The One Who Could Not Fly

by E G Stone

  Soldiers. An army. This was the Red Palace’s collection of fighters. Miska had brought her here?

  Ravenna tugged on her hand, trying to pry it from Miska’s grasp. He released her and turned, frowning. “It’s alright. I promise.”

  She pressed her lips into a thin line but did not say anything. Miska watched her for a few seconds before nodding and turning towards one of the soldiers coming their direction. This man was shorter, broader, and had enough grizzled lines in his tanned face to be of some importance in this arena.

  “Miklos! We never see you out here,” the man said, clasping arms with Miska. He caught sight of Ravenna and let out a low whistle. “Well, I heard there was a winged being in the Palace, but I thought it was just rumour.”

  “No,” Miska said. “This is Ravenna. Ravenna, this is General Garreth Murdoch. He leads the Desert Army. General, Ravenna needs to hit something. Preferably living.”

  Ravenna blanched and backed up. This was some sort of joke, surely.

  Miska reached out to stop her, but he did not touch her. Just held her in place with a silent plea in his eyes.

  General Garreth seemed to notice the interaction but made no comment. He just let out a chuckle and nodded.

  “Gods know I get like that sometimes. Things are terrible enough that nothing’ll fix it but wailing on a few people,” he said. “Ravenna, come with me. I’ve got some people you can spar with.”

  General Garreth started walking away without looking over his shoulder.

  Ravenna hesitated. She looked up at Miska. “Why?”

  “So you can release some of the anger,” Miska replied. “And so when you do face your demons, both living and nightmare, you won’t do so without experience behind you.”

  Ravenna sucked in a breath. She nodded. And, just as she was stepping away to follow General Garreth, she reached out and squeezed Miska’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. Miska brushed a strand of her hair away from her eyes.

  “I just want to see you well,” he murmured.

  Ravenna turned and walked across the sand, only looking back at Miska once.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The soldiers were more than pleased to have Ravenna there. There were three younger men, a middle-aged woman who looked like she would rather be elsewhere, and General Garreth. He jerked his head at the gangliest of the youths. “Get Ravenna a practise blade.”

  The youth ran off in a puff of dust, returning a moment later. He presented the light wooden blade to Ravenna with a bow. She took it and tried to ignore the way her body filled with adrenaline and a hint of joy.

  “This idiot here is Harrow,” Garreth gestured to the gangly youth. He nodded his head to the next, a stocky boy who looked to be barely on the cusp of adulthood. “Canin. And Orion. This she-devil here is our training master, Vareis.”

  Ravenna nodded as each person greeted her in turn.

  Vareis quirked an eyebrow in Ravenna’s direction that had her wings bristling. She took a calming breath and forced herself to relax.

  “Ravenna is to spar with us today. Vareis, I leave her in your very capable hands.”

  Garreth did not wait for a response. He just brushed past Orion and walked off, leaving Ravenna with the open-mouthed youths and the hardened Vareis. The woman jabbed her thumbs through the belt holding her practise blades. She took a long look at Ravenna, eyeing the scratches on the sylph’s arms and the ice in her eyes.

  Ravenna, for her part, looked back. She saw stern lines and black-and-grey hair that was tied back in an elaborate braid. Vareis had more muscle than the youths she was meant to be training and her leather armour was well worn.

  “How old are you, anyways?” Vareis asked. Ravenna considered not answering, but there was no point.

  “I was born during the last lunar eclipse over the sea,” Ravenna answered. She did not know how these humans measured time, but surely they could remember such an event.

  Vareis raised her brow, glancing at the gangly Harrow. He frowned and considered before nodding eagerly and chirping, “Four or five-and-twenty cycles, I would reckon.”

  Ravenna shrugged. “As you say. Though I don’t see what it matters.”

  “You’re awfully young to have that look in your eyes,” Vareis replied. “That’s all. Now, we’d fit you with a spare set of padded pieces for today, but nothing’s going to fit over your wings.”

  “I will go without,” Ravenna said. She was used to it.

  Vareis did not question her. She nodded once, then barked at the three gawking humans, “Get to running!”

  They scrambled to take off, jogging around the flattened sand area. Ravenna hesitated for only a second before joining them. She recognised that the ground under her feet was not forested ground. She was not jumping over tree stumps or reaching for overhanging branches to clear dips and divots in the ground. This was not Shinalea. But the feeling of running again, of wind moving over and under her wings as she folded them for optimal speed—it was beautiful.

  Ravenna ran faster, catching up with the others, before settling in beside them. Harrow threw her an exhilarated grin. To her surprise, Ravenna returned it.

  She ran beside the other humans for five laps of the arena before Vareis ordered them to stop. Ravenna slowed her feet, her wings stretching to catch the wind. Harrow and Canin stared at Ravenna where they stood, their mouths slightly agape. Orion didn’t even seem to notice Vareis in his way as he stared. He stumbled into the training master and she barely caught him before they would have fallen to the ground.

  “Well, looks like I need to teach these louts how not to get distracted,” Vareis grumbled.

  Ravenna pulled her wings in, chest heaving. At least the others were breathing just as hard. But perhaps Miska had been right; she had not been keeping up her strength, only focusing on how little appetite she had.

  “Alright, so you can run. Now let’s see how you get on with a few simple warm up exercises,” Vareis said. She slapped Orion on the back hard enough that he stumbled and looked at the training master with a hint of alarm in his eyes.

  Harrow snickered.

  Ravenna went through the exercises with the other humans for the rest of the morning. She stretched and contorted her body into positions that were completely unfamiliar. She lifted crates and tossed sandbags. And, just before the midday meal, she was taught the proper technique for holding a sword and a few positions in which to wield it and strike her enemy. Nadezhda’s face replaced the sandbag in Ravenna’s mind a little too easily. She struck. Again and again.

  Finally, wings nearly drooping with exhaustion, Ravenna turned to find Miska standing a few feet away from her, an expectant look on his face. Vareis caught sight of the servant as well. She swung her practise blade through the air, scowling.

  “You’re back,” Vareis said. Miska nodded. “You’re probably here to tell me I have to let these weaklings have a break for food or something, aren’t you?”

  Miska nodded again, a wry smile spreading across his face.

  Vareis sniffed. She shoved her blade at Orion, who fumbled it before managing to cradle it in his arms. “Alright, you louts. You get one hour for a break. If you’re not back here by then, we’re going to have to hunt you down. Now go on, get out of here.”

  The three youths wasted no time in doing exactly as their training master had ordered. Harrow paused only long enough to turn and wave at Ravenna before he ran off in the direction of the barracks, tiny puffs of dust following in his wake.

  Vareis turned back to Ravenna.

  “Are you planning on returning this afternoon?” she asked, hands on her hips.

  “If you’ll allow it,” Ravenna said with a dip of her chin. “That is, unless the queen has another task for me?”

  Miska shook his head. “No, you are free to do what you wish.”

  “Good.” Vareis nodded firmly. She pointed at Miska, jabbing her finger into his chest. “But you have to get her some proper clothes. And shoes. Those scraps
of fabric are going to do nothing to protect her feet. And those idiotic loose clothes that the rest of you insist on wearing are only going to get in the way. Find her a proper tunic, proper breeches, and proper boots. Or you’ll have me to answer to!”

  Miska, to Ravenna’s surprise, laughed. The sound was far more musical than she would have expected, almost beautiful. Miska bowed at the waist with a sweeping gesture. “As you say, Lady Vareis.”

  “Hmph.” Vareis turned and jogged away in the direction of the other trainees, leaving Ravenna alone with Miska. He held his arm out and Ravenna did not hesitate before slipping her arm through his. For once, the brush of skin on skin did not bother her. In fact, it felt almost like she was walking with a friend.

  “Thank you,” Ravenna murmured. Their path crossed into the gardens. Miska led Ravenna down a path that she had not yet seen.

  “For what?” Miska asked, looking at her in surprise. “For retrieving you? I thought you would have enjoyed your morning.”

  “No, I did! I was thanking you for bringing me there,” Ravenna said. She brushed a strand of sweat-damp hair from her face. “I haven’t felt like that since…”

  Miska turned her down another path, leading to a sheltered pavilion surrounded by a small pond. “Since what?” he asked, holding her hand lightly as she stepped across the small bridge and into the pavilion. Ravenna turned to look at him over her shoulder, knowing he deserved an answer even if she did not really wish to give it.

  “Since the Pits.”

  Miska visibly flinched. He released Ravenna’s fingers and stumbled into the pavilion, nearly colliding with a table and chairs. She saw that it had been set up for an outdoor luncheon, with dishes of all colours and smells assaulting her senses. She had never seen so many types of food before. She could not even name half of the things that had gone into the dishes. Yet, despite her growling stomach, Ravenna went first to Miska. She waited until he looked at her so he could see her face, see what she said.

  “You think this was…like being a slave?” Miska asked, voice breaking.

  “The day Lord Davorin bou—found me,” Ravenna said, correcting herself before she could make a dangerous slip, “I had just fought in a tournament. I had never been in a fight before being in the Pits. Two slaves, Radim and Tekko, they helped me learn, but it was only a small amount and hardly enough against a slave who had trained for years.”

  “Please,” Miska begged, reaching out to grasp Ravenna’s hand. He shook his head. “Please don’t—”

  “This matters,” Ravenna said flatly. She pulled her hand away. “I had been barely trained and had only my sylph exercises and my own abilities to help me. And yet I fought. And I won. I was capable and no one was going to hurt me again. That’s what it felt like. I was wrong, but in that moment, that feeling saved my life. And that’s what it felt like again today.”

  Miska sucked in a harsh breath. “You will never be hurt again!”

  Ravenna snorted. “You can’t possibly think that. The world is far too cruel, Miska. But I can fight back.”

  He pressed his lips together in a tight line, his green eyes shone with moisture. He looked like he wanted to promise again that Ravenna was safe, that she would never be hurt. She turned away before he could say something foolish and naïve. She strode to the table and sat in one of the chairs, her wings spread so the back would not crush them.

  “Tell me what these foods are,” Ravenna said.

  Miska hesitated, rocking back on his heels. He let out a slow breath and sat in the chair opposite Ravenna, his expression still stricken.

  “This is called Baruti. It’s a fried ball of ground bean paste that’s been seasoned with our local spices,” Miska murmured, pointing to a bowl of brown balls, garnished with a green sprig. Ravenna took it and bit into the morsel.

  “It’s good,” she said around her mouthful, surprised. Miska’s brows drew together and his eyes widened.

  “What?” he asked. “I would never!”

  Ravenna swallowed, realising that he could not understand her when her mouth was full and unable to articulate the words. “It’s good,” she said again, clearer. Miska blinked and blushed, his reddish complexion darkening greatly. “What did you think I said?” Ravenna asked, tilting her head.

  Miska shook his head. “Nothing.”

  Ravenna raised an eyebrow, disbelieving.

  “I’d rather not say,” Miska said, the blush deepening.

  Ravenna shrugged.

  For the rest of the meal, Miska pointed out foods for Ravenna to try. It was as friendly and polite as before, but Miska kept blushing and smiles played upon his features. After a while, Ravenna found herself smiling in return, enjoying each tidbit of food. Her feathers rustled in alarm as she ate something Miska called a “curry” that put a fire in her mouth. He laughed as she downed the thick fruit juice to soothe her tongue. Then there was the slightly sweet pastry with chopped nuts and honey. Ravenna ate two of them, sucking her fingers for any extra sweetness.

  By the end of the meal, she felt more relaxed than she had since Shinalea. This was almost better, though, because she was not surrounded by the silent and taciturn Intellecti as they poured over their tomes. She was with someone who truly seemed to enjoy her company. It was a strange feeling. One that had her feathers fluffing slightly and her smiles growing wider.

  Finally, there was nothing left to be eaten and Miska stood to escort Ravenna back to the training arena. He assured her that Vareis would allow her to finish her day’s training in the clothes she had, and that something would be found for her for tomorrow.

  She enjoyed the slow walk back through the gardens as her body adjusted to the comparatively enormous amount of food she had eaten.

  “Queen Lenore is holding a ball in two days,” Miska said as the greenery became dirt.

  “A ball? What is that?”

  “It’s a party. There is dancing and a banquet and even some entertainment,” Miska said.

  Ravenna nodded.

  “We have similar things. We call them fetes.” She used to love fetes, before learning that she would never be able to do the flying dances that all sylphs performed. To dance on the ground was for the nearly-dead and the elderly—even Queen Mariala had refused to dance on the ground. The food was exquisite, but Ravenna could always have good food another time. After she had torn out her feathers, she had never attended a fete again. She had only looked on to the barely-discernible flying figures over the Aerial City from her vantage point in the Tower. Then lied to Tacitus that she had gone to bed early and her tears were non-existent. He had never pressed her.

  “Queen Lenore would very much like you to attend,” Miska said, jarring Ravenna from her reverie of a stolen past. Miska winced a little. “Actually, she’s already had the seamstresses working on something for you.”

  Ravenna quirked a brow. “Oh?”

  “It would mean a lot to her if you would come,” Miska said, squeezing her hand where it lay on his arm.

  “Are you going?” Ravenna asked. It would be better to attend a fete if she had someone she enjoyed spending time with there, too.

  Miska froze. Ravenna turned to him, frowning. His eyes were wide and his expression unreadable. Ravenna’s frown deepened. Miska coughed and forced out a smile. “I will be working.”

  “As a servant.” It was not a question. Ravenna knew he had duties and that he wouldn’t always be able to come when she asked, despite Lenore’s statement otherwise. So why did that make Ravenna’s feathers flatten?

  “It is my duty,” Miska said, inclining his head in a nod. “I will be there to serve drinks and food.”

  “But you’ll be there?” Ravenna asked, that tiny kernel of hope blooming once again. Miska nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Good. I don’t like fetes. I don’t want to be alone.”

  The words were spoken before she could stop them. She hoped that Miska had not understood, had not read her lips properly and that the statement could just fall into oblivio
n. But he squeezed her hand all the harder and whispered words, causing an odd feeling to grow in her wings once again. “You’ll never be alone again.”

  Ravenna replied with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes, hoping to hide the confusion that lay in the icy depths. Miska, though, was far too observant, and seemed to notice everything. He paid too much attention. Ravenna was not sure she liked it. She was not sure she did not, either.

  “There you are! Thought we’d have to send out a hunting party,” Vareis bellowed as Ravenna and Miska crossed the training yard. The other three trainees were already there, though given Canin's state of breathlessness, he had arrived only a heartbeat before Ravenna. “Miklos! Away with you before you distract every busybody out here.”

  Miska bowed at Vareis, smiled at Ravenna, then turned and strode back to the Red Palace, power in his steps. Ravenna turned her gaze to Vareis. The woman studied Ravenna for a moment in silence. She nodded.

  “Alright. Now. You kept up well enough this morning. Tell me, have you had any fighting experience?”

  “Only what I faced in the Pits,” Ravenna answered. Harrow choked on a gasp. Orion and Cain exchanged wide-eyed glances. Vareis, though, just snorted and shook her head.

  “Slave fighting. Brutes, all of them. Don’t know anything about precision. We’ll have to teach that out of you, girl.”

  Ravenna liked the training master. She shifted her wings, revelling in the stretch of her muscles. “There is the Dalketh, too.”

  Vareis’ eyes sharpened. “Dalketh?” she asked, her mouth slowing over the unfamiliar word. “Show me!”

  Ravenna bit back a smile and skipped a few steps back from the others. Her wings flared once before settling into the starting position. Peace filled her bones as she went through the fighting dance. This was not the elaborate figures that the other sylphs had carved through the skies during their fetes. This was Ravenna’s dance. And she loved every movement.