by Sara Kincaid
Eldon tried to wipe his blood-covered hands on his uniform. He’d pulled the knife from deep within the Kaldarian’s sternum and had to use both hands to extract it. Luckily the Kaldarian had already expired.
He’d fought well, leaving Eldon with a gash on his thigh that was kept shallow thanks to his thick leather armor. As Eldon turned away from the fallen soldier, he surveyed the battlefield. Four Kaldarians lay dispatched on the ground. Their leader had underestimated them, the band of mismatched warriors who had been shoveled off into the night to pursue their comrades.
The two remaining Kaldrians clung tightly to their mounts. The woman with the closely cropped hair put her fingers to her mouth and let out a piercing whistle, capturing the attention of the remaining soldier. Their eyes met briefly before the woman pulled the reins savagely, turning her horse’s head and thundering out of Burga into Rosson, the other survivor close on her heels.
As the remains of the Kaldarian force disappeared into the distance, Rina returned to the small copse of trees where her sister and Bransen lay in wait. She sat down at the base of a tree and began to clean her blade. “Okay up there?”
With the danger passed them, Halay slid down from the tree and sat down beside Rina, clutching the remaining arrows in her palm. “I think so.”
Rina looked up from her work, her eyes scanning her sister’s face. “You shot well.”
“I missed.”
Rina shrugged her shoulders and then winced. “Everyone misses.” She sheathed her blade and rose slowly to her feet.
“Your shoulder. Where are you going now?”
“We’ll worry about that later. Right now we need to get cleaned up and get moving.” The rest of their party came forward and Rina addressed them. “Everyone okay?”
“We should rest,” Halay protested.
“We can’t stay here. We’re fully exposed.”
“But you’re injured and so is Eldon.” Halay gestured to the bloody gash in Eldon’s thigh.
Rina gritted her teeth. Her sister was right of course. They needed rest. But they had to get out of the valley and to somewhere safe, or at least more defensible. “Bransen, surely our travels take us near some sort of civilization?”
Bransen scratched his beard and pulled his pipe from a satchel at his hip. “There’s a small town at the base of the mountain range in Rosson. We’re not too far from there.”
Rina nodded. “How long?”
“Half a day at most I’d say.”
Rina glanced at Eldon. “Can you do it?”
Eldon straightened a bit when she addressed him and gave a curt nod. “Of course.”
“Alright then. Let’s get to work.”
While Rina collected arrows and other stray weapons, Jarem and Bransen gathered large stones and brush to cover the bodies. With no shovels between them, they couldn’t do it properly, but they didn’t want to leave evidence of the battle out in the open.
It was late in the day when they finally finished their work. The sun sank slowly, extending the shadows of the mountains across the valley until they were engulfed in darkness. The four bodies were properly covered with a mixture of smooth, flat stones and stray brush gathered from the circle of trees that had provided them cover during the battle. Rina rested her hand on one of the stones and thanked Nia for a favorable outcome.
But there was still something strange about the way the battle had unfolded and it gnawed at the back of her mind. It wasn’t like the Kaldarians to send such a small force. In past battles with Burga, they had sent twice the number of troops necessary. Burga’s military was fierce, albeit rather small. It wasn’t common for the Mantinean city-states to fight amongst themselves. At least not until more recently. Rina wondered if something had come up at the Delos meetings over the past few years. The battle where her brother had been killed was one of the first to be waged with Kaldar.
“If we leave now, we can make it to Bournay just before daybreak. An ally of the Regent lives there.” The light from Bransen’s pipe briefly illuminated his face as he took a puff of the sweet smelling tobacco.
Rina shouldered her bow. “Let’s go. We rest at daybreak.”
Chapter Nineteen
Rina
Zhara West had lived on the Rossonian border for nearly three decades in the small town of Bournay. The small trees surrounding her house were wrapped decoratively in silver and gold thread, an outward show of her fealty to both Burga and Rosson.
When Rina and her companions approached the small house, Zhara was in the garden, bent over a plant of string beans. Dirt filled her nails and smudged her airy clothes dyed the color of storm clouds. She smiled and rose to her feet when she sighted them, taking them instantly for Burgans. “It’s been some time since a Burgan has crossed my threshold.” Her smile was wide and wrinkles filled her face.
Bransen stopped short, his pipe clutched in his right hand. “Were you expecting us?”
Zhara laughed and brushed the dirt from her hands. “Of course not. But you wear Burgan colors. I can only assume that the Regent sent you.” Her eyes darkened for a moment.
Halay stepped forward. “She did.”
Zhara’s mouth puckered. “She? So Solon has died?” All four Burgans started at the informal use of the former Regent’s name.
“Oh dear. And my niece has inherited the golden eyes. Such a hard job for a young woman. She’s quite up to the task, I assure you. But it’s not a life I would have chosen for myself had I been her.” She stepped over the bean plants and met them on the dirt path, folding her arms in front of her chest. “Follow me. I’m sure you must be tired from your travels.”
Zhara’s home was divided into four simple rooms with floors made of bamboo slats. On the floor were large cushions and two chairs that matched a small table sitting near the hearth on the other side of the room. Cooking utensils and plates were piled haphazardly on a small countertop by the stove. She ushered them into the small kitchen and busily lit the stove. “It’s a far cry from Eagle Palace, but it’s home.” She smiled. “If anyone would like a wash, there’s a tub out back and a cake of soap made by a friend of mine who lives further in town.”
Eldon paced the room, stopping in front of an intricate pair of shields. One bore the eagle’s claw, the other, the silver outlines of a wolf. Both were made with precious metals. “Do you truly have a connection to the Regent?”
Zhara smiled and joined Eldon in front of the shields. “Actually, yes.”
“You’re Solon’s half-sister aren’t you?” Halay tapped her lip.
Rina looked closer, noting Solon’s hooked nose and nonexistent chin in Zhara’s own features. Her hair was the same silver as the Rossonian uniforms and she wore it long and loose down her back. Her hands were gnarled, but her back was straight, rigid with the practice of the upper classes, though she lived a simple life now. There was no doubt that she was part of the Regent’s family line.
Zhara pulled the whistling kettle from the stove. “Very good!”
Halay turned to Bransen. “Did Regent Arayna send us here?”
The old nomad shook his head, pipe clenched tightly in his teeth. “I’ve passed this house dozens of times in my travels, but never been. It’s on the shortest path between Burga and Rosson and was always told that I could stop here when working under the Burgan flag.”
“I moved here for that reason. When Solon’s wife was still alive and representing him at the council meetings, she’d often stop in to visit me.”
“Regent Solon’s wife stayed here?” Jarem couldn’t hide his surprise.
Bransen chuckled around his pipe and puffed thoughtfully. “Not all members of the regency are flashy like Opher and Arayna.”
Zhara gestured to her own home. “True enough.”
Halay’s eyes sparkled and she laughed right along with Bransen. At first, Rina thought that her sister
was growing an attachment to the solitary man. But, then she’d seen the way Jarem and Halay avoided each other, even down to sitting with their backs to one another for the sake of denying that there was anything brewing, making her true feelings clear.
Clean and her wound covered in a fresh bandage, Rina sat scrunched near the stove enjoying the warmth of the flames. She examined her wings by the firelight. The lightning tube was shattered from her fall, leaving only a wire shaped in a figure eight and a jagged circle of glass surrounding it. How the arrow had pierced the glass was a mystery to Rina for it was thick and heavy and coated with a protective layer of metal webbing. The arrow must have simply fit between the webbed material. A lucky shot.
The loss of the spark was devastating, but the wings themselves appeared to be intact. The black feathers were stout and expertly made. The white underbelly feathers were softer and reminded her of down. Rina gently pulled the wings wide to their full span and examined each feather, rubbing her thumb over the dull metal tips.
Eli had constructed her wings from scratch using his own two hands and his understanding of spark-powered machinery. Looking back through the faded memories, Rina remembered Eli, hidden beneath the shadows on Mt. Yama, his eyes fixed on her unapologetically as she accepted the challenge from Master Moriyo. She’d noticed the strange white scars that decorated his chest, circling up to his neck. At first, they had frightened her. What sort of man purposefully carved designs into his own flesh? It was not an ornamental art embraced by their culture and one she’d only heard in stories about far-off lands.
Eldon appeared at her side and sank slowly to the ground, using the wall for leverage. The skin around his eyes was pinched and his beard scruffy. “One flock, brother. How are you?”
Eldon tapped his fist to his chest, returning Rina’s greeting, panting slightly as he spoke. “I’ll live. But it bloody stings. And we’ve a long road to go yet.” He’d removed his armor once they’d reached Zhara’s house and hung it carefully from hooks near the front door.
Her eyes flickered to his tightly bound leg. No blood seeped through Halay’s compress. Regent Arayna had been smart to allow Halay to accompany them. Her experience in animal husbandry and general care was a necessity.
Rina’s mind wandered back across the valley to Burga and wondered what state the Aviators’ barracks were in following the discovery that Rina, Eldon and Jarem were nowhere to be found. “Can you continue on?”
“I won’t abandon this mission.” Eldon’s shoulders straightened as he addressed her using her battle name. Rina was startled by his unexpected lapse into military formalities.
“This mission isn’t worth bleeding out for, my friend.” Rina smiled sympathetically. She’d always liked Eldon. He’d welcomed her into the Aviators when many others had sneered at the presence of a woman in their ranks. He was a good soldier. Reliable. Brave. “You can return home. No questions and no assumptions.”
Rina saw his jaw clench before he replied. “I will be on the right side of this rift, NightWind.” He was talking about the rift between the Regent and the Aviators led by Raze following Arayna’s selection as Regent.
Rina let that conversation drop. The truth was, the coup had been far along before she’d broken ranks. They’d selected a date and begun to plan the uprising. Rina shook her head, banning the horrible thoughts from her head and went to slide the wings back into her knapsack by the door. “How did the Regent know to send you and WaveRunner on this mission?”
Eldon shrugged his shoulders and looked across the room. “I asked to go after them.” If he noticed Rina’s open-mouthed surprise, he didn’t acknowledge it. “What do you make of that?” He nodded his head, gesturing to the table where Halay and Bransen sat, their heads close together.
Rina swallowed her shock. Eldon had overstepped Raze Uxton, taking his concerns directly to the Regent. And she’d met with him at his request. “He’s a strange one. But so far, he hasn’t led us astray. Given that none of us know the way to the Bear Palace on our own, he’s our best bet.”
“Well sure. But him and Halay? He’s not the type I’d put with your sister”
Rina let out a bark of laughter, her eyes bright and teasing. “And who do you put Halay with? As far as I know, you’ve spent nothing more than these past few days with my sister.” Embarrassed, Eldon shrugged his shoulders again and looked at the ground. Rina put her hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about Halay and who she spends her time with. She and Bransen occupy a similar world. They live often on their own out in the elements. But I’ve seen her eyes wander and it’s not in his direction.”
Eldon’s head jerked up. “Then who?”
“Jarem. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed. She’s not good at discreet.” Rina laughed again, quieter this time, not wanting her sister to overhear them. Haley’s shoulders were hunched and she was facing away from them so Rina couldn’t get a look at her face to determine whether they’d been heard or not.
Eldon looked relieved. “Jarem will be happy.” Rina smiled broadly and waited for him to continue. Eldon shuffled uncomfortably and cleared his throat as Rina’s gaze bored into him. “Some brother I am. Spilling the secret. He bloody asked me about her, all right? Just don’t say anything. The poor snipe will be red as a rose if he knew.”
Rina’s grin broadened. “What did you say to him when he asked you about her?”
Finally Eldon’s face broke into a smile and his chest shook with suppressed laughter. “Our comrade’s sister? Are you serious?”
Rina clapped Eldon heartily on the back. “I knew I always liked you, IceRider.”
In spite of their exhaustion, the travelers stayed up way into the night, enjoying Zhara’s company and her home-brewed ale. Zhara sat in the glow of the firelight, her silver hair shimmering around her oval face. “So why don’t you live in Burga anymore?” Halay took a sip from her own cup, her eyes glittering with the heavy drink.
All eyes turned to Zhara who didn’t squirm under the attention. She’d been raised in the Regent’s shadow, lived in his quarters as a child and had dreamily looked down on the city of Burga, wishing to walk the market streets and conquer the mysteries of the mountain. She also knew how to command a crowd. “It’s quite simple, really. Not even a story. But as you know, our ways are bound very tightly to the Mystics. Unlike the other city-states of Mantinea, we still adhere very strongly to the ancient ways, despite the fact that the spark is nearly expired.” She took a sip of her ale and returned the mug to the table with a plunk. “One of the reasons we still cling so strongly to the Mystics is that it keeps those within the Regent bloodline from fighting. If an outside force selects the next Regent, then blame cannot be placed on the chosen leader him or herself. I left because Solon became very agitated as time grew near for him to take on the Mystic’s spell. Our uncle had focused his attention on Solon.” She shrugged. “There’d never been a woman selected as Regent at that time and I’m a half-sibling at best. But for some reason, Solon became obsessed with the ceremony and he was terrified that I would win the seat despite his hard work and training.”
“Solon? He doesn’t seem the type.” Eldon wiped foam from his beard.
“Age mollifies people. And once his eyes changed to gold, he was satisfied. But I never took the test. Wasn’t interested, honestly. But in those weeks leading up to the ceremony, Solon became insufferable. I packed up my things and left and have been here ever since.”
Silence crept forward like fog and Rina found herself falling deeper into her drink. “Honestly, I wanted to join the Aviators back then. The group was young. But of course, no women were allowed.”
Rina felt Zhara’s eyes on her. She’d grown accustomed to praise from other women for joining the Aviators. But it wasn’t a choice and if she’d had the option, she wasn’t sure she would have joined them. She’d been recruited. But the manner in which she’d been approa
ched did not leave her any room for refusal. The Aviators would have been embarrassed if someone had turned down their offer. Theirs was the most highly coveted battalion in the military. Halay stepped in on her sister’s behalf, her face soft with sympathy. “Rina has done us all a great service. But it was not without sacrifice.”
“I’m sure not. Greatness always comes with sacrifice.” Rina waved away the comment self-consciously.
Soon Zhara, Rina and Bransen were the only ones awake. They’d long ago abandoned the ale knowing that a hard road lay ahead of them. Rina, Jarem and Eldon had regaled Zhara with stories of flight, of the wind in their hair, beneath their wings, of riding thermals and plunging into the darkness. With each story, Zhara’s eyes had grown wider and enthusiasm greater. She leaned back in her chair. “I always loved the stories of the great airships and I grew up both loving and loathing the story of Vitus Croy and Delia Skytte. Their lives were so exciting, but their selfishness ruined the spark for us all.”
“True enough.” Bransen shifted in his chair. “But, they weren’t Mystics. They didn’t detonate those weapons.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Zhara gave a small smile before turning her attention to Rina. “I wouldn’t dare to ask this, but I fear my ale has made me bold.” She giggled nervously before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. “Might I see your wings?”
Rina straightened, her mind going to the pack by the door. “They’re broken.”
“Broken?” Zhara blinked in surprise.
Rina crossed the room to where her pack and other belongings lay and picked up the small cube that normally sat between her shoulder blades. She carried it almost reverentially with fingers that gently brushed the stiff black wings, her eyes straying to the broken glass. “Yes. The lightning tube is shattered. And without the Mystics, I’m grounded.”
