Warriors of Wing and Flame

by Sara B. Larson

  I’d done it. I’d managed to succeed at every curve and challenge he’d thrown at me.

  We’d done it, I corrected myself, reaching down to pat Sukhi’s neck.

  “There’s a stream up ahead where we can let them get a drink,” Louk called out to me, pointing.

  We followed Maddok, soaring over the treetops until they thinned and then opened into a small clearing where there was indeed a narrow stream, just as he’d promised.

  Sukhi landed right after Maddok, but Loukas had already climbed off and stood there, arms folded as Sukhi bent her haunches down once more, so I could get off without having to jump as far. When I landed, my legs wobbled and nearly gave out.

  I threw out my arms, but before I could catch myself on Sukhi’s body as I’d intended, Loukas was there—just as he’d been that first night in Visimperum by the pond. He grabbed me with both hands, his fingers encircling my waist, so we stood mere inches apart.

  A shadow crossed his face. “I pushed you too hard. You’re not going to be able to walk tonight—let alone tomorrow.”

  I stared up at him, the heat of his hands scalding through the thin material of the pants and tunic I wore. Louk’s green-fire eyes met mine and held. His fingers flexed against my waist and my breath caught in my throat. Fire raced beneath my skin, hot and heady. My legs trembled, but I wasn’t certain if it was still muscle fatigue or something else entirely.

  His eyes raked over my face, pausing on my mouth. My heart slammed against my ribs. I’d never felt anything like I did in that moment, as though I were drowning, but in a way that made me never want to surface again, sinking into a forbidden pool of heat and want and need.

  “Do you have any idea what it was like?” He finally spoke, low and sharp, his gaze moving back to my eyes. “To think you were going to die in my arms—knowing it was my fault?”

  “It wasn’t—”

  “I was terrified,” he cut right over me, his hands moving farther around my body, to clutch my back, drawing us even closer together. “And that scared me more than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Why did I care so much?” Louk’s eyes blazed, one hand stroking up my spine to my neck, before plunging into my hair, tilting my head even farther back. “Why do I care so damn much?”

  I swallowed, staring up at him, unable to speak, hardly even able to breathe. My body burned with a nameless need that was at once foreign and achingly familiar.

  “Inara,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips again, sending the heat in my limbs pooling in my belly. “Ray of Light. You weren’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen.”

  My mouth parted, but before I could summon the will to speak, his head dropped and his lips crashed down on mine.

  My arms had been limp at my side the entire time, but as his mouth moved in ways I hadn’t even known were possible, I reached up to grasp onto him, clinging to him as urgently as he gripped me.

  When he parted my lips and his tongue delved into my mouth, I moaned, my already-trembling legs almost giving out entirely. Louk’s arm tightened around me, crushing my body into his, partially lifting me from the ground so only my toes brushed the earth.

  Where the few kisses I’d shared with Halvor had been sweet, tender even, this kiss was as similar to those as the moon’s light to that of the sun. Louk’s kiss was desperation and need and demanding, but also seeking and asking and surrender and flame, and it burned through me, searing my soul in a way I hadn’t even known was possible.

  Fire raced beneath my skin; it coursed through my blood. In his arms, I was fire.

  A distant corner of my heart whispered that I should end this, that it wasn’t fair to Halvor, but then Louk was pulling my shirt from my pants so his hand could skim the bare skin of my back, and any drop of reason left burned away with his heated fingers stroking my spine.

  His mouth left mine, moving across my jaw to the sensitive groove just below my ear. He brushed his teeth against the tender skin along my neck, eliciting an involuntary gasp. Louk’s fingers skimmed my ribcage, sending a fiery shudder of need through me.

  Encouraged by his actions, I imitated what he’d done, tugging at his shirt so I could run my hands up his muscled back. A shiver went through him, his arms impossibly tightening even more around me. An entirely different kind of power rushed through my veins, intoxicating, heady. The power I held to make him respond to my touch—to me.

  I dragged my nails across his skin, and he growled, deep in his throat, moving back up to recapture my lips. I met him kiss for kiss, our mouths crashing and moving together in a dance as urgent as it was insufficient. I wanted more, I never wanted this moment to end—

  He suddenly broke away, setting me down and backing up so quickly, I staggered forward a few steps before I managed to regain my balance, my legs still quivering from the flight—and what had just happened between us.

  Loukas stared at me, his eyes darkened to evergreen flame, his chest rising and falling.

  The breeze from the stream where our gryphons both had laid down to drink and rest cooled the heated rush of my blood, sending a chill skittering over my skin.

  “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said at last, low and gruff.

  “Don’t,” I said. “Don’t do this.” I took a step toward him, but he backed up, a muscle in his jaw tensing. I halted but refused to look away or back down. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before in my life—and I would bet you haven’t either.”

  Louk winced, but said, “You mean Halvor never made you moan like that? I can’t imagine why not.”

  “Stop it,” I bit out, stalking toward him. He kept backing up as I advanced, but when he reached the bank of the stream, he had to stop or step into the water and soak his boots. “Don’t you dare do that. Not now, not after that, not with me.”

  “It was just a kiss, Inara. It didn’t mean anything.”

  “Like hell it didn’t,” I said, repeating a phrase I was pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to know, but it felt like the right thing to say in that moment. His eyebrows rose. It struck me as funny that hearing me curse was what surprised him after everything else I’d—we’d—done.

  I stopped mere inches away from him. His chest rose and fell, his muscled shoulders tense, defensive; his shirt was damp, sticking to his sculpted abdomen. Though his expression was guarded, there was a flash of true fear in his eyes, a vulnerability that sank like a hook into my heart, yanking on it—yanking on me—until his pain became my own. “When I said I felt everyone … I meant it,” I said, more softly. “I felt you, Louk. I felt everything.”

  He shook his head, the vulnerability in his eyes chipping away at the mask he wore as if it were truly him—and not what hid beneath his façade of indifference. “You … you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I reached up to his face. He flinched, but I persisted, stroking a piece of his dark hair back from his forehead.

  “I’m so sorry for the way you’ve been treated. I’m sorry for the hurt you’ve had to endure, because of a power you didn’t ask for and often wished would go away.”

  “Stop it.” The words scraped out brokenly. “Please.”

  But when I cupped his jaw, he closed his eyes, leaning in to my touch. “I don’t know what is between you and Sharmaine”—his eyes flew open again at that—“but if she hasn’t been able to see past the façade you present to the world to the amazing heart you have beneath all of that, then she is a fool.”

  Louk’s jaw tightened beneath my hand and his eyes gleamed in the dappled sunlight of the clearing. He stared down at me, his beautiful, haunted gaze raking over my face, his mask stripped away, his pain laid bare.

  “I see you, Loukas,” I whispered, my own vision blurring at the emotion that filled my heart, so unexpected and so powerful, it hurt. “I will always see you.”

  He shook his head again, but instead of arguing, he closed the distance between us—not to kiss me this time, but to wrap his arms around my wai
st, pulling me against his body, to bury his face in my hair. I clung to him as he shook, a lifetime of hurt and pain breaking free of the iron grasp he’d had to learn to wield against it.

  I held him as tightly as I could, as Loukas, the strongest person I’d ever known, broke down into sobs.

  THIRTY-NINE

  ZUHRA

  “What do you mean he’s gone? What happened to him?” Sharmaine glanced around the courtyard, as if hoping those two words had a different meaning in our language—that he might appear, well and whole, at any moment.

  Tell her I love her. His last words before the Chimera attacked him. Before he’d saved us with his sacrifice. The memory was a stab of pain, the knife formed of regret, the blade twisted by guilt. That I had survived because he’d died.

  If she’d been given the choice—which one would Inara have chosen?

  I gritted my teeth together, willing the storm of emotions to still.

  “That monster … it was going to attack us…” Mother spoke when I couldn’t, her voice thick, her words halting. “He … he saved us.”

  Sharmaine’s eyes met mine and the truth she saw in my face was enough; her shoulders sagged as she squeezed her eyes shut with a rough shake of her head.

  Raidyn’s arm around me tightened, his fingers digging into my shoulder; I wasn’t even sure he was aware of doing it, but I didn’t say anything. I’d finally managed to stop crying, but I was ravaged by the death and carnage that had taken place, hollowed out by the sudden loss of Halvor.

  “Where is everyone else? Where are all the other Paladin? And Sami?” Mother stared at Sachiel’s body still hanging over Father’s lap, her lips bloodless.

  A shiver of dread scraped down my spine when no one answered. Surely, if any of the others had survived whatever had happened here, they would have come out by now. I could only pray Sami had gone back to the village.

  Mother’s question spurred Father back into action. “I don’t know. But we have to heal Sachiel now—or she isn’t going to make it.”

  “I should go help him,” Raidyn said at last, his voice as hollow as my chest.

  “You have nothing left to give,” I protested, but he ignored me and hurried to Taavi’s side. Together, he and Father gently lowered Sachiel’s battered body to the ground.

  Her wounds were even more horrific up close. Her chest barely moved. My father looked to Raidyn. When their eyes met—and Father noticed how dim the fire in Raidyn’s irises was—his expression fell. “You’re nearly drained.” A comment, not a question, but Raidyn still nodded, miserable and ashamed.

  “He stopped the rakasa that attacked Sachiel and saved us from the Chimera,” I defended, walking to where they stood beside Sachiel. “I can help whichever of you has enough left to try.”

  Father swiped a hand over his face, leaving a streak of blood on his cheek—Sachiel’s blood. “I’ll do it. But only enough to keep her alive. And”—he looked to me—“you will not help me. We need you to save your stores.”

  He didn’t have to explain why. We all glanced to the citadel, where more unknown horrors could await us.

  Father knelt beside Sachiel, placed his hands over the worst of her wounds, and closed his eyes. His veins lit, his power racing toward the dying general. Within seconds, his hands began to tremble. The shaking rapidly moved up his arms, until, with a ragged gasp, he yanked his hands away from her, his eyes flying open. Her wounds had stopped bleeding, and some of the more minor ones had closed, but the largest ones remained open and unhealed. “It’s the best I could do,” he said, panting slightly. “She was almost gone. Anything more would have drained me too.”

  “It’s enough for now.” Raidyn placed one steadying hand on Adelric’s shoulder.

  We all stared at her for several long moments, watching her chest rise and fall.

  Then Father shook off Raidyn’s hand and stood, his expression grim. “We need to search the citadel, make sure there aren’t any more rakasa.” He sounded as weary as I felt, like a rope pulled too tight, fraying and about to break.

  “I’ll go with you,” Raidyn said.

  I shook my head. If they did find anything else inside there, I wasn’t sure they would be able to stop the beast. Raidyn was nearly drained, and I wasn’t sure my father was much better off after saving Sachiel. “Not unless I go with you too,” I said.

  When I looked back at Raidyn, he was shirtless, his tanned, muscular body a shock. I glanced past him and my heart constricted at his thoughtfulness; Sachiel’s torso and shredded arms were hidden by his shirt, giving her the courtesy of being covered, the severity of her gruesome wounds hidden underneath the soft material.

  “No,” Father said before Raidyn could respond. “I am not risking losing you too.”

  “He’s nearly drained,” I argued. “And so are you. If you do find something in there, how do you expect to be able to stop it? It’ll kill you both. I’m useless on my own, but if I can add my power to either of yours—then at least we’d have a chance.”

  “Or no one goes in,” Sharmaine interjected. “We stay together and wait. If anything else is in there, it will come out soon enough.”

  Father and Raidyn shared a glance. I sensed the relief course through Raidyn’s body at her suggestion, proof of just how drained he really was.

  “What about the gateway?” Father looked up to the ruined window. “We need to find out if it’s still open or not. And if anyone else…” His voice cracked. “If there are any survivors,” he finally managed.

  “There’s nothing any of us can do about the gateway. Not until we rest and regain our strength,” Shar said quietly. “And if there are survivors, let’s hope they come out to us. It’s not worth risking our lives too.”

  Sharmaine had a point, but I also understood Father’s need to know; if the gateway was shut, then whatever had come through was it. But if it was still open … what we’d faced so far was just the beginning.

  “Take Taavi and fly up there. If the room is empty, fly in—just long enough to see if the gateway is open or shut. Then come right back.”

  Father considered my suggestion and then nodded. “All right. I’ll hurry.”

  Mother hurried to his side before he could go to Taavi and grabbed his hand.

  “Be careful.”

  He pressed a swift kiss to her forehead. “I will.”

  We watched as he climbed on Taavi’s back and the gryphon took off once more.

  Within seconds, they hovered near the shattered window to the Hall of Miracles, and then they swooped through it, disappearing inside the citadel.

  Mother came over to stand next to me and Raidyn, reaching out to clasp my hand. Sharmaine stayed on Keko, tense and alert. We were silent, frozen with dread, waiting … and waiting.

  This is taking too long.

  I didn’t dare speak the words out loud, but Mother’s hand tightened around mine as though I had.

  After another breath-stealing minute passed without any sign of my father, Raidyn shook his head.

  “Something’s wrong. I’m going to go up there.”

  I grabbed his arm before he could walk away, our eyes meeting and holding. “Please—don’t go. Stay here. If something did happen to him—”

  “There he is!” Sharmaine shouted.

  We both spun to see Taavi emerging through the broken window, Father seemingly unharmed on his back.

  Mother sagged with relief beside me, her fingers going slack on mine.

  Taavi dove for the ground and landed with a thud only a few feet away. Father was pale but otherwise safe. Mother rushed to Taavi’s side, but Father merely sat there, staring at the ground.

  “Adelric?” Mother gently touched his knee; he startled as if he’d forgotten the rest of us were there.

  When Father looked up, his cheeks were streaked with tears, cutting tracks through the dust and grime on his face. I reached for Raidyn’s hand, his fingers flexed back around mine.

  “The gateway is closed,” he s
aid, his words toneless, no hint of relief on his face, his normally bright eyes dulled. “But it was too late.” His voice cracked; he stopped, his gaze dropping back to the ground.

  I wanted to slam my hands over my ears, to keep him from continuing, wishing I could stop him from saying anything else.

  But I already knew wishes were as useless as I was beginning to believe hope to be. With a strangled noise that I realized was his attempt to keep himself from crying, he finally said, “They’re all dead.”

  * * *

  The shovels we’d used to bury my grandfather were still leaning against the side of the citadel where we’d abandoned them in the storm. Though we were all exhausted, broken, and losing hope, we still took turns digging a huge pit in the courtyard, big enough to bury all the bodies, including Halvor … or what was left of him. I’d gone with Raidyn to get the shovels and had finally forced myself to look to where I’d last seen Halvor. The horror of what the Chimera had done to his poor body would forever be branded into my memory, certain to haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. The monster had only partially burned him, choosing to slash and tear him apart, rather than incinerate him. I’d spun away from the remains, acid surging up from my throat while tears burned in my eyes once more. Raidyn had immediately pulled me into his arms, burying my head in his bare chest, holding me close as I shook and tried to keep from retching.

  He stroked my hair and waited, as patient as ever, even though he had also suffered a huge loss.

  Every single Paladin we’d left behind had been massacred. Some appeared to have been attacked by the rakasa, but others looked like they’d been attacked by other Paladin.

  Which could only mean Barloc was back. And if that many Paladin had been unable to stop him, I was afraid he’d brought others with him.

  The only two pieces of consolation we had were that Father hadn’t found Sami among the dead—giving us hope that she’d somehow survived—and that the gateway had closed behind them. There was no way to know how many Paladin had come through, or if other rakasa were now loose in Vamala, but at least it wasn’t an unleashed stream of them.