Wings of Exile

by JD Monroe

  “Well, our family grows the nuts in a grove a few miles to the west,” the woman said. “The soil is dry, but we have learned how to care for them. As for the honey—"

  A piercing scream interrupted her. The woman instinctively grabbed the boy and stared up at the sky. The bustle of the main street had frozen, as all eyes turned up to the darkening sky. Shalina’s heart thumped as she followed suit. Shadow blanketed the once-sunny street, like a thundercloud had suddenly formed. But this thundercloud had massive wings in the unmistakable shape of a dragon.

  The creature flew low to the ground, its huge pale belly barely clearing the peaked roofs of Desh. As it passed, a gust of foul-smelling wind followed. The dry air reeked of dead things in muddy soil. A deafening roar exploded from its jaws, shaking the ground. A neat pyramid of oranges on the next vendor’s table spilled to the ground. It was dark as night in the creature’s shadow.

  The boy squealed in terror, and his mother scooped him up. “It’s all right, my sweet cub,” she cooed as his thin limbs wrapped around her. “We’ll go inside where it’s safe.” She turned to Shalina and switched back to Chari. “You should seek shelter. The temple at the end of the main street will give you sanctuary for now.” Her eyes were creased in worry, but she wore a forced smile for the boy’s benefit, assuring him that all would be well. Leaving the pastries on the table, the woman scurried down a side alley.

  Amidst shouts of terror, people streamed down the main street toward the temple. The mud brick building towered over the rest of Desh. The large wooden doors were open, with two figures in red uniforms gesturing wildly for people to hurry through the doors.

  Thunder cracked overhead, and another cacophony of screams erupted. Just past the pastry stall, a crater opened in the middle of the street. Two women were on all fours at the craters’ edge, one crying with a bloody hand pressed to her face. The other was pulling her arm, but unable to get her friend to her feet.

  Shalina dared to look up. Blotting out the sky, the white dragon’s wings beat in slow, powerful strokes. Sandy gusts billowed off its wings.

  What in the world was that? She had seen her share of dragons, but this one was monstrous. It was easily ten times the size of any dragon she’d ever seen. Its scales were dingy white, with a faint greenish glow seeping through the cracks.

  “Get inside!” a male voice bellowed in Chari. A man in a dark red uniform stood a few feet from the crater, gesturing wildly. The stream of people funneled into the building ahead.

  Shalina’s instinct was to transform and hide in the smallest, tightest crevice she could find, an instinct she shared with normal cats. Instead, she darted toward the crater and grabbed the bloodied woman’s arm. “Come on,” she said, hauling her up.

  “My eye,” the woman wailed in Chari.

  “At least your soul was not taken,” the other woman chided.

  Her soul?

  The dragon bellowed again, leaving Shalina’s head ringing. Fueled with the urgent need to be anywhere but in that creature’s sight, Shalina grabbed the crying woman’s arm, hauled her up, and dragged her into the stream of people headed for shelter.

  So much for a quiet town.

  The thunder continued to roll outside as the temple filled with people. With mud-brick walls and simple wooden furniture inside, the building was humble. But the clean-swept floor and pristine golden drapes spoke of a devoted caretaker.

  A blonde woman stood at the edge of the dais, gesturing to the crowd that pressed close to her. “Please remain calm,” she said, her voice carrying through the din. Her light blonde hair was styled in a sleek bun, lending her a serious look. She wore linens like Shalina’s, but a bright red sash was slung over one shoulder and belted at her waist. “You are safe here.”

  Climbing up from the crowd, a man in a red tunic joined her on the dais. Outstretched wings were embroidered across his chest in white thread. “Please, good people of Desh, know that we will protect you from the great dragon’s wrath,” he said in a booming voice. “We have traveled the country, preparing people such as yourselves to withstand its attacks.”

  A wailing cry erupted near the dais. “Danei?” The source of the voice was a small Edra boy, crying for his father.

  “It’s all right,” the woman on the dais said. Her face creased in concern, but she made no move toward the boy. People backed away, looking uneasy as he wailed. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  No one moved toward the boy. Leaving her spot close to the wall, Shalina shoved through the crowd. “Excuse me. Move.” A human woman glared at her as Shalina bumped her with her hip. Ignoring the woman’s ire, Shalina crouched in front of the child. He was no more than four, with huge brown eyes brimming with tears. “Did you lose your papa?” she asked in Edra. He nodded. “Where did you see him?”

  “The market,” he said, sniffling. He put one hand tentatively on her shoulder, and she took the invitation to scoop him up. As soon as he was off the ground, he threw his arms around her neck and buried his face in her shoulder. He smelled pleasantly dusty, like he’d been playing outside in the sun, but there was also the unique, damp-earth smell of Edra blood. It reminded her of her baby sisters, sending a pang of sorrow through her.

  “Did he come in here with you?”

  The boy shook his head, his voice muffled against her linen-covered shoulder. “Don’t know.”

  “Don’t worry. We will find him.” His heart thrummed with fear, and she rubbed his back to reassure him. As she surveyed the crowd, she realized it had grown eerily quiet. Hundreds of eyes were on her, which was the opposite of the situation she wanted to be in.

  The blonde woman on the dais stared down at her. “You speak Edra?”

  “Yes,” Shalina said, with a thrill of anxiety. Too late to lie now. “I am a translator.”

  The woman glanced at her partner. “Do you speak Kadirai?”

  “I do.” Decades of servitude to the dragons had been awful, but she’d left them with a mastery of three languages, including the native tongue of the dragons.

  “We have need of your services,” the woman said. “We can discuss payment, if you wish.”

  Shalina nodded. “After we find the boy’s father.”

  The man gestured to Shalina, then offered a hand to help her up the step. She was precariously unbalanced with a toddler on her hip. “Have any of you been separated from a child?”

  Shalina repeated the question in Edra.

  “Elak!” a man shouted above the din. The crowd parted to let him through. His eyes were red, and his hair was disheveled.

  At the sound of the man’s voice, the boy nearly threw himself out of Shalina’s arms. “Danei!”

  After handing off the boy, the man said, “Thank you. May the spirits’ blessings be as a silk veil upon your face.”

  The crowd had closed around her, trapping her near the front of the room. “Who are you?” a woman called.

  The woman on the dais smiled and bent slightly at the waist. “I am Sister Benna, and I speak for the Chosen of Vystus, the mighty Spirit of Justice and purifier of souls. And this is Brother Telmen.”

  Chosen of Vystus? Shalina had never heard of such an order, but she had been bound in the blighted lands of the Shadowflight until just a few years ago. There were many things she didn’t know.

  “We just arrived in town,” Telmen said, addressing the crowd. “Have you seen the white dragon before?”

  “Several times,” a tremulous voice replied.

  “I see,” Telmen said. “It is as I feared.”

  “What is it?” someone asked.

  “The white dragon is a harbinger of blessed Vystus’ wrath. His spirit is grieved by the injustices plaguing the lands, and he can tolerate it no longer,” Telmen said. “Where Vystus senses those who would subjugate the innocent, he cannot contain his great wrath.”

  “We have come to help you,” Benna said. “To root out the injustices, to raise up a banner of all that is fair and just.”


  Their speech carried on that way for a while, answering the frantic crowd with assurances of Vystus’s provision and protection for those who supported his cause. It was occasionally interrupted by another loud rumble from the dragon outside, a chorus of shouts, and reassurances from Benna and Telmen that all would be well.

  After a few minutes, another pair of men entered the hall. They wore leather armor with bright red capes secured at their shoulders. “We have appeased the white dragon,” one of them announced. “The streets are safe.”

  “Praise Vystus,” Sister Benna said, raising her hands toward the ceiling. Telmen mimicked her gesture. She smiled at the crowd. “Good people of Desh, please return to your homes. We will keep watch, so you will not be caught unaware again. If you are interested, we welcome all who wish to join our quest for justice. We will hold a meeting here tomorrow morning.”

  There was something about Benna and Telmen that Shalina didn’t like. Maybe it was her cynical side coming out, but she didn’t trust the way they spoke in such certain, flowery terms about Vystus. And their story didn’t add up. Why would a spirit of justice attack the innocent?

  A handful of coins wasn’t worth getting involved with this nonsense. Shalina slipped into the flow of the crowd and hooked her veil over her face.

  A few feet from the door, someone grabbed her wrist and hauled her out of the stream of people. Lightning-fast, she whirled around and broke their grip, instead locking her fingers onto a thick forearm and digging in. It was the man who’d announced the streets were clear. His eyes creased in pain as her thumb dug into his forearm.

  “Do not touch me without permission,” she said. “In case you were unclear, you do not have it.”

  “My apologies,” Benna called from the dais. The room had cleared except for a huddled group chatting in the far corner. “Release her. Or should I say, release him?” She looked amused.

  The man looked helpless. Shalina threw his arm away from her, then straightened the wraps around her forearms.

  “I need your help in communicating with a Kadirai prisoner,” Benna said. Placing a hand on the short sword at her waist, she stepped down from the dais and approached Shalina. “We would pay you well.”

  “I…I’m sorry,” Shalina said. “I need to be moving on soon.”

  “Travel would be dangerous with the white dragon in the area,” Telmen said. “You should wait a few days.”

  “Name your price,” Benna said. “We would be happy to reward your efforts.”

  “Five hundred coins for a day,” Shalina said. There was no way the woman would pay such an exorbitant fee. “And another hundred if there is danger involved.”

  Benna’s thin eyebrows lifted. “There is no danger, but I will gladly pay your fee.”

  Six hundred coins would pay for a dozen caravans, and the best lodgings she could imagine when she arrived in Auran-Kahl. “When do you need me?”

  Sister Benna hadn’t been kidding when she said their work would start right away. Leaving Telmen and the other men in red to patrol the main road, Benna led Shalina down a side street to the town hall, a two-story building nearly as large as the temple.

  Two city guards were posted at the front entrance, but a dozen of Benna’s people milled outside and in the open lobby. Each wore a red garment of some sort, but the religious trappings didn’t conceal their lean builds and sharp weapons. The Chosen appeared to be soldiers first, and servants of their god second.

  “Where did you come from?” Shalina asked as they walked into the town hall. It was shaded, but still sweltering inside the building.

  “Our brothers and sisters come from all over,” Benna said. “Justice knows no borders.”

  “I see,” Shalina said. Benna dodged questions like a fighter ducking punches. Her smooth, unlined face and sleek hair were of a finer place than the dusty streets of Desh. If she had to guess, the woman came from the human nation of Agni to the southwest. “And you just happened to arrive here?”

  “We were traveling toward Tahlan-Lev and stopped here to replenish our supplies and take a short respite from the sun. And you?”

  “I traveled from Braequa,” Shalina said. Telling the stranger she had come from the lands of the Shadowflight would raise far more questions than she was willing to answer. If Benna doubted her, she didn’t let on.

  The woman led her up a stone staircase into a dim hallway, lit by flickering globes hanging from the ceiling. Lining the hall were four doors with bars on the windows, with a single small square window at the end of the hall. It was big enough for a sand cat, and a tight fit for a human. A single Chosen soldier patrolled the hall, peeking into each window as she passed.

  Benna hesitated. “I must apologize for not giving you all the information. Several days ago, the city guards captured a Kadirai murderer. I believe this grave injustice may be why the white dragon was drawn here.”

  “Forgive my ignorance about Vystus,” Shalina said. “Why would a spirit of justice punish the innocent?”

  The woman smiled. “The white dragon is called the Aesdar. It is not Vystus himself, but rather a manifestation of Vystus’ wrath, seeking to punish the corrupt and the evil. Like a sandstorm or an earthquake, it is a powerful force beyond our comprehension. Those who seek protection will find it, and those who cling to their wicked ways…” Benna shrugged. “I’d be happy to discuss it with you further, but we should deal with the prisoner. He killed two innocent humans in a bath house just outside of town.”

  A chill prickled down Shalina’s spine, and she instinctively glanced at the escape route once more. “And you want me to ask him about it?”

  “We do,” Benna said. “We believe this man has committed several such crimes. We think we know who he is, but we are not entirely certain. We do not speak Kadirai, and he either does not speak Chari, or refuses to.”

  “Fine. I’ll speak to him.” She preferred to avoid the dragons as much as possible, but she could manage a conversation for six hundred coins.

  “Wait.” Benna snapped her fingers at the patrolling guard. The other woman approached. While she was dressed much like Shalina, in layers of sandy-colored linens, she wore a red half-skirt over one hip. “Your amulet, please.”

  Without hesitation, the woman pulled a pendant from beneath her tunic. She handed it to Shalina. The circular silver pendant was the size of her palm, with thin golden wire woven through small holes around the perimeter. With the pendant on the wrapped part of her palm, she tentatively grazed the surface with one bare finger. Pure silver would burn her skin, but this had no effect.

  In the dim light, the metal had a faint blue tinge. Intricate carvings covered its surface, with six gemstone chips embedded into its surface. The tiny stones glowed slightly, casting a green haze over her hand.

  “What is this?” Shalina asked, still not putting it on.

  “A token of our appreciation,” Benna said. “You are aware that the Kadirai can influence your mind, yes?”

  They can influence your mind, she thought. The Edra were immune to the psychic influence of the Kadirai. Their powers worked well on humans, allowing them to push a human into doing their will. A compulsion couldn’t force them into something they found abhorrent, but if there was even a shred of desire to do something, a strong dragon could force them to do it. “So I’ve heard.”

  “This amulet protects from their influence,” Benna said. “It will shield your mind.”

  For the first time, Shalina’s cool demeanor slipped. “Really?” As far as she knew, there was no protection other than avoiding interaction with the Kadirai. Such an object would be extremely valuable.

  “Yes,” Benna said. “We have many gifted artisans working to create objects of power. Only to level the battlefield, so to speak. To give humans a chance against such overwhelming power.”

  “Of course.” Shalina draped the chain over her head. The metal was curiously cold, even through the layers of linen. “Thank you.”

  “Consider it a t
oken of my appreciation. Let us visit the prisoner.” Her heart thumped as Benna unlocked the door at the end of the hall. Her sensitive nose filled with the scent of blood and burnt flesh. She covered her mouth as she surveyed the small cell.

  With his arms pulled taut and secured by chains to the rafters above, the half-conscious prisoner hung like meat on a hook. The chains didn’t grant him enough slack to kneel. A crude metal collar hung around his neck. The right side of his back was blistered and cracked from the crest of his shoulder down to his hip. Shards of silver were embedded into his flesh, glittering in the low light. Her stomach churned at the thought of how painful it must have been.

  Another small window with close-set bars was on the far wall, admitting a thin beam of sunlight that illuminated the dirty floor.

  Benna walked into the cell and slapped her gloved hand against the man’s burned back. He let out a clipped cry, fumbling to get his feet under him. The move seemed unnecessarily cruel, though perhaps he deserved it. “He’s all yours,” Benna said.

  Shalina circled him, wishing she had another handful of the uren-vakhan oil to dab under her nose. The stench of burnt flesh was almost unbearable. How had they wounded a dragon so badly? And how had he survived it?

  He lifted his head, and she froze as his gaze locked on hers. Streaked with dirt and dried blood, it was impossible to say if he was handsome. But he had the most remarkable eyes she’d ever seen. Light green, the hue of fresh growth, a sight she had rarely seen in the blighted lands. They were framed in tense lines etched deep by pain and exhaustion.

  “What is your name?” she asked in Kadirai. It took a moment to remember how to shape her tongue around the angular sounds and exaggerated vowels.

  “Please help me,” he said, eyes never leaving her. “Please.”

  Wings of Thunder releases in February.