Warriors of Wing and Flame

by Sara B. Larson

  When I walked through the open door into the fading light of evening, nearly a hundred Paladin and their gryphons filled the field outside the stable.

  It was stunning and overwhelming; it was hope reincarnated in the form of more than a hundred pairs of glowing Paladin eyes turning to me and then away again when they realized I wasn’t Ederra, the leader of the council and the one who had, inexplicably, had such a massive change of heart and orchestrated this mission.

  To rescue the humans—who had taken so much from her, and from them—but who were, for the most part, innocent and not worthy of dying at the hands of a murderous, power-hungry sect of jaklas with the ability at last to do as they’d long dreamed—to take over the human world and become their rulers.

  I looked out over the army of Paladin and my heart swelled, my eyes burning.

  I was going home, and I was bringing hope and a chance at victory with me.

  It only took a few minutes for me to weave through the assembled crowd, go into the stables, resaddle Sukhi, and head back out with her in tow. By the time I did, my grandmother was there, standing on the steps in front of the massive door that led into the castle.

  “I know I am asking a lot of many of you. I am not the only one who has lost loved ones at the hands of humans in Vamala. But, as my late husband often pointed out”—a murmur rippled through the crowd at her words: Alkimos is gone? Alkimos died?—“most of them are innocent and afraid. And they are in need of our protection once more. The jakla who attacked me found a way back to Visimperum. He has recruited other members of the Infinitium sect to his cause—and has made them into jaklas as well, through the murder of at least fifteen Paladin that we know of so far.” Another surge of shock went through the assembled Paladin, the combined horror of such a large group palpable in the air. “So you see, this no longer only affects Vamala. If we let them go unchecked, who knows how many more Paladin will also die, feeding these true monsters their power and enabling them to grow so strong, we will have very little hope of stopping them.”

  She paused, letting her words sink in. It was in that moment I realized she was speaking in Paladin—and I still understood her. Had that been part of the gift the Mother of all Paladin had given me? Before I could make sense of such a phenomenon, she continued.

  “I know we are all risking our lives by following after them and trying to stop them. Especially when they are capable of absorbing our power for at least the next few days until the change is completed. But we have to try. Before they slaughter anyone else. I asked you to bring your Paladin steel because even a jakla can’t survive a beheading.”

  With that last, gruesome word, Grandmother lifted her fist. “To the skies! And may the Light hold us and keep us safe in our quest!”

  A responding cry went up from the crowd, echoing up to the stars that had begun to emerge as velvet night spread across the world. Then everyone climbed on their gryphons, weapons strapped onto backs and legs, faces set in determination.

  My heart beat rapid-fire in my chest, part thrill and part terror. Only now did Louk’s meaning become clear, about surviving the cliffs … I’d forgotten about that tiny strip between two peaks that was the difference between life and a swift, painful death, and was also the only way in or out of the bowl of sky-high mountains surrounding Soluselis, a natural defense that had never been breached.

  The mountains encircled us, distant right now, but all too close soon enough. Those jagged peaks split the night into shards of starlight and flayed my already-flagging courage.

  “Having second thoughts?”

  I spun at his voice, torn between snapping something ill-tempered and begging him to let me ride on Maddok in front of him—just until we made it through that thin little gap far, far above the earth. Sukhi could follow behind and I would ride her the rest of the way—in the open air.

  All I ended up saying was, “No.”

  In the sea of blue-fire eyes, mine included, his green ones flashed like a beacon, announcing to everyone that he was different. Even there, in that field crowded with Paladin and gryphons, they gave him as wide a berth as possible. I wondered how many members of my father’s battalion were there—if any had refused to fly under Loukas’s leadership, out of misplaced fear.

  We stood there, several feet apart, surrounded by organized chaos, for the span of three heartbeats that somehow felt like thirty and none all at once—time slowing and speeding past, in a tangle of emotion and regret and fear and longing. I looked up into his shadowed face, his dark hair falling forward into his brilliant emerald eyes—jewellike, stunning … and sad.

  It finally struck me—never once had he said: We shouldn’t have done that. It was only ever: I shouldn’t have done that.

  I stared at him, my heart thudding against my ribs. “Do you think you somehow influenced me? Do you think it was your doing—what happened by the stream?”

  Louk stiffened, his lips thinning, but he didn’t deny it.

  “That had nothing to do with you. Well, it did,” I amended when his eyebrows lifted, “but not because of that. Not because of your … ability. I chose to kiss you, because I wanted to.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.” His voice was low and a little hoarse. “Sometimes … if I’m feeling something very strongly, it happens when I don’t intend to use it. It’s more subtle, but it’s still there—it’s still me. Not them … Not you.”

  I stepped toward him, but Louk backed up, a warning flashing across his eyes. There was no time—or space—to push him. Not right now. So I stopped, miserable and frustrated, that hook around my heart pulling me to him no matter how much he resisted. Was that his power? Or was it my own true feelings?

  “You’re too young and naïve to know your own mind and heart enough to decipher the difference.”

  My cheeks burned; I could only hope the darkness hid my embarrassment. “I don’t know if you keep saying that to convince me or yourself.”

  He had the decency to flinch.

  “And yes, thanks to the roar that consumed me for most of my life, I suppose I am naïve. And yes, I’m younger than you, it’s true. But I am not that young—and I am fully capable of knowing my own heart and mind. In fact,” I continued in a rush, knowing the signal to take off would be given any minute, with neither of us on our gryphons yet, “if anything, I know my own heart and mind even better because of it. When I recognize something real—something true and powerful—I embrace it fully because I have no idea how long I will be allowed to experience it.” I blinked hard a few times to force the sting in my eyes to go away—at least until I was safely away from his burning gaze, which raked over my face with such intensity, it chased away the chill of night and sent my breath crashing through my lungs. “The truth is that the only person who doesn’t know their own heart or mind is you.”

  Louk’s mouth opened and then shut, his eyes flaring in the darkness.

  Before he could respond, I turned away, to Sukhi, who immediately knelt on her front knees to let me climb on her back.

  “Inara.”

  I refused to look down, though his voice came from right beside where my left leg hung at her side.

  “Inara, please.”

  When his hand came to rest on my calf, still noticeable even through the supple leather of the boots my grandmother had found for me, a shiver slipped up my leg, and I relented, looking down at him. He was tall enough that his face was level with my hip, even on the back of a gryphon. His fingers tightened on my leg when our gazes met.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, so softly, I might not have believed I’d heard him correctly, except I’d seen his lips form those two words that made all the difference. “I’ve never…” He trailed off and shook his head. His shoulders tensed and his gaze dropped.

  Before he could say anything else, there was a piercing whistle from the steps. Silence fell over the crowd of assembled warriors—which had grown even larger—so immediate and absolute it was a little chilling.

&
nbsp; Loukas squeezed my leg again and then let go, shooting one last haunted glance up at me, before turning and rushing to Maddok and swinging himself onto his gryphon’s back.

  Within seconds, the first group of Paladin Riders had taken to the skies, with the next group right behind them. Loukas’s battalion—my father’s battalion—were second to last, but it only took another minute or so before it was our turn. I tightened Sukhi’s reins, squeezed my already-fatigued legs against her sides, and prayed that I would somehow find the energy to stay on her back—especially through those cliffs—and make it back to my sister.

  Then finish the conversation with Loukas.

  Preferably before I came face to face with Halvor again.

  FORTY-ONE

  ZUHRA

  I’d only ever experienced something like it once in my life, when the Paladin High Council had opened the gateway in Visimperum—the pull, the need to get closer to all that power, drawing me to my feet.

  Raidyn grabbed my hand, stopping me before I would have begun walking toward it, bewitched out of common sense. The call to come, to join my power with it, still coursed through me, but his touch brought me back to myself enough to resist it.

  “What is it—what’s going on?” My mother’s groggy voice came from behind us, followed by my father’s response, “The gateway has been opened again.”

  I glanced back to see her rubbing her eyes, pushing herself to her feet. Perhaps she had managed to fall asleep after all, and I was glad for it. She was worn too thin around the edges, so much of her indomitable fire doused from exhaustion and loss. “How do you know?” she asked, looking from him to me.

  “We can feel it,” he said, the edges of his eyes tight as his gaze moved to the shattered window. “But we can’t tell what’s about to come through it.”

  “Nothing good, I’m afraid.” Raidyn spoke under his breath, so I wasn’t sure anyone heard him beside me.

  “Do you think it’s Barloc?” Mother blanched, her eyes also going to the side of the citadel, so high up in the air.

  “If it is, then who came through it yesterday?”

  There was no answer.

  “What do we do, sir?” Sharmaine turned to my father, pale but determined, the dawn breaking bleak overhead, the sky washed gray by thin, low-lying clouds.

  His gaze dropped to my mother at his side. I had so many memories of her in this courtyard—how I’d always imagined her a tiny mountain made flesh, immovable and unstoppable. But faced with the possibility of a frighteningly powerful jakla and more rakasa, she’d never seemed more fragile—more mortal and breakable. We all had power to at least give us hope of fighting and surviving, but she … she had nothing but her will and a temper, neither of which would save her from this kind of enemy. “We prepare to fight,” he said, his eyes meeting mine, the bleakness in his echoing the cavernous fear inside me.

  Mother swallowed but nodded, squaring her shoulders, as if she could possibly hope to face what was to come.

  Naiki suddenly rose to her feet, hackles raised, with a sharp caw, Taavi and Keko right behind her.

  “How touching.”

  We whirled to face the hedge where the voice had come from.

  Barloc.

  Flanked by at least a dozen other Paladin.

  Behind them, the hedge was pulled back, the gate open.

  Had they come from outside the hedge? Then who—or what—was coming through the gateway?

  “I don’t want to kill all of you,” he continued, slowly strolling forward, as if he were commenting on the weather, not our lives, “but I will, if you force me to.”

  Raidyn’s hand tightened on mine, his veins lighting with power. My father and Sharmaine’s did as well; their gryphons rushed to our sides.

  “I’m disappointed in you.” Barloc shook his head, his eyes and body filled with so much Paladin power, almost every inch of his skin glowed, not just his veins. “You know that’s useless against me. Unless you intend to donate your gifts to my cause.” He flashed his teeth at us, an expression of vindictive greed, more like an animal baring its fangs as a threat than anything resembling a human smile.

  “What do you want?” Father spat, pushing my mother behind him, toward Taavi.

  The gryphons’ wings were all partially lifted, prepared to take flight the moment their Riders climbed on. But we all stood there, frozen in fear—at an impasse, knowing the power we wielded would just be absorbed by the jakla. I wondered if the fire Raidyn and I could create together—strong enough to incinerate a Chimera—could destroy him before he could absorb it. Our hands were still clasped, but though his power filled his veins, ready to explode out, he hadn’t summoned it fully yet, so there was nothing I could do, except cling to him, ready and willing to lend my power to his if he chose to use it.

  “I appreciate you taking the time to ask, rather than wasting any more lives needlessly. I’m not completely unreasonable.” His laugh did little to convince me of his sincerity—or sanity—but Father remained still, tensed, ready to fight or flee, but not moving—yet. “All I want is your daughter’s power. And the rest of you walk away, unharmed.”

  “No.” Father’s response was so immediate, I’d barely had time to assimilate the meaning of Barloc’s words before he spat his answer back at the monster that had once been Halvor’s uncle. I’d thought for a moment he meant Inara—the one I was used to thinking of having power, even now. Even with her gone. “You already took hers.”

  “You know I’m not talking about that one.” His gaze lifted to mine, and I barely kept from flinching at the fathomless malice in his blinding eyes. “I want her power.”

  “She has no power,” Raidyn burst out, his fingers digging into my hand to the point of pain. I squeezed back just as hard, every muscle in my body taut, strung too tight and ready to snap. There were fifteen Paladin men and women plus Barloc against the four of us and my mother. If this turned into a fight, there was no chance we would survive.

  “Liar.” The word was low and sinuous and spoken so calmly it was almost worse than if he’d yelled. “I watched you all. While I waited for my strength to return from opening that gateway, I watched and learned. Oh, she has power. Yes, she does. I did warn you … do you know what I do to liars?”

  Sharmaine threw up her shield, but it wasn’t fast enough. The blast came with so little movement on his part, none of us were able to react quickly enough.

  Time slowed, as viscous as the blood sludging through my veins, so that one blinding blast of power seemed to travel at half speed, but I was still unable to move or do anything to stop it. I could only watch as it shot past my father and mother, past Sharmaine, past me—and exploded into Raidyn, ripping his hand from mine, throwing him backward.

  FORTY-TWO

  ZUHRA

  A scream built inside me, cleaving through muscle and lung and heart, shredding its way out my throat, until I was nothing but that scream, nothing but horror and anguish given voice.

  Naiki threw herself down on the ground, so that Raidyn landed splayed across her back, his arms open wide, his bare chest a mass of bloody, torn, charred flesh. His eyes met mine, the fire in them flickering weakly. His mouth moved but no sound emerged except the wet, sucking sound of each slow, laborious breath.

  “Zuhra, take him and go! Now! She can’t hold them off any longer!”

  My father’s shout echoed dully through the roar in my head, as if he were in a remote corner of the courtyard. But then he was there, dragging me over to Naiki and Raidyn. The ground trembled beneath my feet. Detonations sent waves vibrating through the air. Father turned Raidyn so he hung over Naiki’s front haunches on his mutilated stomach, the same way he’d brought Sachiel back to us.

  “Take him and go! I will come as soon as possible to try to heal him!”

  Then he grabbed me underneath my armpits and hefted me onto Naiki’s saddle behind Raidyn.

  The numbness drained away when Father slapped her haunches and the gryphon launched he
rself forward, immediately taking off. Sound and awareness returned. I grabbed Raidyn’s shoulders, wincing at his low moan of agony, but couldn’t let go, even when his blood began to soak my pants, afraid he would slip off and fall. When I glanced back, Sharmaine sat on Keko’s back, hands lifted, her arms visibly shaking as she struggled to maintain a shield against the onslaught from Barloc and his fifteen Paladin who were spreading out to the side, searching for the edges of her power. Father was lifting my mother onto Taavi’s saddle and climbing on behind her.

  Terror slicked my hands with sweat and throbbed behind my temples.

  Then Raidyn’s body went completely limp; it wasn’t until he slipped into unconsciousness that I realized I’d been absorbing his agony and fear alongside my own.

  “No! Don’t you dare leave me! Don’t you dare!” I shouted, my fingers digging into his shoulders as we soared higher and higher. I prayed we were out of reach—and that the other three would somehow escape too.

  But part of me knew there was no way they would. I didn’t even know if we would.

  Then—as if from a dream, conjured straight from wishes and prayers and hopes that had all seemed pointlessly futile—gryphons and Riders began pouring from the broken window of the Hall of Miracles.

  Naiki cawed in welcome—in recognition—perhaps even in warning. Without a signal from me, she turned and headed for that window. I clutched Raidyn and scanned for anyone that looked even remotely familiar.

  “A healer,” I croaked, my voice thick with unshed tears and strangling terror that still hadn’t abated. “I need a healer!” I tried again, louder this time as Naiki soared through the Paladin—so many, so many!—into the Hall of Miracles.