The Flying Rose

The cold air brushed through the dark umber strands of Omydaedren’s hair.
He felt his awareness come to him like a stream of water leaks from the mountain stone. His eyes showed him a new land, one of wind and sky, and he realized he was soaring beneath the clouds. He could feel his weightless body high above the earth and the sun’s warm rays beating down on his back. He felt at peace and, above all, freedom. His body glided on its own, without intent, moving higher and higher into the sky until it reached through the clouds. The moisture splattered onto his cheeks when he broke through the layer of white. Omydaedren moved his hand to feel the surrounding clouds, leaving a split in the white fluff behind him. He drifted on and on, the clouds all that he could see, and he felt like he could go on for an eternity between the two worlds of land and sky.

Suddenly, he felt watched in this new kingdom of ivory, a shift in the air perhaps. He could sense something stir inside the clouds and he knew he was no longer alone. The feeling overtook him and he pushed himself to fly faster, water dampening his skin. He felt his pursuer getting closer. He began to panic, frantically searching the area around him as he went along. Omydaedren looked behind him, nothing. He looked forward again. A winged creature, a phoenix, erupted from the clouds with a shrieking cry and was on him before he could react. Its sharp beak and extensive wingspan covered his vision. He could feel the bird’s hot breath against his face when he winced away from it.

Then, Omydaedren's eyes tore open. He faced the window in his bedroom and could tell that it was the early hours of the morning. Droplets of sweat flooded into his eyes and he noticed that he had kicked the knitted blanket off in his sleep, exposing his bare chest. He rubbed his face with his hands, a dream, he thought to himself. With a heavy sigh, Omydaedren began to roll out of his simple bed. He ran his fingers through his damp hair and shook his head to unstick the sweaty locks. He pushed his feet into the boots beside his bed before he moved to the water basin within his room and splashed the lukewarm water over his face. Once he dried his face, he picked up one of the folded shirts he placed inside the trunk at the end of his bed and slipped it on. Omydaedren put on the same coat as the night before and uncovered the knapsack he had packed for his journey. It was filled with another shirt, a bedroll, a loaf of bread he had previously stored, and a leather bound journal with quill and ink. Omydaedren collected the jerky he bought and shoved it into the bag. At his miniature desk table, he arranged a piece of parchment and quill for writing. He rubbed his face before he began the letter to his mother.

When he was done, it was a simple letter, only explaining that he had gone to Ginnen and he was to take a ship this morning. Omydaedren folded it neatly and left it on the table, ‘Shael’ written on the top for his mother to find. He glanced toward the small window, estimating the time, and quickly gathered his new book and box. He pushed the book into his bag and carried the box in his underarm. Omydaedren made it into the narrow hall of his home and quietly closed the door behind him. The sun was beginning to show signs of its return across the sky and colored the front window with the hue of rose petals. Omydaedren lit the fire, as he would on a normal morning, and moved to the kitchen area. He grabbed two slices of bread and spread fresh honey over the top of each. He took a bite of one before he left his home for the final time, the sweet flavor mixed with the soft bread filled his mouth. The wooden door was shut quietly behind him and he could feel the cool air surrounding him.

The road was bare and still, awaiting the first rays of the sun. A call cascaded through the wind and Omydaedren looked toward the three aviary towers for the black phoenix to spread his wings across the sky. He watched Thorn soar above the city for a moment before he turned down the road that would lead him to the docks along the Azariah river.

It was another simple dirt path that weaved through the tall, golden blades of grass that covered the outskirts of Wameri. The crunching of dirt beneath his boots was the only morning disturbance around him. When he began to come closer to the docks he could see Zrerra hovering above and the smell of damp mud slowly overcame the musty scent of the plains. He could see golden sails in the distance and he knew them to be from the southern city of Zehah. Omydaedren knew little about them, except for their fascination with the goddess Lehana and their colorful dyes which they adorn their phoenix birds with.

Rounding the curve of the path, he could see the docks head on now. The wooden docks veined the edge of the river that spread miles wide and several riverboats were unloading their wares. Buffalo drawn wagons were being filled with sacks of grains, boxes of dyes, and most importantly logs of wood from the surrounding kingdoms. Omydaedren noticed that the watermills that also laid at the river's edge were becoming busy with the newly imported grains. Wagons that were already full were heading toward Omydaedren on the path, the buffalos snorting through their nostrils. Some of the silver haired Drarvuno, on the backs of the buffalo, nodded as they passed Omydaedren and he returned the greeting with a nod of his head.

The dirt path became muddy the closer Omydaedren came to the docks. He adjusted the box and sword under his arm to secure it better and continued on until he could see a group of Skytalons beside a Zehahn ship. The ship was one of the largest that was docked in Wameri at the time, some of the triangular sails alone were bigger than some boats currently docked. The crest of Zehah was painted in large black strokes, the symbol of Lehana with two ravens on either side, reflecting one another. Alred and Yesnoa looked to be conversing with a Zehahn sailor, Vasati and Rathal looked intrigued while Hagen was slumped against a nearby wooden post. Vesstan was watching the road and noticed Omydaedren. He waved his arm to his friend. Omydaedren squinted his eyes, searching for the riverboat that was to take him to Ginnen but he could not see it docked on the river. He had better not have forgotten, Omydaedren thought to himself. He moved past another wagon pulling boxes of dyes, the smell of cooked leaves struck his nose and caused him to wince from it. He stepped up on the wooden docks, the planks creaking under his boots, and met Vesstan. He could overhear Alred talking about phoenix flyers with the Zehahn sailor, his rough voice was not a quiet one. 

“Morning,” Vesstan greeted Omydaedren. He gave a weak smile through his torn face.  

“Morning to you,” Omydaedren replied, tugging the straps of his back. 

“I have not seen Mister Osarin dock his boat, my father noticed the Zehahns docking,” Vesstan stated. “He was inquiring about his southern cousins and their strange birds,” he explained. 

“I have not seen the boat either, he had best not forgotten about me,” Omydaedren replied, the smell of mud and water filled his nose as he irritatedly sighed. He glanced back toward the road and in the back of his mind he had hoped he would see Isbeil, walking toward the docks to say goodbye. 

Rathal joined the two men, he looked toward the water uneasily. 

"That Captain, he says Rak'kinthar have been raiding along the riverbank," he stated, folding his arms. Omydaedren felt his heart skip a beat. Vesstan stood straighter, "Gods! I thought they feared Eldyth's waters!" Vesstan replied in disbelief. Rathal clenched his chiseled jaw. 

"That is what was once believed. Captain Parmat here says there's accounts that they have organized themselves, raiding in parties and stealing goods from passing ships," Rathal replied in disgust. Omydaedren could feel hopelessness crawling its way into his mind.  

"Are they still in the East? Has anyone seen them cross?" Vesstan asked, his scarred eye twitching. Rathal shook his head side to side. Omydaedren could feel a shred of relief. 

"The Azariah is miles across, they can be avoided if they still fear the waters enough," Omydaedren stated, reassuring himself. 

"It is still concerning for Wameri, not to mention Karac," Rathal replied, nodding his head. 

"Wameri hasn't seen swarms of Rak'kinthar in decades," Vesstan added, still shaking his head in disbelief. Rathal glanced toward his father who was still conversing with the Captain. 

"Captain Parmat even mentioned that Zehah is preparing their birds for battle," Rathal said quieter, his disgust the same. Vesstan's eyes widened.

"But Skytalons do not fly birds into war!" he argued. Rathal shrugged, "Most of the Zehahn flyers are Nightfeathers now," he stated. 

"Father wouldn't take our birds into battle," Vesstan shook off his older brother's words. 

"We should pray to Aerrus to protect Eldyth's waters. Those beasts cross the river, and we may have no choice," Rathal said distastefully. 

"Your birds would fare better than Zehah's pretty ones," Omydaedren scoffed. His remark made the two men chuckle, although it was clear their worry was still there. 

"You should pray that Mister Osarin and his ship haven't succumbed to those things," Rathal said. Omydaedren let out a small laugh, "I believe that Mister Osarin is too stubborn to die at the hands of Rak'kinthar," he replied.

"How are you planning on avoiding them now Daedren?" Vesstan asked. He rubbed his scars on his cheek. 

"Mister Osarin is taking me through Loradove. From there, the plan is to take the Eastern Ginnen river to the coast," Omydaedren replied, managing confidence in front of the men. Vesstan only nodded his head, mostly to himself. 

"Loradove is a lake Vesstan, Eldyth's power is greater in pools," Omydaedren reassured him. Rathal looked skeptical of Omydaedren's plan. Something caught his dark eyes and he nudged Omydaedren with his elbow. "There," he said. 

Omydaedren turned in the direction Rathal intended. He could see Mister Osarin and his river boat floating to a nearby empty docking post. 

"Thank Aerrus's eye," Omydaedren commented. The sailor wore an unusual assortment of white cloth robes that extended slightly below his knees and had his forearms wrapped with blue cloth bands. His blonde hair was kept away from his eyes with another blueband of cloth. He lugged a rope from the hull of his boat and tossed it around the docking post he had chosen. Omydaedren made his way over to the small boat as the captain hoisted himself onto the docks, brushing off his hands. 

"Omydaedren! It has been a while," the man exclaimed, smiling through his rugged face. He held out his hand for Omydaedren to shake in greeting. 

"Mister Osarin, I almost thought you had forgotten about me," Omydaedren replied, shaking the sailor's rough hand. 

"You are a man now Daedren, it's not Mister anymore," he replied, placing his hands on Omydaedren's shoulders. He studied him for a moment, "I would never forget a favor for an old friend, how is that stubborn man?" Osarin asked, frowning with his thick brow. 

"He has seen better days," Omydaedren replied, looking away from the man. Osarin took his hands off of Omydaedren, "Better days indeed." 

"Osarin Biran, Aerrus's eye seems to never leave you!" Alred laughed as he came behind Omydaedren. The other Skytalons that came to see Omydaedren off had joined with Alred. 

"Alred! Old age has been kind to you," Osarin replied. The pair began conversing as Vesstan came to Omydaedren, frowning at the docked boat. 

"This is the ship you told us about?" he asked, pointing with his boot. Rathal came behind Vesstan with Hagen trudging to see the boat as well. Omydaedren nodded to his friend and slid the boxed sword into the hull of the boat. 

"That is no ship, and it's barely a boat at all," Rathal commented. Hagen chuckled through his tiredness and sat down on the edge of the docks.

"I'm surprised a mast could fit on that thing," he snickered, nudging Rathal's leg. Vesstan hardly tried to hold in his own laughter. Omydaedren rolled his eyes, "It's a faering. You three don't like it because it is made of wood instead of feathers." 

Rathal shrugged, "Flying would be better for you," he remarked. Hagen flapped his arms like a bird, even adding his own interpretation of a phoenix call. 

"Perhaps one of you could just fly me to Ginnen on your bird," Omydaedren grumbled, tossing his bag onto the boat. 

"You know that one of us, especially my mother, would," Rathal started. "Evindal is just too thick and the trees are too tall to fly safely through." 

Omydaedren rolled his eyes again.

"Daedren, say your goodbyes. I want to be west of Zendox by the next sunrise," Osarin said, tapping Omydaedren's shoulder. He jumped back to his boat and began preparing it to sail. 

Omydaedren looked to Vesstan, who's smile had faded with Osarin's words. He felt a hand on his shoulder, "Are you certain you want to go?" Alred asked. Omydaedren faced the older man, he could feel a pit forming in his stomach but he pushed the feeling down. "I am," he replied. Alred gave him a half smile before offering out his strong hand. Omydaedren shook his hand as Yesnoa came to her husband's side. She carried something in her arms that was wrapped neatly in cloth. 

"You take this, I don't want you going hungry," she told Omydaedren. He took the gift, he could smell the scent of bread as he held it. 

"Thank you Yesnoa," Omydaedren replied, barely meeting her eye. Without warning, she grabbed his shoulders and wrapped her slender arms around him. 

"I will pray to Aerrus that his eye never leaves you, my boy," she said, her voice trembling as she spoke. "You get the word to me as soon as you are safe," she ordered. Omydaedren winced under Yesnoa's tight hold, "I will," he gasped. She finally let go of Omydaedren and brushed the tears forming in her eyes.

Vasati shook her head as Yesnoa rejoined Alred. She came to Omydaedren and pulled him into another hug, this one allowed him to still breathe. "You are brave Daedren," she said with a smirk. Omydaedren smiled awkwardly. 

"Perhaps it's Lehana's guidance but, I have a feeling you will be fine," Vasati told him. 

"Then you are alone," he replied. She chuckled before tapping him on the shoulder, "Aerrus watch over you." 

"Move along Vasati, let us say goodbye to our favorite cousin," Hagen waved his hands at his sister. Vasati smiled one last time at Omydaedren before she turned to leave. "I've got birds to feed," she started. "And I'm not feeding yours!" she yelled to her little brother. Hagen gave his sister another wave of his hand. 

"I will miss you little brother," Rathal said with a furrowed brow. Hagen bumped Rathal's arm with his elbow, "It would have been entertaining to fly with you, Daedren," he beamed. Rathal held his hand out like his father, "Until feather fall," Rathal told him, his dark eyes piercing Omydaedren's green. The Skytalons' saying made the pit return to his stomach. Omydaedren shook the man's rough hand.

"Until feather fall." 

Rathal glanced at Vesstan, then took Hagen by his arm and pulled him to the side, leaving Vesstan with Omydaedren. 

Vesstan took a moment to meet Omydaedren's eyes.

"I have never said goodbye, to not see you at the next sunrise," he finally said, looking out at the morning sun over the water. The pit in Omydaedren's stomach had come to stay. 

"I will send a letter with Osarin to give to you when I reach Ginnen," Omydaedren told his friend. He nodded slightly and met Omydaedren's eyes with his own, scarred and dark eyes.  

"I will miss you Daedren," Vesstan confessed, swallowing hard. Omydaedren reached for his friend and hugged him. He released him quickly, forbidding the feeling in his stomach to grow any more. "And I, you. Fly high halthear," Omydaedren replied. Vesstan half smiled and Omydaedren left him before he could say anything else. He swung himself down on the wooden hull, Osarin had the oars in hand. 

"Welcome aboard The Flying Rose. Prepared to set sail?" Osarin asked, smirking. Omydaedren stuffed the wrapped bread into his bag and nodded to the captain. Vesstan stood at the edge of the docks beside the boat. Omydaedren glanced around the dock area one last time. 

"Will you extend Isbeil my goodbyes? Tell her I will miss her," he told his friend. Vesstan nodded, "I will tell her." 

Osarin unraveled the rope from the docking post and pushed the boat away from the dock with his boot. Omydaedren held the wooden bench to steady himself as the boat rocked side to side. 

"It is a shame I did not have a bird until yesterday," Vesstan said as the boat started the long journey away. Omydaedren raised his eyebrow at the man. 

"I would have braved the Evindal!" Vesstan said, loud enough for Omydaedren to hear. Osarin dropped the white sail and it flapped as it caught the wind. Omydaedren could feel the hull start to be pulled by the force of the wind. He turned back to watch Vesstan wave his arm at the edge of the docks, the aviary towers standing behind him. He waved back. His heart finally began to ache as he could barely make out Thorn's call and he watched the flock of Phoenix birds flood from the towers behind Vesstan. He squinted his eyes to focus on Wameri one last time before he forced himself to turn away. 

"A man's first time on the water," Osarin began. His blonde locks wrapped around his face in the wind. "It is something special indeed."

"Are you worried about the Rak'kinthar?" Omydaedren asked. He shifted his weight to get comfortable on the wooden bench. Osarin smirked slightly and squinted toward the horizon.

"Do not worry Daedren. I will get you to Ginnen," he replied. He nodded his head, in greeting, at a passing trade ship. "This is Eldyth's blood we are floating on. She will not betray us," he stated, his confidence assured. He looked Omydaedren in the eye, "I would renew your beliefs in her," he told him. Omydaedren peered down at the water from the side of the small boat. He could see the skeptical look he wore in his rippled reflection and decided to look away. 

"What is in the box?" Osarin asked, scratching at the stubble on his face. Omydaedren picked up the box and placed it on his lap. 

"A sword. Monhais gave it to me before I left him yesterday," Omydaedren replied. He pulled the lid off the box, revealing the sword to the captain. Osarin sat straighter to glance inside the box Omydaedren held. His face suddenly changed when he noticed the gemstone in the hilt. 

"I remember that sword," Osarin said quietly.  

"You do? Monhais told me he bought it in Rata. You must have been with him!" Omydaedren said, filled with excitement and wonder. 

"Sell that sword boy, if you know what's good for you. That stone will only bring you suffering," Osarin said abruptly. He looked down at the sword with distaste. Omydaedren frowned at the man. 

"I will not sell a gift from Monhais," he mumbled, putting the lid back onto the box. He slid the box under the bench. "What will that little rock do that makes you so worried?" he asked. It was Osarin's turn to frown.

"Does word spread so slowly from the west?" he asked, mostly to himself. He swallowed hard before continuing. "I've just come from the Strait, bordering the Arthion," Osarin began. "That's why I wear these robes," he mentioned. He looked off toward the west, his sense of direction was remarkable to Omydaedren. 

"There are rumors about Rata. Even the Korborin know about it," he said. Omydaedren's eyes widened for a moment. 

"Korborin! You trade with them?" he asked in wonder. Osarin gave him a worried look, "I am not affected by the disease that plagues them," he replied plainly. Omydaedren's jaw fell open in astonishment. Osarin cleared his throat again before continuing his point. 

"The rumors of Rata, they're not good. I'm told the Vahhadün ore the Ratans are mining has been strange of late," he told Omydaedren. He brushed a hand through his hair. "Men have gone mad after handling too much of it," he finished. Omydaedren glanced down to the box and twisted his mouth. 

"Rata has been mining Vahhadün for years, they are likely going mad from greed," Omydaedren argued. Osarin shrugged his burly shoulders, "Some suggested that Rata had finally dug too deep. I believe that the ore is called God's Blood for a reason."

Omydaedren folded his arms. "What reason?" he asked. 

"It's for the gods, not the children," Osarin replied. 

"I have no quarrel with the gods," Omydaedren replied. 

"No, you are much like Monhais. You go toward them," Osarin said, pointing his finger and shaking his head. He leaned forward, keeping his hands on the oars. "If you take any advice from me, let it be this," he began, his blue eyes iced with seriousness. "Remember that you are a man and they are gods," he warned. Omydaedren felt a chill come over him, a hint of fear, and folded his arms tighter. 

"I know that I am only a man," he replied quietly. Osarin sat back again and nodded his head. 

"Good. Monhais believed that there was more to the world than that and he got himself into many troubles along the way." Osarin explained. “Sometimes, you must simply leave it to the gods.” 

Omydaedren decided not to reply. Instead, he glanced back toward Wameri which was fading in the distance with every moment. The morning breeze was beginning to warm as the sun raised itself higher into the sky. He thought about Vesstan, and figured that he had already made it back to the aviary towers by now. Isbeil would be underground by this time, complaining about the lack of excitement the mines gave her. 

Perhaps I should have asked her to come with me, he thought. What could be more exciting than sailing on the river to Ginnen? Then, his thoughts returned to his dream and he felt watched once again. He quickly glanced in every direction but saw nothing strange on the water or along the river's edge. 

"We're sailing on the western side of the river now," Osarin interrupted his thoughts. He steered the ship right with the wooden oars. "I will do my best to keep it that way until we've come close to Loradove," he said. 

✴

Ashen fog hung over the floor of the Evindal Forest. The greens of the moss stuck out underneath the gray clouds. Low chirps of birds could be heard high in the treetops as the morning rays began to pierce through the thick leaves above. Balneir's hands were dried with dirt, his fingernails sore from being filled with earth. He used his forearm to wip away drying tears and collapsed onto his dampened knees. Sweat dripped from his brow and onto the earth as he hung his head. He noticed a worm making its way through the moss covered ground and was sickened at the growing thought in his mind. That the bodies left behind by the Rak'kinthar were now bounty for the worms. He tried to force it out of his mind but lacked the strength. His head fell further before meeting his palms. He could feel that his heart was screaming in his chest. Balneir thrust his fist onto the ground. He looked up at the three graves that he had made, for his wife and two boys. His gray eyes unfocused and made their way to the sun coming through the tops of the trees. A shred of relief came, and fled when he blinked his eyes. 

The sounds of trees rustling caught Balneir's attention. Silborh's being rippled into existence as a ray of the golden sun shone on a nearby tree. Shreds of bark unhinged themselves from the tree to create his body and the sun appeared to Balneir to give him life. His staff came from a branch, the green light flickered into place on the tip of it. His charcoal beard crafted from the wind blown leaves and his robes formed from the ground fog. Balneir climbed to his feet. As he stared at Silborh, the runes of light drifted in the air around the god. Silborh took a few graceful steps before examining the three graves. His face did not appear to show any glimmer of sadness or pity. 

A breeze rolled the fog and the god took a deep breath in. The green light of Silborh's staff glowed brighter and the god began to pull an entangling vine from the holy light, his hand never touching the vine itself. Balneir watched with attentive eyes. Silborh twisted and tugged with an empty hand. With every tug and twist, he manipulated the vine until he appeared to be satisfied. He turned to Balneir, his eyes shining the same green color of his staff. The vine retracted into the staff's light. Balneir frowned in confusion and curiosity. Then, Silborh tapped his staff onto the earth twice. 

The earth stirred until it broke through the moss covered ground a few paces in front of the grave site. Thickets of various kinds of vines jutted out of the dirt. They moved as one with purpose and entangled themselves together to create a hedge wall. The wall of vines moved aggressively out onto either side. Balnier could make out parts of it extending through the trees and as he watched it, he could see the Othorian rune in his indirect vision. He could hear the creation disturbing the surrounding forest floor. 

"What is this?" Balneir demanded. 

"The promise." 

"That rune is Othorian," Balneir stated. 

"Kallemor's will is forbidden here." 

Silborh took another step that led him into another of the sun’s rays. As his body was met with the light, it dissolved into a throng of fireflies. Balneir observed the fireflies’ twinkling lights glow within the shadows of the trees. A few of the insects landed on the fresh dirt lain over his family. When they took flight once more, a bluebell grew with a striking beauty. Balneir then reached to his forehead and softly felt the burnt handprint left on his face.