Guardian: The Trade Routes

Guardian: The Trade Routes

A vicious gust batted me from the right. I cupped that wing and beat the other furiously, almost over-correcting as the wind died down. Twisting, I steered back to the middle of the Trade Route, sticking tight to the trackless stone and avoiding the tempting green verge.

The all-too-small verge, really, with feathers of mist softening the sudden wall of white barely two wingspans past the equally slender thread of stone. Novice travelers lingered in the soft edges, and sometimes they returned with tales of falling through a strange, formless place to crash back to earth, far from any of the known Trade Routes. But more often the Rulers weren't so merciful, and, whether the travelers strayed or offended in another way, they weren't seen again.

'Which is why' — I dove to the rocky trail, shifting from hawk to human in the blink of an eye and clutching at meager handholds. A harsher gust beat at my hunched shoulders, but my increased weight kept me from being swept aside. Once the blast calmed, I stood, beating dust from my denims and catching my breath. I pulled a strip of dried meat from my belt pouch and nibbled it while I strode down the path. The tang told me this otherwise unidentifiable flesh once hopped on four legs. Another puff ruffled through my hair, and I brushed the strands clear of my eyes. Popping the last shred of rabbit into my mouth, I grabbed the blue sodalite and delved into it, tracing the course I'd been set.

A grin lifted my cheeks, and I ran forward, a blast of wind at my back pushing me onward. When I reached the place where the crystal showed a branch in the Route, I stopped. The stone path continued, wending through the green and white, but to the left, where the crystal insisted there was a Route…

I crouched and brushed my fingers over the hard-packed soil. A bit of rock poked through here and there, flirting with the long, grassy stems that had also fought their way free of the earth.

"Bones." 'That's not a normal Route.' I drummed my fingers on my jeans, then stood, stretching and dusting off my hands again.

"The question is, what's the test?" I gnawed my lip. 'No one really said, and the crystal's instructions read like a normal message run.' I shifted my weight from side to side but didn't step forward or back. "Guardians have to decide what deliveries are safe. Or at least what's worth the risks."

I rubbed the quartz, testing the edges of the facets. 'Maybe they want me to turn back. Well, not turn back.' I shuddered at the mental misstep. The Rulers demanded a heavy price of those who waffled on their Routes. Sometimes they stole time — more than the light tax they normally required of my guild. More than they cost merchants or travelers. Other times, they required a task. I wrinkled my nose in a grimace. 'And some just don't return, and maybe it's because they stand around thinking too long!'

"Okay, focus." I scrubbed a crystal-free hand over my face and finger-combed my hair. "The message is sealed." A drop of blood from the recipient would allow me to unlock it, but of course, I didn't have that. 'And seals — you have to be an experienced Owl before they teach you that trick.' "So maybe they're testing my resolve — can I get an important message through when it matters?"

My teeth sank into my lip again, and this time I tasted blood. It didn't settle my mind. In some ways — a lot of ways — continuing would be the easier choice. Risk was something all who traveled the Trade Routes knew intimately. 'And we're a delivery guild. Not a, 'wow, that looks scary, think I'll pass' guild!'

'Returning with the message still sealed…' I swallowed.

The wind pushed at my back, then swirled around and slapped my face. The mist trembled in the corner of my eye, but when I spun it was impassive — as it always was when you faced it dead on. Still, it was a warning I'd best heed. Stretching my arms wide, I shifted and beat against the wind, lofting my smaller body into the air.

"Kack-kack-kack!" Shouting my resolution, I circled for height and plunged down the faint Route.

At first, the path seemed like any other. The wind gusted fitfully, but not so much that it would dislodge an alert Flit. Gradually, though, the gusts diminished to breezes, then died altogether. The light, which had been bland and directionless, dimmed as if filtered through a dense canopy. In the eerie stillness, each flap of my wings rang loud. The feathers on the back of my neck rose; there, slightly off-beat from my own, was another set of wings. I slowed, and the not-quite-echo stuttered — the sound overlapping mine. Then it fell back into rhythm — off-beat but on pace.

'It could just be an echo. Fog distorts sound, right? Why wouldn't the Trade Route's mist?' I picked up speed, racing faster than before. Again, a lag — 'longer this time?' — and the beats were back on track. 'But no one knows what's beyond the mist. Or at least no one who's returned to tell about it.'

An atavistic shudder racked my frame, and I plunged to the ground, shifting as I landed. I spun around, searching the mist, and checked the sodalite that still hung loosely around my neck.

'Not even halfway down the branch.' I frowned and pulled another, darker crystal from beneath my shirt. 'I could make a bubble-shield. Fly on.'

Or fly back, a tiny voice countered. I licked my lips, and the renewed coppery tang set warning bells ringing in my head.

"Bad idea," I said, and focused on how the sound returned to my ears.

"Very bad idea."

Heart racing, I swallowed and peeked over my shoulder. I didn't see anything except the Route and its mist, but…

'Speed or stealth?' I tucked both crystals — dark and pink — beneath my shirt and fought to steady my breathing. 'You'll only get one chance.'

Throwing myself into a new shift, I grabbed the too-still air and flew. The falcon's body was lighter but faster, while the grey-black feathers blended with the darker morning. And although my wings weren't as silent as an owl's, I was quieter than a human running.

A tendril of mist, thin yet opaque, crept over the trail, and I slipped under it, a quick flap of my wings restoring the lost altitude. My feathers knew that touching it would be the last mis-stroke of my flight, but it was simple to evade.

The second tentacle was thicker and low to the ground. I flew up and over it with my eyes darting around. More and more mist encroached on the Route, and I wove around it until my lungs burned and my wings ached. Between diving down and powering up, I seemed to make better time vertically than horizontally.

'Unless you count sideways?'

A snake-quick bit of mist whipped toward me as I estimated my progress. I side-slipped and dove, my wingtips brushing the hard-packed dirt before I recovered and climbed again. Another coil snapped out, curling like a grasping hand — not where I was, but where I was going. I balked, flapping into a frantic hover, then climbed above it, only to dive as a third tendril lashed through my flight path.

My head jerked around as I attempted to spot the next attack, but nothing came at me. Ribbons still laced the trail, undulating in a way that made my skin crawl. I allowed my wing beats to slow while I caught my breath.

'That wasn't so bad.' My beak couldn't smile, but my facial muscles twitched. 'Kenzie would fly that for a lark.'

Unease crawled up my spine, and I searched the Route ahead. 'Nothing new.' I checked the sides. 'More mist, as thick as ever.' A strange, skittering sound — like bone-dry leaves dancing across stone — tickled my ears. I darted a glance behind and my heart dropped. Mist roiled in a solid wall, pouring down the trail. Like a front leading the storm, a gust of wind slapped my back and propelled me forward.

I was happy to take the wind's hint and raced ahead of the promised destruction, dipping around tentacles as I went. Pulling up from a dive, I plotted a path around three intertwined curls when I spotted it.

Another wall, completely enveloping the Trade Route, blocked the trail.

'Bones and feathers.' My heart, already racing, stuttered, and my eyes traced the edges, searching for even the tiniest gap. Except there weren't edges, save where white met the brown of dirt and grey of rock. Above, a peak loomed, where the walls grew together. A glance behind and to the sides showed the mist, implacable and closing fast.

'Think. Think!' Even if I slowed, I had about ten wingbeats before the trap sealed my fate.

Shifting wouldn't help — my human form wasn't any defense, and nothing I carried would improve my odds. I cataloged the contents of my pouch: a bit of jerky, a few copper coins, and a comb. Around my neck, a thin chain bearing my Butterfly insignia fought for a place with the laces holding two stone points.

'That's it!' I seized on the slender chance; thin but — hopefully — strong, like spider silk. Letting instinct guide my wings, I fell into familiar smokey facets, then pushed out through them to project a bubble-shield just large enough to enclose my wingtips. It dragged, the air striking it and holding me back, and I fought to adjust my flight. The delay allowed the mist to brush the trailing side of my protection. I bore down, squashing the shield into a tear-drop shape, and shot forward.

White surrounded me and I was falling. Up? Down? Sideways? 'Bones and feathers, I don't know.'

The blankness rippled, and amusement wrapped around me, slowing my heart and my fall. Every feather on my body stood on end; I pulled the bubble tighter and prayed.

"That was fun, little Butterfly."

I gaped, my mind frozen in terror.

"Nothing to say?" The amusement thickened, bowing the shield inward. "Nevermind, then. Perhaps you'll regain your wits before your next visit."

The whiteness swirled, and my bubble tumbled through it like a child's ball tossed carelessly through the air.

"Come back soon."

With a visceral pop, blue sky replaced the mist, and I cartwheeled through the air, spinning madly as gravity regained control. I flared my wings and let the shield crumble. An updraft caught me, and I settled in to ride the current and regroup.

'That… That was a Ruler.' My mind spun as dizzily as my body had moments before. The Grounded I'd talked to rarely believed in the Rulers, or, if they did, they thought it was some sort of abstract representation of the Trade Routes.

'Us Flits, though? Each and every one of us has met the Rulers at least once.'

A shiver rattled my bones, and I dropped a few feet before steadying. Those meetings were carefully orchestrated events under the Guardians' eyes. My mind blurred as I tried — and failed — to recall exactly what had happened when I became a Butterfly.

'It doesn't matter. This is so much bigger than that! '

"Kack-kack-kack!" Excitement burst from me. 'Was that the test? Meeting the Rulers again?' My feathers prickled at the thought.

'Oh, bones! The test!' I dipped my awareness into the sodalite, checking to see how far off course I was. Relief coursed through me again — I hadn't flown wrong, and my destination was on the plains below. I turned my eyes downward.

The jagged mountainous rock smoothed, and grey-green prickly brush gradually enveloped it. As the elevation dropped, the plants grew more varied and lush, leading into a series of terraces. Tiny, hat-crowned figures swung sickles, and other figures followed behind, gathering and bundling the crop. My inexperienced eyes couldn't identify their harvest, but it didn't matter — my target didn't walk these fields.

Beyond the farms, a blue harbor kissed the jetty-studded strand. Dull wooden and gleaming metal ships rode the waves or clung to their docks. On my right, dark against the setting sun, ships that plied the clouds and the stars beyond them rested on the stained tarmac.

And nestled between them lay Eritrea, the capital city — 'the only city' — of Arirang.

My blood raced through my veins as I took in the shimmering glass towers, all sharp angles like a man-made crystal, and the clay-shingled townhouses, with their chimney-pots releasing smoke into the darkening sky. Even the humble thatched huts off the wharf made me want to scream in excitement. In the heart of it all rose the Spire — a towering, five-sided crystalline spear. The polished grey sides flashed blue, gold, and green under the sun's loving attention.

This was it — the place little Flits whispered about after lights out. All of us, at one point or another, dreamed of being stationed here, at the heart of the Trade Routes.

'That's the crux, of course.' My eyes pierced the dimness and found the rim of white that encircled land and sea. It was distant — my human eyes wouldn't have been able to see it from the farms nearest the city — but always there.

'Not important.' My muscles reminded me of their soreness, and I focused once more on the sodalite point. It directed me to a fallow field outside the city's walls, bisected by the Spire's growing shadow. There, a slow but steady stream of figures filed into a massive tent. As I glided closer, my ears picked up a raucous, jarring sound — like dozens of festival troupes playing their instruments at once, but all on different songs.

'Strange.' A cross-current whispered across my nape — instinct whispering, but I couldn't trace what prompted it. Then I flew over the hedgerow bordering the field. Every feather on my body prickled, and a momentary resistance met my wings. With a pop, I crossed the invisible barrier, and the sound buffeted me. Squawking in dismay, I dove to the weed-choked ground, shifting at the last moment to cover my ears. It didn't help.

Something nudged me, like a knee prodding my backside, and I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder.

'Nothing.' My brow furrowed, then cleared when I made the connection. 'That enigmatic chunk of blue rock wants me to go toward that racket!'

My knees wobbled, threatening to give way as the sequential shifts overtook my waning adrenaline. I grabbed the last bit of dried meat from my pouch and tore into it, stalling while I weighed my options, such as they were.

'I mean, I could backtrack to the local Post. It's not unreasonable to rest on a message run.' This time, the nudge was more of a kick, and I stumbled forward. 'But a sealed message may be time-sensitive — if for no other reason than the person who needs it may leave soon.'

Out of meat, I gnawed my lip again, wincing at the bright sting and coppery tang.

Then twin kestrels swooped over the hedge and darted toward the tent. Before they reached the queue's end, they shifted, revealing dark-haired, denim-clad Guardians.

A smile broke across my face.

"Erebus? Lila?" I ran forward, stride uneven on the loose dirt and weeds. 'But how are they here? I just left them at the Training Post.'

"Erebus!" I repeated louder. "Lila! Wait up!"

They stopped, and Erebus turned, placing himself between where I ran and Lila. She glanced over her shoulder, cool disinterest plain in her expression, and started walking again.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked when I was closer. My feet slowed, then stopped, as I caught Erebus's suspicious glare.

"Have we met?" he asked.