Sky Child

T. M. BRENNER

All rights reserved. Published in the United States.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are fictional. Any resemblances to actual people, living or dead, events or locations is purely coincidental.

Copyright T. M. Brenner 2014

Cover Illustration by T. M. Brenner

Also by T. M. Brenner

Luminaries

For Riley and Jordan

1

I
can hear water dripping, which tells me that the rains have set in. They may not end for a few days. I push myself upright, out from under the tattered blanket I use to fight off the cold of the Crag. The branches that I've tied together into a makeshift bed creak beneath my weight. Off in the distance I can hear the howling of the wind, blowing across the face of the cave that is both my home, and my prison.

Sleeping next to me are my brothers, Jet and Flot. They aren't really my brothers, but I call them that because I look after them as if they were. I watch their blankets move as they breathe. It amazes me how young they look when they are asleep, but how old they seem when they are awake. Flot still sucks his thumb while he is asleep, which is something the new ones stop doing when they are smaller.

I fold up my blanket and set it down on the bed. It takes me a moment to change into my clothes. I try my best to be quiet, so that I don't wake up the twins. I grab a glowing stick to carry with me, since parts of the Crag can be very dark. After passing by some of the smaller rooms inside the Crag, I reach the Great Fire.

Moss is there, one of the gray ones, making sure that the Great Fire never goes out. He takes turns with a few of the other gray ones, watching it, keeping it alive. We are taught that if the Great Fire dies, so do we. No way to cook food, or to heat water, or to protect ourselves from the black flyers that live above us in the Crag.

Moss nods his head. His long, stringy gray hair falls off his shoulders. I put the tip of my glowing stick into the Great Fire, stealing some of its life. It never seems to mind that I take from it, but give nothing back in return. Maybe the Great Fire is just happy to have people watch over it, so it doesn't mind sharing. I smile at Moss, thanking him for the light and warmth then make my way to the entrance of the Crag.

It takes a few moments of creeping past those who are still asleep to get to the mouth of the cave. I look up and see an endless cloud-filled sky. That's how most of my days are; full of darkness and rain. Thankfully, the ground outside the Crag is more interesting to look at. Rocks covered in shades of green. Fields of grass and clover. It would be beautiful, if it wasn't so dangerous.

The sound of footsteps echoes behind me. I can tell by the shuffling of his feet that it's Flot. I turn to look at him. The dim light of the hallway's glowing sticks makes him seem smaller than he really is. His sun-colored face and dark brown hair make it difficult to see him in the shadows.

"Over here," I say.

"Sam, what are you doing?" asks Flot.

"I'm just watching the rain. It's going to make the hunt more difficult today."

"You've hunted in the rain before, and you've always come back with something," says Flot.

"That's true, but do you see those dark gray clouds there?"

"Yes."

"Well those are the type of clouds that bring sky fire."

"I don't like sky fire," says Flot.

"I don't either. But without it, we wouldn't have the Great Fire."

"Is that where it came from? The gray ones said that it was a gift from the Sky Gods."

"It was, but that's how they gave it to us."

"Oh," says Flot. "So when are we going to hunt?"

"After breakfast, just like always," I say.

"Can't we go now?"

"Don't you want to wait for Jet?" I ask.

"No, not really."

I laugh.

"Well, we're going to wait for him, and the rest of the people going out for the hunt."

"But I'm ready now," says Flot.

"We have to wait for everyone else, because it's dangerous outside. You know that. There are wolves with big sharp teeth, and dragons that will burn your skin right off!"

"I don't believe in dragons."

"That's just because you haven't seen one yet," I say. "You've only been hunting for a few snows."

"Have you ever seen one?" asks Flot.

I worry that if I tell Flot the truth, it might scare him. But I know that I should, because it might keep him safe.

"Yes, I've seen one."

"Was it long ago? What was it like?"

I think back to all the people that died that day. The blood covered grass. The smell of burnt flesh. The screams of panic as people ran, trying to find somewhere to hide.

There was a large group of us, and we were out in the fields, hunting deer. I had reached enough snows that I was finally able to go hunting with the group, but I was still very new to it. My sling was ready, aimed at a deer, when the dragon came.

Fire rained down from the sky, burning some of our people. One of the gray ones, Lagan, ordered us to scatter. Running as fast as I could, I hid between a pair of large rocks, out of sight of the dragon.

"I can still remember what its roar sounded like: deep and booming, like sky fire. I only saw it for a moment. Its scales were shiny, just like in the legends, and its wings were massive. The dragon had a pair of glowing eyes that still visit me in my nightmares. It was terrible," I say. "It burned half of us with its fire. I hit it with a rock from my sling, and it bounced off like it was nothing."

"I thought you were good with your sling," says Flot.

"I am good, but the dragon was very strong. There was no way to fight it. Many of us hid. Once the dragon flew off, those of us that survived buried what was left of the bodies."

"What did the dragon want? Why did it attack you?" asks Flot.

"We don't know for sure. Legends tell us that dragons steal great treasures, and keep them hidden and protected. The dragon that attacked us didn't seem to want anything from us. It didn't take our food, or our clothes, or our weapons. It only took our lives. Some believe that it was just protecting its territory, because we were hunting in an area we'd never hunted in before. So we don't go to that place anymore, even to see where our people were killed."

"Why don't we figure out a way to kill dragons?" asks Flot.

"Well, we haven't seen any since. As long as we hunt in the same fields, they don't bother us," I say.

"Maybe someday you'll find a way. Maybe someday you'll catch a dragon, and then we can eat dragon meat forever!"

"I don't think it would taste very good, but maybe we could find the cave it lives in, and keep the treasures it's stolen," I say, smiling.

"Maybe we could live there. Maybe it's better than the Crag!"

"The Crag isn't too bad," I lie. "It's kept us alive."

"But some of the gray ones are bad. They hurt us, and threaten us, and sometimes one of the new ones disappears. I think some of the gray ones kill them."

"Not all gray ones are bad," I say.

"I like Moss, and Lagan, and Charm, but I hate Chaff. His sons, Sickle and Scythe, both hurt me. Sometimes they knock me over and laugh. Sometimes they kick at me, and sometimes they even take my food."

Surprise becomes anger, and I realize that I've curled my hands into fists.

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I will talk with them," I say.

"No! That will make it worse! Promise me Sam that you won't talk to them!"

I don't know what to say. People respect me, because I'm one of the lead hunters now. Talking to Sickle and Scythe might stop them from bullying Flot. But I've seen murder in both of them, and I worry that if they find out that Flot told me, they might kill him instead.

When I was a new one, Sickle and Scythe would beat me. Sometimes they would take me into one of the long caves that make up the Crag, tie me to a rock then punch my face or my stomach. Sometimes they would just yell at me, or try to scare me until I cried. I was so small then compared to how tall and strong I am now. I've seen many more snows since then, and Sickle and Scythe know that if they tried to hurt me now, I would protect myself.

Decisions like this are impossible, because both choices are bad. The most important thing though is to stay alive, so I have to continue letting Sickle and Scythe think that no one knows they've been torturing my brother. I will get revenge for Flot though, and until I do, I will keep a closer eye on him. I will make sure that I protect him as much as possible without him knowing. Although he is still young and soft-hearted, he is proud, and would hate to feel like he needed my help.

"What are you guys doing?" says a familiar voice.

"We're just talking, Jet. What are you doing?" asks Flot.

"Looking for you. When is breakfast? I'm hungry."

"We can have breakfast right now," I say, as I turn to look into the darkening sky.