vidarian thrashed, unthinking, on the deck, and this time Calphille reached to steady him. When the stun wore off, he straightened, anxiety and grief hitting him like a wall from the wolf pup.

As his vision slowly returned, punctuated by more blasts of lightning off the bow, he saw a shape still standing at the forward rail, and wondered if the pup had been burned standing up, seared in place.

But then the shape moved. A howl split the air, muffled to Vidarian's still-impaired hearing, but distinct.

* Impossible! * Ruby had kept her thoughts to herself throughout the whole journey so far, but now radiated astonishment.

// Control that creature! // Altair thundered, his voice bitter and sharp like lightning-struck wood. // It's calling down the storm! //

Lightning flashed again, mercifully distant, and the pup barked joyously at it again. Altair was right—the pup was calling the lightning. And it was answering!

That wasn't all. Another shape within the storm was bearing down on the craft, too small to be one of the gryphons.

Her feathers were black, nearly invisible against the dark clouds, except for streaks of white around her eyes and at the tips of her primaries. Clawed feet, large and strong, caught the forward rail easily, and she perched there like a gargoyle, haloed with a blue aura of electricity.

Mad as it was, Vidarian prepared for a fight, for a stream of insane babbling followed by an elemental attack. But the strange seridi only looked down at the pup and laughed, reaching out to ruffle his fur.

At this Vidarian called out a warning, which, too, was unnecessary. An arc of electricity flashed out from the pup's spines, strong this time, but the seridi's aura absorbed it harmlessly.

“He has a good spirit!” the new visitor cried, her beak parted in a seridi smile at Vidarian.

“Glad to hear it!” he shouted. “Could you—ah—”

“Oh! Of course!” Her feathers slicked down in what would have been sheepishness in a gryphon and he guessed was the same for seridi. Then she made a strange twisting motion with her hands and the storm tamed instantly: lightning vanished, thunder grumbled into silence, the sky itself around them lightened. By the time she pulled her fingers apart again, shafts of sunlight were breaking through the clouds.

* Such quickness! *

Living or…whatever it was she was now…Ruby had never impressed easily, but in this case Vidarian could hardly disagree. Not only was this seridi equipped with a level of elemental ability yet unseen in this age, she was accustomed to it, used it as easily as touch or speech.

Altair and Thalnarra glided closer to the craft, exchanging greetings with their new guest. Isri, who must have fallen from the craft at the lightning strike, performed an interesting full-body shake in midair that sent water droplets flying from her feathers, then came to a delicate landing on the aft rail.

“I am Alikai, of the Alar seridi,” the newcomer said to Vidarian, and then added, to Isri, “first storm-wielder, second speaker to Sia'kalia.”

// You call the goddess by her ancient name, // Altair said.

She parted her beak slightly in a smile: // I did not know she had taken a new one, sky-brother. But the wind has always worn many names. //

“They call her Siane now,” Isri said gently. “Have you spoken with your clansfolk, since coming through the gate?”

* She doesn't know! * Ruby said, exactly as Vidarian realized the same thing. Now the seridi's facial feathers were roused with nervousness.

“I have not, mindspeaker.” Her crest, black striped with thin lines of white, lifted as she bowed her head in embarrassment. “I must confess my relief at escaping the gate was so great that I flew aimlessly with the wind, then created this storm, and have ridden it since.”

“You should go to your people, who remain at the gate,” Isri said, stepping down from the rail and carefully crossing the craft to take Alikai's hands in her own. “Much needs to be done. Many did not emerge from the gate whole.”

The black-plumaged seridi nodded, her head still lowered, droplets clinging to her long eyelashes. “I have been foolish, indulging in storm-play out here.”

// We all emerged from the gate changed, and owe no apologies for tending first to our own recovery, // Isri said. Rarely did she use her formidable telepathic ability to project speech, but when she did, the warm light of her spirit engulfed all who listened with strength and compassion.

Alikai nodded, and lifted her head, dashing tears away with a fingertip. “I will return. Thank you for calling to me.” She smiled again at Vidarian, and held her hands out to the wolf pup, who eagerly trotted to them. “Take care of this one,” she said, rubbing his eye-ridges. “I haven't seen his like in quite some time!”


The next three days of flying went smoothly, without unnatural storm or mishap. By night they landed and the gryphons hunted, and they rose to the air again with dawn's light. When they could see the ground, Calphille kept Vidarian occupied with questions as to which people lived where, what villages lay below them, and the names of rivers that had shifted in their beds since last she saw them. He tried not to be grateful for the distraction, but her curiosity was infectious.

Inhabited territories grew more numerous the farther northeast they traveled, and on the fourth morning, thick banks of fog obscured much of the ground below. When they finally peeled away toward midmorning, revealing strips of heavily developed land, Vidarian confessed himself stumped.

“I don't remember this city,” he admitted. “It must have been a village when I was a child, now far grown.”

But as the fog cleared further beneath them, it did not reveal the rolling green hills he remembered from boyhood. The same tightly packed buildings ranged over height and valley alike, spreading from horizon to horizon. With a sudden shock he realized that there would be no separation—this strange sea of never-ending structures was Val Imris, the Imperial City.