Gemsong Saga: A Boy Named Zephyr

Gemsong Saga: A Boy Named Zephyr

Copyright 2017 Ruu McKinney

Published by Ruu McKinney at Smashwords

Second Edition

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter 01: From The Gilded Cage

Chapter 02: The Old Man Of Dock 07

Chapter 03: Merchants Of The Abyss

Chapter 04: Life In The Rubbards

Chapter 05: Awakening

Chapter 06: Journey To The Tunesman

Chapter 07: Zephyr And The Mouse

Chapter 08: A Hidden Legacy

Chapter 09: The Abyss

Chapter 10: Refuge From The Storm

Chapter 11: The Generals

Chapter 12: The Rebellion Of Segment 07

Chapter 13: Light And Darkness

About The Author

Chapter 01: From The Gilded Cage

It was a mild afternoon in the nation of Lutia, and the perfume of freshly manicured grass and honeysuckle blossoms mingled sweetly in the breeze. Through verdant gardens and perched beside an open parlor window sat a young boy adorned in fine crimson linens.

The boy stared up into the cloudless sky and his eyes glimmered with an innocent wonder. High above him, merchant trade ships glided along with a gentle crystalline hum, as did transports and taxis. What transfixed this young boy's gaze however, was not the ships and vehicles, but rather the small figures that glided silently alongside them.

These figures were known to the world as flyers, and they danced gracefully across the skies from sun-up to sun-down, held aloft solely by the winds.

Naturally, such a talent was a commodity as precious as gold, and these flyers were sought desperately by the many noble houses of Lutia for that very reason. Those houses without a flyer in their possession would lie, cheat, steal, and kill to obtain one - Or find themselves readily deposed by those who did.

Because of their integral status, flyers brought with them great wealth and power. While the majority functioned as noble couriers and messengers, those of superior talent found superior work.

The more gifted found themselves employed by the larger noble houses and merchant fleets. Their talents there allowed them to move large amounts of cargo, or to speedily chauffer their masters at speeds unmatched by more pedestrian transportation. There were rumors too of those with darker roles. These elite examples were said to act as assassins and specialized soldiers, answerable only to the most powerful of houses.

Truly then, to be a flyer was a sign of distinction, and to possess one was a symbol of indispensable power. In the eyes of the young boy who gazed upwards into the sky however, none of that mattered. What shackled his imagination was the wind itself.

You have the potential little one, The young boy's nanny cooed, and one day you could... The nanny paused and corrected herself with a gentle smile, No. One day you will become a flyer. Just like them.

The boy looked up at his nanny and smiled, and she began to softly stroke his hair.

Though but a mere nanny of common lineage, her every motion was that of a nurturing mother, her every word laced with a sweet maternal fragrance. His simple smile warmed her soul and allowed her to find solace in this facade of a normal life. Though charged with his care by employment, her love came from the heart rather than obligation.

As a child of nobility, the young boy was equally dependant upon her. Save for the occasional visit on a holiday or birthday, the young boy was left solely in his nanny's care. Though his every material need was catered to, love was not a desire his parents had the capacity nor interest to sate. He was given only the minimum of attention, and only at times that might suit them. To them, he was little more than a sapling, left to mature until the day he might bear fruit. It was a fact that his nanny did all she could to forget.

She sighed in contentment as she ran her fingers through the young boy's hair, but like the seeds of a dandelion, their fragile serenity was quickly scattered. Today was the young boy's birthday, and as the sounds of footsteps echoed in the distance, the nanny's face grew pale.

The door to the parlor opened with a heavy creak, and the smile upon the nanny's lips withered instantly. Her once warm expression became hollow and doll-like, and she bowed her head in unquestioning submission, and quickly scurried out of the way.

Zephyr. called the cold woman in the open doorway. She held her arms out before her in feigned welcome but her face showed no signs of affection.

Behind her stood Zephyr's father, a stern expression upon his face. Zephyr, she said in a saccharine tone, we'd like you to come with us.

Zephyr leapt to his feet and ran to his parents. Are you here for my birthday? he asked with a squeal.

His mother's face distorted into an almost serpentine grin. Oh, but of course, she replied, we've waited a long time for this day. She pondered to herself for a moment, and her face washed in a look of gratification akin to a cat after flaying a mouse. It is a very special day after all.

Zephyr's father cleared his throat in annoyance. Stop spoiling him,

he snapped, we'll be late.

Zephyr's mother nodded and took Zephyr by the hand. Come now. she said as she lead him from the room.

The trio exited the parlor and walked in silence down the long hallways of the manor. With each step, the warmth of the sun seemed to fade behind them as if they were sinking into the demersal depths of some foreboding sea.

As they proceeded deeper into the interior of the manor, Zephyr's excitement waned, and he began to grow aware of the chill in his mother's hands. With each step, her touch grew more wooden, and the pangs of worry grew stronger within him. By the time they reached the darkly varnished door that marked their destination, Zephyr had begun to tremble.

His father opened the door with a hurried creak and motioned inside. Just past the doorway stood a man with squinted eyes and oversized goggles. Old, and ravaged by time, his face seemed to contort into a cruel smile that showed the dark glimmer of stained teeth as he looked Zephyr over.

His macabre expression stayed just long enough to stoke Zephyr's worry further and then the man settled into a cold and emotionless stare. With a sweep of his wrinkled hand, the man motioned to a chair behind him. Come. Right here. he instructed.

Zephyr's father looked down at him and, pushed him forward toward the chair. Zephyr stumbled and stopped short, so his father grabbed him tightly by the shoulder and sat him down forcefully. He exhaled through clenched teeth and then stepped back.

Invigorated by the abuse, the old man straightened his posture and clasped his hands together in glee. Well then! he exclaimed, Let the testing begin!

The ancient man hurriedly placed a heavy metallic crown atop Zephyr's head and without pause, he produced a small metallic tuning fork from his coat. He struck it solidly across the back of the chair and then turned to Zephyr. Well then, he hissed in a reptilian tone, how do you feel?

Zephyr peered fearfully back at the man for a moment and began to open his mouth to say something, but instead, he paused and settled back into a confused stare. The excited sparkle in the old man's eyes was quickly stolen and replaced by a look of disappointment.

Perhaps a stronger tone. he mumbled to himself.

The man disappeared behind Zephyr and rummaged through an old leather case for a moment before he returned with a larger brass fork in hand. He struck it firmly across the back of the chair and stared at Zephyr with bated breath. Well? he asked.

Zephyr's mother flashed his father a nervous glance, which was instantly met with a venomous scowl. Zephyr looked back at them in confusion. He hoped desperately for a clue or hint as to what they wanted him to say, but he received nothing but scornful glares.

There must be a mistake! Zephyr's father erupted angrily, Your machine is broken!

The old man spun around sharply, as if having just received a strong kick to the kidney. With a gaze of annoyance, he snatched the crown from Zephyr's head and turned to his parents. I think not, sir, he quipped, you see, my machine is infallible.

He paused for a moment, and almost seemed to chew the syllables like a crust of stale bread. Your child here, he began, simply has no talent. He paused once more to let the vitriol of his words sink in, and then watched in silent satisfaction as Zephyr's father flushed bright crimson. None... he said slowly, What-so-ever.

His words cut the air like a knife and pushed Zephyr's father over the edge. He beat his fist into the wall in a rage and then turned a fiery gaze upon the old man. This is preposterous! he howled, Do you have any idea how much we paid... For that!? His hands shook in anger as he pointed at Zephyr. Prove to us it works!

The old man narrowed his eyes for a moment and then threw his hands up in the air in resignation. He placed the crown atop his head and then struck the fork. As the crown resonated in response the old man simply stared back in distaste. I would suggest then, he said in a hiss, that you seek a refund.

The rage that had heated the room was suddenly extinguished. In its place, a bone chilling coldness crept in. Both his mother and father flashed Zephyr looks of intense disgust and then both turned in unison and stormed from the room.

Zephyr sat in the chair as tears began to stream down his face. He began to tremble, slowly at first, until he finally succumbed to panic and began to sob. I felt something, I know I did! Ask me again! Ask me again!

The old man finished packing up his forks and turned to Zephyr with a smirk laced with the bitter liquor of schadenfreude. Just another useless sheep. he said as he cackled to himself.

Without hesitation he levitated off of the ground and proceeded past Zephyr. When he reached the doorway however, he paused and looked back. I take that back, the old man said in a hiss, I'm sure you will be plenty useful, at least for a few hours. The man laughed in a dark, nauseating cackle and disappeared down the hall.

Frantic footsteps soon approached, and after a few moments, Zephyr's nanny appeared and quickly scooped him up. Her face was streaked in tears, and she tried desperately to compose herself.

Come now Zephyr. I know what they will do to you, and I simply can't bear it, she said in a wavering voice, I know a fellow who will take you in. Come along now.

Zephyr stared up fearfully at her and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

Take me in?

His nanny quickly brought a finger to his lips. Don't you ever think any of this was your fault. she pleaded. She squinted her eyes, and fought desperately to keep them from filling with tears. They are monsters, every last one of them. But now is not the time for that. We must hurry.

She grabbed Zephyr by the hand and pulled him to his feet with an uncharacteristic force and then lead him out of the room.

...

The nanny rushed Zephyr quickly through the maze-like halls of the manor until they came to the servant's entrance. She hurried Zephyr through the door and lead him down a long flight of stairs to a stone walkway that led to the entrance of the manor.

As they approached the polished bronze gates of the estate entrance, several of the older landscapers caught sight of their approach and set their shears down solemnly. It was not the first time they had seen such a sight, and they bowed their heads in silence as they passed.

Just ahead of the gate, two watchmen barred the path. Without hesitation, Zephyr's nanny reached into her satchel and produced a necklace and a handful of coins. The nanny offered the fistful of coins and began to speak as the first guard looked up, but he quickly stopped her. He looked down at Zephyr for a moment and then back at the nanny. After another moment, both guards stepped aside with an understanding nod. They too had seen this before.

Zephyr's nanny bowed graciously to them and then led Zephyr onto the gilded streets of Lutia.

It had been years since Zephyr had last set foot on the cobblestone streets of Lutia. Though its shimmering facade was just as he remembered it, the passerby that walked its streets made it abundantly clear that Lutia's beauty was only skin-deep.

The women they passed in the streets wore garish makeup and finely woven dress, but their stares were empty and cold as they passed, and their words to one another little more than back-handed compliments.

The men of Lutia made no efforts to conceal their voracious gazes, and they directed them openly and with as much frequency towards the nanny as to Zephyr. Their struts communicated an air of superiority just as clearly as their gaudy jewelry communicated their wealth.

Amidst the pretentious social displays walked servants, their eyes locked to the ground in subservience. They passed in silence, like ghosts, and walked in a narrow lane at the edge of the road. They were adorned in dull grays and browns and kept in step with their masters' gait regardless of the loads they carried.

They continued down this road until the merchant docks became visible in the distance. Despite her heavy breathing, Zephyr's nanny pushed forward at a break-neck pace. As they approached the docks, the shadows of two hulking ships at anchor seemed to crawl down the walkway after them, biting at their heels in the setting sun as the nanny pulled Zephyr up the gangplank.

Please! she called out with her heart in her throat, This boy, he was just tested and he... She paused to catch her breath before she continued, but it was of little use - Her voice cracked into a hoarse whisper with every attempt to speak. Frustrated, she grasped desperately at the arm of a nearby deckhand only to be shaken away like a mosquito. She reeled back for a moment and then charged forward with a clenched fist. Dock 07 of the Rubbards, please! she cried out.

The large deckhand turned and shined a glare of repulsion at them. Just behind him and concealed behind a group of rough looking deckhands sat an ancient and addled old man perched upon a weathered chair. Several of the deckhands followed the nanny's gaze and moved between them in an attempt to block the old man's view, but they were too late.

The old man peered forward at her with squinted eyes, but just as it seemed the nanny had met his gaze, the man's attention evaporated, and he was reclaimed by the lure of sleep.

The large deckhand looked back for a moment with an arrogant smirk and began to approach. We don't have time to be dropping off more second class rubbish. he scoffed, Besides, I'm sure someone is paying top dollar for him even as we speak.

The deckhand reached forward to grab them but froze in place as a voice as rough as the cracking of old parchment carried through the air.

Hmm, what's that? I can't hear you. Bring them over here, now wouldn't you?

The deckhand cringed and his smug smile instantly collapsed into an expression of disappointment. With a twitch of his eye, he motioned briskly towards the old man and stepped aside. The nanny quickly rushed past with Zephyr in tow, anxious not to lose the opportunity.

This boy... she began, He tested negative. Dock 07, please! There is a man there, he fixes ships. Could you? Please! I'm begging you! The nanny's eyes pleaded desperately as she stared into the old man's cataract ridden gaze.

The skeletal man peered back emptily for a moment before a dull twinkle appeared from behind the curtains of narcolepsy.

Dock 07... he said to himself slowly, as if sipping the words like a fine wine. The old man paused and almost seemed teeter back and forth in his chair as he thought. As the old man bobbed to and fro, a nervous pressure built amongst the crew, and the deckhands eyed Zephyr like a pack of famished wolves. Hmm, I don't mind. No, not at all. said the old man, once more alight with a spark of clarity. Hmm... Dock 07...

The nanny pushed Zephyr forward and bowed profusely to the ancient captain. She made eye contact with Zephyr once more and instantly crumbled beneath the weight of the ordeal. Unable to contain her tears any longer, she embraced Zephyr once more and then quickly disembarked from the ship.

I'm the controller of this ship you know. stated the old man matter-of-factly to Zephyr.

Zephyr looked up at him nervously as he flashed a wily, toothless smile.

Dock 07, Rubbards, the old man shouted hoarsely, prepare to set sail.

Prepared to set sail! repeated the surly deckhand in a booming voice.

The deck erupted in a series of shouts, and the deckhands ran back and forth as they tended to their duties with the tenacity of a swarm of bees. The surly deckhand narrowed his eyes once more at the nanny and then pulled in the plank and tended to last minute preparations.

Now ready for sail, a warm, resonant hum filled the air, and within seconds, the ship had lifted weightlessly from its dock. Zephyr stood at the edge of the deck and grasped the railing tightly. His eyes were locked upon his nanny as she waved a ragged scarf in farewell, but as the distance between them grew, the nanny fell to her knees and sobbed violently in the twilight.

Zephyr was lost. He had no understanding of what had happened, or what would become of him and his nanny. With a thousand questions, he peered out from the deck across a tangerine sky. The irony was inescapable - The wind he had always wished for now whipped across his face and stung his tear-streaked cheeks, and all Zephyr could think about was going home.

Lutia was his home and the only place he had ever known, but like everything else in his life that day, its visage grew smaller on the horizon until it disappeared into the sunset. The gilded coasts of Lutia were now replaced with the violet hues of nightfall, and an endless horizon of clouds that churned and coursed beneath them like the currents of a stormy sea.

Chapter 02: The Old Man Of Dock 07

Sunrise unveiled itself upon a hazy horizon, and Zephyr stirred from a fitful sleep. In the distance, countless plumes of smoke came into view, and with them, the first glimpses of the sullen and sterile landscape that was the Rubbards.

Land ho! shouted the still brooding deckhand as he flashed Zephyr a dagger-like glare.

Zephyr's first glimpse of the Rubbards stole his breath. Unlike the open air and verdant lawns of Lutia, the Rubbards were a land of refuse. Perched atop dull islands of granite stood large factories, in-between which laid wall-like masses of rusted metal, patchwork panels, and crumbling concrete. Their grimy and peeling facades spanned high into the skies, and their countless windows hung with ragged and tattered clothing.

These walls of crumbling buildings pushed right to the edge of the islands, and only a thin retaining wall stood between them and the sharp drop off to the swirling abyss below.

Between these buildings and the abyss stood several box-like buildings that perched like bird houses upon the sheer rock wall, just above the cloud-line. Each building was marked with peeling numbers that defied any order or reason, and only a handful of them looked even remotely habitable.

Just ahead, Zephyr caught sight of a large number 07, painted on the side of one of the box like buildings. The ship cut a wide and graceful arc through the air and reduced its speed until it drifted lazily towards the metal structure.

Four long docks extended from the building, and the ship rotated slowly around them before coming to rest alongside the outer-most plank. As the hull settled upon the dock floor, the warm hum that had carried them through the night ceased. There was but a brief moment of silence before the crew swarmed across the deck and prepared to disembark.

The deckhands worked with a precision and discipline that belied their surly and rough appearances. They systematically secured the ship and extended the gangplank and then flashed Zephyr a simultaneous glare of disdain.

Here is your stop, young one. rasped the old captain, May the winds guide you well.

The captain looked around vacantly for a moment. Their surroundings seeming to jog something in his memory but it quickly sunk back into the depths. With