On Wings of Thunder (On Wings Saga 1)

by M. D. Grimm

  He was chosen. Damn them all, he was chosen.

  “It was my blood that awakened Asagoroth. I was once Roland. I’m the one he wants.”

  Trystan set his jaw and turned his head slowly up and met his father’s eyes without flinching. Those hard eyes showed nothing but shock and horror.

  “In twelve hours if I’m not with him, he will destroy all of you,” Trystan continued. “No counteroffensive coordinated by the high chancellor will keep him from roasting the Upper Realm to ash. Then he’ll still claim me.”

  Trystan pushed to his feet, stepped away. Annalise was crying silently. He didn’t look at her. He only saw Gabreld.

  “Let me go to him and prevent all of this. He’s made it clear what he wants, what he’ll do to get it.” Trystan couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “Besides, I’m unchosen. It wouldn’t be a great loss to any of you.”

  “Son—”

  Trystan snarled. “Son? You dare call me son? You don’t give a fuck about me, Gabreld. Don’t you dare pretend that you do.”

  Gabreld’s eyes flared. He stepped to Trystan, grabbed his arms. “You listen to me—”

  “No!” Trystan lost it. He shoved away. “I’m done listening to you! To all of you. I want nothing to do with you or mother or any other blasted angel who pities me. You’ve given me nothing, and I want nothing from you.”

  “He’s a demon, Trystan! You have no idea—”

  “Don’t I?” Trystan screamed. Part of him realized some of his anger wasn’t his; it was Asagoroth’s. But he didn’t care. It gave him strength.

  “Roland lived happily with him for years before angels executed him! Asagoroth stopped his entire campaign because of one angel’s love. Now yet again he’s pushing aside his wrath for one insignificant angel. He has every reason to set fire to this place. Don’t you dare deny it.”

  “You don’t want that dragon’s love, Trystan,” Gabreld pleaded with him while Annalise simply watched, holding her hands over her mouth. “It’s poison. Love itself is fickle and unsteady. It’s an emotion without control, without—”

  “Maybe it is,” Trystan said in a low voice. He realized he was crying as well. His tears burned his cold face. “But I want it. And damn you all, I want it from him.”

  Trystan turned and ran. He must have startled his father enough to give him a head start. He ran as fast as he could, shimmering his wings intangible to give him less drag.

  “Trystan, stop!”

  The order nearly halted his legs, but he only stumbled slightly and kept running. Trystan knew his father would catch him if he didn’t take to the sky. He didn’t stand a chance against the most decorated commander in a generation.

  Trystan turned sharply to a broken window and leapt through it, shimmering his wings visible on the dive. He caught the wind and surged up, then pumped them as hard as he could, not daring to look back.

  He couldn’t make it out of the barrier until it came down. But he could hide. He could wait. Emphoria was a big city, and he was sure there were places to hole up.

  The garden, my love. Go to the garden.

  Trystan weaved between spires, making sure he lost his father.

  “You destroyed it,” he said, panting.

  There is enough rubble for you to hide in.

  Trusting Asagoroth in a way he had only ever trusted Annalise, he dove for the gardens, staying in the shadows, keeping as quiet as possible.

  There wasn’t much left, but Asagoroth was right. Trystan’s heart hammered in his chest and he panted as he flew around what remained of the stone pillar, looking for a hole or crack he could hide in. He found one quickly and descended, landing agilely. Shimmering his wings intangible, Trystan crawled deeper into the crack, which was barely wide enough for him to fit. Continuing deeper, he found a place large enough to sit. Collapsing to the stone, he shook with excitement and fear.

  Had he really done that? Had he really just yelled at and defied his father? The commander of Emphoria?

  Dear Light, he had!

  Well done, my love. Asagoroth’s voice held obvious pride. Well done.

  Trystan stayed in the cavern, stomach rumbling. He dragged a hand through his hair, the silence almost too much to bear. It left him too much time to contemplate what he’d done and to doubt he’d done the right thing.

  He’d disrespected his father, yelled at him, even shoved him. Did he make a mistake? Had he made the right decision? If the angels found him before the barrier lowered…. Trystan shuddered. A public flogging would be the least of his worries. He’d probably be thrown into the dungeons, locked in chains. Then he’d be burned alive when Asagoroth made good on his word to turn the Upper Realm to ash.

  “I’m an idiot,” he said.

  The pressure in his head suddenly intensified and seemed to spread down his neck, his shoulders. It was as if hands were touching, caressing his skin. Trystan gasped and jerked, looking down at himself, as if expecting to see those hands. He saw nothing, yet he still felt the intimate strokes.

  You made the right decision, my beloved angel.

  Trystan swallowed hard as the pressure slid over his chest and around his back. A chill went down his spine as a spark of pleasure shot to his groin. He hardened shamefully as the touches continued past his torso and zeroed in on his groin.

  “Asagoroth, stop. Stop.” But his words were barely more than moans. And didn’t really want him to stop.

  Trystan slid to the ground and sprawled there, the phantom touches everywhere along his body. Everywhere. He closed his eyes and could clearly imagine fingertips and hands fondling his cock, his balls, and slipping into his ass, touching him where no one had dared to touch before. Except for his dream lover.

  He moaned. “Asagoroth.”

  A rumble of satisfaction echoed inside his head. It was as if the dragon lay on top of him since the rumble seemed to tremble along his entire body. He felt it inside and out.

  Asagoroth wanted to give him pleasure, to give him a sort of freedom Trystan had never experienced nor thought existed. A flash of heat sparked inside him as Asagoroth spoke.

  Touch yourself. Let me feel your pleasure.

  Trystan blushed fiercely and shook his head. “No. I… can’t. No.”

  I want to feel you, my love. Trystan. Touch yourself and we will both feel it.

  Trembling, Trystan pulled up his robes, baring his legs. He was already painfully hard, nearly dripping, and that was humiliating. He was alone in the rubble of the Center Garden having mind-sex with his dragon lover. Shame didn’t even cover it. But at the same time, it was more arousing than anything he could imagine.

  Trystan bit his lip and grabbed his erection. He knew how to pleasure himself, even though he didn’t do it often. Self-pleasuring wasn’t frowned upon, necessarily, but since there wasn’t a point to it, procreation-wise, it was discouraged as needless indulgence. But that didn’t stop him or his roommates from doing it under the sheets at night.

  He slowly stroked himself, and the pressure in his head became more intense. The sensation of someone touching him became more frantic. He sped up his strokes, and he closed his eyes, focusing only upon the pleasure whipping through his body.

  He wanted Asagoroth to touch him this way. But how could he? The dragon was gigantic… and well, a dragon. And Trystan was so small—

  You will see, my love. There is a way. Once you are mine again, I will worship you. We will become one.

  The voice was growly, far deeper than it was before. Trystan vaguely wondered if Asagoroth was truly affected by the pleasure spiraling through his own body.

  “Do you feel that?” Trystan murmured as he neared completion, tightening his grip.

  Every delicious stroke. Now his voice was a fierce growl.

  Asagoroth pressed those phantom fingers against his small, intimate opening, and Trystan came hard, barely able to lock his scream in his throat. It was no good hiding if he made enough sound to be found. Gasping, his lungs working like b
ellows, Trystan curled up, pulling his robe down over his legs. The pressure along his body slowly receded, and though the pressure in his head never completely left, it became more bearable.

  More awaits you when the barrier lowers.

  Trystan swallowed hard. His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Where do I meet you when it does?”

  Upon the spire where I perched when I spoke to your people.

  Trystan nodded. “I’ll be there.”

  I’ll be waiting.

  Chapter Seven

  Trystan rocked himself, wishing for food, hoping no one found him, and listening to the slight hum in the air that indicated the barrier was still up. How long had he been there? How long before he could find Asagoroth? The dragon had been quiet after their little mind-sex experience. The pressure was nearly nonexistent. He felt a little upset by that and called himself a fool. The dragon didn’t want to be inside his head all the time. But he felt a little too alone without the dragon’s presence. In the silence he revisited his doubts and couldn’t completely banish them.

  But then he heard a noise near the mouth of the cave. He froze for an instant before silently plunging deeper into the cavern. Crouched in the shadows, he narrowed his eyes and focused on the entry. He hadn’t made one noise. How could someone have found him? Or were they simply checking every inch of the city? Trystan had no idea how his father had handled his outburst and wondered if there was, indeed, a manhunt for him.

  His gut clenched at the thought.

  “Trystan?”

  His eyes widened. Anna.

  Her voice was a whisper, but it reached him clearly. “Trystan, it’s me. I’m alone. You have my word on that. Are you here?”

  A battle waged inside him for a few seconds before he slowly stood and came forward. Annalise had walked through the thin crack and now stood in the main cave, exactly where Trystan had found his pleasure with Asagoroth. He blushed slightly and thanked the lack of light. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, but he guessed hers hadn’t yet. She stood very still, eyes wide, turning her head this way and that.

  He crouched again, watching her. He didn’t think she’d lie to him, but she could have been followed without her knowledge.

  “Anna,” he said softly.

  She sucked in a breath and whipped around, squinting in his direction. She took a step forward.

  “Stop,” he said.

  She froze.

  “Just stay where you are.” Trystan hated his paranoia, but he couldn’t afford to make a mistake now. He was too close to freedom. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

  “I know you,” she said simply. “Or I thought I did,” she added after a moment.

  Trystan felt his eyes burn, but he made sure his voice remained steady. “You need to leave. Now.”

  “Tryst, please—”

  “I love you, Anna,” he said, taking careful breaths to stop his throat from tightening. “But you have to leave now. I wish I could explain why I have to go but… I just have to.”

  “I know,” she said, so softly he could barely understand her. She knelt and clasped her hands in front of her. “You were once Roland. I know why you have to leave, Trystan. You… you love him. The dragon.”

  “I don’t know if I do,” he admitted. “But I know I could. I know I can. And he wants me, Anna. Not only that, but I can save all of you if I go with him. It’s the perfect solution to a lot of problems.”

  “I want you,” she said.

  Trystan closed his eyes and squeezed them against the tears that welled. “I know.” He swallowed hard. “And I don’t want to leave you. But I want you alive, Anna. Asagoroth will make good on his word. He will kill all of you. I can’t let you die.”

  “Trystan.” Tears were in her voice. She reached out a hand, and Trystan could see she saw him now.

  He reached out, and they clasped hands in a moment of understanding.

  “I love you, little brother,” she whispered.

  Trystan smiled slightly. “I love you, big sister.”

  The pressure in his head intensified, and Trystan let go of his sister.

  The barrier is nearly gone.

  Trystan nodded. “Go, Anna. Now.”

  She stood. “Stay low when the barrier lifts, Trystan. Their eyes will be everywhere. Father told the high chancellor about you, and they will do everything they can to keep you here. So stay low and near the base of the spires near the clouds.”

  Trystan nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Make sure—” She cleared her throat. “—make sure Asagoroth takes care of you. You are special, Trystan.”

  “I will.”

  She left. Trystan stayed in the darkness, knowing Asagoroth had heard the last of that exchange, if not all of it.

  “Asagoroth, if something goes wrong… if something happens and you destroy everything, try to spare my sister.”

  There was a distinct moment of pause on Asagoroth’s part. You love her.

  “I do.”

  She loves you.

  “Yes, she does.”

  More silence. Then, I will give you my word that, should the worst happen, I will try to spare your sister.

  Not exactly what he’d hoped for, but Trystan had to accept it. He also had to make sure nothing went wrong.

  Trystan decided to get into position before the barrier fell, which would make his getaway faster. Asagoroth felt the weakening of the barrier before he did despite being an unknown distance away. Hungry, tired, and on edge, Trystan knew he had to be stealthier than he’d ever been in his life. The soldiers would be alert and ready for any sign of him.

  Thankfully he knew Emphoria very well. Alone he’d explored it for most of his life, since the unchosen didn’t have social lives. He brought the image to mind of the spire Asagoroth had perched upon and flew in that direction, taking the longer way around. Anna was right: he had to stay low. Everyone would be looking up. If he stayed near the clouds and in shadows, he could avoid his pursuers.

  Trystan’s gut clenched. His own people were hunting him like a traitor. Maybe he was. He couldn’t convince himself he was doing this wholly to save them, but that was part of the reason. It was ironic, really, that he was trying to protect those who’d never given a shit about him, those who thought he was a disgrace, shameful, a stain on their great city, on their perfect society. Trystan swallowed his bitterness, hardened his will. Fuck them all. He was going to Asagoroth. He was going to someone who wanted him, who saw him.

  Move now, my love.

  Trystan took a deep breath and flew closer to the barrier, the hum growing stronger despite its weakened state. Scanning carefully, he saw telltale shimmers and flashes of white and gold that were the angels along the tops of the spires near the heart of the city. He quickly found where the shadows were and dove out of hiding, attempting to keep his own wings from shimmering and shining. He flew low, the misty tops of the clouds brushing his skin, dampening his robe. Darting this way and that, he steadily made his way closer to the spire outpost. The barrier’s hum started to falter, to whine. He could actually see it begin to fade as the armies grouped around its edges, preparing for a fight. It would be a miracle if he managed to make it out without being accosted.

  After flying around the base of the bird sanctuary spire, he noticed shadows dancing above. Trystan looked up and sucked in a breath, darting closer to the spire, nearly hugging it. A large unit flew above him, and he hovered with as little movement as he could manage. They were too close for comfort. He held his breath, watching with wide eyes, but they passed by, never once giving any indication they noticed him.

  Blowing out a breath, Trystan continued on his way, rubbernecking, his muscles growing tenser as he came closer to the border. The spire outpost came into view after he turned a corner, and he hovered near the base of the spire closest to it. He was uncomfortably close to the barrier, and the energy bouncing around caused his hair to stand on end. Gritting his teeth, he touched the sapphire-blue
wall and watched the barrier fade.

  He didn’t see Asagoroth anywhere. Focusing his mind, pushing aside nerves with considerable effort, he searched for that pressure inside his head.

  Where are you? he thought as hard as he could.

  I am coming, Trystan. I will be there. Trust me.

  Trust. It wasn’t something given lightly. Annalise used to be the only one he trusted. But now he risked everything and put his faith in a demon.

  How had his life come to this?

  Trystan shook his doubts away. They were no use to him now. He was beyond such doubts now. He only had two choices: turn himself in and watch everything and everyone burn and be taken by Asagoroth anyway, or go to the dragon now and spare his people. His sister.

  It wasn’t a very hard decision.

  And he couldn’t deny the bone-deep rightness of joining Asagoroth. It was like the most natural thing in the world, something he’d been waiting for his entire life without knowing it. That must have been echoes of Roland.

  As he waited and watched and as the armies began to gather and disperse along the edges of the barrier, in the distance, there came storm clouds. He squinted, trying to see more details. The storm came quickly, the black, thunderous clouds blocking out the stars, the planets, everything. They devoured the lights and enveloped the sky and white clouds below. They appeared to stretch forever, showing no end. But the storm was thickest in the center, and as it came closer, Trystan could see the lightning, sharp shards of death and destruction, and he could hear the thunder, the crack and boom that rattled the spire he still touched. The howling of wind preceded the storm, whipping against the barrier, pounding it, demanding entry.

  He gulped.

  Asagoroth.

  The barrier finally broke. The wind entered, and the full ferocity of the storm could be heard and felt, and more windows shattered, more spires cracked. Trystan’s hair and robe flared behind him against the gale, and he turned his head away.

  Come to me. It wasn’t so much a demand, but a request.