The Wings of War: Books 1-3: The Wings of War Box Set, Vol. 1

by Bryce O'Connor

  Raz reached her so fast he caught her before her head hit the ground. Scooping her into his arms, he lifted her to his chest.

  “No! No, no, no, no!”

  Blood ran free from the great gash in the side of her neck and trickled in lines from the corners of her mouth. She coughed, spraying his chest and face, hacking as her body tried to breathe. In desperation Raz grabbed the hem of his mantle and ripped a clump free with his teeth, moving to press it against the wound.

  Small hands stopped him.

  He looked back up at Lueski’s face. Even though they watered and bulged as her body fought to keep itself alive, there was a conviction in the girl’s eyes, a certainty in the act. Even as blood bubbled on her lips, spilling in staggered spurts from her neck as her heart pumped harder in an attempt to keep beating, her hands urged Raz not to stem the flow.

  “Lueski,” Raz begged. “Lueski, please…”

  All he got was the tiniest shake of her head, almost imperceptible in the writhing of a dying body. Instead her hands shifted on his, trying to tug free the cloth clenched in his fist. Eventually, he let it go.

  Then he took her hands in his, and held them to his chest.

  Lueski smiled. For a few seconds, through the spasms in her small body she gazed up at him, content and free.

  Then she was gone.

  Raz felt the throes leave her, felt the thrashing tightness subside. She sagged against him, head tucked up against the crook of his arm, and lay still. Pulling the girl tight against him, both her hands still held to his chest, Raz threw his head back and screamed at the sky.

  The pain in that sound seemed to bring the world back to life. All about him men moved, gripped abruptly by a realization just as it struck Raz too. A singular, absolute thought that ripped through him, bringing fire and new life to his limbs.

  No chains hold your Monster now.

  He had just enough to time to lower Lueski’s still form to the ground, settling her gently in the snow by what was left of her brother, when Tern’s panicked order came.

  “KILL HIM!”

  But the world was black and red again, and Raz was gone even before Azzeki had time to bring his blade around.

  As if the guards around him were statues, Raz slipped between and below their outstretched swords and hands with ease. He had but one purpose left to him now. One objective to which he intended to apply heart, mind, and soul.

  Tern.

  Nothing and no one could stand in his way. The two that happened to get close fell screaming, one clutching at the lacerations down his face, the other at the gashes across his abdomen. The knife at Raz’s hip was forgotten, his other weapons scattered about the pit, but the steel tips of his claws were plenty enough to get him where he wanted to be.

  And when he reached Tern, they were enough to take the man about the throat.

  Tern’s squeal of fear was choked away as the fat man found himself suddenly free of the ground. With terrifying strength fed from the burning hate that melted away pain and injury, Raz lifted the Chairman completely off his feet, both hands around his neck. For a few seconds he held him there, content to watch the man kick and struggle to get out garbled words, pudgy fingers working at the steel of Raz’s gauntlets. Behind him, Raz knew the guard had frozen in their places, suddenly unsure of what to do.

  Then he smiled up at Tern, a wicked, hungry smile he hoped matched the man’s best leers, and began to squeeze.

  “Arro! Wait!”

  While color didn’t return to the world, the black and red that made up Tern’s struggling form certainly flickered. Through the rush of blood and hate Raz heard booted feet crunching against the snow, and he turned to snarl over his shoulder at whoever was fool enough to approach him.

  He paused, though, when what little conscious part of his mind he had left recognized the Doctore.

  The woman was walking around him cautiously, hands up and empty, not wanting to startle him. There was fear in her eyes, true, but more so there was concern. She moved around to be within easy view, coming to stand a little to the side and behind Tern’s writhing feet.

  “Arro,” she hissed. “Raz! Listen to me! Listen!”

  Raz ignored her, turning back to watch Tern’s face darken, thick tongue sticking out as he mouthed at the air in desperation.

  “Raz! Please! If he dies, you die. You won’t get out of the city. If you don’t get yourself killed here, the guard will close the gates and hunt you down.”

  “I’ve survived worse,” Raz heard himself sneer.

  “Not in the freeze, you haven’t. Think! Do you believe Lueski wanted you to die? Do you believe she wanted you to throw away your life, too?”

  “She wanted me to promise. She wanted to me to kill—!”

  “‘Them all,’” Rhen finished. “Yes, I heard. We all did. But you can’t believe she wanted you dead, too!”

  Raz didn’t say anything to that, and the Doctore pressed her advantage.

  “Killing Tern isn’t killing them all, Raz. If you want to hold to that promise, then you need to live. And to live, you need to let him down.”

  Raz hesitated, but didn’t relent.

  “You die here, you’ve killed one bad man, but there are more out there. You survive, and you might live to kill a thousand more.”

  A memory flashed across Raz’s thoughts. An image of Lueski smiling up at him, arms wrapped around his hips, greeting him after he’d finally come home.

  Did you win? she’d asked him. Did you beat the bad men? Did you? Did you?

  There are more out there.

  Raz felt some small parts of his mind slide back into place, and a little color returned. Tern’s face was purple, and he looked about ready to pass out. Raz paused.

  Then he let go of the fat man’s throat, dropping him unceremoniously to the ground at his feet.

  “You.” Raz pointed a steel claw at one of the Chairman’s attendants, ignoring the hacking and gasping form below him. “My sword and ax. Now!”

  The boy jumped to like he’d been stuck with a hot poker.

  “Get up,” Raz growled, reaching down to grab Tern by the hair. “UP!”

  The man staggered, half lifted, to his feet. Raz winced at the motion, feeling the ache of his wounds and the weight of the punctured lung return to him as consciousness started to win over the animal again.

  “Anyone so much as twitches,” Raz roared to the surrounding guardsmen, resting the claws of his free hand on Tern’s bruised throat, “and your Chairman goes the same way as the girl! Let us pass, and he can go free once we’re out of the city!”

  “N-Nobody move!” Tern gasped, finding his voice at last. “Nobody-Nobody move! Do as he says!”

  The guard did as ordered, lowering their blades and watching fearfully as Raz pushed Tern forward, limping on his bad leg again. Together the pair made their way through the men, Tern with his hands up, the Doctore following close behind.

  The attendant met them near the center of the pit, where Ahna waited, half-covered in snow. Taking the war ax and gladius one after the other, Raz sheathed them on his hip and over his shoulder respectively. This done, he bent down and lifted the dviassegai from the ground, never letting go of Tern’s long hair, and doing his best not to show the toll it took on him to pick up the weapon.

  “Horses,” Raz growled over his shoulder to Rhen. “Three of them.”

  If the Doctore nodded, he didn’t see, but the next moment she was off running, slipping below the portcullis and down the gangway.

  Pressing Ahna’s twin tips into Tern’s back, Raz pushed the man forward, moving to follow.

  For the first time, someone stepped forward to block their path.

  Azzeki Koro stood between them and the pit gate, reddened blade bare to the gray of the afternoon at his side. His dark eyes met Raz’s evenly, testing, seeking, almost as though he were searching for the extent of Raz’s weaknesses, searching for what kink in the Monster’s armor to take advantage of.

  �
��Tell your man to move, Chairman, or by every Southern, Northern, and unknown god alike I will spit you where you stand,” Raz hissed into Tern’s ear.

  “Azzeki, move!” the Chairman squealed at once, eyes bulging. “Are you trying to get me killed? Get out of the way!”

  For a few seconds the Captain-Commander didn’t budge, still searching Raz’s face.

  Then he stepped aside.

  Raz shoved Tern forward, pressing him stumbling past the Percian and the last of the guard. As they reached the portcullis, though, he stopped. A small form lay at the gate’s feet, peaceful in death, looking like she might have simply been sleeping beneath the blanket of snow that was already starting to cover her.

  Pulling Tern around, Raz kicked the knees out from beneath the fat man and bent him over Lueski’s body.

  “Pick her up,” he growled.

  “Wha—?” Tern spluttered, panicking. “No! I-I don’t—”

  “PICK HER UP!”

  The Chairman jumped as Raz screamed in his ear, then scrambled to lift the girl into his arms. Struggling to his feet again, the man was huffing and puffing by the time he stood.

  “Now tell your man to get her brother,” Raz ordered.

  Tern hesitated, then looked around at Azzeki and nodded. The Captain-Commander grimaced in distaste, but sheathed his blade and moved to grab Arrun’s head from the ground. Stepping forward, he dropped it in the crook of Lueski’s hips, bent up against Tern’s chest.

  “Now walk,” Raz said, prodding the Chairman down the gangway.

  This time he moved without pause.

  They tottered down the ramp, Raz limping with his hand in Tern’s hair while the Chairman struggled under the added weight of the Koyts. When they reached the bottom, what few fighters were left in the underworks looked around curiously, eyes widening as they watched the pair pass.

  Raz ignored them all, heading straight for the entrance.

  The doors were open for them, the streets outside almost devoid of traffic for once. Around the bend of the wall, though, Raz could hear the pounding of thousands of feet as the stadium emptied, the spectators intent on seeing out the day’s events until the very end.

  Feeling panic start to settle in again, Raz looked around in desperation for a place to hide.

  “You can’t get away,” Tern said in a falsely calm voice. “Let me go now, and I’ll make sure you get out of the city alive.”

  “Shut up,” Raz growled.Making up his mind, he started pushing Tern towards the alley across from the underworks’ doors.

  “It’s the only option you have,” Tern insisted, stumbling forward. “You think they’ll let you out of the gates in one-AAH!”

  Losing patience, Raz had shoved Ahna’s tips, hard, into the Chairman’s back. Blood welled through the cuts in the man’s rich cloak.

  “They’ll open the gates because you’ll tell them to, Chairman,” Raz hissed. “If you don’t, well… You and I have both been lucky to make it this far. I hope you’ve realized by now I’m not overly bothered with dying if it means taking you with me.”

  Tern was quiet after that.

  Clop, clop, clop.

  Raz’s ears twitched up at the sound just as they made the edge of the alley. Looking left, opposite where the muted thunder of footsteps was approaching from, he saw dark shapes loom out of the snow.

  Doctore, atop a thick gray stud, with another, darker horse in tow.

  “I thought I said three horses,” Raz said suspiciously, eyeing the woman as she dismounted beside him in a rush.

  “Two is all I could manage,” she said, her breath steaming in the air. “It won’t make a difference anyway.”

  “But what are you going to—?”

  “If you thought I was going to come with you, you’re wrong,” she said with a shake of her head. “Someone has to stay and clean up this mess. People will panic. The council will need help.”

  “The council can go and—!” Raz began in a raspy yell, but Rhen cut him off again.

  “What?” she demanded. “Can go fuck themselves? Kill themselves? I don’t disagree after today, but without them the city falls to pieces, at least for now. I told you, Arro, there are more bad men out there. But there are more ways to deal with them than a knife in the throat, too.”

  Raz watched her with narrowed eyes. Then he shrugged, looking at the horses.

  “Can you take Lueski and Arrun for a minute?” he asked her quietly.

  Rhen’s face fell, and she nodded sadly.

  “Hand them over,” Raz ordered Tern. “Then get up.”

  The Chairman did as he was told, allowing the Doctore to take Lueski and her brother’s head from his arms, then moved to the closest of the two horses as Raz guided him by the hair.

  Getting the Chairman into the saddle was an ordeal that required no small effort from Raz, and left him pained and aching once more, wheezing in the cold. Taking the reins before Tern thought of making a run for it, he led the horse to stand beside the other, then hauled himself up onto the back of the gray stud.

  “Can you ride?” the Doctore asked hesitantly, glancing at his clawed feet.

  Raz nodded. “My family had horses, growing up,” he said, resting Ahna across his lap and reaching down to grab the end of his cloak again. “I learned with the best. Now give the children back to Tern.”

  As Rhen passed Lueski and Arrun up carefully to the Chairman, Raz ripped long strips of thick fur from the mantle with his teeth, bending down to wrap them around his bare feet. They might already be numb, but hopefully this way he would avoid losing them to the cold.

  This done, he looked down at the Doctore again.

  “Rhen… You’re sure you don’t want to come?”

  The woman nodded. “I’m sure,” she said with a smile that tugged at the scar on her face. “And call me Alyssa.”

  “Alyssa,” Raz said with a nod. “If I come back, Raz will do as well.”

  He paused.

  “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “For everything.”

  “And the same to you,” Alyssa replied. “Now go. They’re coming!”

  Sure enough, the crowd had reached them, billowing out of the snow from beyond the curve of the Arena.

  Wheeling his horse around into the alley, Raz looked at Tern.

  “If you drop them, your head hits the ground next. Is that clear?”

  The Chairman blanched, then nodded. Satisfied, Raz kicked his horse into a gallop. Together the pair made their way west, heading for the closest city gate, iron shoes thundering across the cobblestone of the alley.

  CHAPTER 39

  Night had long fallen by the time Raz pulled them to a halt, not nearly as far from the city as he would have liked. Other travelers and their carts had left paired divots in the west road, but still the snow choked the way, the storm making it impossible to move at more than a plodding trot once they’d made the forest paths. With his hood up, Raz had been able to press them forward an hour or two more than men would have dared, his keen eyes working better with what limited light the setting Sun had offered behind its shield of clouds.

  Now, though, it was becoming too dangerous for even him, in the snow.

  “This way,” he said, turning his horse into the darkness of the trees to their left, leading Tern’s behind him.

  The Chairman had barely said a word once he’d ordered the guards to open the west gate and let them through, so intent was he on making sure Lueski’s body and Arrun’s head didn’t fall from his grasp as they rode. Raz had expected him to complain, expected him to demand release, but the man had been surprisingly quiet.

  It was as though being outside the walls of his city had suddenly made Tern realize that there really was no one left to help him now.

  Beneath the trees was easier going, with much of the snow caught in the canopy above. Raz was able to pick their way through the pines with some effort, his way only lit by scattered beams of dim light that made it through the branches. For another hou
r he walked them, twisting the horses hopelessly this way and that, though he was careful to judge the position of the Moon above so he would know which way they’d come.

  He had his doubts Tern knew enough of the world to do the same.

  “Here,” he said at last, coming to the edge of a hill beneath the jutting lip of a great rock outcropping.

  The snow was all but clear beneath the boulders, and he eased himself down from his saddle, still careful to keep ahold of the reins of Tern’s horse, and onto the forest floor. He grit his teeth against the shock of pain that ripped through him as his body moved in ways it hadn’t for several hours, pulling at wounds he was starting to worry weren’t about to heal on their own.