Charging Symphony

  Skye awoke feeling like dough folded and flattened one too many times. His muscles ached, his injuries throbbed faintly, and the lingering Aero contamination prickled like ants crawling beneath his skin. Still, when he noticed the sun high above the horizon, he sprang from his bed, stripped off the oversized pajamas he’d borrowed from the master, and hurried downstairs.

  Even after how yesterday ended, exhilaration buzzed through him. He was a windrider now—an inexperienced one, sure, but he was learning. Today, he would go to new heights and push himself harder. Every night brought them closer to Green Eve and the day of his departure. He checked his bell and felt a spark of relief; it still hung light on his mind. The ever-present tension coiled at the back of his thoughts, but it didn’t feel like it would chime anytime soon.

  As Skye descended the last step, Rico entered the house, head slumped down.

  “Oh, you’re up,” Rico said dully. “The master is waiting for you.”

  Rico’s uncharacteristic somber demeanor made Skye pause. Even his fluffy tail, usually wagging enthusiastically at Skye’s presence, hung still.

  “What’s wrong?” Skye asked.

  “It’s… it’s nothing,” Rico said, obviously a lie.

  “Did you get in trouble because of what we did yesterday?” Skye asked, feeling guilty.

  “No! it’s…” Rico hesitated, his wings shifting uneasily. ”Yesterday, the master had… multiple spectral visitors. He was up all night soothing them. Luccello said he heard him crying long after they left.”

  Skye’s guts twisted in a knot. Several of the master’s students had died during the same night? Were those unrelated incidents or were they grouped together?

  Could someone be targeting the master’s students?

  “He has many orbs in his basement,” Redeyes noted, leaning over Skye’s shoulder. “Seems you’ve chosen a rather deadly teacher. Not wholly inconsistent for you, I’d say.”

  I’m not worried about anyone targeting me, Skye replied sternly. I have my bell.

  He and Rico exited without another word. Outside, they ran into Ka’ib perched on a low branch above the door. The massive raven spread his black wings menacingly, yellow eyes blazing through shadowed membranes like hungry predators in the night. A shiver crawled down Skye’s spine, and he instinctively stepped behind Rico.

  “You listen to master’s wisdom!” Ka’ib cawed. “You do as he says! You give no trouble, or I give punishment. You hear?”

  Without waiting for a response, he flapped into the treehouse’s shadow and vanished.

  Shame prickled through Skye. Ka’ib’s voice had cracked with sorrow, not anger. If the monstrous raven was grieving this much, how must the master feel?

  Behind the treehouse, near the garden, the master stood channeling into the earth, growing a series of trees in a tight line. With a swift motion of his hands, he bent the top of one smooth, bald pine into a perfect arch. Slowly and deliberately, he ensured each tree matched its neighbors in height and alignment, forming a living wall.

  “You’re late.” Luccello fluttered onto Skye’s shoulder uninvited. “You were supposed to be up at dawn. I wanted to wake you, but the master said to let you rest. Don’t expect such leniency again if you want to keep training here. The master’s time is precious.”

  “How is he?” Skye asked, watching the master engrossed in his work.

  “Why do you ask?” Luccello asked suspiciously. “It’s Rico, isn’t it? That chick can’t keep anything secret! Whatever happens, don’t mention it to the master. If you care about his wellbeing, make him focus on your training.”

  Skye nodded. “I will.” Steeling himself, he stepped closer. “Good morning,” he called. “Will we repeat yesterday’s training today?”

  “Ah, good morning, Skye,” the master greeted back. His drooping eyelids hung heavy, though he smiled wide, his white teeth gleaming. “We will do something better.” He looked worn and weathered, and Skye couldn’t help but think that someone his age shouldn’t be toiling under the morning sun.

  But Skye needed the old tortoise and his teachings, so he swallowed his guilt and kept quiet.

  “How are your injuries?” the master asked kindly, bending down to plant another seed. With a wave of his massive cane, he coaxed the earth to life. A tender sprout emerged, stretching toward the master like a child reaching for a parent.

  Skye rolled up the leg of his pants to reveal a bruise on his shin, its pink hue faded to a pale stain. “Mostly gone. Thanks to the medicine Luccello gave me.”

  “It would be gone completely if you hadn’t worn yourself out with too much of Iggy’s panacea,” Luccello chided from his perch.

  “And the contamination?” the master pressed, watching the sprout grow into a sapling, its slender branches dancing in the light. “Do you feel any numbness or dizziness?”

  Skye bit the tip of his pinky and winced. “Feeling is back. Will the contamination build up if I train every day?”

  “Certainly.” The master tapped a growing branch, causing it to shrink and retreat into the bark like a nail into wood. “There are methods to dissipate fantasia from your body, but they require advanced control and understanding. You’ll learn them in time.”

  He circled to the other side of the tree, angling the top into a graceful arch. “I heard you and Rico braved an adventure yesterday.”

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  Skye stiffened. “Err… I’m sorry about that, master. I swear I won’t enter your garden without permission again.”

  “That’s good.” Ku kneeled to plant another seed. “Did you enjoy stormball?”

  The question, delivered in a calm, even tone, carried no hint of accusation. Yet, Skye understood the reprimand beneath the words. He laughed nervously. “It was a nice experiment that taught me how much I still have to learn.”

  “Then I assume you passed the challenge I gave you?”

  Skye scratched the back of his head. “Not exactly.” The master didn’t look at him, focusing instead on his work, but the disappointment radiating from Luccello’s glare was enough to make Skye sweat. “I promise I’ll take my training more seriously from now on,” he said hurriedly.

  “You make many promises,” Ku said, finally turning to face him. “But how many will you keep?”

  “As many as I can.”

  Ku smiled gently. “That’s not how promises work.”

  Before Skye could respond, Luccello flapped down to his shoulder, cutting him off. “Now, now, that’s enough. The master’s busy setting up the arena, and you need breakfast. Eat well. God knows you’ll need the strength.”

  Luccello herded Skye backward before settling on a nearby light pole. Beneath the treehouse, outside the fenced garden, lay a spread of cut vegetables, fluffy bread, cheese, jam, and honey on a small smooth trunk. The food was untouched save for a sausage Rico was happily picking at.

  Skye’s stomach growled at the sight of the food, and he rushed to oblige. Channeling was exhausting, and skipping meals wouldn’t help him improve. He tore into the food eagerly, savoring the hot sausage before wiping his mouth and calling out to the master, “What are you making?”

  “A cabin,” the master replied, shaping the back wall of the growing structure. “Usually, my students spend weeks, sometimes months, mastering the basics you were shown yesterday. But as you pointed out, we don’t have the luxury of time. I’ll teach you the lessons every novice needs, albeit at breakneck speed. You won’t master them here, but you’ll have the tools to practice during your journey.”

  He paused, leveling Skye with a steady gaze. “In other words, I’ll teach you how to learn. The rest is up to you.”

  Skye washed down the sausage with some soft tomatoes. He knew his time with the master was limited, but he hoped to leave with enough knowledge to survive the journey over the Avyhandouse.

  “You really believe a few days of training will be enough to face the wardens and elexii?” Redeyes asked. “The only thing this master is setting you up for is failure.”

  Skye paused mid-bite. He wasn’t sure the master’s plan would work, but if he’d learned anything yesterday, it was his need to trust his tutors. He resumed eating.

  “Oh, how wise to ignore the voice of reason!” Redeyes’s tone shifted into anger. “How disappointed do you think the master will be when you return to the house as a spirit? Oh, wait! He won’t even remember you.”

  Shut up, Skye thought bitterly. I have no time for you.

  “What did you learn yesterday?” Master Ku’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  Skye swallowed hastily, nearly choking. “I learned so much,” he said after a cough. “I can create streams from both hands now and direct them in different directions. I even summoned a blast strong enough to throw someone off their feet.”

  The master nodded absently, already working on the third wall of the cabin. He bent the trees sharply, creating neat square gaps for windows. He worked at an astonishing speed, especially considering his lethargic movements. Skye had seen greenfingers in the Florald District labor all day to grow a single tree. Yet here was Ku, growing his tenth in less than thirty minutes.

  “And yet,” the master said, his tone sharp, “when Ka’ib attacked, you froze.”

  Skye flinched. “There were so many hands holding and scratching me! I couldn’t concentrate on channeling!”

  “You were afraid,” Ku said firmly. “Fear is a fetter that binds you to failure unless you learn to overcome it. Its best antidote is preparation. You wish to not freeze on the battlefield? Then practice each strike ten thousand times until it becomes second nature to you.”

  He was already shaping the roof of the cabin, creating a hollowed dome as he continued. “Did you learn anything else from your encounter with Ka’ib?”

  Skye knew the master had a specific answer in mind, like always, but he couldn’t guess it. Beside him, Rico released his sausage, lifted a wing, and pointed at his wrist.

  “I should… keep a watch to know the time?” Skye ventured.

  Rico shook his head vehemently.

  “Uh, I learned that proper hand gestures are essential for stormball?” Skye said, grinning proudly.

  Rico slapped his wing to his face in exasperation.

  “What?” Skye mouthed at him, arms spread in confusion.

  “If that’s all, bring out your astrum so we may begin,” Master Ku said.

  Skye’s face flushed hot as Redeyes burst into laughter. His astrum was gone, destroyed in the garden.

  “Keep a watch, eh?” Redeyes mocked. “Maybe when an elexos attacks, you can tell them: ‘Please wait a moment, I can’t fight now. Can’t you see it’s teatime?’”

  There was no point in lying. It’s not like he could produce an astrum out of thin air, and the master must already know what had happened.

  “I lost it,” Skye admitted. “But it’s not my fault! Ka’ib destroyed it.”

  Master Ku, Luccello, and even Rico shook their heads in disapproval.

  “That is no excuse,” Luccello snapped. “In any duel, your opponent will try to disarm you. If you lose your astrum, you’re at their mercy.”

  “I know; I’m sorry,” Skye mumbled. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

  “This won’t do,” Ku said, nearing completion of the roof. “If your opponent cuts off your hand, will you simply say you’re sorry? If they sever a foot, will you promise to take better care next time? Your astrum is an extension of your body. This is doubly true for you with your ability to fuse with your weapon. Taking care of your astrum must be your priority inside and outside of combat.”

  “You’re right,” Skye admitted, determined to never hear this lecture again. “I promise this’ll be the last time I lose an astrum.”

  The master paused and smiled. “I pray that’s a promise you can keep.”

  Skye sipped the last of his tea as Ku finished the building. It was trapezoid-shaped, with a door at the front and multiple windows all around. It towered twice the master’s height and spanned an area four times larger than Skye’s old room back at the Medhar’s.

  “What’s it for?” Skye asked, unable to hold back any longer.

  “You’ll find out after you recharge,” the master replied.

  Skye’s eyes went wide, having completely forgotten about the fall. I just ate, he thought, fearing he’d lose his breakfast on his way down.

  “I can’t wait to see you scream like a little girl again,” Redeyes jeered.

  Skye took deep breaths, calming himself. I know what’s coming this time. I’ll concentrate better.

  He stood and turned to Luccello, fists clenched. “I’m ready,” he said, bracing himself, waiting to be carried high.

  “I appreciate the trust, but there won’t be any flying today,” Luccello said.

  Skye frowned. “Then how will I recharge?”

  “Do windriders in Troqua charge by falling?” Master Ku asked. He went around the cabin, checking its perimeter for imperfections.

  “No, they can’t,” Skye replied. “There isn’t enough distance to fall, and the skies above are full of monsters.”

  “Circumstances like these are not uncommon,” Ku said. “Which is why windriders must learn the standard methods of recharging.”

  Skye’s face lit up. “You’ll teach me a charging kata?”

  He’d watched students at the academy practice their synchronized movements, dreamed of joining them. With this, he’ll be a proper channeler.

  “Structured katas work better for more rigid strains, like Geo or Pyro,” Ku explained. He tossed seeds onto the ground and summoned two silver irises to bloom, then plucked one. “For Aero, a dance or natural flow of movements is far more effective. Here.”

  The iris was notably larger than the one from yesterday. Skye merged with its stem, leaving the petals to rest atop his left hand. It sang aloud—the familiar hum of a woman, her voice echoing in a vast chamber. But this iris sounded more intense, almost angry, which felt weird because Skye didn’t know flowers had tempers.

  Maybe because it’s bigger, he concluded. Is it stronger too?

  Channeling through the iris, he summoned a gentle breeze that tousled his hair. Though he couldn’t gauge its full strength without proper charging, he marveled at the flow of fantasia translating into the real world.

  He grinned. I still can’t believe I’m a channeler!