Sky Dreamer, page 1
part #1 of From the World of Sky Series
Chapter One: Jaden
Wiverlee's Thrift Store
"Try this one."
Isla holds up a shirt several sizes too big, her icy blue eyes sparkling with humor. The thin material is speckled with huge dark yellow flowers and, instantly, I loathe it.
"Only a Dremy would wear that,” I whisper.
"Jaden, speak up, so I can hear you. Now, about this shirt. It’s absolutely made for you. It matches your hair.”
The horrid flowers are burnt orange. My hair—when clean—is more like intense flames, dark red and alive.
“And please don’t call them Dremy’s. They are Dremkins.” She slides the shirt back into its proper place, then flicks the long snowy white braid off her shoulder, away from her heart-shaped face.
Isla’s braids always look so much more elegant than mine do, with never a hair out of place. My hair always looks the same—a long, greasy mess, plastered to my skin. Even in braids, the strands hangs limp and unattractive. No wonder Karth dumped me.
“Everything Adania says will be Dremy this and Dremy that.”
The screech of hangers gliding from rack to rack draws my attention and I spot Zoreek, the town's lone Dremkin, power-moving clothes. Her multifaceted eyes flash from shirt to shirt as she looks for something interesting. At the sound of our voices, she pivots in our direction, head bobbing disjointedly.
"Oh, no." I duck behind my sister.
"Don't hide behind me." Isla grasps the end of my braids, effectively holding me in place. She thrusts me in front of her, forcing me into view.
Flushed, I push the shirt towards Zoreek, who seems intrigued. She reaches for it and her needle-like fingers slide across mine, sending shivers up my spine. She grins, revealing gums and beetles.
At the pit of my stomach, bile begins to rise. Isla elbows me, and I hand over the shirt.
Zoreek plasters it against her stick thin body, chirping satisfaction in her musical way.
Turning away with an equal mixture of relief and disgust, I return to my search for a shirt that says, 'You shouldn't have dumped me after our one-night stand.'
It doesn’t really matter if I find the perfect shirt, I’ll be too embarrassed to wear it anyway. Eventually, I come across a purple and green monstrosity that’s too funny for words. I hand the dress to Isla for her unvarnished reaction.
She spares it a glance, her lips pursed. "Denied! Not even a drunk would wear that." She replaces the hanger on the rack and we continue down the aisle. As soon as her attention wanders, I stretch out my hand as if I still want the shirt, and she slaps me away.
"I said no. Find a shirt, Jaden. Any shirt. You don't have to like it, you just have to wear it." Her tone is tight and controlled, but laughter shows at the corners of her eyes. She holds up a white, wrinkled shirt.
The material has no visible stains and the small rip on the left sleeve is something even I can fix. The shirt isn't appealing and I won’t look wonderful in it, but it'll work.
Old Lady Wiverlee snaps to attention when we reach her counter. She grasps the shoulders of the shirt and shakes it as if suspecting we are hiding an expensive jacket or dress underneath. She lays it out on the counter and strokes it flat with age-stained hands. "Twenty-six silver."
Isla drops her elbows onto the counter and points out a stain I'd missed on the hem. She flips the shirt over and shows off the rip and glares up at Old Lady Wiverlee. “Do you know how much hand sewing I’ll have to do to get it ready?” She sniffs heavily. “No more than twelve.”
“Fourteen silver and a mint for Adania. That is my final offer,” replies the old woman. She yawns and blackened teeth fill up her narrow mouth. She must have stayed up too late playing poker with her friends last night. Otherwise, she’d be more on the ball and charge us the twenty silver the shirt's worth.
On cue, little feet patter across the floor. Our four-year-old sister, Adania, races to us from the toy section, her long, blonde hair flouncing behind her. A tiny hand flashes out imperiously for her candy and a hug.
We step out of the gloom of Wiverlee's and into brilliant sunshine, When the bakery down the street sends the aroma of fresh baked bread in our direction, we all—even Adania, who was crunching on her mint—stop to take an appreciative breath.
"Can we get some rolls to eat at home?" Adania pleads. She races ahead to peer into the bakery window, baby blue eyes glued to the rolls on display.
Isla's pinched expression tells me more than words ever could. There are no funds left after my shirt. I shouldn’t have bought it. I should have waited. She reaches for Adania's hand and whispers into her ear, loud enough for me to hear. "We’ll get some next payday. Let’s run home, now. This time, I’m sure we can beat Jaden."
Adania squeals with delight at the challenge, and we race to the back of Uncle's place, giggling and gasping for breath.
I push open the door to the shed, wrinkling my nose at the smell and plop the shirt onto the counter for later retrieval. Fumes from the previous owner's perfume rise from the garment. Too bad I won’t have time to wash and dry it before work.
With my hair braided and pinned tight to my head, I dig out the old wooden basin and plop it onto the floor. A small amount of room temperature water lines the bottom of the tub. I draw on my long, black rubber gloves, worn thin at the fingertips. It’s my night to bathe Adania and I’ve been dreading it all day. Our little sister, so clean when we'd left the shed, is filthy with the dirt she's collected on the way home.
"Do you want me to wash her?" Isla sits cross-legged on the rough coats we use for bedding, sewing up a hole in her favorite blouse.
I shake my head like I do every time she offers. As much as Isla likes to think she’s Adania's sole guardian, we both made the same promise to Mama, and I am determined to do my fair share raising her, even if it kills me.
Bracing myself, I reach for my little sister, who is skipping around the room, dragging a string behind her. She squeals when I grasp her arm, and continues to protest at eardrum shattering levels while I relieve her of her clothing and place her gently in the bathtub.
"I’m not hurting you." I bend to retrieve the washrag.
The moment my hands leave her body, Adania is gone, streaking across the living room and scrambling under our heaviest piece of furniture.
I lean against the coat rack and curse Isla forever accepting the monstrosity. "Adania, please don't do this. We'll be late." I slip my hand between the rack and the wall and push hard, but the beast only slides a scant inch forward.
"Sisters don’t steal!" she yells as she scoots out from under the bench and races for shelter.
Isla's nimble fingers continue to flash across the patch on her good shirt. She spares me an amused glance.
"I’m not stealing your dirt,” I say, exasperated. “Now, come here."
Adania feigns left, and I grab her arm when she turns right and drag her into the kitchen. As I set her back into the water, she kicks out of reflex, splashing me.
Painful spots of pressure bubble up on my arms and legs, but I keep my grip on her and begin scrubbing her back.
"You're killing my friends, Jaden! You're killing them!"
My head thrums louder, the minor headache I sported earlier has become a piercing problem. I bitterly regret not taking Isla up on her offers, as more blisters pop on my upper arms. I’ll need to deal with them shortly.
"You're a friend stealer!" Adania screeches.
I grit my teeth and scrub harder. "I’m not a friend stealer. Water can’t kill an Esprit.” I reach for a dry towel to soak up some of the damage on my arm.
As soon as I release her, Adania lurches out of the basin, sending a barrage of water onto the wall. The spray bounces back and smacks me in the face.
Pain overwhelms anger. I bite back a scream, sink to the floor and use the towel to gently blot at my face, taking care not to pop the tiny blisters already forming there. I don’t have time to be incapacitated. I’ve already lost one night of work this week.
Adania stands on her toes, determined to reach the doorknob. She heaves with all the strength in her four-year-old body. When the door opens unexpectedly, she staggers backward and lands on her behind. She wails in frustration when she notices the wall of ice cutting off her escape route. Her tiny fists pound against the frozen water.
While she’s distracted by her tirade, three more ice walls spring up around her.
"I hate you both!"
Isla's perfume drifts to me and her cool hand soothes my forehead. “Don’t worry. You won’t miss work. You’ll just be uncomfortable for a little while.” My twin, Isla has an uncanny knack for knowing my thoughts. She pats me on the head and takes off after the furious little urchin by the door. "Why are you yelling?" Isla crouches down next to our baby sister.
Adania gulps. "She was stealing my friends."
Isla turns to me and I give her a look that clearly says, 'you deal with her,' before stepping away to strip off my gloves and dry off.
She returns her attention to Adania. "We've had this discussion before, young lady. Washing the dirt off your body does not stop you from conjuring your Esprit in any way. You have the easiest of the four Talents. You are the lucky one because we step on your reagent all the time. I have to find water for my ice and Jaden has to find alcohol to fuel her fire, but you can find dirt everywhere.” She shakes her head. “More importantly, you hurt Jaden. Shame on you!" Rising, she pinches Adania's ear and drags her over to the tub while invoking her own Esprit.
Icia solidifies in front of her into
Soon, Isla is wiping an entire day's worth of grime from Adania, who will forever like dirt more than she likes people. When Isla's done, she holds the washcloth out to Adania. "Now, show me what you can do with this."
Their little sister gulps and, wrinkling her little nose, stares hard at the smattering of dirt on the cloth.
A small head begins to push its way out of the dirt, revealing eyes, hair, shoulders and the hint of a misshapen torso. Adania’s Esprit, Mr. Dirty, emerges in his entirety, but after a few moments, he collapses back onto the rag.
Adania’s baby voice peals through the room. "Aw gone."
"He'll be back." Isla’s beams down at her. There aren’t many four-year-olds who can conjure their Esprit. “You are very good at conjuring, Adania. Now, let's get all this nice dirt off you and onto this cloth, so you can play with him later." Isla cheerfully soaps off our now compliant sister. "When you're clean, we will all go to work."
I sink into the chair and begin puffing cool air at the blisters on my arm. "I don't know how Mom was so patient with us. We were twice the trouble Adania is, and you are so...serene with her. I swear she goes out of her way to provoke me."
Isla lifts Adania out of the tub and wraps her in the last good towel. "The trouble is you're too much alike. Everyone knows how much you adore her."
Adania’s good dress is pulled over her head and she begins spinning. Soon, she’s staggering around in unsteady circles, giggling.
Isla catches her and snuggles her close before pushing her my way. "Go apologize to Jaden. You've hurt her feelings and she'll cry a river of flame if you don't say you're sorry."
I accept the baby kisses Adania parcels out before tugging on the rest of her tiny underclothes, socks and shoes.
Isla wipes up the floor while I change my shirt. We’re just reaching for our jackets when a knock surprises us.
"Who can that be?"
I hope it's not our uncle arriving with another complaint.
I’m met by dark hair and a pair of large, wounded green eyes set into too small a face.
Ameranda, I sigh in relief and pull her into a swift hug before motioning for her to come in. "We were just getting ready to leave. Everything okay?" I search by the door for my bag.
"Can I…can I go to work with you?” she whispers. “I'll cook, bus tables, or clean the floor…anything. I’ll work for tips.” She swallows hard. “He was yelling today."
Isla leads Ameranda toward the good chair, the one with the cushion. "You want to talk about it?"
"No, it's just…" Ameranda presses her fingertips to her cheeks and wipes away tears. "I need to work. Papa Ral was—" She clears her throat. "—very specific. He thinks I should work tonight." Her gaze shifts between us, then locks on the floor. Around her left eye spreads a new bruise, blooming purple and brown.
Pain pierces my palms and I glance down, surprised to see my nails embedded into them. I want to scream for my friend, but the least sign of anger will cause Ameranda to panic and hide. Pushing my fury deep inside, I distract myself by conjuring an image in my mind, one of bright red flames dancing on a log.
"Well, Ameranda, it's a good thing you're an excellent cook." Isla breaks into the uncomfortable silence. "Uncle Reeker scheduled Jaden for kitchen duty tonight. You know she is an amazing bartender, but in the kitchen?" She shakes her head. "Come to work with us and we'll share our tips."
I bite my lip as figures dance through my mind. We won’t get our two gold pay until next week. The shirt cost fourteen silver, we still need flour for bread, and we’ve no meat in the house.
Isla jerks her head, a minute movement intended to quiet me.
I frown, but remain silent. Has she been hoarding again? If so, how much has she saved? A gold piece? As much as four gold pieces?
I strap on my small, high-topped boots and reach for the coat Isla made for Adania out of her good blue cloak last week. I force it onto her slender frame and swing her onto my shoulders, where she claps cheerfully. How, I wish we could use Papa’s old vego. It would be so handy to drive back instead of walking the scant mile with Adania hitched over my shoulder. Travel Spheres cost money and even Papa’s old wagon takes good hard gold to run. It’s probably better as we don’t have the gold to run it also, it would never to do to remind Uncle of yet one more thing of ours he can sell.
"Guess what, baby chicken? You get to hang out with Ameranda in the kitchen."
"I am not a chicken," Adania informs me as we duck under the doorway.
"Are, too. You're small and skinny like one," Isla says. She locks the shed.
We pass the main portion of the house as we leave. The light from Uncle's sitting room shines through the large front window. Apparently, he's decided to stay home on the busiest night of the week. Again.
Chapter Two: Jaden
Dreamers Unite
"Little Mouse." Isla pulls off Adania's tiny jacket and hugs her close, burying her nose in the mass of shiny blond hair. "I have a big favor to ask." She kisses Adania on the forehead, then looks intently into her eyes. “A huge favor.”
Fresh baked bread Uncle collected earlier scents the bar's old kitchen, and my stomach rumbles. I snag a piece and munch on it.
Adania blinks up at Isla, the picture of innocence.
“You must not leave this room."
Adania pretends to consider the request, but her blue eyes are already twinkling with objections. "What if someone steals me?"
"Then, we'll steal you back."
"What if…” Adania's mischievous grin emerges. “What if the kitchen catches on fire?"
"Then, I will send Jaden in to get you out. Fire can't hurt her."
"What if I get hungry?"
I flash her a look. "Adania, if you can't find food in a kitchen, you have a much bigger problem than the building catching on fire."
"I want you to help Ameranda wash the roots," Isla points at the bundle of tubers Ameranda is holding along with a wet cloth. She lays them down on the small table nearby. "When you're done, you may play with Mr. Dirty until it's time to lie down."
Ameranda ties on her apron and turns, humming a song as she takes out more roots and moves them to the table to be cooked.
I haven't seen Karth since he dumped me. Will he be here tonight? Will he be the charming guy who gave me extra tips all last month, or will his normal, cocky arrogance return?
Swinging the doors open, I find that Isla has already preceded me into the main section of the bar.
She's about to set off when I nudge her, gesturing with my chin toward a group of men at the end of the bar. They're all wearing miners' jackets and their boots are lumpy with thick mud. To our chagrin, they direct their hostile attention toward their miniature earth Esprits fighting over a pile of lime green dirt.
A third, smaller Esprit rises next to the first two and slyly shovels the dirt in question into its jaws, oblivious to the green spittle foaming from its mouth. The tiny, satisfied golem soon leaves, beckoned by its owner and the other two contestants break apart. The miners’ take off after the departed creature, bringing their three-way fight outside.
"I hope they aren't fighting their Esprit’s to the death," Isla’s hand covers her mouth as she yawns.
Using a dry washcloth, I scoop the remaining dirt into it with a napkin, tie the ends firmly and slip it into my pocket.
"Hey, Flame Spurt." Karth slaps at my elbow before seating himself on a bar stool. He gives me the once over while offering his pouty little smile.
I can't read him. Is he telling me he wants me back, or is he just making sure I don't go too far in case he changes his mind?
I slide him a bitter barley beer—a beverage even my Esprit hates—and Karth drops a few coins. As I expected, the tip is nothing compared to what he'd left me last month. "What have you been up to?"
Karth leans back against the bar, surveying the room. His arms ripple with muscle as he sips his beer. It slides down the throat I remember kissing the edge of. "Been in Waterford helping Dad lay down a deal." Without another word, he pushes away from his chair and strides off, having spotted his next prey.
I scowl after him, annoyed. I may not want him, but he could at least have looked embarrassed when he saw me and not been so smug.
