WhiteWing

by Connie Suttle

  "He may still do it," Bleek pointed out.

  "True, but it seems to me he'd do this one first and leave Carek Prime for later."

  "Cayetes has never been accused of acting logically where his temper is concerned," Bleek pointed out. "Maybe Carek Prime pissed him off, as Zaria is so fond of saying."

  "Do you think it's a good idea to call Weir out now?" I went to my second question. "Zaria wanted to wait until Weir and Cayetes went after each other."

  "That was before Carek Prime died," Bleek said. "Plus, this is the Dragon Warlord we're talking about. He's seen a war or two in his time."

  "He has," I agreed. I didn't add that I'd gone against Zaria's wishes before, and ended up regretting it.

  "Besides, Dragon conferred with Queen Lissa. With Zaria absent, this was the best plan they could come up with. Call out Weir, see if there's a reason Cayetes hasn't attacked Paricos II yet and have enough reserve power here to get all of us away if Cayetes and his ranos cannon come to call."

  "It sounds so simple when you put it that way," I said.

  "Let's hope it stays that way, and that Zaria comes back to us soon."

  * * *

  Ranos, Distant Past

  Zaria

  What was happening on Ranos made World War II on Earth look like a child's game.

  Ranos technology. These people had created those weapons, and then pointed them at each other. Smoke drifted past me as I walked invisibly across a battlefield. Blasted machinery, vehicles and rotting corpses were everywhere.

  This is where they came from—the people of Fyris and the Avii, I reminded myself. How had Liron chosen those to save? At this time, none of them had wings.

  Liron had wings.

  He'd given some of those he'd rescued feathers, and charged them with watching over the wingless ones.

  There was no poison here.

  Siriaa, in the distant past, had already been visited by Acrimus and the seeds of that disease planted in its core.

  Liron was charged with the safety of that world, until Acrimus called for the poison to be extracted and used.

  Neither had any care for the original inhabitants of Siriaa.

  Edden and Berel had come from them. Their race had evolved on its own and stood on its own, while two rogue gods had done all in their power to destroy them.

  Vardil Cayetes, with Liron and Acrimus' tool, V'ili, had killed two from that race whom I cared about most.

  "Where are you, Liron?" I breathed softly before engaging the device I held.

  * * *

  The Big House, Avendor

  Quin

  The last thing I remembered was feeling Berel die. I woke in a strange bed, with Justis leaning over me.

  Berel was truly dead. I hadn't dreamed or imagined it. I could see the concern in Justis' eyes as he brushed fingers across my forehead.

  "Edden is dead, too, isn't he?" I felt hot tears behind my eyelids as I shut out the pain in Justis' face.

  "You and I will be staying here for a while," Justis whispered as he moved to lie down beside me. "Kevis says the baby is fine, my love. We will mourn Berel and Edden, as is proper, in a few days."

  I buried my head against Justis' shoulder and allowed the tears to spill from my eyes. At that moment, I silently begged any deity listening to keep the rest of those I loved safe.

  * * *

  Ranos, Distant Past

  Zaria

  It looked like a giant beehive.

  Liron flashed in and out while I watched; he was making the beehive larger. Already it stood the height of a fifteen-story building, and was growing by the second.

  I knew what it was. When the sun broke through the cloudy sky over this part of Ranos, I could see the colors and patterns swirling in the slag glass Liron collected.

  Far away, on battlefields too distant to see, Ranos was still at war with itself. Soon—very soon—it would die.

  Liron had created Ranos; Acrimus had handed it the technology to design the weapons named after it.

  Against Liron's wishes.

  Liron wanted another world to suffer the atrocities of such creations. For Ranos, it had been placing a grenade in the hands of an infant, who couldn't help but pull the pin out of curiosity.

  Like the N'il Mo'erti on Tiralia, Acrimus wanted to watch the chaos such technology would produce, as a microcosmic example of what the universes might do with it afterward.

  Just as dangerous, I reminded myself, as the technology produced on Carek Prime. Not only had it played a part in the destruction of that planet, the technology hid me, even now, from a god's gaze.

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Revis' Rock

  Phrinnis Tampirus

  Two days had passed since Zaria's disappearance, and there had been no word from her. I was learning how many of those who'd come at Ilya's call had mindspeech. Many of them had sent messages to her, with no reply to any.

  "We have no power over her," Dragon informed me, when I asked if there were someone who could order her to return. Until then, I'd have said Dragon could order anyone or anything about, and they would be too terrified not to obey.

  Zaria appeared to be in a league of her own making, with none who held sway over her decisions. Ilya was decidedly closed-mouthed about it all, and wore an expression of chagrin mixed with guilt whenever someone spoke of Zaria's absence.

  There was history there; I merely didn't know what it was.

  Too, Weir was gathering his army and making final preparations to strike at me and what looked like a much smaller army. In all this, I wondered what Cayetes was planning and how Dragon and his troops intended to deal with him when he came calling—as he surely would, when Dragon played the card he held.

  I'd been shown the images not long ago—of the white-winged woman, who looked exactly like the black-winged one, except for the color of hair, wings and eyes.

  Someone had done a very good job of disguising her. I didn't ask—I could disguise myself as anything, by becoming anything. Perhaps she could do the same.

  What I knew for sure is that I missed Zaria, and wanted more than anything for her to come back to me.

  To us.

  Bleek wore a frown all the time as he, Dragon and Crane drilled troops. Ilya worked with my warlocks on how to lay spells against an invading army. The first time I saw the two High Demons in their other form, I was terrified.

  I knew they existed, but information and images are difficult to find. The actuality was much more frightening—and impressive—than I'd ever imagined.

  The vampires (and I learned there were several) held meetings, over which Merrill, Kell and Rigo presided. They were working on a stealth mission, but as yet hadn't given me the particulars.

  In my long life, I'd never seen a group so focused on their task and willing to work together. If Weir could be defeated by determination alone, he'd already be dead.

  Therefore, I chose to visit Arna and her warlocks in their cage.

  I'd never seen a powerlight cage before; it took a great deal of power from a Fifth-level to create, and Ilya had made this one large enough for all to lie down comfortably if they wanted.

  Just as well, I didn't intend to offer comforts of any kind; Ilya saw to it that food could be passed through the glowing bars, but no respect for privacy had been given to Arna, who cursed us long and often.

  "You placed yourself where you are," I said as she hurled an insult at me when I walked in. The warlocks remained sullen and silent; Arna had gotten them into this mess, too.

  "At least we killed your witch," Arna hissed at me.

  I laughed.

  * * *

  Siriaa, Distant Past

  Zaria

  The Avii tales say that Liron created their glass castle in a day.

  That much was true.

  What they didn't know was that Liron spent the better part of a week reinforcing it with power, so it would be impenetrable.

  Acrimus' instructions to Liron
had been clear, too; Liron could only visit those he placed in this castle, and wasn't to interfere with the rest of Siriaa's development. Only the poison could be siphoned off at intervals, during which Liron could help those he'd created for that purpose.

  That's why the Orb only appeared in the pod'l-morph groves when it was time for a saving.

  Liron couldn't go anywhere else on Siriaa and risk interference.

  Therefore, he'd hired Marid of Belancour to place a shield around Fyris, when the rest of Siriaa was advanced enough to discover that continent. He'd given a ring to the Avii King, then, to hand to the Prince of Fyris at the time, so that the shield would be maintained so long as the ring remained in Fyris.

  I stood on the small strip of sand outside the newly-built castle, while waves lapped the sand at my back and Liron sat in what would become the King's throne room far above my head, writing the words that would become the First Ordinance.

  The first rule was this; No winged Avii may harm in any way those pureblood inhabitants of the continent of Fyris.

  The second rule was that the Avii were charged with protecting those same purebloods. Anyone with less than pure blood fell outside their protection.

  I imagine Liron's words meant that if any from Fyris sailed past the boundaries and mated with the natives of Siriaa, that the protection rule didn't apply to their offspring. Liron wanted to preserve the race he'd created, without dilution.

  The Avii had interpreted that to mean the half Avii, half Fyrisian children. Both the winged and non-winged had come to see those mixed children as aberrations deserving of death.

  What a nasty, fucked up way to interpret the blasted book.

  Liron would eventually kidnap pod'l-morphs, force them into their tree shapes and plant them in the Saving Grove.

  It angered me greatly that he'd worked out this kink in his and Acrimus' plan by effectively destroying their population. There were thousands in that grove, all forced into stasis as trees.

  When Siriaa was destroyed, they died with it.

  Liron.

  Marid.

  Cayetes.

  I wanted to destroy all of them. Two would die in the future, Liron by my own hand, with borrowed power.

  Cayetes—well, I was aiming for him, now, but there were places I needed to visit first.

  * * *

  The Big House, Avendor

  Quin

  "The original has rum in it, but this one is non-alcoholic, has plenty of juices and is just as good," Bill Jennings placed a glass in my hand.

  I sat by the pool on a wide patio outside the house, half in and half out of shade and hoped the sun would warm what felt frozen inside me. Kaldill sat with me, one of my hands enclosed in his, offering silent comfort as I considered my future without Berel.

  "Try it, my love—it really is good, and good for you," Kaldill coaxed. "You barely ate any breakfast."

  I sipped—it was good but cold, and I already felt cold. It made me want to crawl out of my skin and leave the chilling pain behind; to feel half normal instead of drowning in grief.

  Kaldill and I watched as two of my feathers dropped to the flagstones beneath our chaise—my suffering only caused the molting to accelerate.

  "You should be seeing replacement feathers soon," Bill said. He took a nearby chair, sat and leaned back, crossing his legs and closing his eyes as he turned his face toward Avendor's sun.

  Justis had flown to Avii Castle after breakfast; he wanted to meet with his council again, then confer with Ordin and Gurnil.

  I'm sure he'd be talking to the healer and the librarian about me and what to do about my unrelenting sorrow.

  As if words could fix this, somehow.

  I set my glass on the table next to my seat and watched as Bill appeared to fall asleep. My eyes were still on him when his mouth curled into a smile and she arrived.

  The Mighty Heart.

  I stared into cobalt-blue eyes as she pulled me to my feet and into her embrace.

  So often, joy is tinged with sadness. She understood that as well as anyone. What she gave me I cannot describe, except to say it was love that infused every cell of my body.

  Don't give up, she sent and kissed my cheek before stepping away.

  Kaldill was already up and supporting me, or I may have fallen when she let me go. Bill was on his feet and kissing her shortly after.

  I turned my head and blinked at Kaldill, who smiled. "Not all is lost," he whispered before his lips met mine.

  * * *

  Paricos II

  Revis' Rock

  Ilya

  Weir attacked us on the third day after Zaria's disappearance. He imagined that a small portion of his army, equipped with lesser weapons, was enough to deal with Tamp and his rabble army, even if it were led by someone claiming to be the Dragon Warlord.

  I warned Nyarr and his brothers to stay out of range of Kordevik, who turned Thifilathi, lifted the warlock-spelled, armored vehicle at the front of Weir's army and flung it toward the rest of his troops.

  Those troops screamed and scattered as the tank exploded when it crashed among them.

  Lexsi, Kordevik's mate, had another nasty surprise in store for the vanguard who still marched toward us.

  I'd wondered at first why she wanted us to build a fire outside the compound. I'd wondered, too, as her silver Thifilatha appeared to absorb all of it.

  Weir's warlocks were learning that their spells didn't hold against any High Demon, who could nullify anything within a certain radius.

  Lexsi released her fire, and the resulting screams were probably heard by Weir, who was miles away.

  Lexsi wasn't the only one who could send fire against the enemy. Dragon's sons and grandsons, Drake, Drew, Travis and Trent, morphed into dragons and blew fire at an advancing line of vehicles.

  Enemy soldiers scrambled out of those vehicles, running away as the metal heated up around them.

  Shots fired bounced off shields Nyarr, his brothers and I placed around the two youngest dragons.

  Tamp, who stood with me on the parapet overlooking the battle, blinked once or twice but never spoke or indicated his surprise at the army defending him.

  "Now," I said, turning to Nyarr and the others, who flanked Tamp.

  We'd planned this carefully; all six of us lobbed blasting spells at what remained of Weir's troops and machines.

  The resulting damage was massive, leaving craters and blasted remains behind. Anyone who lived past that was already running back to Weir.

  The whole encounter took less than half an hour.

  "I'll send our demands to Weir," Tamp turned with a flourish and stalked toward the stairs. He was pleased; he merely didn't say it aloud.

  * * *

  Sirena, Distant Past

  Zaria

  "This is madness, brother."

  This woman would call herself Anita in the future. She'd been born with a different name and was a princess—she and her sisters, who were also her cousins, as their mother had married two royal brothers.

  She spoke to V'ili, who was a half-brother and crown prince of the Sirenali.

  He'd convinced his father, the King, to attack the Larentii homeworld. If Larentii could be ordered to do Sirenali bidding, all the universes would be theirs for the taking.

  Or so he thought.

  The majority of Sirena backed his plan, sadly enough.

  Only a few disagreed; fewer still said it was wrong. They knew through experience that those who disagreed with the crown prince often disappeared and were never found.

  Anita and her sisters disagreed with V'ili.

  Strongly.

  "You cannot force your will on another like that; it's wrong," Anita snapped as V'ili crossed arms over his chest and glared at her. "We have laws against it. The King enforces those laws."

  "The laws apply to Sirenali. Not to anyone else," V'ili dismissed Anita's words.

  "We don't know that obsession will work on the Larentii," another sister said. "Yo
u are making a terrible mistake in this."

  "It's useless to argue," V'ili dropped his arms to his sides. "We go tomorrow. And, as I can't have any detractors when we return with the blue giants," he studied his shoes for a moment. "Now," he snapped.

  Six Sirenali entered the room and fired their weapons on V'ili's unarmed sisters. All but one died instantly.

  V'ili nodded to his assassins and stalked from the room. His men fell in behind him. Anita's final breaths gurgled in her throat as she lay dying on the floor.

  I made myself visible to her, as the Larentii I was.

  "All is not lost," I reached out to touch her face gently, alleviating the pain she felt. "Someone will come for you."

  Her eyes glazed in death.

  Chapter 16

  Paricos II

  Weir's compound

  Ilya

  Kell carried me inside his mist as he ghosted through Weir's compound. He desired to gauge Weir's response to his initial loss and report his findings to Dragon, who would plan accordingly for the next onslaught.

  Weir was angry; his private study was in disarray and electronic equipment had been tossed against the wall, leaving dents and tiny, scattered chips behind.

  "Where did they find those creatures?" he snapped at the warlock who struggled against a desire to fold space and leave Paricos II behind. "What were those creatures?"

  "The dragons you already know," the warlock snarled. "I never counted on losing my associates to—to High Demons."

  "What are you babbling about?" Weir hissed through clenched teeth. "There are no High Demons."

  "They reside on the planet Kifirin," the warlock said. "The most powerful warlocks cannot go against them—they nullify our power."

  "Why was I never told about this?" More equipment was hurled against the wall. I didn't fail to notice it wasn't lobbed at the warlock; he still held power enough to reduce Weir to a pile of ash, and there were no High Demons present to nullify that act.

  "They keep to themselves," the warlock said.

  "Except these didn't," Weir shouted.

  "That's it—I'm done. Deal with this on your own." The warlock disappeared.

  If my hands had been corporeal, I'd have slapped them over my ears, Weir's scream was so loud. I imagined that Rigo's ears—even as mist—were ringing. We'll go now, he sent to me. I imagine Weir will offer us a deal soon.