“I’ll be right there,” I barely managed to force out past the wild thumping of my heart.
Sachiel knew something—she knew a way, but it had to do with having access to the jakla for some reason. Well, apparently, now I did. I needed to tell someone about what was happening to me. A little voice urged me to go to Zuhra—but though she would no doubt be gentle and concerned, she would also try to protect me somehow, like she always had. There was no way for her to stop this, though. And it was time I started protecting myself.
By convincing Sachiel to help me get my power back.
ELEVEN
ZUHRA
Most storms blew in slowly, visible in the distance, taking hours to reach us. But occasionally, one would whip over the mountains, racing across the sky as though demons lashed it from behind, driving it toward the citadel with a speed that took my breath away.
I knew this was going to be one of those storms as soon as I heard the wind rattling the windowpane and glanced out the window of the dining hall to see eddies of dirt and leaves swirling through the courtyard. Menacing clouds clawed their way over the peaks on the horizon, monstrous and dark, low-hanging bellies swollen with rain.
We were supposed to have supper in a few minutes and then go outside for the burial. But if that storm hit as soon as I was afraid it might …
I kept looking out the window, marking the progress of the clouds, anxiously waiting for everyone else to show up.
I still hadn’t seen Raidyn since that morning when he’d stormed away from me to get mad at Loukas. After his ride with Sharmaine, he’d stayed outside helping my father dig the hole to bury Grandfather for most of the afternoon. After I finished saying my goodbyes, I’d left the room where he was lying and found my mother. Sami had been right—she did need my help preparing the body. As we’d worked, she’d reported that Inara had finally fallen asleep after Sami added some sleeping herbs to her tea. I’d felt bad and relieved all at once to know that she was finally getting some rest.
The door creaked behind me, and I spun, breath held. It escaped in a whoosh when my parents entered the room.
My father walked over to me and gave me a tight hug—something he’d started doing every time he saw me or Inara, as if he were trying to squeeze a lifetime of hugs that he’d missed into as few days as possible. “Thank you for helping your mother this afternoon. I know that must have been difficult.”
I embraced him back tightly, but didn’t respond. It had been hard to help her wash and prepare Grandfather’s body while Inara slept. He hadn’t begun to smell yet, but I knew if we didn’t bury him soon, he would. The water we’d used to clean any remaining blood and dirt from his face, arms, and torso had been scented with lemons from Inara’s orchards. I wondered if I would always think of this day whenever I smelled lemons.
“It’s really windy,” my father commented as the citadel shuddered under another assault.
“A storm is blowing in.” I glanced over at Mother. “I think it might be a bad one.”
Concern flickered over her face. “We may need to do the burial before we eat, Adelric,” she said hesitantly, coming over to his side.
He looked out the window. “It won’t be sunset yet.”
“By the time the sun is setting, that storm will be here, and if Zuhra is right and it’s a bad one, you are not going to be able to be outside.” Mother took his hand in hers. “I’m sure the Great God will hold his soul until the sun sets, and then make sure he is ushered into the Light.”
My father stared out the window, his jaw set. The bump in his throat rose and fell when he swallowed hard, the tendons in his neck tightening. Even as we watched, lightning flashed in the distance, a jagged flare of warning.
“Sir, was that thunder?”
All three of us flinched at Sharmaine’s voice behind us. My father took a deep breath and turned. “Yes. A storm is coming. We have to do the burial now, before it hits.”
“But it won’t be sunset,” Sharmaine protested.
“We don’t have a choice.” He strode away from the window that rattled from another gust of wind. “Tell the others.”
Mother hurried after him, but stopped short of the door.
“Inara?” she said, disbelieving. “What are you doing up already?”
My sister stood in the doorway, as pale as the alabaster wall, her hair hanging limply down her back. It looked like she’d dressed hastily. “I came for dinner … Aren’t we eating?” Her gaze traveled quickly over those of us in the room; I wasn’t certain but I thought I sensed a pang of disappointment go through her.
“There’s a storm coming, we have to do the burial first,” Mother explained. “You’d better come quickly, girls.” She took Inara’s hand and tugged her out the door, not seeming to notice the weak resistance Inara put up before her shoulders slumped and she allowed herself to be pulled from the room, leaving me and Sharmaine standing there looking at each other, her dismay obvious.
“Zuhra, now that we’re alone, I—”
“We better go,” I said and hurried out the door before she could say anything that would make this day any worse, the memory of her flying off alone with Raidyn still fresh in my mind.
* * *
Wind whipped through the courtyard, angrily pushing the charcoal clouds toward us, where we huddled around the hole in the ground. The scent of impending rain carried on the wind, mingling with the dust that blew up from the ground and stung my eyes.
Raidyn, Loukas, Ivan, and my father carefully carried Grandfather’s body to where the rest of us stood. I wondered how they would lower him into the deep hole, until Sharmaine stepped forward and lifted her hands. Her veins lit up, and as the men drew closer and then held him above the hole, she created what looked like a blanket of glowing power that hovered just beneath Grandfather’s body.
My father whispered something in Paladin, his voice choked.
Then the four men released him and stepped back. Instead of falling, Sharmaine’s power caught him. As she lowered her hands, the glowing blanket beneath Grandfather’s body dropped slowly down to the earth below, until he came to a gentle rest on the freshly dug soil.
My father nodded at Raidyn, who bowed his head and said something in Paladin, and then, after a pause, began to sing.
I’d always loved the sound of Raidyn’s voice, but I’d never heard anything like his singing. Even in a different language, he somehow took the sorrow, the guilt, the pang of permanent loss, and transformed it into song that rose and fell into pure emotion. His smoky, musical voice shaped each note into something at once beautiful and heartbreaking. I didn’t understand the words, but the haunting melody and the pure, mournful tone washed over me, summoning a fresh wave of grief that brought tears to my eyes again.
When Loukas, my father, Sachiel, Sharmaine, and even Ivan joined in, adding their voices to Raidyn’s, my tears turned to sobs. I’d never heard so many voices joined together in music. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever hearing a song with words before. Sami hummed sometimes when she cooked, so I knew music existed. But I’d never truly experienced it before—not like this. Even though I didn’t understand the Paladin words, the beauty of their combined voices, and the tears flowing down their cheeks, felt more powerful than prayer.
I didn’t want it to end, but all too soon, the last note faded away on the ever-increasing wind that whipped the wetness from my face, stinging my eyes with dust. Sami, who stood beside me, cried openly, even though she’d never known my grandfather. I wondered if it was from the music, or if she was thinking of her own losses—of her sister, whose death she blamed herself for causing. Even Halvor, who had also lost both of his parents, reached up to brush at his cheeks a few times.
Inara was the only one who remained dry-eyed, but there was a morass of darkness enshrouding her that sent a shiver of worry raking down my spine, as if the gathering storm above us were an echo of the despair swelling inside my sister. I reached for her hand and clutched her chilled f
ingers; she was as brittle as ice, on the verge of shattering.
“I know you didn’t know him,” I leaned over and whispered to her, “but he was very kind. He really wanted to meet you.”
She didn’t say anything, but her grip tightened on mine slightly.
As we watched, Father, Raidyn, and Loukas stepped forward to pick up shovels—there were only three that we could find in the stables—and moved to the large pile of dirt next to the burial site.
My father scooped up the first shovelful and held it out over the hole, his hands shaking so hard, little bits of dirt tumbled off of it. “Goodbye, Father,” he said in Paladin, and then he closed his eyes and turned the shovel over.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever forget the sound of that dirt hitting my grandfather’s body with a low plop. It was so awful, so final. I shuddered as Loukas’s shovelful and then Raidyn’s joined the first. Plop, plop.
I tilted my face up to the clouds racing overhead, to the punishing wind, letting it slash the tears from my face. Goodbye, Grandfather. I’m so sorry.
Another gust tore through the courtyard, but this time, it was followed by the first few drops of rain. As I’d feared, the storm had reached us in the short time it had taken to gather everyone and bring Grandfather’s body out for the burial. The thick, sable clouds surged through the ever-darkening sky, roiling into a teeming mass of destruction that would break loose at any moment.
As if recognizing the urgency, Raidyn and Loukas both turned to the pile of dirt and quickly began moving it. Each shovelful landed with that same terrible finality—the dull thud of soil on empty flesh made me flinch each time. After his first and only shovelful, Father merely stood there and stared as all that remained of Grandfather slowly disappeared.
Lightning, brighter even than Paladin fire, ripped through the clouds just beyond the hedge, close enough that a deafening crack of thunder exploded overhead within seconds. I barely swallowed my cry of fear, but Inara jerked beside me, her hand clenching mine.
The raindrops fell faster and faster, quickly moving through a drizzle into a downpour. The dry dirt the wind had flung into our faces all afternoon went from speckled to soaked in a matter of minutes. Raidyn and Loukas worked as quickly as possible, but there was no chance they could finish before the brunt of the storm hit.
Halvor stepped up to my father and gently reached for the empty shovel. “Let me, sir,” he offered.
Father gripped the handle for a moment longer, then relinquished it to Halvor. Mother took Father’s now-empty hand in hers. He turned away from the gravesite and wrapped his free arm around her, his shoulders and head curving down toward her, as Halvor hurried over to help Raidyn and Loukas.
The grave was almost three-quarters of the way full when the downpour turned into an all-out cloudburst, torrents of rain dumping from the sky.
“We need to go in!” Sami called out, over the howling wind. “Lightning could strike at any time!”
Before anyone could respond, the hedge suddenly moved, like hundreds of emerald snakes slithering apart, revealing the iron gate hidden beneath the thick greenery.
And standing behind it were two Paladin I’d never seen before.
TWELVE
INARA
The sky wept above us, rain slipping down my cheeks instead of tears. Alkimos’s death was a sharp pain in my belly—the realization that I’d had a grandfather, and now I’d never get to know him—but for some reason, I was hollowed out by it, unable to cry. I stared at the grave, as the dirt slowly filled it, clutching Zuhra’s hand, as I had so many times, but now there were secrets and lies between us, when there never had been before.
When the rain intensified, Sami said something, but her voice glanced over me without the words penetrating. Zuhra suddenly stiffened beside me, her hand tightening on mine. I felt a surge of shock go through her. I glanced up and sucked in a sharp breath. The hedge was open, the gate exposed, two Paladin—a male and a female—standing there.
“Cyrus? Melia?” Sachiel shouted to be heard over the increasing fury of the storm. “Where are your gryphons?”
The pair shared a look, their unfamiliar faces etched with grief.
“Gone,” the male—Cyrus—said as he opened the gate and ushered the woman to precede him into the courtyard.
That one word made me go cold, the memory of Paladin fire blasting toward two gryphons seared in my mind.
“What do you mean ‘gone’? What happened? Where have you been?”
“We need to get out of the storm!” my mother yelled over another deafening clap of thunder.
“She’s right—it’s only going to get worse!” Sami shouted.
As if to prove her right, lightning struck close enough that for half a second everything was lit bright white and then in the instant that darkness enveloped the grounds once more, thunder exploded around us, so loud I ducked, clapping my hands over my ears.
Adelric, who hadn’t wanted to give up on finishing the burial, finally relented. “Everyone back to the citadel!” He waved his hands at the group, his words barely audible over the rage of the storm. “Tell us what happened inside!”
* * *
We all gathered in the dining room, where Sami had built a fire before the burial, and the food she’d prepared was waiting for us. It was vegetable stew tonight, simple but flavorful.
I put a few spoonfuls in my bowl to appease my mother’s hawklike gaze, but couldn’t bring myself to eat, my stomach clenched too tight from what I’d seen in my room—that I hadn’t dared tell anyone about yet—and my head fuzzy from the sleeping herbs Sami had snuck into the tea Mother forced me to drink.
The new pair huddled close together across from my parents, both of their eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. They were covered in mud and what appeared to be partially dried blood splatters. Sachiel, at the head of the table, kept looking at them while everyone else quickly served themselves. Lorina, Ivan, Loukas, and Raidyn all sat on the same side of the table. Zuhra sat on my left and Halvor on my right, with Sami next to him. Whether consciously or not, somehow all the Paladin except for my father had sat together, facing the rest of us.
Once everyone served themselves, Sachiel looked to Cyrus and Melia. “What happened? Did you find the jakla?”
Cyrus was medium height and build, with brown hair and a sprinkling of freckles. Melia was shorter but stocky, with dusty blond hair and a sunburn on her nose. They held hands on the table, both of them trembling. At Sachiel’s question, Cyrus’s knuckles whitened.
“Yes. We found him.”
Melia shuddered.
I wanted to leave. I wanted to hide. I could do nothing but sit there, frozen to my seat with guilt, bearing the weight of his atrocities, though I had no ability to stop Barloc.
“He … he was trying to hide his tracks by walking in the river.”
No. No, no, no no no no …
“We set up a trap for him, thinking he’d completed the change and we could attack him.” Cyrus paused and swallowed, his gaze on their clasped hands. “We were wrong.”
Everyone stared in silence, the vegetable stew forgotten in front of them. Everyone except me—who had seen him in that river, had felt the moment when he’d known the Paladin had found him, had watched him attack two gryphons—
“I’m sorry to make you share something that is obviously … difficult.” Sachiel’s voice was as gentle as I’d ever heard it; I hadn’t realized her capable of such compassion. “But we must know what happened.”
I clutched my hands in my lap, willing myself to stay calm somehow as she spoke to the survivors.
A muscle in the corner of Cyrus’s eye ticked. “There were four of us. Nicabar and Gen were the lure, and we were the closers.”
Melia’s shoulders began to shake; Cyrus wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in close.
“He found them before we got there and attacked. We got there as quickly as possible, but he slaughtered all of our gryphons and had Nicabar and Gen cornered. T
hey tried to defend themselves, but he absorbed every bit of power they blasted at him. There was nothing we could do. We only escaped because … because Nicabar … he…” Cyrus’s voice broke. He shook his head, unable to continue.
Sachiel tensed. “Are they…?”
Cyrus stared down at the table, quaking almost as badly as the woman beside him. It took several moments before he responded. “They weren’t dead when we fled, but … I don’t know how they would have survived.”
The plates and bowls on the table rattled when Sachiel slammed her fist down on the thick wooden plank with a guttural curse. I was hardly aware of anyone else’s reactions to the ghastly news; the painful abyss inside me gaped open even wider from Cyrus’s story, constricting my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
“I hate to be the one to point this out,” Loukas said, low and apologetic, “but I can only think of one reason why he would have kept them alive.”
Melia startled at the sound of his voice. When she glanced up and saw Loukas, she shrank back farther into Cyrus’s embrace. Even Cyrus scowled at him, his arm tightening around Melia.
Loukas flushed and looked down.
It took a second for his meaning to hit me. I turned to my father, horror blooming in my chest, like a fresh wound. He would have waited to kill them to use them first. To drain them as he had me. If Barloc had ripped the power from both of them too …
Father swore, his face blanching. “Sachiel, what were their strengths? What powers could he now possess?”
The other general’s teeth were clenched, her eyes flashing even brighter than normal. It wasn’t until she blinked a few times that I realized she was holding back tears.
“They were both fire-wielders, nothing more. But they were both strong and good and—” She broke off with a harsh shake of her head.
Father moved as though he would reach out to her, but she jerked away. “I’m so sorry. I know how painful it is to lose members of your battalion.”
Warriors of Wing and Flame Page 9