“The magic thing about home is that it feels good to leave, and it feels even better to come back.”

Wendy Wunder

It had been a long day. It was nice to finally be home or at least it had been before we outlined exactly what had transpired that day during what had supposed to have been a peaceful amble to the eastern side of the island.

“You what!?” Mother practically screamed at us when we started to explain.

“Well . . .” Father attempted to cajole her into something closer to a reasonable level of critique. Mother was not handling it very well so far.

“Could have happened at any time to anyone,” Aleera interjected not ready to admit the disaster it had been even though it could have ultimately gone a lot worse.

“Not my fault.” I pointed out. I felt it was important to state this as soon as possible.

“One at a time from the top.” She demanded. “In fact, Lady Acacia if you would do the honour of explaining what ridiculous new insanity my family have been up to, I would be most appreciative.”

Lady Acacia began to explain the day. A summary of our peaceful sail across the lagoon, the climb past the eastern woods and the eventual placement of the stone marker. Then the eruption of monsters from the very earth beneath our feet. Although her retelling of the incident seemed to imply it was a less significant affair happening a little further away than perhaps it had.

“So, it is Archbishop Grigori’s fault.” She needled down on picking someone to blame for the catastrophe.

“Yes and no.” Lady Acacia agreed and defended at the same time. “While emplacing the Lodestar marker certainly was the impetus for them charging forth the problem already existed, they merely lanced the boil so to speak.”

“Then what happened? I assume the church at least dealt with the problem seeing as you are all standing here in front of me now.” It did not sound as if she would be forgiving the church anytime soon for their most recent actions. But then she still held a significant bias against the church.

“Well upon their release they targeted the closest individuals, which was us.” She kept her calm in the face of our mother’s anger. It seemed to be going smoother with her retelling the day. Perhaps without all the strings tied between our hearts as family, it was easier to listen rather than jump on top of one of us as we explained.

“So how did you survive?” Mother asked now invested in the tale Lady Acacia was spinning.

“Through distraction and building a strong enough defence to withstand their encroachment.” Lady Acacia detailed, though it appeared even she was struggling to think of how exactly to word the flight by foot of my grandfather and the return flight through the air I made in the best possible light.

“Did one of the compass knights lead them astray while you built a defence?” she asked.

“Not exactly.” She hesitated, turning to me, the traitor.

“Again, not my fault,” I added even though I knew it was a losing battle.

“What was not your fault.” She asked now calm enough to question quietly, she almost seemed supportive, but equally keen to get to the bottom of this.

“They seemed a little fixated on me, so Grandfather decided to flee was the simplest and most expedient policy to save us all.” I wondered if deciphering the verbose language would give me enough time to flee my mother.

“He ran away with you . . . and they chased . . . you?” she quizzed seemingly short of breath if not comprehension. At the same time, I nodded my head in silence. I did not feel that saying ‘it was not my fault’ was going to particularly help anymore. She started tapping the table either in frustration or anger. “When I get my hands on . . .” She took a deep breath to calm herself down clenching her hands to keep them still or to stop them from throttling her significant other even though it was not his fault either. “So, while they were chasing my son and my fool of a father. You built a wall of wood?” She went back to questioning Lady Acacia fully aware of her abilities to manipulate the material after watching some of our sessions and learning from her. In fact, we were developing a certain elvish taste in our home with the number of pieces of furniture or even decorations that she had provided us with as she required them herself or as part of our training.

“The clergy with their mana were able to provide a stronger wall than wood building a tower out of stone to defend both us and the Lodestar marker they had placed. I merely helped to reinforce the walls with my wood.” She deferred some of the success of our defence to the church.

“So, let me get this straight. Monsters come forth, my father runs off with Kai and you all build a defensible position while they lead them in a giant circle? I’m basing this on the fact that no monsters ever arrived in town. Then what happened?” She was still trying to wrap her head around the mini calamity that had occurred.

“Well, your father was eventually caught up to, so rather than continue to run back he . . . launched Kai into the sky.” It seemed no one not even our somewhat strict and scary tutor liked to be the bearer of bad news. However, launched did seem a lot smoother word to swallow than threw, chucked or yeeted.

“He threw Kai into the sky?” She repeated her final words a little more forcefully and directly. Not afraid to label the truth as she heard it.

“Yes, I must admit, I’ve never been more surprised to see a child fly. A truly stunning ability. Apparently, though this is not too uncommon a practice or skill for him. Though I fail to recall being informed about it on my arrival.” Undeterred by the vehemence of our mother and even slipping in a little critique about an ability we as a family had failed to mention.

“First true flight.” I hastened to add, a little proud of the fact that I had finally managed it. “Normally all I can manage is a glide to slow my descent.” I humbly defended the fact that we might not have mentioned everything I could do. Though it seemed a little compulsive to quibble over every little application of the skills I had already told her about.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Precisely, glide not fly. What on earth was he thinking? What did he think you were going to do when you fell to the earth?” Mother had yet to give up on her anger at the situation or our grandfather. But to be fair that seemed like a fairly natural state of affairs these days. It sort of simmered under the surface waiting to erupt at the smallest of infractions towards him and this had hardly been a small change to our schedule.

“But I did not fall to the earth.” I hastened to interrupt her flow. We had been getting on better and better so I was not quite so willing to throw him under the bus to my mother so to speak. Plus I could not think of a better way we could have dealt with them. We had made the best of a bad situation and survived. “I was able to lead them back to the tower and caused most of them to chase me straight of the cliff to their own deaths.” Somehow the conversation had reverted back to being told by me rather than led by Lady Acacia.

“You shouldn’t have been forced into that situation in the first place. That Archbishop, your grandfather . . .” She seemed to grow speechless at the situation for a moment before quietly adding. “You’re still my little baby.” She seemed sad to hear that our simple walk had gone so wrong.

“I may be little but I am no longer a baby. Call me Little Lord if you must but I am Lord Silversea now.” I was finally gaining some independence and self-control over my actions. I was not going to give that up anytime soon despite the reasonable worries of my mother.

“I know, I know.” She sighed seemingly in acceptance but I could foresee that we were going to have similar conversations whenever I sailed too close to the wind for my mother’s comfort. I had had all day to come to grips with what had happened. For her, she was hearing it all for the first time. “So what happens now?”

We went on to discuss the plans of the town, the church and how we would fit into them. Though the most important aspect that I realised was that if we were not returning to the town for mutual self-defence then we would have to start fortifying our island. The wide-open salterns made for a great killing field but we would need to work out a way to kill from a distance. Some form of crossbow or catapult to shoot with. I had a hundred ideas for pitfalls, trenches and traps but each would take time to complete. Then there were the walls we would have to cut away from the lower slope of our mountain to create walls as well as work out a way to defend the entrances to our mountain home. We spent the evening discussing our options but ultimately went to bed without completing any and I suspected that we all slept uneasily that night.

. . . .

Meanwhile, in the church the clergy were packing, “Are you really leaving at first light?” Bishop Bailie quizzed.

“Yes, I cannot hold up my circumnavigation if I have any hope of gaining the seat of a cardinal,” Archbishop replied succinctly. “As soon as the Compass Knights return after being relieved by Wester Ponente’s new Sentinels we will depart. Ultimately the quicker we leave the sooner I will be able to send you some more knights to be stationed here.”

“It just does not leave you looking in the best light.” Bishop Bailie pointed out.

“I know. But needs must.” He unhappily replied. “It will be up to you and Sir Jacques to swing their opinions, particularly those of the Silversea family. I cannot stress how important it is that the church improves its relationship with the family in particular its two scions.”

“Have you ever seen anything like that before?” Bishop Bailie queried.

“Which particular eye-opening event are you asking about?” The Archbishop asked.

“Any of them, all of them. Did you realise that placing the Lodestar marker would have such an immediate impact?” He raised the point that had been worrying him.

“Of course not. Has that ever happened before when we have placed the other markers? That was simply bad luck. Not all coincidences are serendipitous.” He replied grumpily.

“Maybe it has happened we simply haven’t been there to witness it.” He argued back.

“Nonsense, the project was approved by the conclave of cardinals and we have heard nothing untoward from any of the places we have visited so far. We have been marking the edge of the compass for our entire circumnavigation.” He refused to even countenance the possibility.

“I will maintain my bearing. But what about them targeting the young Lord Silversea once they emerged or the fact that the boy can fly!” he fell into line with the Archbishop’s reasoning before raising the next event.

“It has to be his mana.” The Archbishop conjectured. “That or a talent. It is impossible to answer definitively with the little lord somehow blocking observe, inspect and appraise. Perhaps in time, he will confide in you. But that will take time and effort.”

“If he has a talent, then that would make him descended from a royal line.” Bishop Bailie had not quite given up his earlier idea.

“We have gone over this already. If he had the talent of air, he would have to be from Ostro and he is far too fair to be one of their descendants. No, it has to be the insane amount of mana he has access to.” Unwilling to consider that line of reasoning. “If you look at his mana production to weight ratio. It would be far easier for him to use magic to keep himself aloft. Besides did you not notice how his robe whipped around him forming wings between his arms and legs? I have never seen a man fly like that but an animal, bird or fish with skin, wings or fins now that I have seen, as have you.”

“Those flying fish were fairly similar in how they glided along the top of the water to evade their hunters.” Bishop Bailie agreed. “Just as well he wasn’t being hunted from the air as well as the ground.” He thought out loud as he recalled some of what they had witnessed on their circumnavigation. “How do you think the family discovered the method of flight?”

“They sail perhaps they saw something similar while fishing and the boy thought to try it. I highly doubt his parents would risk him asking him to attempt something so dangerous.” The Archbishop replied with what he considered the obvious answer. “Now I should not need to remind you that you are to support the boy in whatever he asks for. Whether he is descended from royalty or not he has the potential to be as powerful in time and if we can help him on his journey as well as support his people with their survival then it will be worth it in the long run. Not just you mind you, when Compass Knight Jaques returns I will prevail on him to be as open as possible maybe even offer a few lessons if the family allows it.”

“Of course, your excellency.” Bishop Bailie bowed somewhat sarcastically.

“None of that now.” Archbishop Grigori stopped him. “These are not commands, merely common sense advice. Make of it what you will. Now it is time for me to rest my head it will be a busy day of travelling tomorrow.” He added before dismissing him and turning in for the night.

. . . .

As the sun set on the horizon the world was cast slowly into darkness. The eight newly christened Sentinels of Wester Ponente had replaced the two knights who were making their way back to the town by foot around the southern shore of the lagoon and were watching the entrance to the depths.

“Keep your eyes open.” Arawn Silversword cautioned the four volunteers who had been stationed at the exit. “The rest of us will be sleeping in the tower. Send one of you to wake us in four hours and we will relieve you then. The two archers are to remain at a distance, shooting distance mind you and you two with the two shields and spears are to maintain the high ground. Don’t try to be a hero or make it a fair fight. If anything comes out you try to push it off the cliff first only engage in combat if absolutely necessary. The system does not care how you kill them and neither do I. Keep it simple.” He lectured the four before returning to the tower where the other four volunteers had already laid our rolls to sleep on and amazingly fallen asleep.

It would be fine. It was only one night and then they would see about building defences closer to the exit, traps, pitfalls, etc. He could intervene if anything came forth tonight and tomorrow he would set about exploring this new entrance to the depths. It had been a long long time since he had delved deep into the unknown. Not since he had arrived on the island all those years ago with a newborn babe in his arms. With a new entrance opening up maybe it was time to tell the family what it was he got up to most days. After all, he couldn’t be in two places at once and it was time for the people of Wester to stand on their own two feet. It might even be good for them.