by Aaron Hodges
Sucking in a breath, Chris shouted across to the others, his words barely audible over the crack of air through their feathers. “We have to fly over the cliffs.”
He had been studying the cliffs as the others gathered around them. They still towered above, their peaks tantalisingly out of reach. With the swirling winds doing their best to hinder them, it would take a massive effort to climb those last hundred feet. Glancing down, he searched again for the guards, and found them near the base of the rubble. They were looking up the rugged slope, but they still had not spotted them. Chris prayed they did not look up into the open air.
After all, who would have guessed they could fly?
Returning his attention to the cliffs, he willed himself upwards. Muscles strained and feathers shifted, and with a surge of elation he rose several feet. The others quickly followed him, their faces strained with concentration, their eyes fixed on the ledge above. It wasn’t far, less than a hundred feet now, but the winds were shifting, fighting against them. And as they neared the top, the raging waters grew closer, soaking them through and stealing the last of the warmth from their bodies.
Still they pressed on, beating their wings in the thin air. Water accumulated in their feathers, weighing them down, but gritting his teeth Chris pressed on. His stomach tightened as muscles he had never used stretched and twisted, driving his wings forward, sending him upwards.
Bit by bit, the top of the cliffs drew closer.
When they were still thirty feet away, Chris risked a glance down, and swore.
The guards were staring up at them, pointing, their eyes wide and mouths open in shock. But already one was dropping to his knee, and the others quickly followed suit. Rifles were raised to shoulders and a gun barrel flashed. Almost three hundred feet above, the seven of them presented an easy target.
Without thinking, Chris’s wings twisted, sending him whirling sideways, even as he screamed at the others.
“Look out!”
Then the air was alive with the screech of bullets. The others scattered like a flock of doves, flying outwards in all directions, though they strained to continue upwards. Up towards the clifftops, towards safety.
Straining for breath, Chris drove himself on, though every inch of his body was screaming. Threads of terror wrapped their way around him, but somehow he found the strength to hold on. His wings worked by instinct now, alive with the rush of desperation, driven by the need to escape.
Abruptly he found himself in clear air. One instant the whiz of bullets and howling wind was all around him, then it was gone. Looking down, he realised he had made it, that he had crossed the threshold of the cliffs. The canyon had disappeared from view, dropping away as he shot over the icy ground a few feet below, still tracking the stream upwards.
Glancing back, he watched Sam shoot up over the lip of the cliff and then dive towards the ground, quickly followed by Jasmine and Richard. They evened out about thirty feet from the ground and raced towards where Chris was pulling up and twisting to meet them. They wore wide grins on their faces, though their cheeks were red and their breath billowed out in clouds of vapour.
Chris looked past them, holding his breath, waiting for Ashley and Liz and the girl.
They appeared one by one, Liz, the girl, and finally, rising laboriously into sight, Ashley. Liz and the girl swept down towards them, but Ashley was struggling to maintain her height. Her wings were barely moving now, and her face was turning purple. She still hovered over the lip of the cliff, drifting slowly towards them, driving by sheer determination now.
Her eyes closed with sudden relief as she reached the clear air. Straightening out, her wings spread wide to catch the gentler breeze. A smile warmed her face as she looked across at them.
Then her smile faltered, her eyes widening as a shot echoed up from below. A red stain flowered in her chest and blood sprayed the air. Without a sound, Ashley’s wings folded, and she plummeted to the icy ground.
EPILOGUE
Ashley lay in a tangled mess of limbs and feathers and wings, her flesh torn and broken, her face buried in snow. The only signs she lived came from the slow rise and fall of her back, the low gurgling coming from her chest. She coughed, half-rolling to reveal her battered face. Blood seeped between her lips in a slow trickle, staining the snow beneath her.
She didn’t move as they drew closer. Her eyes were closed, and there was little chance she could be conscious after the fall. Chris was shocked she was even alive; though he wasn’t sure that was a blessing for her, or a curse. Her wings lay at awkward angles around her, and when he glanced at her legs he had to look away.
The bullet had taken her in the back and passed straight through her. Somehow it had missed her heart, but with the blood bubbling from her mouth, it appeared to have found a lung.
Another groan rattled from Ashley’s chest, tearing at Chris’s heart. He crossed the last of the distance between them and crouched beside her. Tears built in his eyes, but angrily he wiped them away. Reaching out, he grasped Ashley’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Ashley,” he whispered as the others gathered around them. “Ashley, it’s okay, we’re here.”
Ashley. Brave, bold, elegant. When he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d thought her fragile, a sheltered city girl incapable of standing up for herself. She had put those misconceptions to rest with her first words. And time and time again since. She had proven stronger than any of them, her will unquenchable.
And now she lay here on the side of a mountain, her blood staining the frozen earth, and there was nothing any of them could do to help her.
She was dying.
Stones crunched as Sam crouched beside him. Tears streamed down the larger boy’s face. Stretching out a hand, he wiped the blood from Ashley’s lips, as though the simple act might wake her, might bring her back to them. A sob tore from his chest as a fresh bubble of blood rose between her lips and burst.
He reached for her, as though to draw her into his arms, and then stopped. He crouched there with one arm outstretch, torn between his desperation to help her, and the fear he would only hurt her further.
The others stood around them in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Long minutes dragged by as they watched her struggle, her every breath a desperate fight for survival. They had time to spare now, though in truth all thought of escape had vanished. On the harsh mountainside, they sat by their friend and watched her life slip away.
But as minutes ticked towards an hour, Ashley still clung to life. Her body was torn and broken, her life-blood staining the snow red, but still she breathed, still she fought on.
Finally Chris knew they could wait no longer. Sucking in a breath, he stood. Tears stung his eyes as Liz joined him, sliding an arm beneath his shoulder. He looked at the others, saw the indecision in even Jasmine and Richard’s eyes. They could not stand there waiting for her to die. And yet, they could not abandon her, could not let her last moments on this earth pass alone on this harsh mountainside.
He looked at the others, hating the question in their eyes. They wanted him to make a decision, though he was not quite sure when he’d become the leader. It felt strange, especially given Richard and Jasmine’s animosity. But there was no time to debate it now.
“We can carry her,” Chris whispered at last.
“No,” Sam croaked, surprising him. The young man looked up at him, his eyes red with tears, and shook his head. “No, you can’t bring her with you. She’ll only slow you down.”
“We can’t leave her,” Liz said.
Sam closed his eyes, a shudder going through him. “I know,” he breathed.
Chris stared at him, a tightness growing in his stomach. “What do you want to do, Sam?”
“Go, Chris,” Sam looked up at them, resolution shining from his eyes. “Go. Take the others with you. Leave, fly away, be free. I’ll look after her,” his voice broke as he finished, but there was iron in his words.
Lookin
g down at Sam, Chris wondered at his courage. He opened his mouth to argue, to convince him to come with them, that they could carry her, keep her comfortable until…
“Maybe they can save her…” Sam finished.
With those five words, Chris realised they would never change Sam’s mind. He meant to sacrifice himself for Ashley. He would give away his freedom, his life if there was the slightest chance she might live. Looking at her, Chris tried and failed to summon the same hope. Between the bullet and the fall, there was little left of the graceful girl he had known.
But still she fought on, her iron will unyielding. And thinking of the miracles the facility had performed on them, he wondered if Sam might be right.
At last he nodded. In his arms, Liz began to tremble, but he pulled her tight before she tried to argue further. She glanced up at him, anger burning in her eyes, but he only shook his head.
This was Sam’s decision to make. His alone.
Jasmine and Richard glanced at each other, their shoulders slumped. Whatever their history with Ashley and Sam, Chris doubted they had ever wished for this. Perhaps they would even miss his comedic presence.
“Good luck, Sam,” Chris said, swallowing hard.
Sam nodded and then turned back to Ashley. With the utmost care, he slid his hands under her back and lifted her into his arms. She gave a tiny groan as she left the ground, seeming to shrink beside Sam’s massive frame. Her head lifted, her eyelids fluttering, before she nestled her head into the crook of Sam’s arm and grew still.
Gently, Jasmine and Richard helped tuck the shattered mess of Ashley’s wings into Sam’s arms. Then they stood in silence as Sam moved back towards the cliffs. His copper wings slowly spread as he walked towards the edge, his back straight, his gaze fixed straight ahead. He did not look back as he reached the edge. Without hesitating, stepped out into open air.
They stood for a moment after he had disappeared, waiting for the gunfire, praying he would reach the ground safely. But they did not go to the edge. They did not watch.
Chris didn’t know about the others, but he could not bear to see Sam return to his chains.
Finally Chris wiped the tears from his eyes and faced the others. They stood shivering in the cold mountain air, their eyes red, their faces pale. Even so, they faced him, waiting.
But there was only one thing left for them to do now.
Fly.
Book One: Completed.
Continue the adventure in:
***Renegades***
Note from the Author
So, I have a question for those of you who’ve made it this far – what do you think of my Science Fiction lingo? This is my first foray into the genre, so I’m quite interested to know how I did! You can contact me at [email protected] if you wanted to share your opinion, or of course you can leave your review over on Amazon!
Second question – did you find the sciencebelievable? Because believe it or not, much of it was based in real science. As a biologist, this sort of science fiction has always interested me, and I spent a lot of time day dreaming in university lectures about the possibilities presented by homeotic genes and genetic modification through viruses. It was a joy to bring those daydreams to life on the pages of this book.
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AND FINALLY!
If you’ve enjoyed this book, you might also like my original works.
Be sure to read on below for a free preview of my first ever novel:
Stormwielder
Stormwielder: Prologue
Alastair stared into the fire, letting its heat wash through his damp cloak. The autumn storm had caught him in the open, drenching him before he could reach the shelter of a band of trees. The sudden violence of the storm was a grim warning of winter’s fast approach.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Alastair shifted position, groaning as his old joints cracked in the cold. He added another stick to the fire. A greedy tongue of flame licked up the tender wood. Wind rustled the dark branches above. The fire flickered in the breeze and blew smoke into his face. Its feeble light cast dancing shadows across the clearing.
A head appeared in the trees nearby, its long face staring at him. Alastair gripped his sword and fought to control the pain in his chest. His horse snickered at his fear and retreated into the shadows. It was only Elcano, his constant companion for almost a decade. Shivering, he released his sword hilt. He knew all too well the dangers of the night. Once he had been one to stand against such things. Now, though...
He shook his head to clear the morbid thoughts. He was still a warrior, and creatures of the dark still feared his name. Yet lately doubt had crept into his mind. It had been a long time since he’d fought the good fight, long before the ravages of time stripped away his strength. The old man shivering at autumn shadows was but a spectre of the Alastair who had once battled the demons of winter.
“If only...” he whispered to himself. The words haunted him, carrying with them the weight of wasted decades. If only he had known, if only he had prepared himself. Instead the great Alastair had settled down and put the dark days behind him.
Then two years ago, Antonia had come. She shattered the peaceful world he had built for himself and dragged him back into a life he had thought long buried.
“Find them,” she ordered, and he had obeyed.
If only it were so simple. Things were never as they seemed when she was involved. Two years of searching and he was now farther from the truth than when he started. The trail was ancient, his quarry adept at disappearing without trace. He himself had taught them the skills, but for generations they had perfected them. Alastair had tracked them as far as Peakill but there all trace vanished. For all he knew they were dead. He prayed to Antonia it was not so.
The wind died away and the chirp of crickets rose above the whisper of the trees. The fire popped as a log collapsed, scattering sparks across the ground. He watched them slowly dwindle to nothing and then looked up at the dark canopy. Through the branches he glimpsed the brilliance of the full moon.
Alastair gritted his teeth. She would come tonight. His hands began to shake; he had dreaded this moment for weeks. The sickly taste of despair rose in his throat. The world would feel the consequences of his failure.
“Not yet, there is still time,” the soft whisper of a female’s voice came from the shadows.
Antonia walked from the trees. A veil of mist clung to her small frame, obscuring her features. Her violet eyes shone through the darkness, making the firelight seem pale by comparison. Those eyes held such power and resolve that he shrank before them. The scent of roses filled the grove and cleansed the smoky air. Her footsteps made the slightest crunch as she glided towards him.
“It doesn’t matter. They’re gone and I don’t have the strength to continue. Find someone else to fight this battle, I’m done!” he lowered his gaze, unable to meet her eyes.
“There is no one else like you. You know that,” there was anger in the girl’s voice. “Look at me and tell me you would abandon everything we have worked for!”
Alastair glanced up. “I abandoned my family for your cause,” he forced the words out, struggling to hold back tears. “I have given everything for you, and it has all been in vain. It’s over, they’re gone.”
He stared at Antonia, expecting anger, scorn, disappointment. She smiled. “It has not been in vain, there is still hope. Elynbrigge has found them.”
A rush of strength surged through Alastair. “Where?”
Antonia laughed. Absently she flicked a strand of hair from her face. “The trail was years old, but they are alive and well in Chole. Look for them there. He will watch over them until you arrive.”
Alastair jumped to his feet, scattering firewood into the flame
s. The blaze roared and leapt to devour the fresh meal. He ignored it. The fire be damned, they were alive!
“Wait,” the tone of Antonia’s voice gave him pause. “First you must go to Oaksville. There is someone there who needs you. When you find him, take him with you. Be quick; Archon won’t be far behind.”
“Who is in Oaksville?” the town was close, but the detour would cost precious time.
“Eric.”
Before he could reply, she was gone.
For a long time Alastair stood staring at the space where she had vanished. Her words spun through his head. His anguish was gone, replaced by a fragile spark of hope. Despair still prowled at the back of his mind, but for now the spark was all that mattered.
He did not sleep that night and the sun was approaching noon as he neared the town. As he cleared the last of the trees he saw the sickly pillars of smoke curling up from the city. He kicked Elcano into a gallop.
Stormwielder: One
A pillar of smoke rose from the burning house. The roar of the flames was deafening. Heat scorched his eyes but he could not look away. The blaze lit the night, chasing the stars from the sky. Amidst the fire the silhouette of a boy appeared. He stumbled from the wreckage, clothes falling to ashes around him. Sparks of lightning leapt from his fingertips, leaving scorch marks on the tiled street. Soot covered his slim face, marred only by the trail of tears running down his cheeks. The wind caught his mop of dark brown hair and revealed the deep blue glow of his eyes. He wore an expression of absolute terror.
“Help me!”
Eric sat bolt upright, the nightmare tearing him from his sleep. He gasped for breath, eyes darting around in search of escape. A wall of vegetation loomed above him. The dark fingers of branches clawed at his clothing. He scrambled for his dagger but it tumbled through his hands. He dove for the falling blade.
His knees hit the dirt and with a sudden rush he remembered where he was. Eric took a deep breath; slowing his racing heart as he rose to his feet. The clearing had not changed while he slept. The trees still stood in a silent ring, their leaves speckled with the red and gold of early autumn. Where the canopy thinned above he could make out the blue sky, but below the dark of night still clung.
