Song of the Summer King by Jess E. Owen

Author:Jess E. Owen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Five Elements Press
Published: 2021-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

~ 17 ~

Stigr’s Last Lesson

“BE WARY OF A GRYFESS thwarted,” Stigr called to Shard over the night wind. They flew over the tossing sea, farther out than they had ever gone. Shard stared down at the roiling waves that heaved pale, salty spray toward the sky. Stigr didn’t seem worried. “There isn’t a power more dangerous on the earth or sky.” Stigr laughed. Shard hadn’t told his uncle all of it. He doubted Stigr would’ve laughed then.

The storm brewing earlier had mostly hit the northern edge of the isles and had blown off by the quarter mark of the night. Perfect conditions, Stigr said, to practice the master maneuver of Vanir flight, but hadn’t yet told Shard what that was.

Shard hadn’t told him that Kenna knew of his night flights. That worry, paired with the sight of endless black ocean stretching before him, the Silver Isles tiny lumps at his back, was enough to weigh his wings like logs. But Stigr either ignored, or didn’t notice, his mood. Shard suspected the former.

“Either way, don’t wait too long to mate if you want one, nephew. That’s my advice. I did, and the Daynight I would have asked my chosen was the very hour the Aesir came raiding. Doesn’t it figure, but I trust bright Tyr guides all. Now then.”

Shard snapped his beak in frustration at the subject change. Often Stigr would do that—hint at stories of the Conquering, of his own past and exile, and then promptly wing forward to a new subject. But Shard followed. Too much information could lead to knowing things he had promised his king he didn’t need to know.

Wind nearly flung him into the water. Shard gasped and stroked up, catching himself.

The sea is death. It took my mate from me…

“That’s good, nephew!” Stigr bellowed over the wind and chop of waves. “Have no fear. Your wings are built for this! You’re just like your father, I can see it. The Aesir can’t fly this way.” He spoke of true sea flight.

Subtle drafts swirled over the water that Shard, with his long curved wings, could catch and glide on. Sometimes it took more effort, and that night his flight bumped and stuttered, his wings too tense with nerves and fear to catch a glide. At least it took enough concentration to drive all else from his mind. Stigr was still talking about the Aesir.

“Their wings are too blunt and broad. They’ll breed sea flight out of the Vanir soon enough, I suppose.”

Shard drew a breath, flinging other worries away. He had always flown the best of any in his year. This flight, he was determined to master. Little gusts buoyed his wings, and the tangy smell of brine, sea plant, and fish swelled in his nostrils with each wave. They flew out past the islands into the windland quarter of the sea. The rush of seeing so much water nearly drove a cry from Shard’s throat, and he glanced behind him only once to make sure the Silver Isles were still there.

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