by T. A. White
A child. In danger. Scared and alone.
Even as Kira struggled to adapt to the sudden onslaught, she sensed the child weakening. The mother raged, and Kira got the briefest of glimpses of the battle above, a sheet of fire surrounding the mother and boat even as the Tuann and Graydon fought to follow Kira.
Raider let out a battle cry, swooping dangerously close to the mother's head as she rearranged her long body, covering the opening Kira had used. There would be no getting out that way. Not until Kira did what the mother had called her here to do.
That was okay. Kira hadn't expected anything else.
Kira kicked out, flipping herself so her head was pointed down. She swam deeper.
There, below her in the murky depths, a smaller version of the lu-ong wreaking havoc above drifted.
The baby's thrashing was weak. A dim welcome wrapped around her. She struggled to echo it, trying to push encouragement to him as she studied his predicament.
It was hard at first to understand what she was seeing.
He was in a cage of some sort. One that was much too small for his body. His upper half was outside the cage, his lower half and tail wedged inside. He looked like a broken jack-in-the-box, trying to escape.
She winced at the sight of blood seeping out of a deep gash. She had a feeling the tail might be broken. Not a good thing for a wild creature in the ocean where much bigger predators might come after him.
What she didn't understand was why the mother or the baby hadn't ripped the cage apart. Both should have been able to accomplish the deed with ease.
His body quivered as he held very still, allowing her to examine him.
He snaked his head around, and Kira went stock still, conscious of the very large teeth close to her body. He might be a baby still, but he dwarfed her. The last close call she'd had with these creatures flashed through her head.
It wouldn't take much for him to chomp her in half.
He looked at the cage and then at her, a question forming in her mind.
He was sapient, she realized with a start.
All the more reason to figure out a way to free him.
She reached out, bubbles escaping as she hissed when the cage burned her hands. There was an unpleasant sucking sensation that made her light-headed.
She imagined it was ten times worse for him. No wonder he was weakening.
The cage was sucking the life right out of him.
Urgency whipped at Kira. She didn't have time to figure this out or go slowly. The baby was fading, the brilliance of his mind dimming against Kira's.
A brief flash of fire flickered in her mind.
She hesitated, guessing what the lu-ong wanted.
Another image flashed; this time of a tiny candle next to an erupting volcano. Ah, Kira understood now. Different types of fires with different strengths.
The cage was made by the Tuann. They wouldn't have created something that might kill them every time they handled it. Because Kira was Tuann, she had a better chance of destroying it.
She touched her cuff and grimaced. Perhaps not. Access to her ki was nearly impossible with this.
That left trying to do things the old-fashioned way. Muscle through and hope for the best.
Kira grasped the bars of the door, setting her feet against the bottom bar of the cage, careful not to step on the lu-ong. Lightning bit through her as the power of the cage tried to suck her down.
She gritted her teeth and strained, resisting.
At her core, her energy flickered, trying to answer her need before guttering like a candle faced with a strong breeze.
Kira persisted. The cage's door creaked up an inch. Almost, but not enough.
She shoved again, reaching for the ki at her core by instinct and sliding off that same glass wall. This time, the mother shoved against her mind at that exact moment. Abruptly, her vision shifted, the watery scene fading as the cosmos danced behind her eyes.
It took several seconds to realize what she was seeing weren't stars but rather the tapestry of energy that made up every living thing. Like the feilli from yesterday, it sparkled and danced.
Curiosity compelled Kira to reach out, touching the aura that curled off one of those lights. The faint glow touched her skin, shifting colors until it turned a brilliant purple. She glanced out over the glittering lights that reminded her of the sun. Many were darkened and damaged, almost eclipsing the brilliance of those that remained.
Somehow, she knew those darkened parts were the pieces of herself she'd destroyed over the years. The parts she'd willingly sacrificed to protect those she loved.
Regret at the desolation moved through her, even as she knew she wouldn't have changed anything.
Those darkened bits were a reminder of what she'd done to protect her friends. They were something to be cherished. They meant she'd fought, even when it had been hard.
The small serpentine body of the baby lu-ong wound through the shimmering lights resting at the heart of her. He nudged a few in curiosity, making a pleased sound as they lit up—almost as if they were welcoming his presence.
He didn't only pay attention to those that shone with a brilliant light, but paid equal respect to the parts she would have said were dead and ruined. They gleamed, captured star fire glittering in their deepest hearts. It was as if the lu-ong’s presence had woken them from a deep sleep.
Finally, the lu-ong drifted to a stop in front of her. He hovered in the vast space, his frills fanning out, the whiskers around his mouth and his beard reminding Kira of a wizened old man.
We accept, daughter of Harding, he told her.
She didn't get a chance to ask what he accepted. Fire lanced through her as her consciousness slammed into her body. She floated, the baby lu-ong’s surprisingly wise eyes resting on her. Power crackled along her skin. Not since the first time she'd used the burst, had she felt like this.
It's time you fulfill the promise of your ancestors and reclaim your birthright, child. The lu-ong’s voice held the weight of ages as it echoed in her head.
Kira reached for the cage again, almost as if in a dream, visualizing what she wanted to have happen. A picture and clarity of intent was needed. Discipline of the mind was as important when using the ki as discipline of the body was for a warrior.
The cage glowed white-hot, pieces of it melting as the water bubbled from the output of energy she was releasing.
Its bars snapped. The lu-ong streaked free, the water echoing with his exultant cry.
His body undulated, scales brushing Kira as he surged forth.
His tail caught on the cage, jerking it forward. It crashed into Kira, its edge hitting her head.
Light glimmered above, darkness encroaching as she sank into unconsciousness.
Jin was going to have nothing but I told you so's for this.
TWENTY-TWO
Kira disappeared beneath the surface of the waves; the lu-ong’s body slamming over the space where she'd fallen.
A roar of denial escaped Graydon. His entire world froze, as if she’d taken the warmth and light with her. Endless years yawned before him, the knowledge that he’d never find anyone like her again ingrained deep in his bones.
Terror and fury trembled through him as the Roake around them shouted in dismay as the world started moving again. Fury lit Wren's eyes, the battle-hardened monster within making a rare appearance. One echoed by Graydon's own monster.
Graydon's ki magnified Raider's voice. "Damn it, Phoenix."
The human swooped dangerously close to the lu-ong, expertly avoiding her as pinpoint pricks of light flared from her mane. Raider spun, closing the distance between him and the lu-ong, his skill rivaling that of Graydon's oshota.
Kira's human was a talented warrior when in possession of a waveboard. A fact Graydon knew his first and Wren were taking note of.
Many Tuann viewed humans as little better than untutored children, brash with youth and arrogance.
Raider's actions were proving them
wrong today.
"What is she thinking?" Wren gritted out.
"She's being Kira," Raider shouted, making Graydon aware Wren's voice had carried to him as well. "She sees the problem and acts to fix it, leaving everyone else to follow or watch her die."
The human flipped in midair, abandoning the board and landing on the lu-ong in an impressive feat.
The human cut against the lu-ong’s scales with a small knife he must have had hidden on him. He cursed when sparks flew.
"You're risking your life needlessly," Wren informed him. "A lu-ong’s scales will be impenetrable to that blade."
It was one of the reasons they used lu-ong scales as the seeds for their synth armor.
Raider's pace never slowed as he leapt off the lu-ong and onto the board as it flew by.
"Then what do we do? I'm not leaving her." Raider muttered to himself in a voice Graydon didn't think they were meant to overhear. "Even if she thinks she's invincible."
"Get clear and form up on me," Graydon ordered
Power amassed in and around Graydon as he channeled it from within and without, feeling as it coiled around him, dripping from his fingers. He molded it with intent. The time for mercy had passed with Kira's action. All he could do now was focus on the kill.
He gestured, hurtling the strike at the lu-ong, changing direction at the last minute, so it slammed against the lu-ong’s neck instead of splashing off its shield.
Graydon had been created for war. It was in his blood, imprinted on his bones and woven through his flesh.
His people had never been peaceful. They were beings of destruction; their darker urges guided by the rules they'd imposed on themselves for reasons he'd never shared with Kira.
Graydon was their crowning achievement. A warrior. A protector. The epitome of everything their race strove to be.
And right now, his blood yearned for vengeance.
"Solal, ezie formation," he snapped.
There was a chance she was still alive. A small link stretched from him to her, razor-thin but there nonetheless. He clung to that chance with all he had.
"Keep the lu-ong distracted. I'm going in," Graydon said.
"Not without me," the human retorted.
Graydon fought a sense of irritation before relenting. Graydon could use him. And Graydon was nothing if not practical.
The lu-ong was a difficult adversary, its skin nearly impenetrable to all but the most destructive of weapons. It had few weaknesses, and of those, it would take both skill and luck to take advantage of.
"Very well," Graydon agreed.
"Don't slow us down, human," Wren said.
"Please. One giant serpent has nothing on the Tsavitee warbirds we used to tangle with," the human said derisively.
Graydon bared his teeth in a bloodthirsty smile. "I guess we'll see soon enough. The rest of you, create an opening. I'm punching through. Stay on me—if you can."
Raider let out a whoop that Graydon took as agreement.
Graydon angled toward the lu-ong, picking up speed, his world narrowing as he sized up his opponent. This was going to be close. Power built in his hands and arms, Graydon forming his intent, honing it to a razor-sharp edge.
Under his armor, he knew lines and runes had formed under the skin of his arms, the delicate swirls and swoops glowing in preparation as he fed more power into them.
Every Tuann was born with certain attributes. The Mea'Ave upon birth read their souls and determined what they would need for the life to come.
Through relentless study and training you could add to the marks you were born with, achieve power through stubborn will.
The Mea'Ave only opened the door. You had to demonstrate the will and capacity to walk through it.
Only a quarter of those born with marks ever unlocked them and were blessed with their power. Of those, only a small percentage ever added to them.
Graydon was in those elite ranks. He was more than what he'd been born, possessing a rare will and determination. He’d only ever glimpsed his match in a woman who was too stubborn for her own good and so noble he feared what the universe might do to her if she wasn't protected.
He would not see that light extinguished. The Mea'Ave give him strength for what was to come. He'd need every ounce of its blessing today.
He built the feedback within, gritting his teeth against the onslaught of pain, his skin feeling at once too tight and too thin for the pure power housed in it.
"Time to dance, beautiful," he whispered to the lu-ong.
Light and power trailed from Graydon. To those on the ground, it would look like he grew wings of the purest black.
"Something has changed," Solal shouted.
Graydon swallowed the power as a smaller version of the lu-ong shot up from the depths, a small screech escaping it as it leaped into the air.
"She was protecting her baby," Amila whispered.
Graydon held the energy in, fighting the urge to expel it. Had he been any other, the action would have been impossible. He'd lived his life by control in all things. His ki was no different.
He stared at the water as the mother hovered over her child, trilling a greeting. No bright red hair the color of blood surfaced. Not even bubbles to mark the spot where Kira had gone under.
"Come on, Phoenix." The depth of emotion in Raider's voice betrayed him. He might pretend to hate Kira, but he cared for her in the same way Graydon had seen in siblings. Half antagonist, half fierce protector.
Come on, woman, Graydon mentally urged.
The lu-ong whipped around when Solal strayed too close, the deep cry they were known for echoing through the air.
"She's been under too long," Wren said grimly.
Surface, Kira. You can do it.
Long seconds ticked by with no sight of her. That small link they shared thinned.
Graydon bared his teeth. He didn't think so. If she thought to surrender so easily, he would teach her the true meaning of being Tuann. She didn't get to quit. She didn't get to go out like this.
Not ever if he had his way.
He would do anything to protect that woman, even if it meant killing a being many among the Tuann considered sacred. Harming one carried a steep price. There was a chance he would face consequences.
He found he didn't care. He'd already betrayed her trust once; he wouldn't do it again.
Power spooled as he prepared a strike. If this meant his position as the Emperor's Face, so be it. Some things were worth sacrificing for, and he knew to his bones Kira was one of them.
The wings he cloaked himself in sparked, looking like they were made of black lightning as he careened toward the lu-ong building a spear with the same light as he flew. The lu-ong twisted to face him, power building at the base of her throat, aimed right at Graydon.
He braced. Only one of them would survive this.
The baby disappeared beneath the surface.
One hundred feet. Fifty. Twenty-five. Point of no return.
The baby surfaced, a small, limp form carried in its mouth. The baby wiggled over its mother's body, depositing an unconscious Kira on the deck of the boat.
Graydon veered, releasing his power into the sea beyond the lu-ong. Power crackled in the space where he'd just been. He felt the heat of it pass. His armor, that indestructible material made from the discarded scales of a lu-ong, buckled.
*
Kira coughed up water, jerking back to the land of the living with no small amount of surprise.
She gasped, sucking in the air she thought she'd never taste again.
What the hell had happened?
"Kira," Jin shouted through the comms. "You're alive. Thank God."
Kira squinted, trying to get her bearings.
Her head pounded. She reached up and touched it, wincing as pain lanced through her. Her fingers came away wet with both water and blood.
That answered the question of why her head hurt.
Around her, the sound of battle raged. The lu-o
ng screaming its challenge as the Tuann dove at her.
Kira sat up with a groan, her head swimming as nausea curdled in her belly. Her headache increased. She knew this feeling. Concussion. Or at least really close to one.
Soothing cool, like an ice pack on sore muscles, washed over her, relieving the worst of her symptoms.
She glanced over to see the dragon-like head of the lu-ong baby she'd freed peeking over the boat's railing, his large, gem-like eyes focused on her. Waves of gratitude lapped at her. Adoration following.
"Glad you're safe, too," she told him.
She took in the rest of the boat as she staggered to her feet, swaying slightly. The baby might have helped with her concussion, but he hadn't healed it. At least not entirely.
She looked over at the huddled group of fishermen. They wore simple clothes, warm looking jackets layered over pants and sweaters.
Kira shivered at the reminder of just how cold she was. Every hint of breeze cut right through her, setting off another round of shivering. If she didn't get warm and soon, she risked hypothermia.
Right now, though, she had to make nice with these people. Not an easy task with the way they watched her with a deep suspicion edging toward hostility.
She tried a small wave and non-threatening smile. They clumped tighter together. One reached for a club lying against a barrel.
Maybe her smile wasn't as reassuring as she'd hoped.
Graydon landed with a thud between them and her, his back to the strangers, his knees bent, his face a mask of rage.
He looked like a man who'd prepared for war and had already resigned himself to the necessary losses. If he’d been any other, she might have named the look on his face one of terror.
Kira braced. That stunt she'd pulled was bound to draw criticism. As well it should. She'd acted rashly, off-balance by the call for help. She'd been arrogant. This wasn't the before of the burst, where she could muscle her way through anything and come out the other side a little dinged up but otherwise unharmed.
She should have waited. Discussed her suspicions with him.
