Warriors of Wing and Flame

by Sara B. Larson

  He picked his way over to us, his gaze flickering past where we stood to the courtyard and back, and then he suddenly froze, his smile dropping and his eyes widening.

  “What is that?” This time there was no teasing smile or tone, only disbelief—and maybe a touch of anger. “Is that Inara and Loukas?”

  I winced. “Er … yes. But”—I pressed on when he lurched forward as though he were about to storm outside—“I’m pretty certain they’re falling in love too … Papa,” I added in hopes of softening his heart—and keeping him from rushing out there to tear them apart. If anyone deserved happiness, as he’d just said, it was Inara.

  He shot me a look that was part skeptical I know what you’re trying to do and part heart-melting Did you just call me Papa?

  “But … he’s so much older than her,” he protested.

  “She just turned sixteen. And she’s always had an old soul. If they love each other, then…” I shrugged.

  “You really think they love each other?” Father sounded as baffled as I was by the whole turn of events; but who were we to judge the heart? He’d fallen in love with a human girl, who’d had to leave her family for him. I’d fallen in love with a Paladin who I’d had no reason to believe I’d ever have a future with.

  “If they don’t yet, I really do believe they’re on that path,” I said.

  Father exhaled, long and slow. “Well, I do have to admit, I’ve never seen Loukas willing to show that much … er … affection in public before. She’s obviously done something to change him—and hopefully for the better. The Great God knows he deserves some joy in his life.” The tenderness that filled his face was unexpected, making me remember the story Raidyn had once told me—how my father was the only one willing to take him and Loukas under his wing and let them join his battalion. How he’d been like a father to them both.

  “Maybe the Great God brought them together, knowing they needed each other,” I suggested. I didn’t share what Inara had experienced in the light—how she’d been given the chance to truly see his heart. That was her sacred experience to share or keep to herself. But it did seem as though forces had been at work to bring them together—to give them this chance at happiness.

  “Maybe,” Father allowed with a shake of his head, and then his expression turned serious. “I came to tell you we’re going to hold a meeting tonight, in the dining hall, after the burial, to discuss what to do now. Will you please help me spread the word to those able and willing to attend?”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded, with one last glance out the door and another shake of his head. “Let them know too, when they’re … finished.” He jerked a thumb toward the courtyard.

  I managed to summon something resembling a smile and nodded.

  He walked away, and once he was out of earshot, Raidyn said, “Well, I think that went well,” startling a burst of laughter out of me, making a few heads turn toward us. Guilt immediately crept in, for laughing when so many were still hurting, injured, or grieving. But then I shoved that guilt away. We were all hurt and grieving. And if Raidyn could get me to laugh, to snatch a moment of levity amid the heaviness of the load we all shouldered, then I had nothing to be ashamed of and everything to be grateful for.

  “Come on,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. “We’d better go let them know about the meeting … and to warn him that I might not be the only one to corner him and interrogate him about his intentions with Inara.”

  I stifled another little burst of laughter, and then we hurried outside, where Loukas and Inara still embraced.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  INARA

  The storm began to dissipate minutes after all those who were able to come out for the burial had gathered around the soberingly large pit. Glimpses of sky passed in and out of view as the clouds broke apart; rays from the setting sun painted the gray underbellies of the remaining stormclouds in shades of coral and orange, setting the heavens aflame.

  Loukas stood beside me, holding my hand, scowling at anyone who dared look at us askance—even my father, who shot us more than one eyebrow-raised glance. But Mother, at his side, seemed oblivious to anything besides the body they stood closest to—the only human who had died in the battle. Our beloved Sami.

  I, too, stared at her shape beneath the sheet someone had draped over her, giving her the dignity of not being on display, hiding the gruesome details of her death and allowing her to live in our memory, alive and soft and gentle, as she’d always been. I still didn’t understand why she’d done it—why she’d gone to find that knife and tried to take down a madman wielding the power of at least four or five Paladin. But her sacrifice was just one of many that had ultimately enabled the rest of us to succeed in stopping Barloc and his jaklas. The row of bodies was devastating, and it didn’t even include the gryphons who had died. They were too large to bury, and instead, would be burned by Paladin fire, the smoke carrying their souls to the Light for their eternal rest.

  The burial ceremony was brief but powerful. Though the songs were in Paladin, the haunting melodies sent chills down my spine and brought tears to my eyes. When the last note ended, Loukas released my hand to step forward and help place the bodies in the pit and then cover them with dirt.

  I hugged myself as I watched Sami and so many others disappear forever beneath the rich, dark soil, still heavy and damp with rain. And then an arm came around my shoulders, and I leaned into the familiar comfort of my sister’s embrace.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone,” Zuhra said. “I guess part of me expected her to always be there for us.”

  “Me too,” I said, soft and choked.

  We fell silent, tears slipping silently down my cheeks.

  When it was finally finished, we crossed over to the other side of the grounds, where all the gryphons who still lived—including Sukhi—sat at attention, guarding the bodies of their brothers and sisters that had fallen, including the gryphons of the Paladin who had come through the gateway with my father and Loukas and the others … Sachiel’s and those who had remained behind—who Barloc and his jaklas had slaughtered. The other general stood near the gryphons’ bodies, her arms wrapped around her own waist. Dried blood still streaked the sides of her shaved head. It had taken two healers working on her together to heal the majority of Sachiel’s wounds, but without a gryphon, she’d been unable to join the fight. Though her wounds were gone, I knew deep scars remained—some visible and others unseen.

  So many of us had lost far too much, all because of one man.

  When we all had gathered with our gryphons, Sukhi bent her head to bump her beak gently into my shoulder. And then the Paladin sang another mournful song, punctuated by cries from the gryphons who had survived. When it, too, had ended, a handful of Paladin stretched their hands out and set the noble beasts’ bodies aflame. Within minutes, they were consumed, turned to ash. The living gryphons stepped forward and, lifting their wings, flapped them in unison so the ashes rose up off the ground and were carried away on the wind.

  This time when an arm came round my shoulders, I recognized the height and feel of Louk’s body and leaned into his embrace. He stroked one hand over my snarled hair. Someday, maybe, there would be a bath and clean clothes and not being coated in grime, sweat, and worse. But first, there was the meeting Raidyn and Zuhra had told us about—that terribly embarrassing moment when my older sister’s voice intruded on a kiss that I’d partially hoped might never end.

  In Louk’s arms, the real world—with all of its pain and loss and exhaustion—faded away. But kissing him forever wasn’t a very realistic coping mechanism, tempting as it was, and so we’d broken apart. Now his arm was around me once more, but there was a meeting to endure and whatever came after that. Which, I had to admit, part of me was afraid of facing.

  The gryphons had to stay back, some huddling together on the ground outside the stable, some braving the interior with its lingering scent of death. I watched as Maddok and Sukhi lay down side by side,
nuzzling their beaks together. My eyes widened, but when I glanced up to see if Louk had noticed, his gaze was trained intently on me, his eyes sharp and seeking.

  Before he could speak, Sharmaine came up beside us and said, “Did you hear the rumor that they intend to destroy the gateway for good, to keep anything like this from happening again?”

  “What? No … I hadn’t heard that.” They wanted to destroy it? To close off any way of traveling between our two worlds? My nameless fear grew teeth and sank them into my heart.

  What did that mean for me and my family? I was Paladin again, it was true, but I’d been raised here and my mother was human. Would they expect us to stay behind?

  The thought was anathema, impossible to even entertain, because that would mean never seeing Louk again. And what about Sukhi?

  Possible scenarios, each more terrible than the last, swirled through my mind, until by the time we reached the dining hall, my hairline was damp with sweat and my palms were clammy and cold. I was grateful Louk’s arm remained around my shoulder, holding me tight against his side, rather than taking my hand in his.

  Even with the casualties and the more gravely injured Paladin not in attendance, those who came for the meeting nearly filled the once-cavernous room. Raidyn and Zuhra stood near us, but my parents took a spot at the head of the table beside Grandmother, who managed to somehow still look regal and composed, even with her hair half falling out and her face streaked with dirt.

  Her gaze traveled over all those assembled, her expression grave and jaw tight. “Thank you,” was all she said, voice choked, and then she bowed her head.

  Silence, thick and full of sorrow, added weight to the air, pressing in on the survivors.

  After several moments had passed, Father reached out and took his mother’s hand in his. She breathed in deeply, her chest filling with life-sustaining air, and then she squared her shoulders and looked around the room once more.

  “For the sake of my son’s family, we will conduct this meeting in their language.” A few heads turned toward us, but most kept their gaze on her. “I know today has already been trying, but we have more decisions ahead of us before we can return home and rest.”

  Father’s eyes flickered to where Zuhra and I stood with Raidyn, Louk, and Sharmaine at the use of that one word: home. What was home to him? What was it to any of us? I looked to my sister, standing at my side but leaning into Raidyn, their fingers tightly woven together between their bodies.

  Zuhra was my home. And my mother … even my father, now. I couldn’t imagine my parents staying behind, or Zuhra letting Raidyn go through that gateway never to return to her life. And if they left … then this citadel would never be home to me again. Surely, they would let us come with them … wouldn’t they?

  A tiny spark of hope flickered to life in my chest.

  “It has been proposed that the gateway be destroyed—completely,” Grandmother continued. Murmurs rose but she lifted a hand, silencing them. “Our ancestors believed it was important to keep a way to travel between our worlds, but it has only proven to bring pain and grief to both Vamala and Visimperum. The humans don’t need us—or want us. And by leaving the gateway intact, even dormant, it is inviting more Paladin like Barloc and the Five Banished to try to open it, to wreak more devastation on the humans, or drag more of us into battles we shouldn’t have to fight and losses we shouldn’t have to bear.”

  Heads began to nod, and even I could agree that though my heart balked at the idea of the gateway being gone—forever—it was probably for the best.

  “I know the entire council isn’t here to vote on this matter, but all of you have earned the right to help me make this decision by the valor you’ve shown here, in Vamala, and to honor those we lost, who came here knowing the risk they were taking.” Grandmother’s voice was unsteady, hoarse with barely suppressed emotion, but she pushed on. “And so I am asking you to vote—and I will remind you that, according to our laws, voting on an issue of this magnitude must be unanimous to pass. So unless we are all in agreement, the gateway will remain as it is. We will open it long enough for all those who wish to return to Visimperum to come through and then we will close it and continue keeping watch over it as best as we can with our battalions.”

  She paused, letting her words—and the options before us—sink in.

  I hesitantly lifted my hand.

  “Did you have a question?” She looked to me, her face impassive and gaze sharp. In that moment, I knew she was Ederra, leader of the High Council, not Grandmother, and I almost lost my nerve. Especially when most of those gathered turned to stare at me as well.

  But Louk squeezed my shoulders encouragingly and I nodded.

  “Yes … I, ah, I was wondering … can anyone who wishes to live in Visimperum come with you?”

  There was a softening at the corner of her eyes, so subtle I almost missed it, more an absence of tightness that I hadn’t realized was there until it left. But her voice was much more gentle when she said, “Yes. Anyone who wishes to.”

  I nodded again, my cheeks hot, grateful when the Paladin turned back to her.

  “Then, if there are no more questions, we will put it to a vote. All those in favor of destroying the gateway?”

  A resounding chorus of “ayes” filled the room, raising bumps over my skin.

  “Are there any opposed?”

  The silence again held weight, but this time, it was the gravity of the decision being made—the finality of it. There was no reason for any of us to stay in Vamala … but to have the option to return taken away was more painful than I’d expected.

  Grandmother waited and waited, making sure no one was thinking it over and struggling to oppose the majority. But when no one spoke up, she nodded. “It’s decided, then. We will destroy the gateway once we pass through it. But this brings up new questions. There’s the matter of the books and treasures here in the citadel. Do we leave them, to possibly be found and looted, should the custovitan hedge ever fail? Or do we try to bring as much as we can through to Visimperum?”

  As the details of what to bring back and how to do that were bandied back and forth, Loukas leaned down and whispered, “I don’t think they need us for this part. Do you want to go?”

  I nodded, and he slipped his arm off my shoulder, taking my hand in his and guiding me toward the door.

  Once we were alone in the quiet, cool hallway, the door shut behind us, Louk turned to me. “I thought you might want to go check on Sukhi. Or rest. Or eat. You haven’t had anything since before we left Soluselis.”

  I marveled at the reality that this beautiful, haunted boy was by my side, holding my hand, watching so closely he knew how long it had been since I’d eaten. “Thank you,” I said, though I wanted to say so much more.

  Instead of moving, though, his hand tightened on mine, and his eyes glistened as he stared down at me, the green-fire that I’d come to adore flaring bright and clear in the shadowed hallway. “I don’t deserve you,” he said at last, hoarse and heartbreakingly quiet.

  “How can you say that?” I stepped even closer to him, so the heat of his body filled the small space between us. “I’m grateful I was given the gift of truly seeing you when you took me to the luxem magnam. I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

  Louk brushed my cheek with the back of his knuckles, running his thumb across my bottom lip, instantly silencing me. “You asked me once if I wished I weren’t different, and I thought maybe I did. But if being different—if all the loneliness and pain—made it so we could have this, then I’m beginning to think it might have been worth it.” He bent down and brushed a soft, sweet kiss over my mouth. “I don’t know what the future holds … I only know that I’ve never felt this way with anyone before in my life.”

  His words still filled me with warmth, with hope. He kissed me again, but it was all too brief, leaving heat racing over my skin and my heart thudding. I lifted my chin, wanting more, but instead, his mouth quirked up into a smile,
a full, genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

  He had always been so beautiful, he almost didn’t seem real, but in a tragic hero, stoic and full of buried pain kind of way, like some of the stories Zuhra had read to me. We’d laughed and called them ridiculous because we hadn’t believed we’d ever have a chance at love—tragic or not. But this smile, the mischievous light in his eyes, transformed him from achingly beautiful to breathtaking; he wore happiness very well.

  “And now that you’re coming back with me, we will have a lifetime to figure it out—together.”

  Lifetime and together—two words that on their own didn’t mean nearly as much, but when Louk said them, about us … My heart swelled in my chest, until I felt like I might burst from the thought of spending a lifetime with him.

  “But for now, you still didn’t answer my question. Sukhi, rest, or food? Or all three? I’m not going to force you to choose only one.”

  I grinned up at him, matching his happiness with my own. “I don’t care what we do, as long as it’s together.”

  FORTY-NINE

  ZUHRA

  The cliff face was as close as I remembered when Naiki soared through it, Raidyn’s body pressed against mine, holding us both against her neck. This time, I had no trouble keeping my eyes open, not wanting to miss that first breathtaking view of Soluselis—a view I’d believed I would never see again.

  The wind was cold and strong, but the tears in my eyes had nothing to do with it as Naiki straightened and the city became visible in the valley below us, glimmering in the distance. As we sat back up and Naiki stretched her wings to soar back home—home, here with the Paladin, with my entire family, with Raidyn—he slid his arm around my waist, drawing me back against his warm, solid body. He pressed a kiss to my temple; I tilted my face toward him, so his lips could leave a heated trail down my chilled skin, skimming my cheekbone, landing on the corner of my mouth.