Windrunner's Daughter

by Bryony Pearce

  Wren laughed. “It was an easy glide, Colm.” She looked up. The Runner platform was only a level above them. A shout from below demanded that they stop. She peered over the railing: Erb. She waved at Raw and Jay. “Come on!”

  They leaped together from the top of the Dome, a pair of wings flashing in a ray of sunlight.

  Like Colm, Raw was almost too heavy for the weakened air. Jay flew above him, his lighter frame giving him more lift. Raw came in first, almost too fast to see. He crashed into Colm with the force of an uprooted gingko. Colm grabbed him and they reeled backwards to crunch into the railing. The whole staircase juddered with the force of their impact. Jay followed, hammering into the pair of them, in a tangle of wings and limbs.

  Colm groaned. The staircase creaked and Wren looked over the side. The Councillor was taking the steps two at a time. “No time to lose.” She dragged Jay off Raw and the relief in his green eyes told her that his back had taking a beating. She pushed Jay towards the last set of stairs. “Climb!”

  She grabbed Raw’s arm and helped him to his feet. Raw took his own weight, put an arm around her and drove her forward. She looked back to see Colm lurching upright and running to overtake them.

  The four Runners raced to the platform, their wings flying behind them.

  Jay gripped a railing and jumped over, saving himself half a staircase. Colm copied him and was soon in front. Raw pushed Wren ahead of him. Coughing and gasping for breath she looked back. They were leaving the fat Councillor several flights below them.

  Then they were facing the Runner platform. Wren put her hands on her knees, panting. There was a Runner station behind them and ahead, an airlock cycled red. The platform itself was built so that it went through the airlock and continued on the other side. The leaping lines were outside the Dome, above the desert. A ragged looking net hung beneath the platform. It would catch her only if she fell straight down.

  “Who first?” She moved towards the airlock but Colm raised his eyebrows.

  “We fly in order of seniority. I go first. Then Jay, you and the Grounder is last.” He glared at Raw and then strode past Wren, towards the airlock.

  He pressed a palm against the reader and it cycled green. Then he stepped backwards shook out his wings and bent into a starting position

  For some reason the snick of the opening door caught Wren’s attention when she should have been wholly focused on her brother. She glanced over her shoulder and her eyes widened. “Genna!”

  The Sphere-Mistress emerged from the Runner Station. She was almost unrecognisable her face was so twisted with hatred. Her bun had come undone and her hair stuck out wildly from her head. Her eyes blazed and her lips were pressed together, pale with rage.

  At Wren’s whisper, Colm stopped his preparations and turned. “Sphere-Mistress Genna.” He nodded a greeting. “You can come out of hiding. Your Council has agreed to let us all go.”

  Genna came closer, one hand was snarled in her skirt, the other fixed behind her back. Wren couldn’t take her eyes from the hand she could not see. As Genna came nearer, some instinct made Wren retreat towards Raw.

  “You’re alive,” Genna rasped. “We thought you were dead.”

  Wren shook her head; she had no answer.

  “We’re going to deal with her over in Elysium.” Colm said, keeping his tone low and calm. Why was he talking like that? Wren frowned.

  “So, you’re going to let her fly again.” Genna spat. “Blasphemy on blasphemy.” Her voice rose.

  Colm held his hands out, steady and walked carefully forward. His voice remained low and clear. “Patriarch Chayton will want to deal with her. We’ll send word once her punishment has been carried out.”

  “Why wait?” Genna lurched forward. “Why not throw her from this platform?” She reached with her free hand for Wren’s wings and Raw yanked her out of Genna’s reach.

  Colm kept talking. “I’m not Elysium’s Patriarch.” He gave a deprecating smile. “I can’t make the decision. Once Chayton is back from Lake Lyot -”

  “You don’t need your Patriarch to pass judgement. You know exactly what Convocation would decide.” Her lip curled.

  The platform shuddered again and Erb appeared at the top of the stairs. The fat Councillor was gasping for breath, his halfie half dangling from his nose, his chin wet with spit. Damp patches crept from his underarms towards his waist and his breath heaved in wet sucking rasps.

  He saw Genna and froze.

  Wren wriggled from Raw’s grasp. “Genna, I didn’t cause the plague. Runner’s spread it, that parts true, but not me. I’ve never Run before this.”

  Genna wailed, an insane sound, full of fury, hatred and frustration. “The plague? What has that to do with this? You stole Runner wings, you filthy, irreverent, disgusting, blasphemous …” she sputtered, seeking further insults and Colm moved nearer. Now he stood beside Wren. He edged a hand between her and Raw and pushed her backwards, towards the platform.

  “What are you doing?” Genna roared and her hidden hand came into view.

  Wren saw what had stopped Erb. Genna wielded a long, sharp graphene knife, one of the tools of a Sphere-Mistress that would have been kept inside the Runner station. “Hand her over, Elysians,” she growled.

  Wren’s gut tightened.

  Colm glanced at Erb, who held his hands up, still unmoving.

  “We’ve been granted clemency,” Colm said again. “The Councillors have said we’re free to go.”

  Then why is Erb here? Wren thought: trying to stop us from leaving.

  “What has the Vaikunthan Council got to do with Runner law?” Genna spat. “I don’t care about the rest of you, but that vile witch has to die.”

  “We’re not giving you our sister.” Jay’s fists were clenched.

  Wren backed towards the platform.

  “No!” Genna wailed. “You won’t get away.” She lunged, twisting like water underneath Raw’s arm and Colm’s grasping hand. Wren could only stumble backwards, her hands raised defensively, as the Sphere-Mistress came at her like screaming vengeance. There was no-one between them. Genna was already lifting the knife and jabbing at Wren’s ribcage.

  Colm leaped, his wings spreading to give him distance and lift. He landed right in front of Wren; his arms closed around her, and his eyes met hers. The force of his landing knocked the breath from them both and they fell together onto the platform. Wren struck her head on the airlock rim but over the ringing in her ears she heard the hiss as it opened and Jay’s shriek, like nothing she had ever heard before.

  There was a rush of silver above her and a tangle of limbs and skirt. Genna’s furious cries shattered in her ears and Wren writhed.

  “Colm, get off me, I can’t breathe!”

  She craned her neck and saw Raw bundle the Sphere-Mistress into the airlock.

  Erb shouted at them to get away from the airlock, but she was pinned, couldn’t move; could only watch as Raw ripped Genna’s halfie from her face.

  “Raw, no!”

  Raw was beyond hearing. Genna fought and scratched, but he hurled her to the back of the airlock, leaped into the Dome, slapped his hand on the palm reader and keyed in a code she had never seen before.

  Genna’s terrified face. She hammered on the airlock door for whole seconds. And then it cycled open over the desert. Her eyes widened, her hands went to her throat and she collapsed. Wren could no longer see her, but she could hear the drumming of her feet against metal. And then that too, stopped.

  “What have you done?” She struggled to get out from under her brother. Why wasn’t he moving? “Colm, get off!”

  Colm’s eyes were still focused on hers. “Wait a moment, Wren,” he whispered. Blood flecked his lips. Had he bitten his tongue when they fell?

  He freed one arm from around her and touched her face. “Do you remember flying kites with me?”

  Wren nodded. “We can talk later.”

  Colm swallowed and more bl
ood appeared on his face. It dripped onto Wren’s neck. She couldn’t wipe it away. For some reason Erb wasn’t coming closer. Jay thudded to his knees at her side and there was something wrong with his face.

  Raw remained standing.

  She looked once more at Colm, a horrible suspicion growing. “Colm … are you all right?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Colm’s lips twitched. “You’ll have to lead the other two home, Wren …” he coughed this time and Wren winced as gore spattered her cheeks.

  “What do you-”

  “You’re the best Runner in the family.” Colm shook his head slightly and his eyes unfocused. “I wouldn’t have believed it, but-”

  “Colm, you’re leading us home.” Wren’s chest tightened, she could hardly speak.

  “Bear right from the … Runway,” he whispered.

  Colm shifted his gaze to Raw and Raw nodded. He reached down and caught Wren’s shoulders. He eased her out from beneath her brother.

  Wren struggled to her knees and held onto Raw for one precious heartbeat, just stealing one moment when she could pretend everything was going to be fine. She knew it wasn’t. She pulled her face from Raw’s chest and turned.

  Erb stood like a loose limbed statue, fat and sweating. She ignored him and looked, finally, at her brother. Now she could see only one thing: the graphene knife, sticking out from Colm’s back and pinning his wings to him. Her eyes flashed to Jay. His met Wren’s, so wide with horror that the whites were showing. He was silent, but Wren knew what he was saying - do something.

  She turned to Raw, knowing it wasn’t fair, knowing her eyes said the same thing as her brother’s.

  Raw swallowed as Colm’s breath started to come in terrible rattles. “I don’t think we should pull out the knife.” Raw wrung his hands. “It could kill him.”

  Colm lay on his stomach, facing Wren. Now his blood pooled towards her knees. His wings fluttered around his body like escaping breath, and the knife twitched jerkily with each hitching inhalation. “Take … it … out.”

  “No!”

  Colm half rolled and reached into his shirt. He pulled out a small packet and Wren’s breath caught in her throat. Her mother’s medicine, she had almost forgotten about it. He pressed it into her hand. “Get this home.”

  Wren shook her head, but she took the packet with trembling fingers and tucked it into her belt.

  Colm looked at Raw. “Do … it.”

  Terror blocked Wren’s throat, she choked on the bitter taste, but found Colm’s hand. She interlocked her fingers with her brother’s, crouched down as low as she could and forced him to look into her eyes. “You’re going to be fine.”

  His hand was cold, as if dipped in the river they had swum through. He tried to nod, but agony shot across his face.

  “Hold him still.” Wren’s head shot up, but Raw was looking at Jay.

  Jay pressed his forearms on Colm’s back, one either side of the knife. “Ready?” Raw shouted.

  Jay nodded, his face drawn, his teeth showing outside his lips.

  Raw didn’t look at Wren but she saw him take a deep breath and close his hands around the handle.

  Colm’s hand convulsed in hers’ and immediately she shifted her attention back to her brother.

  She pressed her mouth to his ear. “It’s going to hurt, but it’ll be okay.”

  “On three?” Raw’s voice trembled as he shouted. “One … two …”

  “Three.” Wren whispered it with him and kept her eyes on locked on Colm’s as Raw pulled the knife.

  Colm bucked and his hand tightened so hard over hers’ that she thought he might have broken her fingers.

  She refused to look away as Jay pulled Colm’s ripped wings from the wound. “There’s so much blood,” he choked.

  A bundle of material was thrust into his hand and Wren looked up, surprised. Erb had removed his tunic. His bare chest heaved in the afternoon light. Rolls of fat hung over his trouser top and the folds were flushed and damp.

  Jay’s fingers cramped on the linen and he pressed it to the wound. Instantly it reddened.

  Colm’s eyes drifted closed and Wren shook him furiously. “Don’t you dare go to sleep. You think this is a good time for a nap?”

  His eyes opened again and Wren risked a quick look up. Jay was sobbing hysterically as he tried to stem the blood flow. Raw’s hands too, were working madly underneath her brother’s wings.

  Quickly, Wren looked back at Colm’s face. His cheeks were white, but splashed with livid blood that was drying to brown on his lips.

  “There’s less blood,” she croaked. “That’s good right?”

  No answer came from her brother or Raw and suddenly she didn’t dare look away from Colm’s face. Somewhere deep inside she knew that if she let Colm close his eyes again, he wouldn’t open them. “We’re going home, Colm,” she whispered into his ear. “Mother’s waiting for us.”

  Colm sagged into stillness.

  “No!” Wren snapped. “Stay awake.”

  Colm’s lips twitched as if he was trying to smile. Tears blurred Wren’s vision and when she could see again, the light had fled Colm’s eyes.

  “Colm!” She shook his hand, but he made no movement. She leaned right down, lying so that her ear was by his mouth. There was no rattle of breath. She shot onto her knees. “Raw!” She hammered his shoulder.

  He immediately turned to her, his face tragic. Jay was already still, his head hanging, his hands useless.

  “What’re you doing? Don’t stop!”

  Raw caught her hand. “He’s gone,” he said quietly.

  “It’s your fault,” Wren sobbed. “We should've left the knife in.”

  Raw jolted as if she’d punched him, but Jay reached over Colm’s body and pinched her face, forcing her to look at him. “What else could we have done?”

  “But he’s dead!” Wren’s face contorted with the power of her agony. “Colm’s dead.” She collapsed over her brother’s corpse, tears shaking through her aching heart. A weight half crushed her, and only when she felt his warmth on her back, did she realise Jay had fallen himself, bawling in her ear as loudly as he had when he was seven years old and broken his ankle.

  “I know you’ve done this before Wren, but please slow down.”

  Wren looked up. Her mother was a slim silhouette with the sunlight behind her. Her hair streamed around her shoulders; a golden halo.

  Wren rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Can you lower me two hands worth? There’s a tear on my right.”

  Her mother braced her legs and played out a bit more line. When the slack reached Wren she pulled herself towards the torn netting, examined the tear and ran her palm over the rock beneath it. There was a sharp outcrop and it had worn the netting away. She used her hook to mend the hole with new twine and then reached for her hammer and chisel.

  Suddenly there was a tug on her belt and Wren looked behind her, Runners were coming in. She grabbed the rope and walked up the cliff. At the top she reached for her mother’s hand.

  Mia pulled Wren into her arms and they stood with their heads together, fine blonde hair blending with thick brown curls, as they watched the bright blurs flicker in and out of the sun.

  Mia was so tense she was vibrating. Wren pulled back to look at her. Her mother’s face was white and she was grinding her teeth. Her fingers flexed against Wren’s shirt. Wren squeezed her hand. “They’ll be fine.”

  Her mother nodded absently. “Of course they will.” But she did not look away from the sky, nor did she relax until Wren’s father and brothers had landed safely and run into her arms.

  Strangely Jay’s wailing forced an odd calm through Wren, just as it had when she was five and had to half carry him home.

  She struggled out from beneath him and, still clutching Colm’s hand, she spoke to Raw. “I’m sorry.” She looked at Colm again, her hands shaking with the force of her grief. “I-it wasn’t your fault.”

/>   Then, searching for somewhere less painful to rest, her gaze went to the Councillor who now stood with his head bowed.

  “You’re here for us,” she said.

  Erb swallowed. “You saved the colony.” He wiped sweat from his brow. “Here.” He held out a twist of paper. “The Runners have gone, spreading the plague.” He shook his head. “So we have to spread the cure. This is the formula for the medicine. If you can get it to Aaru they might be able to mass produce ... I think they still have a synthesizer.”

  Raw took the formula and tucked it into his shirt. “And what about …?” He indicated Wren with a tilt of his head.

  “Yes.” The Councillor licked thick lips. “It’s a shame about the girl.”

  Jay’s head shot up.

  “A shame that the Sphere-Mistress killed her before yer Convocaton could exact justice.” The Councillor pushed past to lift Colm’s body and began unstrapping his wings.

  “What are you doing?” Wren leaped to her feet and Erb paused, Colm pressed to his chest, the bloody wings half off his back.

  Colm looked peaceful. His eyes remained open and now, in the arms of the Vaikunthan, his face was half turned to the sky.

  Raw reached down to close his eyelids, but Wren caught his wrist. “That’s not our way. He’s looking at the sky, that’s right.”

  Jay nodded miserably. “I’ll lie as I lived, under wings, under sky …”

  Wren could barely finish. “Don’t bury me deep in the dust when I die.” She leaned gratefully against Raw for just one moment. Then she followed Colm’s final gaze upwards to the lavender sky.

  “Say good-bye, Wren,” Raw whispered.

  “What are you-?”

  The Councillor spat to one side. “Yer Runners will want to see proof of yer death.” Awkwardly he released Colm from his wings. “Now I have something to show them.”

  “But - what about Colm?”

  Raw met Erb’s lizard glare. Then he turned Wren to face him. “We have to get rid of his body. Someone will see three Runners heading to Avalon. Colm has to be one of them.”

  Wren’s heart turned to stone. “You can’t mean -”

  Raw nodded. Erb left the wings on the platform. He took Colm’s shoulders and Raw his feet. As Wren and Jay stared, hopelessly, they carried him like a sack of seeds to the airlock and, silently Raw entered a new code into the airlock. He pressed his palm against the reader. It cycled open.