The One Who Could Not Fly

by E G Stone

  Three hours into her ride, Ravenna gave up thinking at all. She just let the horse move in and out of a walk as it took the rest it required. Once, she stopped at a tiny spring near some tall rocks and let the creature drink its fill while she drank hers. She climbed stiffly back onto the beast and spurred it forwards, making certain to keep the Iron Mountains at her left.

  The one thing Ravenna refused to think about was the place she was going.

  Dawn came too quickly for Ravenna’s liking. But she knew that the sweat-slick sides of the horse and her own aching muscles required them both to rest. She aimed for a craggy rock that rose out of the desert like a jagged tooth. Almost as soon as they had reached the shade of the rock, the horse stopped and would move no farther. Ravenna dismounted.

  She gave the horse some of the precious water and drank some herself. There were only a few bags of water, as her journey was not meant to last all that long, and Lenore had promised that there were water sources in the desert. From what Ravenna could tell, the dry, dusty land was devoid of all precious water. And the oasis of the Red Palace was far behind. She gave the horse more water, then tied the reins to a stake Vareis had provided. The horse tossed its long head and let out a terrible sound.

  Ravenna beat her wings defiantly at the creature. It settled eventually, turning its back on Ravenna to graze on the few patches of scrub grass nearby. Ravenna lay back against the rock, her wings sheltering her from the rising sun. Finally, as the day began to warm around her into the height of midsummer, she closed her eyes and slept.

  Pain shooting across her shoulder and chest woke her. Ravenna gasped, eyes flying open. Sometime as she slept, she had turned to lay on her injured side and the wounds protested mightily. Warra had said they would not open again, but they were far from properly healed. Groaning, Ravenna turned onto her back and tried to see through the stars that clouded her vision. She took several deep breaths, then sat up.

  “It’s only pain,” Ravenna said through clenched teeth. “It will not kill you.”

  The horse snickered and tossed its head before it went back to grazing on the few pieces of grass that remained. Ravenna noted that the creature looked hot and tired, despite the fact that it was late afternoon and it had done nothing all day. But even in the shade of the rocky outcropping, the heat was sweltering. Even Ravenna’s open-backed tunic and flowing breeches felt too heavy.

  After her wounds stopped throbbing, Ravenna dared to take the bandages off. She nearly whimpered at the relief it gave. She could not see the wounds, even if she craned her neck, so she settled for gently probing them. They felt hot and itchy, but now that the muscles had relaxed, the pain was minimal.

  Ravenna stood and went to the horse. She dug out one of the poultices from the saddle bags and spread it liberally on the scratches. There was no way she could tie a bandage herself, so Ravenna just let things be. The scars would be worse, probably, for it, but she didn’t care. What were some scars compared to her purpose now.

  She watered the horse again and ate some of the dried fruits packed in the bags. Then, unable to wait any longer, Ravenna vaulted herself into the saddle and rode off into the distance, the setting sun at her back.

  This night’s ride felt slower and somehow more frantic than the night before. Then, she had been sure of her plan. She had been sure that leaving Lenore behind was the right thing, that walking away from Miska so he could stay where he was most needed was what was best. Now, she just sincerely missed her friends and hoped that they would rally the troops in time. What awaited her was still not to be considered.

  The horse was also not nearly as fleet as it had been. It still alternated between a brisk walk and its faster, jarring pace. But the walks lasted longer, and the faster pace was hardly long enough to speed their journey. Ravenna tried to stop once or twice as they came across precious places where water trickled, or to try and rest the beast. Eventually, though, her need surpassed her concern for the horse and Ravenna just kept pushing onward. It would never have made it back to the Red Palace, in any case, and though a quiet part of her mind twinged at the sacrifice, most of her knew it was necessary. The blank emptiness that had come with snuffing out her pain and her longing to be in a place far behind left only her rational mind and her need in its place.

  The horse’s steps faltered near dawn. It stumbled. Ravenna leapt from the saddle to avoid being caught underneath the creature as it fell to the ground. The beast screamed as it fell, its flanks heaving for air. Its nostrils had foam rimming them and its coat was sweat-dark.

  Ravenna cursed. This thing would carry her no farther. She undid the saddle while the horse lay on the ground. The supplies she had been given barely fit into one of the smaller bags, but Ravenna kept all she could. Then, leaving the horse to breathe its last or live as it may, she continued on foot.

  Some luck was on her side. Less than an hour’s walk had her hearing water as it rushed onto the shore. Sparse scrubland had turned into scraggly pine trees and enough greenery to support birds, small animals and the like. Another few minutes and Ravenna found herself shielding her eyes as she looked at the sun rising over the water.

  “Shinalea,” she murmured. After all this time, it felt so strange to be beckoned home.

  For the first time since Ravenna took to the road, she wondered just what would meet her when she went back.

  She had lost track of the time that had passed since her leaving. Had it been a moon? Two? A season? A cycle? It felt a lifetime. Would Tacitus still be researching his ancient sites, having to fly to the sites on his own now that Ravenna was not there to do the research for him? What of Desarra and Crispinus? Had the dark sylph joined the Lords of the Wing? Had Desarra found whatever acceptance she had been looking for now that Ravenna was gone?

  Legs trembling and wings shaking, Ravenna decided that she would rest there on the shore before searching for the beach where she would depart back to the island. She hoped the low boat that the slavers had used was still in place. She hoped that she would recognise the place where she should depart and that she could cross to the island easily. Ravenna knew how to navigate by the stars, but she had never crossed the ocean under her own power.

  “Enough,” Ravenna snapped to herself. She scrambled down the rocks to the beach and stopped as her feet met sand. This was not the desert sand that had plagued her for the last while. This was ocean sand, littered with shells and the remains of sea plants. This was familiar.

  Ravenna settled into the sand in a shallow cave, out of reach of the tides. And, as the sun rose higher into the sky, she closed her eyes and dreamed of a people left behind. Only, they were not graced with wings and amber-fire eyes.

  A further two nights passed before Ravenna had travelled along the coast long enough for the landscape to look familiar. She hadn’t even been certain that she would remember the place at all; at the time of her capture, she had been traumatised and terrified. Her memories were tainted with those overwhelming emotions and she struggled to push them aside and find the information she needed.

  Eventually, though, Ravenna stumbled her way south to a place that was like a whisper of a memory. Her food was almost gone, and her water supplies had run out completely. Ravenna was exhausted and every climb over a rock or boulder had her wings stretching for balance and pulling at her wounds. The saltwater that invariably found its way onto her skin did not help. The pain became a constant background drone that she ignored. All that mattered was putting one foot in front of another until she found the way back home.

  Ravenna stumbled forwards and was too slow to catch herself. Her wings instinctively moved so that Ravenna would roll with the impact, but she still ended up on her back, exhausted. The sun had set completely and now she was looking at the world by moonlight. The moon, three-quarters full, was bright enough to cast the beach into silver. The trees looked like shadow and starlight. The sand was bright and luminous. And the boat seemed made of silver.

  The boat.

&nb
sp; Ravenna scrambled to her feet. Her feathers trembled with joy. The boat. The boat!

  This was the same shallow-bottomed sea craft that had taken her from Shinalea. The slavers had left it behind, and here it was. Some divine being must have been looking down on Ravenna, for fortune had never been so kind. She had a chance of reaching her people, of warning them about the terrible things that were coming.

  The things that had already reached her precious Miska and Queen Lenore.

  Ravenna slammed those thoughts down under an impenetrable barrier in her mind. She focused instead on digging the boat out of the sand that had washed up around its sides. It was sun-bleached and there was rainwater gathered in the bottom, but it was sound, and it would do what she needed. There were even oars still there to take her home.

  She did not pause to find something to drink or take a moment to eat. As soon as the boat was free, Ravenna pushed it into the water with all her strength, her shoulder muscles wincing in pain as the wounds stretched across them. But the boat took to the water. Ravenna pushed it out past the waves that tried to carry it back to shore, the saltwater lapping at her clothes. With a single beat of her wings, Ravenna jumped out of the water and into the boat. She pulled at the oars and was on her way, her thoughts focused only on what lay ahead.

  She did not look back once.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Davorin arrived at the Red Palace the dawn after Ravenna had left, though he was not aware of that. All he knew was that there was power in the impossible artefact he carried with him, just waiting to be explored. And he had a whole palace of people with which to test it.

  His fighters peeled off as soon as they reached the encampment, going to see to their mounts and recount the tale of their journey. Davorin rode a little farther into the camp, a slight smile touching his mouth while he assessed the strength of his mercenaries. Even so early in the morning, they were already up and practising or seeing to their weapons and preparing for the day. One of the younger boys that they kept about to run messages spotted Davorin then dashed off into the camp, likely to fetch Utheria or Nadezhda.

  Davorin did not want to talk with either of his commanders. He wanted to sit alone in his room in the Red Palace and examine the dragon’s tooth. He had not dared pull it out on the ride back from the borderlands. Those travelling with him might have seen. Quick-eyed Barrow might have seen; if anyone could understand what it was that Davorin carried, it was Barrow. But still, the power that Davorin carried at his belt! He did not have that magic thrumming through his blood as before. Just the thought, though, was enough.

  “My lord!” A voice called out to him, forcing Davorin to stop halfway to his tent and face the intruder. Nadezhda was jogging towards him. Her cropped hair had grown out slightly in the time since they had been in the desert. It suited her no better than the short hair. Davorin curled his lip but dismounted from his horse.

  “Captain,” he said wearily. “Is there a reason you demand my attention just as I was going to get some proper sleep?”

  “I wanted to catch you before you went to your Red Queen,” Nadezhda said. She passed the reins to Davorin’s horse off to a waiting soldier, then practically dragged Davorin into their command tent. This early in the morning, the large canvas marquee was completely empty but for the large table in the centre of the room.

  Davorin wrenched his arm free of Nadezhda. “What do you think you are doing?!” he hissed, his hand flying not to his blades but his belt. “To assault the Firstborn Son of the Salusian Empire, Heir Apparent to the—”

  “Heir Apparent?” Nadezhda broke in, scorn lacing her tone. “That’s news to me. Did you learn this while you were cavorting with your sister?”

  Davorin bit back a sharp retort, knowing full well that it would do no good. Nadezhda was a creature formed by Dagan’s hand. She was crude, but effective. And Davorin needed her to cooperate with him. For now. He took a deep breath and forced his composure to rise. He would play with Nadezhda just as he did with those fools in his father’s court. It would not be long now before he no longer had to hide behind his mask of politeness and interest. The world would see him for who he was.

  “You overstep your bounds,” Davorin said cooly.

  Nadezhda flinched.

  “Go ahead, Captain, tell me what was so important that you had to drag me across the camp to tell me. Tell me why you decided to test your authority by telling me what to do.”

  Nadezhda’s eyes flashed to the ground and she pressed her mouth together. If Davorin was not mistaken, there was a hint of fear in her eyes. Good. She had never been cowed by Dagan, not in all the years those two had trained together. Davorin had at least accomplished that better than his brother. And he had the dragon’s tooth, something that Dagan would have killed the Emperor for.

  “My apologies, Lord Davorin,” Nadezhda murmured. She glanced up at him. He met her gaze evenly. Nadezhda licked her lips and turned to face the table so she wouldn’t have to watch Davorin’s scrutiny of her words. That was a bit worrying. “You should know that I worked to follow your orders while you were gone.”

  “My orders?”

  “To keep an eye on Queen Lenore and that fool Ravenna. Make certain that she wasn’t subverting your plans with the Red Queen.”

  Davorin nodded. “Ah, yes. And did she try to subvert me?”

  Nadezhda licked her lips. “Not exactly. I don’t know if she said something earlier, but that woman and her servants have always been nothing more than graciously polite. But they watch you carefully. I couldn’t get much time with that stupid sylph. So, I looked around her room. I found a book.”

  Davorin sighed. “A book? Captain Nadezhda, I trusted you to keep an eye on my interests in the short time I have been away. You were meant to further my cause with Queen Lenore, you were meant to keep an eye on Ravenna, and you were meant to make certain that my soldiers were ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Yet you tell me you have found nothing but a book?”

  “Trust me, my lord,” Nadezhda growled, baring her teeth like some fell dog, “this is a book you will want.”

  Davorin rolled his eyes but gestured for her to continue.

  “It was written by another sylph,” Nadezhda explained.

  Davorin started, taking a step closer to her to see if she was telling the truth. Surely, she would not play that sort of trick on him. Surely, she was as loyal to him as she had been to Dagan. Why, then, would she say something so outrageous?

  “Another sylph?” Davorin demanded. “I thought Ravenna was the only one. A creature otherwise lost to the mists of time.”

  Nadezhda shook her head. “It was some generations ago, but it was most certainly written by another sylph. And that is not all. Apparently, there is a whole civilisation of sylphs. They live completely isolated from us, and they don’t do anything but study and hunt and have their little society, but they exist. And what’s more, they fly.”

  It was impossible. Ravenna was an oddity, a woman of untold beauty with wings like the night. She was the spitting image of the divine beings that served as messengers and warriors to the gods, the angels. Religion taught that they were beings of air and magic and that they were the bringers of signs to the devout. Ravenna was not an angel. But she looked like one. And now to learn that there were more, that there was a whole people made up of these creatures? Davorin’s rule would never be contested again if he could have these beings on his side.

  Nadezhda coughed. Davorin turned back to his Captain, noting the gleam in her eye. “There’s more,” she said simply. “They were the Stormbringers.”

  Now Davorin did stagger. He had to rest his hand on one of the chairs around the table in order to gain his balance. The angels were religious symbols. They mattered only to the devout and those who wanted to ask the gods for guidance. The Stormbringers, though, they were warrior legend. They were a symbol of strength and power to any who had picked up a blade. They were the legions who fought against the Darkening alongside t
he dragons. They were the undefeated army who swept on their enemies from skies churned dark by their wings. Their prowess was unmatched and their reputation vivid. If they could be taught to fight like Ravenna…

  To have them at his back? Davorin could conquer the world.

  He thought again of the tooth at his belt. It had been impossible but two days before, yet here he stood, holding a piece of dragon lore. Ravenna’s existence had been impossible. Magic was a tale to tell children, a fool’s belief.

  But it was all real.

  Davorin would use every piece at his disposal to acquire a legion of Stormbringers. He would conquer them, this modern collection of sylphs who had forgotten their heritage just as surely as their existence had been lost. He would conquer them, and he would break them, just as he had with Ravenna. Then, he would train them to fight for him.

  “Bring me Ravenna,” Davorin ordered. He was so caught up in this vision of a future where he held the magic of legends in his hand that he missed the fear that flickered across Nadezhda’s expression. He did not miss, however, the hiss that she gave. Davorin focused on her, saw the hunch of her shoulders and the wariness about her. “What happened?” Davorin growled.

  “I was caught in Ravenna’s room,” Nadezhda said. She fidgeted, brushing her fingers along the worn creases of her leather armour as though that would protect her as it had before. “The Red Queen brought Ravenna and that idiot servant to question me. They knew about the book.”