***
“Try it then,” the nurse whispers as she pulls me gently off the bed. It’s been almost two weeks since my return home, and I am itching to test my body’s limits. My nurse is finally too exasperated to stop me. “Just don’t call me if your stitches pop open.”
Stitches. Skin grafts. Painful surgeries and a marred body. No amount of magic has fully healed my broken body. Still, I am alive. I take it slowly, spinning my wrists with loud, creaking joints. A small breeze ripples around me, just enough to lift tiny tufts of my hair. Carefully I spin, barely lifting my feet off the ground. Dancing in twirling arcs, I revel in the wind whipping around me. In this moment, I am not a prince of the Déchets, nor am I a priest of the Windwalkers. In this moment, I am infinite. I am destruction. I am the epitome of life and death, an omen of chaos and doom. I am going back to Cassé. I howl into the tornadic cyclone around me, fueling its fury with my rage. There will be nothing left of the land by the time I am finished.
Chapter 14
“You’re going to have to work together,” Siri protests as I pace the cavern floor. “Cyrus is—”
“I want nothing to do with him,” I shoot back, itching to hit something. I’m surrounded by nothing but stone and Siri. The act would probably break my hand, but gods, it would feel good in the moment!
“Iris—”
“No, Siri! Train us separately. I cannot bear to look at him,” I mumble, the feral, animalistic part of myself threatening to overtake me. I feel the panic rising from deep inside my chest, my eyes darting around the cavern for someplace safe to hide.
Siri must be able to feel my anxiety. When she answers, her voice is soft, and her words are spoken slowly. “Okay, we will do it your way. But there will have to be a few instances where we train as a group. There are just some things that cannot be learned or taught alone. Like it or not, you will need him in the end.”
“What is there to learn exactly?” I bark, wrapping my hands around my neck in an effort to keep from lashing out. “You fly and I ride. What more is there?”
If you must ask me that, it just proves how little you know. Siri’s voice booms through my mind. Her words clang around in my head as though my skull is a bell, and her voice is the clapper. I feel my spine twitching as the Ddraig’s words finally fade from my hearing.
“So, you read my thoughts,” I surmise, holding my ears as if that gesture can somehow keep the Ddraig from speaking again.
Thankfully, her next words are spoken aloud. However, after hearing them, I rather wish that they were forgotten. “It’s so much more than that, Iris. I feel what you feel. I know you as though you are a second body for my soul. I can even take control of your limbs if I choose. I can make you say or do anything I wish. You have the same hold over me, Cadogan. What you must learn is how to navigate the depths of a Ddraigs mind, to be able to exert your control over me. A Ddraig’s mind is far more complex than your human brain. In addition to that, we must practice and hone your Gwen abilities. Then there is the connection that I share with Suryc and eventually the one you will have with Cyrus. When you and Cyrus bond,” Siri forges ahead before I get the chance to interrupt her, “You will be connected to Suryc just as strongly as you are to me, and Cyrus—”
“Enough, Siri. I get it. There’s a hundred different things I have to learn about being a Cadogan. I’m sorry I asked.” Slumping against the cavern wall, I drop my head into my hands. This is all so overwhelming. I don’t even know where to start!
Raise your head and look at me, first Cadogan of the Ddraigs, Siri demands, and I feel a lancing pain in my neck forcing my head to obey her wishes. Siri’s silver eyes swirl and dance with a thousand subtle hues. Mesmerized by the sight, I cannot turn away. Thankfully, when she uses her mental connection with me this time, Siri’s words float through my thoughts like a whisper. There will come a day when all of this is second nature to you. I do understand that everything seems impossible right now. However, time is fleeting, and we must find the other Cadogans soon.
“Why even ask?” I whine, feeling too sorry for myself to really care about Siri’s explanation. “Couldn’t you just compel me to do what you wish?”
I will always give you the right to decide what happens next, Iris. You can choose to keep Cyrus at bay if you wish, you can wash your hands of us all, and I will respect your decisions. Siri rises then, stretching her lithe body to its limits, her iridescent, ivory scales rippling with color as she moves. Just ask yourself this first: are you prepared for the consequences? Like it or not, the life you have been living is gone. Right now, in the coming days, you will have the opportunity to determine the fate of Cassé. Are you going to stay broken in this cave, or are you going to fight? “There can be no in-between,” Siri finishes aloud, disappearing back into the cavern tunnels. “Let me know when you decide.”
“It’s hardly a choice,” I grumble, scurrying after my Ddraig. “When do we start, Siri?”
I watch my own hands as my arms move without my control. Touch your nose. The Ddraig’s instructions radiate in my skull so forcefully that I jump to obey. I end up slapping myself hard with both hands.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” I whisper, feeling heat bloom in my cheeks. “That was terrible, Siri! Please—”
“See what I’m saying, girl? I’ve got to learn how much power to use on you too. What if I need you to jump a specific distance, or throw something at our enemies? I can’t have you acting as a danger to yourself or those that are around you. We need all the practice we can get!”
***
As the days turn into weeks in the Pith, a stagnant routine manages to overpower my emotional breakdown. There is some semblance of comfort in the repetition. Every step, every breath, every heartbeat numbs my mind. I am sleepwalking, but I am surviving. Cyrus chooses to sleep in the caverns near Suryc, so I make my bed in the surface sands. I rise before the sun heats the granules, long before the moon lays down to rest. After a meager meal of whatever can be found, I drop back into the cavern in search of Siri. I suspect she sleeps nearby, but every time I come to find her, Siri is already awake and waiting for me.
I keep myself away from Cyrus unless we are working with our Ddraigs. He attempts to speak to me at every opportunity. I slink away from his presence as quickly as possible. I cannot reconcile the images of the little boy outside my window, the scarred, contrite man I see before me, and the brutal leader I know him to be as the same human being.
Siri puts me through my paces at a relentless rate. She spends most of our time learning how to force my body’s movements. This must be how a puppet feels, I muse one day as my hands wrap around a tree trunk and my feet search for footholds on the rough bark. I am a marionette, and Siri pulls the strings. I’ve gained many a bruise and scrape from her failed attempts to maintain control.
“When am I going to try and compel you?” I question one day after another fall. “My backside could use some recovery time, Ddraig!” Not to mention, I’d dearly enjoy watching you tumble for a change! The only response I receive is my aching limbs hoisting me up for another practice session.
In the evenings, the Pith overwhelms me with its strangeness. I hate being underground. Every time I look at the cavern’s roof, I imagine myself entombed in a casket of rock. One earthquake and I’ll be crushed under the weight. Somehow, with the heightened darkness of the impending night, the cave ceilings appear even more precarious. I spend as much time as possible above ground just to feel normal.
Tonight, I watch the stars as they glitter with mockery, clouds swirling amidst them to join in their laughter. That’s all my life has become—a colossal farce. Cane warned me not to trust Siri, and that concern grows stronger every day in my thoughts. Has all of this been wrong? The Ddraigs have stolen everything I’ve known and loved. Does that mean I was wrong to attach myself to things? Or is my presence here my biggest mistake?
“You’re avoiding me, I get that. But don’t you think that we should at l
east endeavor to create some level of comradery between us?” Cyrus remarks as he plops into the cooling evening sand beside me. “Back at the House….” He stops suddenly, as if realizing that mentioning our past might set off the emotionally charged powder keg that I’ve become. “Back home, I would sometimes climb up to the roof to watch the skies. I used to think about my actions during the day, imagining all the ways I could have done better. I’d get so frustrated with myself for losing my temper or being shortsighted. And I always felt guilty for everything that I did to hurt you.”
“I don’t care to hear any of this,” I sigh, drawing blindly with my fingers, my eyes never leaving the stars.
“I know that,” Cyrus barks angrily beside me, his fingers burying deep into the sand to keep from lashing out at me. “I’m not stupid! I know that you hate me!”
“Don’t you think I have earned that right?” I snarl, rising up from my spot in the sand. The serenity of this place outside the Pith caverns broke the moment he showed up.
“You’re a hypocrite, Iris! A self-righteous hypocrite!” Cyrus matches me step for step, the both of us leaving a trail of empty footprints in our wake. “I know everything that occurred in the House of Vultures left scars on you, literally and figuratively. But dammit, haven’t you done things that you wish you could take back?” Cyrus stops me with his hands on my shoulders, as if he intends to shake the life out of me.
Tears prick in my eyes as the faces of the lost ones dance before me. “I hate myself for killing Hawk! Even Creeper! Their faces never leave me! They are constantly appearing to me, like ghosts. I am haunted, Cyrus! I regret everything—”
“As much as I regret what was done to you, no doubt.” Cyrus runs a hand along the nape of his neck, the strength of his argument leaving him with his admission. “Can’t you find some shred of pity for me in all of this? Call it grace or mercy…call it whatever the hell you want, but can’t you at least try? It’s not like I am able go back and rewrite the past, Iris. But I swear to you that I will make it my life’s mission to protect you. No one will ever scar you again, if we can find a way to move forward.”
I hustle toward the cave’s entrance. “You keep apologizing, like it’s going to magically fix everything that’s broken between us. But they are just words, Cyrus! They are as brittle and fragile as glass. All it takes is one mistake, and they are broken beyond repair. You ask for grace and mercy; where is yours? You’re only trying to make yourself feel better, but you are smothering me!”
Before I can get out of reach, Cyrus’s hand catches my wrist, securing me in my place without hurting me. “What’s it going to take to get you to at least try to be my—?”
“If your next word is ‘friend,’ I will kick you so hard, you’ll never have kids.”
The hand around my wrist slowly falls with a deep sigh. “Iris.”
“No!” I shout as a ripple of power forces the sand up like a wave. It dances around us like a host of flies swarming on a fresh kill. Laughter cackles through the breeze as its strength forces me to slide toward the cave.
“Move, Iris! Get inside the cavern!” Cyrus bellows as he hurls himself toward my back, pushing me along to safety. He jumps into the cave first, a painful sounding crunch and a yelp reaching my ears as he lands on the stones.
I dive into the hole without thinking. Cyrus already stands, and he manages to balance me before I face plant into the rock. Pain causes sweat to form on his brow. “Get deeper into the tunnels. Find someplace to hide!”
“You’re hurt.” I notice blood blooming in the fabric around Cyrus’s right knee. He limps as he pushes me deeper into the shadows.
“I’ll be fine; you get out of here! Just protect yourself!”
I hurry to do as he wishes, cramming my slight frame into a tight crevice along the walls. Come on, Cyrus. Get out of sight! I hold my breath as I listen for the slaps of Cyrus’s footfalls, praying he’s right behind me. I may loathe the man, but I’d rather have him here than be forced to endure all of this alone, I admit. However, no such sound echoes in the cave. The seconds settle around my feet like the grains of sand I see there as I wait. My spine chills when a familiar voice finally calls out to me.
“Mynah, where are you little girl?” The speaker’s tone is silky from years of never having to shout. It strokes my ears as the realization of who speaks twists a betrayer’s knife deep in my back. Antero, that incessant little fly, drawn back to me once more. “You know, after all those weeks of prying around in your mind, I never learned your true name. Maybe you have stronger mental capabilities than I realized.” Antero cackles at his backhanded compliment.
I hear a struggle, the echo of clenched fists connecting with soft flesh. It seems to go on for hours, and with every strike, fear grows in me. What if Cyrus loses? What if Antero gets away from him and makes it to the Ddraigs? What does he intend to do with us? Are their more Windwalkers this time? Are they circling outside, waiting for the signal to come inside and overtake us all?
A broken moan roars through the expanse before Antero calls out once more. “I have your friend; found another pitiful weakling after your heart? Aren’t you just a little wh—?” A crunch of boots and bone echoes through the caves before Antero can finish his slur. “Call out for your Ddraig, Mynah! If she comes willingly, I will give you back this boy.”
“Obviously you don’t realize how foolish you sound. She’d never in a thousand lives give up even an hour of her existence to save me,” Cyrus exclaims bitterly. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Oh, I don’t think so! I mean, Mynah helped me even after she learned that I was her enemy. She didn’t tell you who I am? I’m shocked! Still trying to protect me, little Mynah?” Antero teases me, throwing my good intentions back in my face. I hear him beat on Cyrus a little more, using the sounds of the attack to torture my mind. “That girl may hate you, but she’ll still help you. Mynah won’t be able to handle the thought of you hurt by my hand, not if she had the opportunity to stop me. Her blind heart will be her doom.”
Eavesdropping on their conversation, I soon understand how much Antero had gleaned just by observing me. He is right. No matter how much I may dislike Cyrus, I’d never forgive myself if I left him alone under the threat of such an unscrupulous zealot.
I creep out of my hiding crevice, careful not to let my feet strike loudly on the stones. Slipping through the shadows, I slink closer to assess the situation. A cage of sand whirls dangerously around Cyrus. The granules twirl so rapidly that I see some leave bloody trails on Cyrus’s arms and cheeks. Anyone who tried to walk through the swirling sands would be cut to ribbons immediately. Antero stands outside the sandstorm, one hand raised and pointing toward Cyrus. The priest’s nose, I note with a shred of heartless satisfaction, pours blood from its swollen shape. The skin around the bridge is already purple. Cyrus must have broken Antero’s nose when he was insulting me.
“Mynah!” Antero yells as the tornado builds and becomes a frenzied, howling storm that outgrows the cavern, trailing out of the hole in the ceiling. “Bring me your Ddraig or I kill this boy and come for you myself!”
My mind blurs the lines between present and future, reality and imagination as I witness what is to come. “There you are,” he will announce, drawn to my location by the strange whiteness that appears in my eyes when my Gwen abilities arise. It is strange to see myself in this vision, to gaze upon the empty white space where my pupils and irises should be, twin beacons that glare through the darkness. Then the vision bursts into a blinding flash of fire, and fades, in the end, to ashes.
The words pour softly from Antero’s mouth exactly as I’d foreseen. But before he can command his tornado-like cage to ensnare me, a golden eye opens behind me, long jagged teeth revealed by a sneering pair of lips.
The wind stops immediately when Suryc opens his jaws and clamps down on Antero’s body. The force of his teeth jabs through muscle and sinew, spraying blood all over us. A brilliant yellow fireball rears to life in
the space, consuming the body of the Windwalker and quickly floating out of the cave’s mouth. Cyrus falls heavily to the ground as the last screeching scream dies, his breathing labored and shaky.
“Dead—Antero is truly dead, then?” I ask, unable to trust my words. Is it real this time? Death for this boy truly is inevitable, isn’t it? And if Antero is dead, then what did any of my attempts to save him ultimately accomplish? Longer suffering, more hardships, and finally the same end that I could have given him weeks ago.
“But you wouldn’t have had me if you’d just killed him when you found him,” Siri answers my thoughts as she appears at the mouth of the tunnels, her eyes trained on Suryc and Cyrus. “It is real this time though, and that ball of fire is a new problem for us.”
“What? You mean Suryc didn’t create it?”
A weary broken sigh escapes from the Ddraig. “Nope. You didn’t tell me your Windwalker was a royal.”
“Well, I didn’t think it mattered, Siri. With everything else we’ve had going on here of late, the fact that Antero was a royal seemed low on the list of things to mention.” I shrug as I examine Cyrus’s wounds. “Your knee looks rough. Let me—”
“I’ll borrow strength from my Ddraig,” Cyrus interrupts me stiffly. Within seconds the damage disappears.
Fine, I huff, facing Siri once more. “What’s the big deal?”
“The royal Windwalkers are spelled, protected by magicians’ charms. It’s a safeguard that has been a tradition among the higher courts for centuries. That ball of fire is a memory. It will burn until it returns to the Déchets castle to stand witness before the king. Everyone in Déchets will soon know that their prince has died, and that he was murdered by their precious ‘weapon of the Piths.’ We’ve just fired the first shot into war, Iris. We need to expedite your training and get the other Ddraigs bonded to their Cadogans as soon as possible. Train them, teach them to protect our lands, and ready them for battle.”
House of Vultures Page 21
