Feather Dance
I felt bad about leaving Drew back in Argentum City while I returned to Wolfram Village on the spiny back of a skarmory that, somehow, became even knifier in the saddle area while its trainer was out skiing. But at least I left him with my phone number for when he finally figured out which questions he wanted to have answered. First, he was likely to focus on studying the temple and figuring out the connection between it and the dramatic change in Argentum's climate. Who knew how long that would take? Maybe he'd even call some of those geology friends of his. I wondered if they would be able to figure out the events with Salamorder even before I told him my story. I guess I'd find out how smart the guy turned out to be.
As soon as we landed on the wooden gangplank near the Wolfram pokémon center, I thanked Nova for the ride but insisted, "I really have to get out of these snow pants." I was still wearing the entire ski getup that had proven necessary to prevent my blood from turning into an iron-flavored Slurpee. A few people were out and about along the raised walkways, mostly heading toward the establishments specializing in food—nearing suppertime and all. A few hung around talking to one another or just trying to stay out of the way. None would mind a teenage boy stripping off a few superfluous layers, I assumed.
She frowned at me. "I warned you Wolfram was going to be about twenty degrees warmer than Argentum was."
"Twenty?!" I said. My voice was muffled as I yanked the snow suit over my head. The collar temporarily got caught on my chin until my neck popped. After that, it slipped right over my ears and I was able to breathe again. I still wore a t-shirt that I had to straighten out. "Twenty degrees? It's more like thirty-five." I dropped the snow coat and started on the billowy pants.
"Yeah, I was using Celsius," she said.
"I got news for you. We won the war."
Nova frowned again, this time cocking an eyebrow pointedly. She had really flexible eyebrows. "What war?"
"The war against people who want to base temperature on water. I mean, come on. What sense does that make? At least Fahrenheit is based on human behavior. Who cares what temperature water starts to boil? I care what temperature people start to boil, and that's about a hundred degrees."
"That's interesting," Nova said. She ran her fingers along the side of her head. Her skarmory pressed its head up against her shoulder and drew her attention. She turned to give the bird a berry from her pouch while she continued talking to me. "I know people in this region use Fahrenheit as a supplement to Celsius, but I've never heard it explained that way before. You think of Fahrenheit as a scale of temperature's effect on humans versus Celsius as temperature's effect on water."
"That's right." Being without shoes of any kind left my feet cold. But how was I supposed to wear boots with the gym shorts I had on under the snow pants? That's just crazy talk. I had a pair of running shoes in my bag.
"But one hundred degrees is not the maximum temperature a human body can withstand," she added. "Nor is zero degrees the lowest."
"It's pretty much all the body can handle on a regular basis," I said. "You can't stay in colder temperatures for more than a few minutes without suffering hypothermia. And if your core body temperature rises any higher than that, you'll boil your innards."
"Fascinating," she said. If she weren't just humoring me, then it didn't take an awful lot to impress her. "You're, of course, not saying the scale is perfect or even that it applies exactly to every single person, but it does seem pretty close when you think about it. I suppose that is a fair argument for favoring the use of Fahrenheit in certain discussions."
I said, "Glad I could help."
I was also glad the conversation was over. My strip show had drawn the attention of a woman a few years older, just standing on her own by the edge of the gangplank. Her hair was a dull red color, wrapped up into the tightest bun I'd ever seen. She wore a black cloak over her shoulders. Judging from the lack of color in her face and neck, I guessed the cloak was meant to shield her skin from sunlight. The last pale woman I met turned out to be a captain for Team Omega. I decided to approach, at least getting close enough to see if the woman had red, albino eyes. If she did, I was ready to call Elly and defend myself.
The woman shied away from my gaze but did not turn to run. She was the worst spy I ever saw… unless she wanted me to know she was watching me just to keep me scared. But her body language didn't agree with that possibility. If anything, she appeared to be disgusted with me, turning away to let me know she wished I would leave.
On approach, I noticed she was even shorter than I was—maybe an inch or two over five feet tall. When I finally got too close, she scowled at me and barked, "Excuse me. What do you want?" Her eyes weren't red. But they weren't natural, either. Gray eyes? I'd never seen that. It could be the perfect color for someone trying to hide, though.
"You look familiar," I said, squinting at her face.
The lady turned her whole body away this time. Seeing her from all angles showed me her petite figure. Her facial expression before I lost sight of it suggested that I was creeping her out. "Why are you squinting?"
"Squinting makes it easier to see people critically," I said. "Funny how no one ever taught me that. I figured it out all on my own."
"You don't say," she said wryly.
Nova stepped in to save me. "I'm Nova. He's Gus. We're just in from Argentum City."
"I'm sure it was a lovely trip," she said, continuing her dry tone. Notice how she avoided asking any questions? That was because she really wanted us to move on without scrutinizing her any further.
"I got it!" Suddenly her identity dawned on me. Well, not her identity, really. But I remembered where I saw her. "You were at the casino when I was in Cuprum City! I remember you. Blackjack, right?"
Her back still to me, she turned her puzzled face to look me in the eye. Now she was trying to figure out if she'd ever seen me before. "That is my game. The odds tend to be as good as they'll ever get in a casino that way. I never remember seeing you there, though. Of course, I would probably just as soon ignore a child in that place as I would other leering men. My guard is usually up given all the drunkards trolling for dates."
"There's a connection between alcohol and lewd behavior?" I said as if hearing it for the first time. "I wonder if anyone has studied this relationship." In fact, it's true. I rather enjoyed the look of sheer incredulity given by both women. "Come on. I was kidding. You two act as if I never watched television before."
The lady allowed as much as the corner of her lip to curl up in what could, if someone reeeally wanted to see it, be construed as a half-smile. "For all I know, you're from the smallest, backwater village in the entire region."
"Which is exactly why TV kept me sane," I said, allowing her to believe I was from the tiniest village in Perioble. You know… because it was true. Changing the subject to something more significant, I asked, "What's your name?"
The lady displayed enough of a sociable façade to answer. "I go by Nette L. I'm only in town long enough to meet with Byrd."
"You're meeting the Gym Leader," I said. "Does that mean you're a trainer, too? I plan to challenge him to a gym match tomorrow. Maybe even this evening if I get over there before he closes up for the night."
"He won't see you today," Nette said. Shaking her head emphatically, she added with drawn-out words, "Neeever sees anyone without at least threeee days' advance notice." She also held up three fingers to make her point. Her tone as she drew out the words led me to believe she thought it was a stupid rule.
I cocked one eyebrow as I considered her comment. A question formed in my mind. "I thought it was advanced notice." So I didn't voice it as a question. Oops!
"Advance notice," Nette assured me. "Advance means 'ahead of time.' Advanced means 'on a higher level.' It all comes down to the definitions of words. " Nova nodded her agreement.
"I've heard it both ways," I said. The conversation really deserved no more defense than that. "Three days, though? Is he really that busy? I haven't seen but maybe three trainers come in to challenge him the whole time I've been training here," I said.
Nova spoke softly to me. "You were only in the gym for one day." I hushed her lest she spoil my point.
"Trainers aren't his only time allotments," said Nette L. "He always plans his entire schedule seventy-two hours in advance with everything from challengers, training appointments, masterclasses, sessions with his own pokémon, and time spent on self-development. Plus, I heard he goes out most nights each week to clubs and bars and that restaurant that does the karaoke—Canary's, maybe. I think he's looking for a girlfriend."
"Really," Nova asked, though with her inflection it sounded more like a statement lacking any surprise. "I would have thought a guy like that would find women to be cesspools of manipulation and falsehoods."
"Apparently he's hitting that age where he thinks it's time to get hitched," Nette said, "regardless of whether or not women interrupt his oneness with nature. Sadly for him, I could never date someone who could not defeat me in battle." The ensuing wink was a little too coy for my taste. She struck me as the type who would declare herself superior to anyone she defeated in battle, and yet if she did find someone who achieved victory, she would hold a grudge until she became strong enough to retake the title, at which point she would lose respect for the person who once beat her. It was a vicious cycle with women like that. This woman was undeniably talented as a pokémon trainer, but she was clearly a prima donna.
"You've beaten him in battle already?" I asked. "What kind of trainer returns to a gym where she already earned a badge?"
"One who does not place the value of her self-worth on trinkets but recognizes that an opponent beaten today may be strong enough to turn the tables tomorrow." She frowned disapprovingly at me. No doubt she was judging me for not knowing the answer to that question prior to asking her.
Before she could annoy me into saying something I might regret, Nova stepped in to ask, "Why does Byrd schedule his days so strictly? That seems strange coming from a man whose demeanor is very go-with-the-flow."
"Byrd holds himself to the highest standards of diligence. A lot of people make greats efforts to reduce their workload and make every day a vacation. The Jinn Temple rejects that notion. According to their core tenet, the way to a fulfilling life is to keep busy."
"That sounds hard," I said.
"I think it sounds smart," Nova said, contrasting my comment. "If all you do is lounge around, then what good is a vacation? You have to work through whatever bitter days come your way in order to appreciate the sweet feeling of relaxation."
Nette nodded her agreement. "That's part of the philosophy. One of the ways to ensure you are properly assiduous is to plan your days. For most people, making a to-do list is good enough. Byrd prefers to manage his schedule down to the hour. Personally, I do not mind engaging in idle chit-chat as long as the occasion is rare." She looked down at her wrist. "Sadly, the time has come for a prior engagement. I must leave you now." She offered a nod that lasted just long enough to pretend she was leaving with a modicum of respect for the two random children she met.
"Bye," Nova said. "Good luck with Byrd!" All I could offer as a farewell was an amused scoff combined with a slight lift of the chin as if to say either, "What's up?" or "Bring it on." Nette turned around too soon to see it either way. She gave a stiff-armed wave in response to Nova's parting words.
"Oh, she's wily," I chuckled, amused by her whole personality.
"What do you mean?" asked Nova.
As if the facts were as plain as day, I said, "She wasn't wearing a watch. There was nothing on her wrist at all. She just wanted to get away from us."
"So what?" Nova asked. "Some people lack the skill to hold conversations with people they do not know. Maybe she even lacks the desire to be seen as friendly. Could be she is terribly shy. Possibly some sort of trauma in her past shaped her temperament this way."
"That's true. Come to think of it, when I saw her at the casino, I was talking to a marshal who pegged her as a child runaway."
"Oh, the poor thing," Nova said. She looked genuinely sympathetic to the woman who was so rude to us not two minutes ago. "Sure, she's an adult now, but maybe she's scared to talk to people because she's afraid her location will leak to whomever she ran away from. I guess that means Nette L. is just a pseudonym. I wonder what her real name is."
It didn't really concern me. Nette didn't appear to be in danger of anything, except maybe someone slapping her for being so brusque. She seemed to regard me more as vermin than as another human being. But that's just a first impression. We could still turn out to be best friends! After all, I may make a decent first impression and a lousy second, but my third impressions are outlandish!
"Suppose she's right about the three-day waiting period," I said. The sun was not far from setting, but the birds were still out and about. Silhouettes of large birds dotted the horizon. "I think I'll go see Byrd now and put in my reservation for a match. That'll still give me three days to get ready. Or maybe I'll get lucky and he'll count today as the first day so I only have to wait two. Either way, sooner is better, right?"
"You make a good point," Nova said. "I'll go with you."
Wolfram Village was normally a quiet place. Whatever issues might normally pop up from rodents or bugs living the trees were pretty much quashed before they could arise by the sheer bird population. Even when people chose not to train their birds for battle, they still exercised other useful behaviors, such as aerial delivery and collection of items. I saw a pidgey fly past with a written letter tied to its ankle. A hoothoot wrapped its talons tightly around some package shaped like a broom.
Even with all of that natural hubbub, the volume of bird noise going on this particular evening was insane. I could hear feathery wings flapping like a hurricane blowing through. There could be no more squawking and chirping piercing my ears if I were in an aviary. Turns out that was an apt comparison because the Bird Gym had been transformed into just that. The front gate to the gym itself was chained off, but the area right outside where the sky was visible and clear was crowded—full to the brim. Possibly every citizen of Wolfram packed into wooden bleachers lining the walkways along with several dozen tourists. I even recognized Walter when he waved at me—the guy from the information hut with the infatuation for long vowels. I waved back, but there was no open space nearby him for me to claim. A grand gathering had taken place while Nova and I were out of town. Whatever the occasion, we made it back just in time to see what the commotion was.
"Ooo, hot dogs!" I said, hurriedly moving to a street vendor. He had parked his cart right down the way from the bleachers and was making a killing off the congregation. After I ordered my two hot dogs and tried to forget about the last time Brooke told me how they were made, I asked the vendor, "What's going on out here?"
He was a stout man with thinning hair, which he tried unsuccessfully to hide under a chef's hat. His expression was peeled into a look of such glee as I'd not seen in a long time.
"You mean you don't know?" he said. "Today's the Wolfram Air Show." He had the kind of accent that made him sound like he should be hairier than he was.
"Whaf fa Larval Air Foe?" I asked, my words distorted by a mouthful of hot dog.
"You must be tourists," he said, finally sizing up me and Nova. The fact didn't seem to bother him, though. He kept the smile. "It's where the local gym leader and some of his trainers put on a grand display of techniques and maneuvers that can only be described as aerial dancing. It's really a fascinating sight to see these birds fly in loop-the-loops, smoke formations, and general razzle dazzle." He pointed to the small stage in front of the gym's gate where a woman was stepping up to a microphone. "Oh! You'd better hurry! It's starting!"
"Okay!" I replied, not intending to mock his level of enthusiasm the way I did. But seriously, the guy talked with exclamation points at the end of every sentence. No one should be that happy about a bunch of birds flying around.
With the bleachers full, Nova and I found some standing room where we could lean against on the street signs. She elbowed me gently and pointed to the microphone. "Look who it is." Shortening the microphone stand so she wouldn't have to stand on her tiptoes to speak was none other than my new BFF: Nette L. Her cloak was drawn back over her shoulders, presenting her dark purple corset dress with black tights underneath and enormous stakes sticking out of her knee-high boot's heels into the floor underfoot.
"That's totally not the look I imagined for her under that cape," I whispered to Nova.
Finally Nette found the adjustment for the microphone stand that she needed. It was time for the Wolfram Air Show to begin.
"Ladies and gentlemen and children gathered here this evening, welcome to the Wolfram Air Show. I am Nette L. of the Elite Four and I will be your narrator for this event." Not only did she know how to speak elegantly in front of a huge crowd, she was capable of dropping a bombshell in the middle of a sentence.
"The Elite Four?!" Nova repeated. "Of course! I knew the name sounded familiar. I've just been pronouncing it wrong. I never thought the E on the end was supposed to be silent." She looked at me excitedly. "She's our region's ghost-type specialist. Isn't that incredible? We actually met and spoke to a member of the Elite Four!"
I was right there with her. "My BFF is a member of the Elite Four," I uttered in star struck amazement. Matched only by the regional champion, the Elite Four comprised the greatest collection of pokémon trainers imaginable in Perioble. There was nothing I would ever learn that those four trainers didn't already know.
"The maneuvers you will see demonstrated here this evening are coordinated, tactical techniques that were developed by fanatics of bird pokémon during peacetime training and during actual combat. These maneuvers are neither stunts nor daring feats but are refinements of basic techniques taught to every bird pokémon trained for skill and battle. Our team will perform these aerial maneuvers for you today at low altitudes so that you can view and take pride in the level of skill taught to and attained by the trainers of your Wolfram Bird Gym."
Four trainers dressed in orange polyester jumpsuits stepped up as Nette introduced them to the crowd, each accompanied by a prototypical bird pokémon carrying some kind of berry. One was led by a large and healthy pidgeotto. Its colorful plumage looked sleek and shiny. One was led by a plump staravia with the kind of curl in its crest that resembled a cowlick. One was led by a slender tranquill. The mauve feathers around its eyes contrasted its black and gray down, giving it the illusion of attending a masquerade ball. The fourth trainer was led by a twitchy fletchinder. Every movement was faster than the eye could follow; from its graceful hop to the way its head moved instantaneously each time something caught its eye.
The four trainers spoke to their pokémon. A split second later, all four birds shooed from the ground and made rapid strides to climb to higher altitudes. As soon as the last one left the ground, all four assumed a tight-knit formation in the shape of a diamond in the sky. They turned and flew straight toward the sky. Despite the dramatic difference in the size, shape, and distribution of mass between them, the four pokémon managed to mimic one another perfectly, as if it were really just one bird up there with three shadows. Suddenly streams of multi-colored smoke began to billow from the tail ends of the bird as they arced through the sky, righting themselves for just a moment before they began to dive. They broke the dive in different directions, trailing another stream of colorful smoke as they traced the shape of a pokéball in the air. Within moments the smoke dispersed and the pokéball looked like a piece of popcorn exploding in the microwave. The crowd oo-ed and ahh-ed at each new maneuver. Visually, the presentation was very exciting.
The diamond formation resumed with a steady climb. Holding tightly together—so tightly they could keep each other warm on a snowy day—all four birds rolled 360 degrees through the air in the exact same motion, timed with such precision it was like all the bodies possessed a single mind. My eyes were so riveted to the sight I couldn't even hear Nette describe the technical names of the maneuvers to us. After just a few more techniques displayed from the diamond formation, those four birds descended and returned to roost upon the ground.
Two new trainers stepped up, each accompanied by a different pokémon. The next bird to take off was a lanky fearow. Its size gave it swift access to the upward thermals and it achieved perfect control over its ascent. It was no higher than fifty feet when it began to barrel roll constantly while still gaining altitude, spinning infinitely without ever breaking its trajectory. When the sixth bird—a noble-looking braviary—took flight, it reached the same height of fifty feet just as swiftly. But this bird suddenly pulled its beak straight into the sky and assumed a sheer, vertical climb. At its zenith, the braviary just as sharply made a U-turn into a harsh dive aimed straight at the ground. The bird pulled up at the last possible second, nearly brushing the walkway with its belly as it swerved back into the air.
The fearow and the braviary turned toward one another as if targeting for a flyby. Two seconds after they began to fly toward one another, they each rolled until their colorful crests were visible to us and their bellies faced the sky. As they approached one another, they rolled again—each in a different direction—so that they passed by unharmed and returned to a righted position. Each of them turned toward the ground and descended sharply. On their way down, they swirled around one another in flawless synchronicity until they landed and returned to their trainers.
"And finally," spoke Nette L. Beside her stood a man dressed in a fancy, pinstripe suit complete with a fitted fedora and an inordinately long feather sticking out of the ribbon. "The man you've waited to see: the Gym Leader himself, presenting his Sialiary Squad of Six, performing their patented blah blah while holding a blah blah without any blah blah." My BFF could really drone on when everyone just wanted to see the pretty birds do some aerial daredevil stuff! Byrd took several deep bows and really absorbed the praise being thrust in his direction.
But I'd never seen a sialiary before. At least I was familiar with the other birds so far. All I knew about these birds was that Elliott had mentioned having one. I slipped my pokédex out of my satchel and took a look.
194-Sialiary
Blue bird Pokémon
[Flying]
Average Height: 3'9"
Average Weight: 79.4 lb.
Evolution researchers have cited this pokémon more than any other. Because of its evolutionary lineage, this creature was one of the first pokémon to prove evolution is not strictly part of the aging process. Evolved from saberaeus. Evolves into algesus.
A quick look showed me that saberaeus was a sort of scarab-shaped pokémon while algesus was rather equine in appearance. I could understand why there would be a lot of confusion when sialiary was first discovered. Even my discerning eye saw nothing out of the ordinary: a bird shrouded in sky blue feathers with fringe feathers of violet on the ends of wings and the tail. Its beak was long and crooked, probably perfect for picking bugs out of tree trunks as snacks.
Once Byrd's six pokémon were aloft, the six brethren sialiaries assumed a formation like a stack of bottles at the county fair: three, two, and one. Flying upward above the position of the waning sun, they arced back downward and each released a stream of white smoke. The formation remained so tight while the entire group whirled through the air that for a moment, one bird disappeared behind another. The lines of smoke were as perfectly placed as the lines on a music staff.
The sialiaries maintained their V formation as they swooped low over the crowded bleachers. They completed a full circle to ensure everyone had a sufficient opportunity to see them for all their splendor and realness. No illusions for this show. When the circle completed near the gym gate, Byrd threw six berries into the air. Several onlookers gasped as they worried what might happen when obstructions were thrown in the birds' path. The only minor break in formation was when each bird snatched a single, imperfectly-thrown berry out of the air, but the formation returned almost instantly.
For the grand finale, the six birds turned to climb straight up into the sky. Their smoke trails changed color behind them right before they all split off into separate directions, leaving behind the image of a huge weeping willow formed from the combined billow of clouds as its six limbs dragged back down toward the gangplanks below.
Nette wrapped everything up by leading a round of applause for the six trainers and their fabulous teacher. I admit they earned it, but setting off the fireworks was probably Byrd going a little overboard with soliciting adoration.
As soon as the thought occurred to me, I rushed the stage to tell Byrd I wanted to challenge him in three days, but with the deluge of spectators pouring out of the bleachers temporarily blocking me, Byrd had time to disappear before I could even see which way he went. The six trainers from the show lingered to talk to the fans and sign autographs (seriously, people?), yet somehow Nette L.'s ambience awarded her the bubble of personal space she no doubt desired to maintain. Aside from waving and shouting questions from a short distance away, no one accosted her.
Except me. "Hey, Nette. Long time no see," I said casually. She showed no outward appreciation for my joke, but I'm sure she was laughing on the inside. Everyone loves a good irony joke. Sighing, I added, "Man! That show was pretty cool. I'm glad I made it in time. I was seriously hoping to get my name on Byrd's list so he can pencil me in three days from now, but he practically disappeared while I was stuck in that crowd."
"If I told you where to find him, do you intend to follow?" she asked me. Her eyes were expectant and eager, almost like she really wanted me to go with Byrd and leave her alone.
"I do. I need that badge," I said.
"Very well. He has gone to attend the evening vespers at the Jinn Temple. You'd better hurry if you wish to do the same. Shoo! Go on! Scram!" That BFF of mine was so funny, especially the way she prodded me on so hard with her knife-like fingernails that it kind of hurt a little.
"Thanks, bestie!" I said. But the urgency in her voice was real. I would need to hurry to the temple if I wanted to catch Byrd before the night ended.
Nova didn't have to follow me, but she claimed that, being a visitor, she never previously bothered checking into the local religion. Her plan had been as simple as mine: train at the bird gym for a few days, earn a gym badge, and move on. But not once had she been instructed to make her appointment for a gym challenge ahead of time. Maybe stopping in would give us not only a chance to make our appointments but also add a little insight into how he functioned.
The temple wasn't too hard to find. As I mentioned before, the entire village was like the world's most ambitious tree fort, stringing together vast stretches of treetops to connect people whose homes were built into tree trunks. But for whatever reason, the Jinn Temple sat smack dab in the middle of a clearing—or whatever you call the treetop equivalent. No tree branches came anywhere near it, and I could see why. A robed man walked an elongated circle around the temple, slashing anything that threatened to provide the temple with too much oxygen. Honestly, it made no sense whatsoever.
Unless maybe he was just trying to preserve the immaculate placement of the tiles along the upward-curving roof. A thousand obtuse U shapes lined the double-eave roof in violet, alternating between an upward and downward opening. The roof was supported over the temple by eight weatherworn pillars. Each pillar was decorated with two wooden carvings exquisitely crafted into the shape of a short, pudgy bird with two tail feathers extending almost as long as the pillar. Each bird sculpture perched facing toward the pillar so that their tails crossed in the empty space, except for in between the two center pillars. That space was left as an entryway to the temple.
The entire weight of the temple was supported by the trunk of a giant tree, sawn off at the foliage for maximum flatness. After all, who could worship without a level floor? Six different staircases and ramps led from all parts of the village to this temple.
"At least it's not too extravagant," I said only half joking.
"Clearly you have not been inside," said Nova. I shuddered to think, and rightfully so.
It turned out the temple was not truly two-level, except perhaps along the exterior of the roof. Inside was a single, cavernous cathedral lavishly decorated with silk tapestries and ornate panels. Commandments and psalms crawled along support beams and ceiling rafters. Oak pews still reeked of fresh lacquer as they lined the floors between four red-carpeted aisles. Stained glass windows wrapped around the center of the high ceiling. Every colorful window was topped by a star designed in such a way as to appear ten-pointed along the outer rim and yet only eight-pointed within the interior. Six concentric circles encompassed the star.
But the most important feature of any place of worship is the altar. This one was impossible to miss, right there in the back of the cathedral atop a raised dais. Like a skinny pyramid erupting out of the ground as high as the nonexistent second story, the dais presented a glass case for all to see no matter where seated. And inside the case was a violet-and-green pokéball.
Thanks go to Psychotic Ralts and A Sea of Sound for contributing Nova and Nette L. to the story. When I first came up with the idea for this story I wondered how I would introduce the members of the Elite Four. Treating one as a celebrity host for the air show seemed like a nice way to do it. If you're curious, the background music for that air show is called Hot Shots! Main Theme. At least, that's what was going through my mind the whole time I wrote it.
And once again, Riverlightillusion earns my thanks for proofreading this chapter for me.
In the next chapter, Gus and Nova will find out the focus of the local religion isn't merely a legend. With Indusylph's pokéball in the open for all to see, Gus knows Team Omega will be along soon to take it. He and his pokémon will have to find some way to ensure the Omegas never get their hands on another legendary pokémon.
Trivia: Sialiary = Sialia (genus name for bluebirds) + aviary (a large enclosure for keeping birds). As per the strategy I've established, I am not the Name Guy. Pokémon species names are pretty simple from me. Even the species itself was designed to be rather simple save the evolutionary line alluded to in the pokédex. More on that later, though.
