Wing & Nien

by Shytei Corellian

  Wing began to work through the tangles; he hadn’t been at the effort long when Carly slumped against his chest.

  “It’s hard to reach your head like this,” Wing said into her ear.

  “Too tired,” Carly muttered.

  Wing set the brush down and wrapped his arms around her. They rested for a time, listening to the sounds of the others settling in downstairs.

  “That night in the Mietan,” Wing said softly, “I don’t think I ever thanked you for staying, for not leaving when I…” He didn’t complete his sentence and Carly felt the deepening of his silence.

  Sitting up, she turned around again. She wasn’t sure what she might say, but kneeling between his legs, looking at his face, it felt as if she were standing before an inscrutable work of art: What did it mean? She didn’t know. But she did know how it made her feel. And she remembered, all too vividly, how she had felt that night when she’d found him the Mietan, dark, and angry, and brooding. Like some mythic creature released from the underworld.

  “That night was, well, you were pretty scary,” she said, and laughed softly. But Wing just looked sorry and she touched his face. “It’s all right. I just wish I’d known how to help.”

  “There was nothing you could have done.”

  “I know. Still, I wanted to. I mean, I could feel what was going on with you but I didn’t understand it.” She brushed his temple with the tips of her fingers. “That’s happened more than once; I think I know you, and then, all of a sudden, it’s like I probably don’t know you at all.”

  This pronouncement seemed to make Wing more disconsolate. “You know me, Carly,” he said. “Better than anyone. And you do help me, just by being here.”

  Carly nodded, acknowledging the kindness. Not that she believed him. For as well as she knew him, they both knew Nien knew him better.

  “When I saw you that day in the Hiona,” she said, “I remember wanting you to be Merehr more than anything I’d ever wanted in my whole life — even if it meant I could never have you.”

  Wing didn’t reply to this, only looked at her, a world of emotion wheeling through the far reaches of his eyes.

  Pained for any more words that might express what she felt, Carly pulled her shirt off over her head. Words had never been overly necessary anyway. What was between them had been there from the first time they’d lain eyes on each other in the Village as kids.

  Dropping her shirt onto the floor, she reached out and took the top button of Wing’s shirt and began to unbutton it.

  Wing hesitated for a beat, and then he started at the bottom button and worked his way up to meet her.

  Tugging the shirt from Wing’s shoulders and down off his arms, Carly dropped it onto the floor next to her own. The scars across his chest and shoulders were something she’d become accustomed to, almost unable to remember what he’d looked like before. But for some reason they struck her anew tonight and she felt her throat tighten. Carefully, she laid her hand flat upon his chest, wondering to herself how he could he feel so strong and yet so fragile…

  Fragile. What a strange way to describe him, she thought as she leaned in, touching her nose to his neck and breathing deeply.

  And then she understood the sentiment.

  Fragile, because she understood so little of the inner-workings of his mind. Fragile, because even though they had been together most their lives, he still felt like smoke in her hands.

  Her silence and the curve of her breast drew Wing’s hand. “What is it?” he asked softly.

  Carly shook her head. I don’t know, she thought. Don’t ask me…

  And he didn’t.

  Leaning in, Wing pressed his cheek against her. The feel of his touch, the smell of his hair, stopped her breath. She leaned into him as he placed his hands upon her back, drawing her up. Carly moaned softly, kissing his lips, opening his mouth, caressing the inside of it with her tongue as she put her weight against him, pushing him back into the bed. As he sank beneath her, she traced the lines of his face — the green eyes, the smooth black hair, the straight nose, high cheekbones. Kissing both sides of his face, wishing she could pour all the love she felt for him into each one, she moved against him.

  The depression of the thick down cover beneath their bodies created a comforting envelope around them. Wing’s sure hands sparked fire under her skin. He was patient…

  But Carly had no inclination to wait.

  With great familiarity and longing, Wing came into her. The intensity of him burned Carly’s heart, opening within her far more than a mere sheath of warm flesh. In pulsations that swallowed time, passion soaked to saturation in the heat of white flame. And as the burning white faded to blue rapture, coalescing at last to the steady glowing comfort of embers, Carly buried her face into Wing’s shoulder and felt him weeping.

  Outside their window, Leer’s moons passed between cloud and star, the great mountains gleamed in their light, and in the forest the giant trees shivered and sighed as a single snowflake fell like a feather to the valley floor.

  Chapter 90

  So, It Begins

  A hint of Ime hung cold in the air the following day as the encampment continued to work on the corral and Wing met Lucin for a bit of hunting. Thankfully, SiQQiy had brought some supplies with her but her small company had traveled light by necessity leaving the main supplies to come in with the larger units through the Nijen Range; Wing hoped to supplement what he could with wild game until then. Though Lucin had begun to spend a night here and there in the back room of the house, Wing had discovered where he now spent most of his time — a deep root cavern in one of the Mesko trees, much like the one Wing had taken refuge in upon his escape from Rieeve. The shy’teh’s lair had been rather obvious once Wing was there. The trunk and branches around the grotto were scoured by Lucin’s claws where he went to sleep or to wait, most likely doing some hunting of his own.

  “Ready?” Wing asked as Lucin moved out of his lair.

  The big cat swung his tail and sniffed, ears twitching.

  Wing felt more at ease with Lucin than any other living creature. They moved like familiars, shared the same knowing, able to connect with each other in a field of mutual silence that, for Wing, was much easier than with people.

  Wing set down his duffel, bow, quiver, and hunting knife…

  Lucin smiled. And they were off.

  Flying along side by side, they bounded through the woods, leaping and gliding over rocks and roots, fallen trees and small streams. The air was tight and cold, the ground slippery in places with frozen mud from the small flurries they’d already received. During these perilous races, Wing forgot about the Ka’ull and the great battle that awaited them. There was only him, Lucin, and the ecstatic sensation of flight, the abandon, the wildness, the purity of motion.

  They’d raced all the way to the top of the nearest ridge before, winded at last, Wing came to a slow stop.

  Lucin swung out in front of him, quivering with excitement, staring back, black chest heaving.

  Wing looked around. Yeefa, he swore. We ran a long way!

  “Now I have to trek back to my gear,” he said.

  He thought Lucin would be done now that they’d had their fun and go on his way, but he stayed with Wing as Wing went back for his things, and from there the two tracked for the better part of the morning. By the time Wing started back to the house he was dragging not only a female fent but two game birds.

  Lucin came with him as far as the fields and then remained, watching Wing move toward the compound that had become the Cawutt farm.

  Wing had only just come up to the house from the Mesko side of the Valley when a Hettha runner came racing in from the other side. Wing dropped the fent and the birds. The look on the runner’s face told Wing all he needed to know. With a nod, Wing indicated the door and followed the Hettha into the house.

  All eyes in the main room looked up at as they entered, their eyes centering on Wing; Wing deferred to the runner.

 
“We just received word from the sentries at altitude: Large contingents of the enemy are moving in. Coming down from the notch to the north.”

  “How many?” Nien asked.

  “They saw no end to their line.”

  The air in the room closed like a noose.

  No end to their line, Wing thought, catching Nien’s eye across the room. That many then…

  “The sentries could not see heavy supplies or armaments. It appears this is the invasion force the provisions in Castle Viyer were meant for.”

  “It’s as we expected,” Nien said. “They’re planning on wintering in Rieeve.”

  “It appears so,” the Hettha said.

  Wing felt a place inside him grow heavy —

  It had begun. Everything they had trained for, tossed in a nightmarish sweat over, secretly hoped would come soon and never come at all, was here. And though they had SiQQiy’s two contingents of personal guards and the Hettha, they would still be no match if they were discovered before the Granj units arrived.

  Wing saw the same realization and resignation on the faces of the others.

  “The Granj will be arriving any day,” SiQQiy said, addressing the unspoken thought on their minds.

  “As will the forces from Legran and Jayak,” Nien said.

  “The coming of the divisions from Preak are not as sure,” SiQQiy added. “I sent word that we will be taking the offensive rather than waiting till after the snows. There was not time to receive word back before we left. Perhaps Monteray will have heard something by the time he arrives.”

  “So, it is,” Nien said. There was nothing more they could do but wait.

  On a ladder at the side of the house the following morning, movement in the fields far to Wing’s left caught his attention — as did any kind of activity coming from the direction of the castle. He squinted, heart pounding, before he saw that it was another one of the Hettha runners. He watched him a moment before seeing the urgency in him; this was not a routine check-in. Wing looked out again, to the edge of his sight and there, thought he saw something else. He waited and saw…

  Riders.

  The Ka’ull were the only ones in the valley that had horses.

  Leaping down the last four rungs of the ladder to the ground, Wing arrived at the back of the house at the same time as the Hettha runner.

  “Ka’ull riders!” the Hettha yelled, raising the alarm.

  “I saw them, too!” Wing shouted.

  The men bivouacked between the house and the barn jumped into action. A cloud of SiQQiy’s special archers were slinging bows over their backs and running for the tree line where they would take up position and wait for a prearranged signal from the compound. The rest of the men were rapidly and efficiently strapping on swords and vital pieces of armor.

  Running into the house, Wing found that Carly had already doused the fire, shut the damper to cut smoke from the chimney, and was behind the children as they ran for the barn and the hiding hole in the back stall. In a matter of moments SiQQiy’s entire retinue of men in and outside of the house had fallen impossibly, professionally still. Moving into the back room, Wing peered past the shade covering the window over his old bed.

  The house lay in absolute stillness as the riders approached.

  Slowing, the Ka’ull came on cautiously, their instincts as soldiers telling them the place was either deserted or far too quiet —

  Wing held his breath, practically able to feel SiQQiy and her men holding their breath behind him.

  A short way out from the house the group of ten Ka’ull riders drew up. Wing watched as they checked out the house, glancing left and right, quieting their mounts and listening. The one just slightly out to the front of the rest was alert, intent. The rest, however, appeared relaxed. Bored even. For a moment, it seemed they would come no closer. But just as Wing was about to sigh with the relief of providence, the leader of the group, the intent one at the front, raised a gloved fist and, pointing at two of his men, indicated the house and made a large sweeping gesture with his arm.

  Blood drained from Wing’s heart.

  Not so lucky, then. As the rest waited, two of his men kicked their horses, moving out to check the rest of the property.

  Wing barked a quick warning which was passed through the main room and to the men out the back. From there the sign was given to the cloud of special archers, hidden just across the valley inside the tree line.

  The two Ka’ull who had been instructed to check the back of the house were met swiftly by SiQQiy’s men, pulled from their horses, clubbed unconscious and driven through.

  In the back room of the house, Wing was joined by Nien and they charged out together.

  By then, however, SiQQiy’s archers had dropped four of the Ka’ull riders by arrows, and engaged two more. Of the ten reconnaissance riders, eight were already taken care of by the time Wing and Nien arrived. But the leader — one of the two still on horses — barked at the other and pointed across the valley toward the castle.

  Wing saw it and his stomach lurched. If that rider made it to the castle none of them would survive the night.

  Leaping forward, Wing grasped the reins of one of the now riderless Ka’ull horses and, swinging up, raced out after the fleeing Ka’ull. Behind him, he heard a sharp click of a tongue and a hiss, as the leader of the group put his horse to the chase, hoping to catch Wing before Wing could catch his man.

  Wing leaned into the back of the horse’s neck and kicked it hard in the ribs. He had to get to the Ka’ull ahead of him before the one behind him caught up. But as Wing continued to race ahead he noticed there was no sound of galloping hooves behind. Glancing back, he saw Nien ducking the Ka’ull leader’s sword as he grappled with the reins of the man’s horse even as two of SiQQiy’s men rushed in at Nien’s back to surround the horse and drag the Ka’ull leader from its back.

  Wing turned back around; he still had the Ka’ull ahead of him to catch.

  But that rider had had a good start on him in the first place and was gaining. Wing lengthened his body and gave the Ka’ull horse his head, digging his heels into it’s belly and hissing in its ear…

  With sinking realization, Wing knew it was not going to be enough; the stallion was already giving him all the speed it had. Despair in his heart battling with the adrenaline in his veins Wing heard a quick snap of air to his left and the Ka’ull in the distance jerked in his saddle and came off the back of his horse.

  Wing gasped. SiQQiy’s archers!

  Closing the distance rapidly between himself and the thrown Ka’ull, Wing leapt from the horse and landed upon the Ka’ull before he could rise again. It was with surreal, gut wrenching nerve that Wing flipped his sword around in his hand and pushed the bright end of it through the Ka’ull’s chest. The Ka’ull curled around the blade in a full body convulsion, gagged, coughed, and finally sank back. Supine, the man grasped first at Wing’s sword and then at his own chest as Wing withdrew the blade.

  Panting, Wing stood over the Ka’ull as the man trembled sickeningly and fell still, his eyes half-open, and in what seemed like a single moment the first engagement with the Ka’ull was over. Wing gazed at the dead Ka’ull with a detached feeling, his limbs numb, mind surprisingly and blessedly blank. He noticed the weight of the sword on his arm but could not feel his fingers around the hilt and glanced down to make sure he was still holding it.

  He’d just killed a human being. A someone. It was only then that he realized it was the first time he’d ever done so. They were about to fight a war. He was surrounded by warriors and fighters from another valley, and more were coming. But how many of them had seen death? How many of them had taken a life? Quieness was not currently at war. He was reasonably sure Commander Lant and Master Monteray had known death and fighting, though to what extent Wing had no idea as neither of them had ever said. The leaders of the Cant had seen battle, but of those only Nien and Carly remained, and Wing suddenly remembered the night he’d sat on his bed beside Nien as h
is brother had wept, relating what had happened in his first battle in Jayak while on the training mission with the Cant Leaders, what he’d done, what it had felt like to kill another human being. And then again, with Carly, Nien had seen fighting that was incomprehensible and vastly different from that which had taken place in the Jayak — a massacre, inside Castle Viyer, in the middle of the night. Wing shuddered and swallowed. He glanced down again at his sword, at the blood on it. A horse blew a hard breath close to him and Wing looked up again to find Nien, atop one of the Ka’ull war horses, looking down at him. His brother’s face was silent, unreadable. He glanced at Wing’s sword and then back up at Wing’s face.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  Wing mentally shook himself, wondering the same thing. To his own surprised, he replied. “E’te. I am.” He then indicated the dead Ka’ull. “He isn’t.” He looked back at Nien.

  Nien’s face remained carefully blank for something just short of a moment, and then he laughed out loud.

  Unsure what Nien’s laughter meant — was it appropriate because they were both relieved to be well and to have won the small skirmish? Or vastly inappropriate considering that a man lay dead at Wing’s feet? But then Wing realized Nien wasn’t laughing for either of those reasons but for the sheer absurdity of Wing’s observation.

  Wiping the tears from his eyes, Nien said, “E’te, I suppose he is not doing too well, is he?”

  Wing flushed.

  Nien sniffed, ran a quick sleeve across his eyes, and glanced back over his shoulder. SiQQiy’s men were beginning to drag the dead Ka’ull toward the tree line.

  “Well?” he said.

  Wing wiped his sword off as best he could on the ground, sheathed it, and picked up the dead Ka’ull’s arms by the wrists. Nien dismounted and took up the feet.

  Though none of them knew what might have given the soldiers cause to ride to this far end of the valley to reconnoiter (perhaps it was part of a new set of patrols set up now that regular troops were arriving at the castle, perhaps not), still, once the patrol did not return it would not be long before more riders were sent out to investigate. The absence of bodies would at least prolong the mystery of their disappearance if not abate it when those new riders arrived.