A Journey of Unknown Skies

By Timothy M Bennett

It's been difficult for Jax to fit back into the normal pace of life since Tranto abandoned him. His other friendships fail to fill the barren place left in his mind where he had felt truly understood.

And then, what he had given up hope for happens. However, Jax finds an utter lack of everything he recognizes and a desolate wast

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. M. Bennett
• Release date: May 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781088042342

Timothy M Bennett

T. M. Bennett began his passion for writing at a young age while his mother homeschooled him. He did not wish to write "boring" journal entries for school and asked whether he could write fictional stories. Approval was granted as long as the stories employed the required lexicon. Ever since, T. M. Bennett has maintained an active imagination and is usually up for trying things labeled adventurous. Much of his vivid imagination and unique outlook on life can be seen in his variety of Sci-fi, Fantasy, Science-fantasy and speculative works. When he's not pushing the creative limits of story, you will most likely find him exploring other creative endeavors.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It’s an incredible thing how time can heal some wounds but can amplify others. Since making it home from Prathniss, I had fallen from stardom and returned to being a regular boy who lived in the harsh climate of the mountains, but the emptiness in my chest and the silence in the distant part of my mind melded into a deep chasm that light refused to illuminate.

Tranto, the shape-shifting creature who’d befriended me, was on the forefront of my mind, but on the backend of existence. I felt his absence every cycle, even when surrounded by my friends.

A grogul den was dug into the side of a bank of dirt which thick roots had prevented from washing away in the massive snowmelt two erans before. I was poking sticks down the freshly dug den with three of my friends when Kelita’s voice startled me.

Hi, Jax, she called.

Maybe I was just embarrassed that my friends and I had been discovered doing something extremely childish, or maybe it was because I had been trying to avoid her since returning to school. Either way, my face burned like a bonfire.

Did your parents tell you when you’re going to start training? she asked.

My friends turned around and stood like gawking statues. Ahdah and Omoah had told me that I would start training for the Highland Games with Kelita and her Omoah that week, but I couldn’t remember which cycle. Her Omoah had agreed to train me as part of the payment for Kelita’s fast, brown dragon, Kerelyn. The same dragon Ahdah had insisted I be the one to sell.

I managed to nod my head.

So, I’ll see you next cycle? the excitement in Kelita’s voice shone bright.

Sure, I said as a fresh surge of embarrassment puffed up my burning cheeks. I averted my gaze to the tops of my boots.

Kelita wore a bright green cloak to ward off the cold, and it twirled out from her legs as she turned abruptly and walked back the way she’d come.

My friends resumed poking the den. The shrill giggles of several girls exploded from the direction Kelita had gone, and I lost interest in the grogul den. I walked stiffly back to the school building to pick up Rurin and head home.

The rest of the cycle went by slowly. Ahdah had a flat, farm cart that he needed me to repair. Several spokes had broken, and he showed me how to use a combination of my shaping ability and complicated-looking tools to shave and shape seasoned wood into new spokes. I set to work, and Ahdah left to get a new, light gray dragon settled in.

I wished I could help him, but settling a new and very nervous dragon was, perhaps, the most dangerous part of the whole job of dragon trainer. Whenever I asked to help, he would promise I could when I was older. Whether I would ever be older, I didn’t know.

I enjoyed the way the spokeshave whistled when I pulled it across the new spokes the right way—with the grain. However, if I went against the grain, they would stick and peel up splinters.

That’s why, on the next cycle, I was focusing hard on pulling out the broken-off end of one such splinter when Omoah and Kelita found me sitting against the single wall that acted as a windbreak for the school’s stable.

Hi, sweetie, is Rurin about? Omoah asked. Before I could answer she added, How was your time at school?

Rurin, my little brother of three erans, always flew with me to school since our parents didn’t want him flying a dragon on his own yet. I had forgotten Omoah was coming to pick him up so I could fly further down the mountain to train with Kelita and her Omoah.

I picked unsuccessfully one last time at the splinter, Rurin’s still inside. He has to stay ten rays longer than me.

Omoah hugged me, called me sweetie a few more times and walked to the school building. Kelita peered at my hand as I picked at the splinter again.

I saw my Ahdah get a splinter like that out with shaping, her face remained angled to see my hand, but I felt her eyes searching for my own.

I felt silly for not thinking of that. I said nothing and kept picking with my fingernail.

Kelita pushed her striped purple and white mul’li behind her shoulders and bent down to get a better look at the splinter. If you keep picking at it like that, you’re gonna have a bloody hand. Would you like me to get it out for you? she asked as she reached for my hand.

I was helpless as she wrapped her fingers around my wrist and pulled my hand closer to her face. She rubbed my palm at the base of my thumb. I winced at the pain. Then, she pinched, causing my skin to form a miniature mountain of flesh.

A warm sensation filled my entire left hand. The warmth was followed by a thousand tiny pinpricks of pain as if I had slept on top of my hand all night.

Got it, Kelita said loudly. She let go of my wrist.

I looked at my hand. Where the splinter had been was a small pocket of blood-filled skin. Kelita showed me the splinter, holding it by one end until I looked at it, then she tossed it to the ground.

Thank you, I said. And I truly was thankful. My hand felt better immediately. However, my voice came out as an unintelligible mumble.

You’re welcome, Kelita said as she nearly jumped and twirled toward the stable gate. C’mon. Are you ready? Get your dragon!

I stood slowly and followed her with far less energy.

Gwarven, my dragon, wandered the paddock. Sunlight glinted off the solid brown scales plating her body. Her wings lay furled against her sides, but I could tell by the way she paced she was anxious to leave. She knew school was out, and she was one of last dragons to leave the paddock every cycle thanks to Rurin.

Kerelyn, Kelita’s dragon stood calmly in the far corner of the paddock with her head raised as she sniffed the breeze. Her bright, blue eyes flashed as she tilted her head when Kelita called her.

Gwarven raced over to me when she saw me. Her clawed feet threw clods of dirt on Kerelyn who followed close behind.

That nasty dragon of yours, Kelita scowled at me. She threw dirt all over Kerelyn.

I thought of a number of things I could say, but none of them seemed very nice. I sighed with relief when Kelita didn’t seem to need or even want a response.

We mounted and shot into the air.

Kelita hunched low over her dragon’s neck. The white spots running from Kerelyn’s head to the end of her tail in a sort of stony path shone brilliantly as they reflected the light from our planet’s two suns. I groaned as Kerelyn, a descendant of the fastest dragon around, doubled her speed. Her sharply curved wings sliced the air cleanly and quietly.

I urged Gwarven to fly faster. She managed a little more speed but then gave a halfhearted roar when she realized she couldn’t catch up. I took no further action other than to keep a close eye on where Kelita guided Kerelyn.

I knew that she lived down the mountains from Treniss nearly as far as I lived up the mountains. That meant that we had about twenty rays of flying, but I had never been to her house before. I didn’t venture below Treniss very often, so, much of the terrain was unfamiliar.

The ground was cut with many cracks and fissures, gaps in the landscape that reminded me of my own empty canyons inside. Trees grew in greater abundance, hiding most of the cracks, and the lush grass was a far deeper green than the grayish stuff that grew higher up around my parents’ farm.

Large logs were strewn everywhere, the detritus remaining after furious storms toppled stout trees. They would lie there until a wood cutter chopped them up for firewood or for building houses or furniture.

Here and there winding paths were worn to dust by the trampling feet of various creatures. A narrow road wound up and down and in between the cracks. It never stayed straight for more than a hundred yards. Unlike the bustling road at Prathniss, the road below was deserted as far as I could see.

Ahead, sunlight glinted on dragon scales as Kelita maneuvered Kerelyn through a tight turn, banked sharply and circled the first of a set of three, squat spires that were nearly eroded to nothing. Kerelyn banked sharply a second time and shot back between the remaining two spires. Then, the dragon rolled and flew upside down for several long clicks.

I saw, or thought I saw—because no one would attempt something like that—Kelita climb deftly to Kerelyn’s stomach and stand with both arms reaching up as if she were celebrating a victory. Then, before she could climb back down to her saddle, the dragon rolled back. I stared in disbelief, expecting to see Kelita’s body falling helplessly to her death.

The next instant, however, Kelita was standing on her hands in the middle of the dragon’s back right behind the saddle. She held her legs perfectly straight and erect and then parted them with her toes pointed in a perfect split before returning to the saddle. Some of the stunt riders at the Highland Games had done similar tricks, hanging off their saddles at all sorts of angles.

Below, one of the lakes surrounding Treniss slipped by. The water was tinted muddy brown from a recent rainstorm and looked utterly cold and uninviting.

My most recent experience with water was still fresh in my mind. I had fallen from Raglod, a big, headstrong dragon, into a lake in the forest of giant trees on my way to Prathniss for the perpengold seeds. A creature, who called himself Tranto, had found me. We’d quickly become good friends, but then Tranto abandoned me after he’d helped me find Raglod.

Kelita reached the far side of the lake. She steered her dragon into a steep dive, pulling up just before hitting the water and shot between two large trees standing like sentinels on the far bank. Then, both dragon and rider rose so suddenly into the air that I wasn’t sure how Kelita held on.

Kerelyn plunged her neck down and balled her long, sleek body into a compact wad of neck, tail, legs and wings. Together they fell, somersaulting three times, before pulling up again.

I marveled at what Kelita had managed to teach Kerelyn in the few short weeks she’d owned her. Ahdah taught dragons tricks and stunts from time to time, but he had never taught Kerelyn anything like the show Kelita put on.

Once I arrived over the far side of the lake, farms and houses dotted the fields and snuggled into pockets of forest. Most of the houses had chimneys spouting gray smoke like a dragon’s nostrils.

Kelita landed first as she was quite a distance ahead of Gwarven and me. Gwarven landed easily beside Kerelyn, but my dragon flinched and sidestepped as Kelita rushed over.

I regained my balance while Kelita said forcefully, Not a word to my parents. The look in her eyes was not anger but a fierceness that would have caused even a mean dragon to back away.

I looked at her blankly for a click. She repeated, Not a word to my parents. Don’t tell them about the stunts.

I opened my mouth to speak, but at that moment, Kelita’s Omoah came from the barn, carrying a bucket. Kelita gave me a straight mouthed, hard-eyed glare that lasted only long enough for me to know I had seen it.

Kelita’s Omoah, Vauriel, set the bucket down and came over to me. Welcome, Jax, she held out her hand. I took it and gently touched her hand to my forehead. Then she, needing to bend down slightly, touched my hand to her forehead. It was a sign of acceptance and equality that all Ti’Kahn women received from both boys and men once a woman had married. I’m sure you’re ready to begin.

It wasn’t a question, but I said, Yes.

Vauriel laughed and responded, We can begin as soon as you have your dragon tied. She beckoned to the hitching rail by the barn, You can tie her there. I’ve got to get this water to the house, then I’ll be ready. Kelita?

Yes, Omoah? Kelita answered instantly. Somehow, she managed to flash me another firm glare before looking at her Omoah.

Will you show Jax to the practice field?

Yep. C’mon, Jax. Kelita led her dragon by the reins.

Chapter 2

With the dragons handled, we walked down a short hill and skirted along the bottom of it for about a hundred yards. The trees grew much taller than by my house, and they were thicker and less gnarled as well. The brown trunks hid the open space until I had nearly stepped into it.

To my left stood a small shed, built mostly of stone. Beyond the shed, archery targets, similar to the ones used in the Games, stood at various distances. It was easy to imagine Kelita spending many long periods shooting arrow after arrow into the targets.

To the right of the targets, lay three rings about fifty feet in diameter. The grass had been trampled and torn, creating small hillocks of sod and dark brown dirt.

Farther to the right, lay a space that was also churned up, though, by dragon claws instead of sparring combatants.

On the far, right edge, extending the entire width of the field in a strip about fifty yards wide, the grass had been trampled nearly to dust.

The whole field possessed the look of constant use. I remembered a conversation I’d overheard between Ahdah and Almatem, Kelita’s Ahdah, that Vauriel trained and guided many of the dancers and competitors from the mountain tribes.

What do you think? Kelita’s voice carried the tone of someone who knows she has just impressed another.

It’s…it’s flat and big, I said and immediately felt foolish.

I know, Kelita raised her eyebrows and gave a slight toss of her head. Do you see that target all the way down there? I can hit it every time. I’ve even gotten a dragonseye.

I peered down at the target over a hundred and fifty yards away. I could hardly tell where the dragonseye was. If I had Kelita’s attitude, I would have told her that there was no way she could have gotten a dragonseye, but I was suddenly overwhelmed by the fear of learning something new, so I found myself unable to say anything. When I looked back at Kelita, she had a small pout narrowing her eyes as if she had indeed hoped for an argument.

I’m sure, once you’ve practiced, you’ll be able to hit the targets well enough, Kelita said, smearing the pout away. C’mon. Omoah always starts the new trainees out with letting them try a little of everything, she glanced out over the field and dug her toe into the soft grass. That way she can see what they’re good at.

I thought of the riding stunts Kelita undoubtedly wanted to perform at the Games as she took off toward the shed. Undoubtedly, her parents weren’t willing to consider her participating in such a dangerous sport.

Omoah won’t mind if I help you choose a bow. Of course, she’ll insist that you have your own if you prove any good at it. You should choose a bow that feels balanced in your hand and that isn’t too heavy to draw. Have you ever shot before?

I had made a few bows for fun, but I hadn’t hunted with them or even target practiced. When we had to hunt, Ahdah and I used spears and specially trained dragons. I shook my head. No, I said, I haven’t done any shooting other than a few bows I made from sticks.

Kelita lifted the latch on the door. Inside, the shed was dark except for tiny slivers of sunlight cutting stripes on the floor and walls. The faint light revealed floor to ceiling shelves bearing various sizes of armor, weapons, flags, a few headdresses and tools for maintaining the practice field.

Kelita walked to the far wall where a barrel sat with several long objects wrapped in cloth. Some were tall enough to reach the top shelf, but most were only slightly shorter than me. Kelita grabbed a bundle of the shorter objects and told me to grab a handful of arrows with orange fletching.

Outside, Kelita removed the cloth bag from a thin, glossy brown bow with the limbs gently curving to meet the more aggressively curved ends. It was so dark it looked like it was made of the sweet syrup Omoah made from black fonny berries.

Kelita deftly strung the bow, held it loosely in her left hand and pulled the string to her cheek with her right hand. The limbs curved smoothly. She lowered the bow and, without letting go of the string, released the tension.

Whatever you do, don’t dry fire it. That means don’t let go of the string unless you have an arrow nocked, she told me as she handed me the bow.

I grabbed it and tried to hold it exactly as Kelita had just done. It felt awkward in my hand and too deeply curved.

Loosen your grip. Let the bow settle in your hand, she enjoyed instructing me I could tell. She made several more adjustments to my grip and then started on my stance. At last, she said, Alright. Now try to draw it.

The wood fibers bent smoothly, and the bow wobbled in my hand. I drew it all the way to my cheek, the way Kelita had done. The bow wobbled some more.

Kelita commented with the measured voice of a teacher, Good. Now, don’t dry fire, and let the string back.

It jerked my arm.

Not bad. You need some work, but not bad for the first real bow you’ve held.

I looked at the other bows lying on the ground in their cloth bags. Kelita picked up the longest one. She untied the ribbon holding the bag shut and slipped the bow out. It was a dull gold color with thin trails of gray running its length. In the same deft manner, she strung it, drew it to full draw and handed it to me.

The gold bow felt properly balanced in my hand, and I drew it more smoothly than the first. The limbs were only slightly curved when I let the string back. I gazed at the smooth wood and ran my hand along the limbs.

The next bow Kelita opened was so dramatically curved that it looked like it was going to break when, to string it, she bent the limbs nearly completely backward from where they had started. She offered it to me, and I grabbed it at the wound leather handle.

I must have looked a little dumbfounded by the tight curves of the limbs because Kelita said, Go ahead. Draw it.

I drew it smoothly and held the string at my cheek. It felt like a spring in my hand. The limbs bent so far back that I was afraid the bottom one would catch my leg if I were to shoot it. I released the tension carefully. Smoothly and gracefully, the bow sprang back to its almost half circle shape.

That’s the kind of bow riders use to shoot from dragons. I’ve been practicing a lot with it lately. This one is alright, but you should see my Omoah’s. Hers has all kinds of carvings on its limbs, and the handle is the softest, most colorful cloth you’ve ever seen.

As Kelita described her Omoah’s bow I picked up the long, golden bow and was still admiring it when Vauriel walked up.

Ah, getting acquainted with the bows I see. Kelita did well in her choices for you. Vauriel’s voice was lower in pitch than my Omoah’s and held a certain measure that made each word sound precisely chosen. Which did you like most?

I glanced at the other bows lying on the ground. Then, I rubbed the smooth, golden bow in my hands. I—I like this one, I said with a stammer. Blood pounded in my face, flushing my white markings deep pink.

A bow of warriors and hunters, Vauriel bent down and picked up an orange fletched arrow. She twirled it in her long fingers as she continued, The longbow is a powerful weapon. It hits hard and can shoot a heavy arrow. It’s not as quick as the dragon bow or the recurve, but in the hands of a skilled archer it can take an ee’nex down much further away than the other bows can reach effectively.

I studied the bow like I had just seen it for the first time.

Would you like to shoot it, Jax?

I exclaimed, Yes, may I?

A smile tugged my instructor’s lips back to reveal a thin smile. It wasn’t a cold smile, but the smile of someone who has been around too many people for too long. Show me how you hold the string, she said.

I grabbed the bow in my left hand and laid three fingers from my right hand against the string and pulled it back a few inches. I looked at Vauriel questioningly.

Very good. That’s good with the string. Loosen up your left hand a little. That’s it. That’s better.

Kelita held an arrow out to me. I quickly grabbed it and fit it to the string.

Vauriel stopped me, Did you look at the fletching? Every arrow has a certain way it needs to be nocked. She bent down and scooped up another arrow. Look at the fletching and the nock. What do you see?

I stared at the arrow for a full ray before answering, I think there’s one fletching that will stick out away from the bow when nocked correctly, but if it’s nocked wrong, it’ll hit the bow.

Vauriel nodded her head, Very good, Jax. You’re very observant.

She asked me to look at the arrow I had in the bow, but I was already correcting it as she spoke. I looked at the target closest to me. It seemed so close that I couldn’t possibly miss.

Vauriel stopped me again and gave me a smooth, leather shooting glove and a stiff guard to strap to my left forearm to protect against the string hitting my arm.

I picked up the longbow, nocked the arrow and drew it to my cheek. Vauriel gave me only one tip for aiming—keep both eyes open.

I let the string slip from my fingers. The bow dropped forward in my loose, left hand.

Oh! You hit the target. Good job! Kelita clapped her hands.

Very good, Jax, Vauriel’s voice held the expected measure of pride.

I quickly took another arrow and repeated the steps to send it sailing into the target. It hit the top of the target two rings from the outermost edge and sank into the soft backing.

Kelita clapped again. She whispered to me that she thought I would compete alongside her as her teammate in the team archery challenges. The next arrow flew wide as a result of my anxiety at such a proposal.

I fired all twelve arrows with Vauriel giving no further instructions, and Kelita making the occasional comment about how to feel where the arrow was going to go instead of trying to sight it mechanically.

Only two other arrows missed the target. One bounced off the top of the target and soared nearly straight up before pinning itself to the ground in the field behind. The other flew wide to the left and slithered beneath the grass.

You’re Ahdah tells me that you have great interest in weaponized sparring? Vauriel said.

Yeah, I agreed readily.

I see you’ve brought a sword. Will you show it to me?

I grabbed my sword, the one Ahdah had made for me, and drew it from its sheath. The polished stone shimmered and sent reflected light dancing on the churned-up mounds of dirt inside the ring. I carefully grabbed the blade and presented the hilt to Vauriel the way Ahdah would offer sharp tools to others.

Oh my, Kelita’s Omoah said as she gently gripped the hilt of my sword and lifted it from my hands, this is light. Did you make it?

No, I said proudly, my Ahdah made it for me.

Well, your Ahdah certainly knows how to shape. This is a fine blade and balanced so well it would be easy to fight in almost any style. Vauriel studied the sword with an appraising eye. She sighted down the blade and examined the hilt and flat side of the blade.

When she handed it back, she asked, You’re right-handed, right?

I nodded.

Okay. Stand over there, she pointed to the only patch of grass in the whole ring, and show me a few slashes and strikes. Pretend that you’re attacking a tall, leafy plant.

I walked over to the patch of grass, feeling like I was walking onto a stage. I attempted to replay in my mind some of the maneuvers I had seen the combatants in the Games perform, but nothing seemed to stick in my mind.

I stood awkwardly for several long clicks before spreading my feet and slashing to the left and back to the right, shifting my feet as needed to keep my balance. The wind whooshed over the blade in a low pitch whistle. I ended the show with a short stab, grabbed the hilt with both hands and, spinning in the process, sliced the blade up and then straight toward the ground.

Very good, my instructor called. I can tell you like to practice with your swords. I think you’ll like sparring.

We ended the period of practice by throwing some small, heavy balls back and forth. Vauriel called them reflex balls, and she threw them toward me at random times. I had to catch them and throw them back to her and be ready for another. They hit me a few times, but I did pretty good and really struggled only when two of them came at me at the same time.

You did well, Jax, Vauriel said as I helped Kelita stash the bows in the shed. My instructor dumped the reflex balls into a bucket. I think you have the determination to learn whatever you want. I’ll help you get acquainted with the other aspects of the Games, and you can see which ones you like and want to compete in.

The three of us walked back to the barn. Kelita’s Ahdah flew in from his work at the stables. Kelita ran and hugged him. After her Ahdah picked her up, spun her around in a tight hug and set her back down, Kelita waved and called, See you tomorrow at school.

I nodded and lifted my hand, but she had already turned her attention back to the jig she and her Ahdah were doing. I thought for sure they were going to step on each other’s feet.

My thoughts drifted from one thing I had learned to another and back again. My fingers still throbbed from the bow string, and a bruise on my collarbone ached where a reflex ball had thudded against it.

My eyes did not take in the scenery as Gwarven and I passed over it. I was much too busy dreaming about sparring and winning the tournament. That’s why I saw it and thought nothing of it for several rays.

Chapter 3

A dragon’s shape shimmered in the slowly fading sunlight. Its scales shone white or maybe silver. My heart pumped faster. I had hardly thought of Tranto all cycle due to the Highland Games training.

The shape flew straight without casting a single look to either side. We would cross paths over one of the large lakes if we kept our current trajectories. The shape carried no rider and was outfitted with neither a saddle nor a bridle.

Franticly, I wracked my brain for a memory of what Tranto had looked like as a dragon. The only time I had seen him as a dragon with legs—and without being on his back—had been when he flew off after finding Raglod. I had been so upset then that I couldn’t remember the details of his dragon form.

Gwarven rumbled deep in her throat. It wasn’t a threatening sound, instead, it was more of a questioning rattle.

I patted her neck and peered at the silver shape descending toward the lake. Maybe it was going to land on the beach, or maybe it was Tranto and would merely tumble into the water, where he would hide.

C’mon, Gwarven, I said as a rush of energy caught me like the current of a rushing, mountain river. I lifted the reins and bent low over her neck. She ducked her head deeper and pushed more forcefully with her wings. An immediate rush of wind tugged at my clothes and pulled my head tails behind my back.

That’s it. Good, girl, I called softly as she sped faster and faster.

Below, the grass faded into trees, hemming in the lake on all sides as they sprouted from the hills. Boulders the size of two or three dragons raised their gray backs above the top boughs.

I eased Gwarven into an easy descent. Ahead, the silver shape sailed over the water so close that the wake of its passing made ripples shoot out in a wedge behind it.

When we crested the tree line and flew over the first small waves, Gwarven sent a chortle rippling over the water. Together, we stared intently at the silver shape.

It made no sound but cocked its head and took a brief look at us. Apparently, we offered less entertainment than it wanted because it shook its head, turned ever so slightly to the north and kept flying.

Black horns sprouted from the silver dragon’s head. The pretend horns Tranto had crowned his head with had been the same semitransparent gray as the rest of his body. Even though he could change the shape of his body, he had not been able to change its color. Further, the silver dragon had a pair of vibrant green eyes. Tranto had not used real-looking eyes in his disguise, merely eye sockets with