Wings of Shadow

by Nicki Pau Preto

  “Ignix!” a voice cried from below, echoing in the silent courtyard. The last time Tristan had seen this phoenix, she’d been carrying a captive Veronyka into the sky before dropping her from a sickening height and then exploding in a violent rage that seared half Val’s face off.

  “It’s okay!” another voice called out. Was that Elliot? It was, and after putting the armful of whatever he’d taken from the dining hall on the ground, he added, “He’s a friend.”

  Rex, meanwhile, was spoiling for a fight—snapping his beak and tossing his head as they flew up and down in place, still blocked by Ignix.

  Easy, Rex, Tristan muttered, not wanting to insult his bondmate’s pride by suggesting that he wouldn’t last five minutes against that ancient creature—but, well… he wouldn’t last five minutes.

  At last Ignix turned her back on them and joined the others, landing in the courtyard below. Rex released a puff of sparks, his head held high, then followed her.

  As soon as they reached the ground, another phoenix swooped over. Jaxon, Elliot’s bondmate. Tristan left Rex with him and hurried to the others.

  The pale-haired person was Sparrow, and she was crouched over the prone figure of Morra. Tristan’s stomach clenched with anger and fear, until he truly saw the state Morra was in—her body bruised and broken and clearly left for dead.

  Elliot, meanwhile, was sprinkling herbs into a steaming cup. Tristan caught the scent, his nostrils stinging from the pungent brew, and Morra coughed. Ignix loomed over them all, watching closely.

  Whatever she had done, Morra was suffering, so Tristan pushed aside his resentment and eased behind her, gently helping the woman sit. There was blood matted into the hair on the back of her head, red welts banding her neck, and her remaining leg was swollen and bent at an odd angle. Her skin was ashen and waxy beneath the scratches and smeared blood, and her movements were halting and frail.

  Now that she was upright, Elliot held the cup carefully to Morra’s lips. Her eyes opened, and she forced down a gulp.

  “Disgusting,” she muttered, and Tristan took that as a good sign.

  “You should know,” Sparrow said brightly. “You made it.”

  Morra chuckled at that, then began to cough. It was clear she was badly hurt, and she seemed weak beyond her injuries. Wilted.

  “Where are they?” Tristan asked, not wanting to push but realizing with a pang that if the strixes weren’t here, he or the other Riders on patrol must have missed something. He craned his neck to look around and saw that Rex had already done that, swooping back from a flight around the area. He shook his head, having found nothing.

  “They left,” Elliot said. “We were hiding out in a cave, getting ready to head back to Prosperity, when Morra reached us. Or reached Ignix, rather.” He spoke a bit uncertainly, and Tristan understood the feeling—this world of ancient phoenixes and legendary shadow magic still felt slightly beyond his grasp too.

  “How did no one see?” he asked.

  “They went underground,” said Elliot. “There are tunnels underneath the Eyrie. Some of them lead outside, but others connect to networks that lead all over Pyrmont.”

  Like the mine outside Rushlea?

  “Veronyka,” Tristan muttered, moving to stand—but then Morra’s hand shot out, gripping his arm with surprising force.

  “Where is she?” she asked, her voice jagged as broken glass.

  The others were staring anxiously. Even Ignix’s attention was fixed on him.

  “Why do you care?” Tristan asked, unable to help the censure in his voice. “You betrayed her. Betrayed all of us.”

  She didn’t, came Ignix’s voice in his head. I have seen her mind. Everything she did, she did for Veronyka. To delay Avalkyra. To buy us time.

  Tristan looked down at Morra, gravely wounded. Proof of Avalkyra’s wrath. Of the cost of Morra’s actions.

  “Forgive me,” she said, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I tried to do right by her, by all of you. I fear I have failed.”

  Tristan nodded, but it wasn’t his forgiveness she needed. Not really.

  “Veronyka, she’s…” He swallowed, sensing that there were larger problems than the strix army to worry about. “She’s in Rushlea with Avalkyra. She is going to try to capture her.”

  “She’s not alone, is she?” Morra asked, her hand on Tristan trembling.

  “No… she’s there with my patrol. I’m sure they can get away. I’m sure…”

  That’s when Tristan really noticed what had made such a mess of the courtyard. It wasn’t just random rubble and debris. There were curved bits of broken rock, smeared in black filth, and in the center was a pile of smooth stones… No, not stones.

  “She has grown her ranks,” Morra said, following Tristan’s line of sight. “I thought she had gone alone, but they followed soon after.”

  It couldn’t be.… There were so many.

  They had been prepared for an ambush, for a betrayal, but not of the winged variety. And even if they had, they’d have expected twenty-odd strixes, not however many dozens more had been hatched here.

  Worse, their plan was to hold Val’s reinforcements inside the mine, but strixes would not be so easily contained.

  They’d be slaughtered.

  I will go, came a voice booming into his mind. Ignix crouched, ready to leap into flight, but Tristan held out a hand.

  “Wait!” Then he turned his attention inward. Veronyka! he shouted into the bond. Rex edged nearer, sensing his bondmate’s distress, while Ignix’s head whipped around to stare at him sharply.

  Tristan had trouble telling if Veronyka heard him at the best of times, but right now, with his blood pounding in his ears, he could barely hear his own thoughts, never mind any of hers.

  What are you doing? Ignix demanded, breaking his concentration.

  He stared up at her, then around at the others. He supposed it wasn’t much of a secret anymore. “We’re bonded. I don’t have shadow magic, but she does. I should be able to reach her.”

  A human bondmate…, Ignix mused, tilting her head consideringly. Like Nefyra before her. She turned to Rex. Support your Rider. Your magic amplifies his.

  Tristan had never seen Rex obey an order so quickly. The phoenix was pressed against his side in an instant, and his warm, solid presence bolstered Tristan’s heart, if not his magic.

  Veronyka? He tried again. Are you there? Are you okay?

  “It’s no good,” he said, intending to stand again, but Morra held on.

  “She must not touch her,” she said urgently, chest heaving with the effort. “Do you understand? She must not let Avalkyra touch her, and she must not under any circumstances kneel.”

  “Is Avalkyra going to try to kill her?” Tristan asked. Veronyka would never willingly kneel to Val… unless she thought it would save lives. Unless there was no other option.

  “You are not Veronyka’s only human bondmate. Avalkyra intends to repair their fractured bond. Then she will chain them together more completely than ever before.”

  The benex to her apex, Ignix said solemnly. Morra nodded.

  Chain them together? Tristan didn’t know what any of it meant, but it didn’t matter. Val wanting to hurt Veronyka was one thing, but her wanting to bind them more tightly together was something else entirely.

  Veronyka! he tried frantically, again and again… but there was no response.

  Day 22, Third Moon, 180 AE

  M,

  My situation grows precarious, and I must cease all contact. I have done all I can for them, I think. Now it is your turn.

  Remember what I told you. Remember your promise.

  Together.

  They must rule together, or Avalkyra must not rule at all.

  —S

  Even the strongest among us could be led astray, and the weakest could be lost entirely.

  - CHAPTER 46 - VERONYKA

  VAL’S OUTSTRETCHED ARM WAS frozen in place, hovering in the air mere inches from Veronyka’s own. Take it
, and Val would spare them.

  Veronyka wrenched her hand away.

  Tristan was calling for her, throwing everything he had into their bond. The communication was frantic, confusing, but amid the din was the overwhelming feeling that whatever Val wanted, Veronyka should not give it. There was something else, too, some other important warning, but Veronyka couldn’t discern it amid his panic.

  The instant Veronyka pulled back, Val’s nostrils flared, her lip curling in a dangerous snarl.

  The next few seconds would make or break their chances. Make or break them all.

  Veronyka reached behind her back and withdrew the commander’s cane and the concealed blowpipe within. Val reared back, perhaps expecting a blow, but Veronyka wheeled the weapon around and aimed it at the villagers holding Latham and Loran instead. Two quick bursts of air, and the two of them staggered away from their captors, who crumpled to the ground.

  Run! Veronyka shouted at them. She had no idea where their phoenixes were, but hoped they were unharmed and somewhere nearby. Xephyra was already diving down toward Veronyka, but then a black blur whipped out of nowhere, tackling Xephyra in midair and sending her careening off course.

  Veronyka felt the hit like a blow to her own body, her breath whooshing from her lungs. But then Val was upon her. Veronyka raised the cane, intending to hit her with it as Val had originally feared, but the swing was blocked. Val held a dagger with both hands—something stolen from the Eyrie, Veronyka guessed—and she’d caught the cane in the cross guard. They both pushed hard, fighting for the upper hand, and Val seemed to recognize as they did that Veronyka wielded no ordinary wooden cane. The dagger scraped against the metal surface with a screech, and Val bared her teeth before using her leverage to twist their locked weapons and fling the tip of the cane toward the ground. Veronyka stumbled, but before she could raise it again, Val kicked hard against the side. The hollow metal cane bent in half, rendering it useless.

  Val grinned up at Veronyka, and a hand shot out, closing around Veronyka’s throat.

  Their eyes met, and instantly there was a spark, a flicker—their bond repairing itself. Both of them froze, held hostage by the surge of magic—but then Veronyka lifted her foot and put her heel square in Val’s stomach. She staggered back, releasing her hold, but it was too late. Their bond was stabilizing, growing stronger by the second, and Veronyka barely managed to draw in a ragged breath as she tried to stumble away. She hefted the bent cane and swiped for good measure, forcing Val to fall to her knees to avoid the contact.

  It was the space Veronyka needed. Xephyra had managed to disengage herself from Val’s strix and was making her way toward Veronyka.

  Veronyka didn’t look back but ran to meet Xephyra. She leapt into the saddle, Xephyra’s claws scraping through the dirt road before she took off again into the sky.

  If Veronyka could get to the mine entrances, she might be able to rain down some arrows and clear a path for the others before—

  A sound reached her then, a distant, brittle rustling—the kind of noise that set her teeth on edge and made a shudder crawl down her back. It felt like it came from within her own skull, incessant, no matter how hard she shook her head or covered her ears.

  She whipped around in the saddle to see Val getting to her feet in the middle of the street, her strix next to her.

  “You haven’t properly met yet, have you?” Val called, laughter in her voice. “This is Onyx, my new bondmate. Together we are the apex pair. I am Avalkyra Ashfire, the Feather-Crowned Queen, and this”—she lifted her hands, and the strix beside her raised her head to the sky and released a shriek loud enough to rent the night and echo for miles around—“is the Black Horde.”

  A chorus replied, screeching and snapping, and the rustling grew louder and louder as it reverberated through the air and bounced off every rock, tree, and building. The sound was coming from the direction of the mine.

  What was it that Doriyan had said? The mine was connected to tunnels all over Pyrmont. Some, maybe, that led directly to the Eyrie?

  The rest of Tristan’s warning came to her then, as if her brain had received the message and held it safe for when she had a moment to actually hear it.

  They’re coming. The strixes are coming.

  Veronyka had barely made it halfway down the main street when they burst forth in the distance, rising over the trees like a swarm of bats. They dipped and swerved, their sharp beaks and sharper talons reflecting scraps of moonlight, while their feathers gleamed thick and dark as burnt oil.

  There were so many. More than the estimated two dozen that had attacked the Eyrie. This was easily double, triple that amount. Val had called it a horde.… That meant there were at least a hundred of them.

  How? When? How?

  Xephyra swooped back around, while Veronyka sent her magic wide, seeking the rest of her patrol. The villagers had scattered in the face of the strixes, attacked indiscriminately by the creatures—alliance with their mistress be damned—and the Riders had used the opportunity to get into the air, but while the bulk of the strixes were heading toward Val and Onyx, small groups had broken off, unable to resist chasing down the errant Phoenix Riders. They wouldn’t be able to hold them off forever. They wouldn’t be able to escape.

  None of them would make it out of here alive—not if Val didn’t want them to.

  Veronyka spotted the blowpipe, bent and broken on the ground below, and cursed savagely. The strixes were coming this way fast, and she had no way to get to Val from this distance—not without firing arrows, and that would be too risky. She might wind up killing her, denying the empire their prize—and killing a part of herself in the process. For all Val had done, for all she had yet to do… Veronyka didn’t think she had it in her.

  She fought against a wave of despair. Would Val hesitate? Would Val spare her? She shook her head. It didn’t matter.

  I am not her.

  That realization brought clarity, and her mind kicked into action. The darts… she still had half a dozen in a pouch on her belt. Without the blowpipe, she’d have to get in close.

  Very close.

  Would it be enough to save them as well as their plan?

  Veronyka closed her eyes and reached. Their bond was alive and well—but weak. Like a smoldering fire, it was seconds away from roaring into life or sputtering out entirely, so she did the only thing she could do.

  She fanned the flames.

  She extended herself with all her magic—knowing it was a risk, knowing it was dangerous—reaching through their quaking, newly re-formed bond until she found Val’s mind. She felt a lifetime away, but she was there. Veronyka opened her eyes and gathered her strength.

  She thought back to the night Val had sliced her open, how she’d followed Val across the stronghold’s cobblestones, even though her body was behind the stables at Prosperity.

  Relying on her physical senses at first, Veronyka stared hard at the place she wanted to be—behind Val, looking at the back of her head, just as she had before.

  Her efforts left her feeling strangely disembodied—that was good; that meant she was living in the dream space, the shadow magic space. But she needed her body to make contact, not just her magic. She tried to remember the emotions from the last time, the reckless desire—the stubborn will.

  She reached again, harder and with more determination, feeling the weight of her hand and the extension of her arm. The strands of Val’s ragged hair slipped between her fingers, snagging against her skin—until an iron grip clamped down on her wrist.

  Val spun around. Her face was alight with triumph, her teeth bared, but she didn’t strike Veronyka with her dagger or throw her aside.

  Instead she pulled, wrenching Veronyka forward. She felt her body lift from her saddle, felt the breath leave her lungs as she blinked out of existence. She had been pulled inside the bond—mind, body, and magic. There was a terrifying moment of complete and utter nothingness, and then she reappeared inside the physical world and slamm
ed down hard onto the ground at Val’s feet.

  Veronyka gasped, dazed, her mind struggling to catch up with her body. Xephyra shrieked from high above and yards away, her saddle empty, while Veronyka lay prone on the dirt road. Shadow magic had done this. Shadow magic had teleported her across the space between them, disobeying the laws of time and space and putting her at Val’s mercy.

  Val bent over Veronyka, grabbing her wrist again and dragging her upright.

  At this close proximity, Veronyka noticed a bright red slash across Val’s throat—a cut barely starting to heal.

  Val saw her attention and smiled. “Courtesy of Morra, Rider of Aneaxi.” Veronyka’s heart surged, until—“Right before I threw her to her death.”

  “Liar,” Veronyka spat, trying to break free of her hold. She refused to believe Val’s words, even though logic told her Val would not take an attempt on her life lightly.

  Despite her fear and denial, a small bubble of hope grew inside Veronyka’s chest. Did this mean Morra hadn’t betrayed her after all?

  “Why don’t you let me show you?” Val asked, her other hand gripping Veronyka’s chin and forcing her to look Val in the eye. Veronyka saw it—a flash of Morra falling from the temple roof—and then the floodgates opened. Their bond exploded back to life, blazing and more powerful than ever before.

  The apex bond was far more potent than Veronyka had truly realized. Bond magic on such a scale was breathtaking. Every single strix, no matter how far or how wild, flew as if they were one being—one monstrous creature—sharing Val’s will and determination and intent. It didn’t make sense, it shouldn’t be possible, but Veronyka felt it. She was bonded to Val, after all, and so she was a part of it too.

  Val held her tightly, fingers digging into Veronyka’s wrist and chin hard enough to bruise. She released a long, shuddering breath, then closed her eyes. She looked triumphant—exultant—and when her eyes fixed on Veronyka again, there was purpose blazing in their dark depths.

  “You see, Veronyka? You are mine, as they are mine. Say it. Bow your head and bend your knee and say it.” Veronyka struggled, but Val refused to let go. “Become benex to my apex, and we will take over the world. We were never meant to oppose one another; we were meant to fight and rule and die together.”