* * * * *
Eiron stared up at the ash-filled sky, blinking at a break in the clouds where the sun filtering through shone bright. He had left the little girl somewhere on the outskirts of the bombed area with another family in hopes that she would be safe, though she had wanted to come with him. He explained that he had to go back to his ship if he could but that he would try to stop them from destroying the city.
Not far from the Headquarters building, he stopped in his tracks. He thought it looked familiar to him, but memory told him that was impossible. He felt a sharp pain in his head and reached his hand up to knead his forehead. Light beams cascading though holes in the smoke canopy up above showed fast-moving particles in the air. Something in the scene made him remember, a hole in the roof somewhere, and cool, cascading water, far from the deadly fires breaking over Inen.
The pain grew sharper, and he nearly fell. It didn’t subside, but after a moment, he became more or less accustomed to it. It was then that he saw Corraika and a few others. They informed him that the main party was somewhere nearby and that they were going to regroup, maybe escape once the fighting was over. Eiron lagged behind a little, clutching his abdomen.
Now the Headquarters building was so close that he could see people sitting on the steps outside. A wiry old man stood there, squinting in the gloom, it looked like in his direction. Eiron felt his feet plant themselves into the ground, as he had the sinking feeling that he should know that figure.
A thousand images were flashing through his mind. “Grandfather?” he asked tentatively, taking a step forward. He felt enough answering pain in his mind to push the thoughts back for a moment. But he couldn’t stop it, or the flood of memories that were returning to him; some pressure blocked out certain recollections, though. Someone, something was missing. His mother and father were there, and his grandfather.
But who was he? Where had he lived? What had happened in his recent life? A haunting, ghostlike face flashed before his eyes, haloed by the sun, shining leaves caught in her hair, replaced by the image of rippling water.
Someone called to him from up ahead; a few of his wing mates had gathered together in the shadow of the building. Eiron remembered them, not caring if they were not included in his hazy distant past; they were his friends.
They were not the dreaded enemy, but men he had suffered with, men whose lives had never been free from the unending responsibility of protecting and serving the people. Yet his grandfather came first. If necessary, Eiron would stay behind and see to it that when the Orian rescue ships finally came, Vaikyur would be on one of them.
The Last Immortal : Book One of Seeds of a Fallen Empire Page 89
