The Stillness of the Sky (29 page)

Lingering hatred in one gave me pause, a spirit hiding behind the crown of Litania. I turned it over in my mind, studying the strange, warped heart as though it were a being standing in the palm of my hand. It was ugly and writhing, filled with blackened pride and hateful anger that hissed and spat at me. It longed to consume the tiny spark of remaining good in its spirit, and wouldn’t be satisfied until its rotten evil had squashed the very memory of love. My first instinct was repulsion, a need to blot it out of existence at all costs. Seeing the darkness that lurked in a man’s heart before me, heaving, clawing, was too horrific to fully comprehend.

But violence only turned into more violence. To stop evil with brute force would do nothing but ensure its propagation.

My body was weakening, and I needed to make a choice. Surely there was a way to give this poor soul hope for redemption. Even the evil of my true father had been given a second chance.

My father.

How long had he slept, waiting for his salvation? Hundreds of years? Thousands? If I could extend that choice to the twisted thing before me, would it turn out differently in the end? Even more, did I have the power to offer such a thing?

Within the depths of the dark one that longed for war still lived a being with potential for good. There was childlike wonder calling to my power, but it was tired. It needed rest before it could continue its fight to reclaim itself.

All children need lullabies. I would see that one into safe slumber.

Close your eyes

Dream in peace

Rest your weary head

You’ve fire in your mind

But I know you are kind

Sleep until love finds your heart.

Fly in your dreams

To places unseen

Discover treasures of the world

When next you wake

Love will find you

When your fighting is done.

The song drifted through the air, enveloping the darkness in a warm embrace. Light surrounded the tainted spirit and it ebbed away, sinking into a slumber that could only be ended with the truest of love.

The strength rushed out of my body in a long sigh. I felt the Resonant Stone return to its cool, smooth state as it slipped from my fingers. Grass, warm from the morning sun, cradled me as I dropped to the ground, unable to move an inch more.

A shadow eased over my forehead, creeping over my eyes and down my body. The edges of a familiar cloud came into view. Thinking it funny that a cloud should look familiar, I squinted up at it, catching the barest hint of stone peeking from a tiny break in the fog. Four orbs of light— blue, green, pink, and gold— zipped across my field of vision, disappearing around the outer boundaries of what could only be Oria’s cloud. Colored streaks of lightning shot through it as I watched, the rainbow hues eventually coming so fast and sudden that the whole of it glowed in a strange, shifting miasma. Rumbles of thunder crackled and pounded, sounding more like cannon blasts than natural phenomena. The noise and the light intertwined and rose to a brilliant, deafening crescendo, the cloud whipping into a vortex directly above me. The ground shook with the force of it, and I wondered if it would carry me away with it, as I had no hope of outrunning such devastating power. I pinched my eyes shut and whispered pleas for my own safety, but seconds after the words left my lips, everything came to an immediate halt. Daring a glance, I blinked at what awaited me.

Nothing. No cloud, no castle, no magical garden… nothing. It was all gone, as if it were erased from existence entirely. At first horrified by the implications, a single glowing sphere, a warm gold, drifted down to me, coming to a rest on my nose.

“They’re gone, Jack. The castle can no longer be reached.”

Had I the energy for surprise, the voice in my head would’ve done as much, but, as it was, I was more shocked that I was still conscious.

“Are they…” I began, but my voice was little more than a quiet croak.

“They live, but none shall see them again. You’ve done well, child. Your heart is far stronger than the history of your blood, and much has been repaid. Rest now, and you will follow the path of kindness for years to come.”

The scent of jasmine settled over me, soothing my worries, easing me into the long sleep I knew was coming. The orb lifted up, shooting away into the distance before I could form any other questions in my head, and I was left in the silence of a stilled war.

Staring up into the clear blue sky, I finally tasted the thing I’d longed for over years of watching its expanse. I’d done what I set out to do all those weeks ago. I felt, with every last speck of myself, the one thing I’d sent out into the minds of all who were near me that day.

I knew what true peace was. It was not a life alone, nor was it the constant presence of others. It was the moments in-between one thing and the next, the crests and valleys of an ever-changing existence. It was knowing the happiness that could be, and the sorrow that sometimes follows. True peace can only be found when both are embraced.

Sometimes there are storms. Sometimes there is sunshine. Without the one, the other is stagnant, unchanging, lifeless. Just as flowers need rain, so do we need tears. Eventually, the sun will find us, as will laughter.

There, gazing into the stillness of the sky, I embraced the turbulence of what the rest of my life would certainly hold. But with kindness, I could weather anything, and the quiet moments would be ever sweeter for coming through the tempest.

Epilogue

“But what of father?” she protested as I pulled the covers up to her chin, the little doll crafted in my likeness clutched under her arm. “You never said if you kept your promise and returned to him.”

I laughed and kissed her forehead. “Don’t be silly, Jillian. If I hadn’t, I think you’d not be around to hear the story.”

Her seven-year-old pout only made me smile broader, but the irritation didn’t reach her bright green eyes. “Yes, but you’ve so much more you’ve not told me, Mama. Every time you come home, you promise to teach me to play, but I still can’t even sing as you do. If you were here longer, maybe I could—”

“Oh, sweet girl, you mustn’t be in such a hurry,” I said as I brushed the hair from her face. “If my gifts are yours, it could be years before we see them. Be patient. Enjoy the life you have now. My travels keep me content, but I’d stay with the both of you if I could.”

Her little face fell in disappointment. “That means you’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

I sighed, desperately wishing I could tell my daughter otherwise. “I’m leaving tonight, after I’ve spoken with your father a little. I’ve a promise to keep to a very dear friend, and it can’t wait anymore.”

She yawned and settled into her pillow, though her sour expression remained. “Will you come back soon?”

Smiling again, I kissed her cheek. “Very soon. In fact, I’ll be around for quite a long time when I’m back next.”

“Promise?” she said as her eyes drooped closed.

I leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I give you my word, my dearest one.”

I’d grown used to the tingle of magic brought on by the Bard’s promise, and I was happy to be bound by it where she was concerned. Though staying for an extended period on my next trip home would be more necessary than my choices typically were, it would be nice to see so much of my family for more than a few days.

As Jillian’s breathing settled into the rhythm of sleep, I blew out the lamp and closed the door as I left. Willem’s smile greeted me in the hallway, and I slipped my arm into his, steering him towards our shared room.

“You look happy,” he said as we walked. “Good story tonight?”

“The best one I know.” I grinned at him. “Mine.”

Will laughed as he opened the door. “That again. She asks for it every visit. You’ve told it before, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so lit up with it.”

“Well, there may be a little more reason behind it than that,” I said as I led him out to the balcony. “I got to promise her I’d be back soon, and for much longer next time.”

“Longer? How much longer?” The same light in Jillian’s eyes when I told her echoed in Will’s. It stopped me cold every time. Even after a decade of tolerating my travels, he loved me no less than the day he first told me so, if not more.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said with a coy look. “I thought two years sounded like a nice round number.”

His jaw went slack. “Two years? But you’ve not stayed so long since…”

I raised an eyebrow, confirming his suspicion. “Mmm hmm?”

Overjoyed, he swept me into his arms, kissing me with as much passion as ever. “How long?” he asked, breathless.

I laughed at his excitement, happy he was as glad as I was. “About three months along. I told you my last visit was the best I’d had in a while.”

He couldn’t stop grinning. “So what do you think this time, boy or girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not in the least.”

“Then I’ll tell you for certain when I come back. My mother thinks she knows, but Sudam disagrees.”

His good mood ebbed away. “You’re leaving already? It’s only been two days.”

Lifting up on my toes, I kissed him softly. “I won’t be away long. Maybe a few weeks. I’ve some things to see to before I settle in here.”

He sighed and pulled me close. “It never gets any easier, Jack.”

“I know, love, but you’re stubborn enough to endure it. I’d not change you for the world.”

He kissed the top of my head before easing back to gaze into my eyes. “It makes my time with you that much sweeter. And it’s easier knowing Ro keeps an eye on you when I can’t. When’s he coming for you?”

“He’ll be here in a few minutes.” I waved to the southern sky. “But before I go, I wanted to ask you if there’s been any change in… In him lately.”

Will shook his head. “My father’s the same as he’s been for ten years. Still sleeping, still protected in the winter castle. There’s no need to ask every time you’re here, you know.”

I leaned on the railing and stared at the stars. “I know, but it’s my fault he’s that way. Maybe if I had—”

His arm wrapped around my shoulders in a gentle hug. “You did what needed to be done more fairly than any other would have, Jack. It’s time to let it go. Even Gustave saw the reason for it, and he’s loyal to fault. You mustn’t carry that around with you anymore.”

I turned to him, the look in his eyes easing my constant guilt over sending his father into an enchanted slumber. “Thank you,” I said. “For understanding.”

He started to smile, but something behind me caused it to fade. “It looks like your ride is here.”

Glancing back, Ro’s shape loomed on the horizon, and we backed into the balcony doorway. As Ro landed, Will left me with a kiss, and I left him with my promise of a quick return. The leather harness closed around me, and I was off into the sky once more.

I was surprised at where we landed, though I knew Ro had a fondness for abandoned towers. In the middle of the dark forest, a single spire rose from the ground, not a door anywhere in sight. When I went in through the window, my mouth fell open.

“All these years they’ve slept, Lady,” Ro said as I gazed at the pearlescent finish on the clutch of eggs. “I cannot wake my children on my own, but, for you, they might be persuaded.”

In the light of the full moon, Ro’s feathers glowed with an azure light. Long gone was his black plumage, replaced by ever paler shades of the sky over the years. Kela once surmised that it was a reflection of his heart and his return to faith in the world. To me, he was still Ro, but now everyone could see him for the magnificent creature he was.

“Shall I sing for them?” I asked as I pulled my lute from my beaten pack. It had served me well, but there was little left of it to stitch anymore.

“It is all I would ever ask of you, Lady. It’s time they join me in the world.”

Smiling softly, I perched on the edge of the giant nest, considering what to play for the six beautiful eggs before me. “What shall it be then?”

“Tell them…” Ro paused, his head cocked to one side as he thought. “Tell them about the kindness in the world. Perhaps they’ve only been waiting to hear good news.”

“Silly thing,” I said to him, “I’ve never gone a day without doing as much. You think I’d do any differently now?”

“You once sang a song that broke my heart, Lady.”

I considered it, nodding. “True, but there is as much of that in life as anything else.” I strummed a light chord, ready to begin. “But I’ll promise them it will be worth it. Even with pain, there always comes peace. It’s up to us which we hold on to.”

As the soft strains of the lute drifted out into the night, my thoughts circled around what I’d said. True, there were years of time I wish I could forget, but, without them, I’d not be who I’d become, and, for whatever that was, I was happy and grateful. Life is a strange and twisting journey, but, if we decide to take a chance on the impossible things, not even the sky can limit us.

A Note From the Author

The following is a bonus short story. There were certain elements to this tale that I couldn’t tell within the confines of Jack’s story, and my earliest readers all expressed a desire to hear about one character in particular.

Ro struck a chord with people, and they were very curious about where he came from and how he came to be the way he was before meeting Jack. As a special gift to you, I invite you to take a look at
Upon Broken Wings
, and get to know a little more about the background from which
The Stillness of the Sky
springs. It’s another note in this ever-expanding fairy tale world, and I hope it adds that much more richness to Jack’s story.

Upon Broken Wings

I was born of magic.

My kind are not many, but we are strong. Our power comes from what brings us into the world. Without it, we are lost creatures. What takes it from us is what steals the same from others: loss, betrayal, fear.

I have known all of these things, but still I remain.

It is great love that brings my kind to life. We burst from our shells singing, radiant with a hope I thought was endless. I knew that hope with every speck of myself. I thought, with such surety, nothing could take it from me, as, without it, I would simply cease to be.