The Unfinished Song (Book 5): Wing

by Tara Maya

  “I believe that’s yours.”

  Dindi picked up the doll. She turned it around in her hands, looking down at her lap. Her hair fell over her face. When he had captured her from the Winter Warrens of the Green Woods tribe, her hair had been dyed flame red. The henna had grown out and faded by now, leaving her locks the dark color he remembered from the first time he’d seen her.

  “Now you know,” she said dully. “I’m useless to you, and have been this whole time. I don’t care anymore. Go ahead and kill me.”

  “I can’t.”

  She glanced sharply up at him.

  He would never, never tell her the true reason he had changed his mind. Even if she could learn to open her love to someone a second time, the one man in Faearth she could never choose would be the murderer of her first love.

  Besides, nothing had changed. He still had only one purpose: duty. To fight the Aelfae, to protect humanity. He was still a blade. Just aimed at a new throat.

  “There’s a greater threat to Faearth than you, Vaedi,” he said. He smiled mirthlessly. Cool and sardonic, with no hint of what he felt. His pain was no one’s business. “There’s something else in this cave that you should see.”

  He turned his back and walked to the edge of the firelight so she could put on her clothes. All he had for her was the translucent Aelfae gown, but the caves were unnaturally, almost uncomfortably, warm. He had taken off everything but his legwals, and he still felt sweat sheen the muscles across his back.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  He held out his hand. She hesitated.

  “The path between the stone teeth is precarious,” he said.

  She put her hand in his and he led her through the maze of stalagmites.

  Much deeper into the immense limestone cave, there was another, larger area where the stones had been pulled away and the floor chiseled into something flat and polished. But fourteen immense stalactites dangled like stone icicles from the ceiling in almost a perfect circle around the space. From seven of these stalactites dangled cocoons the size of death jars, bulged as if they held something heavy.

  “What is this?” Umbral asked tightly. “The larder of an immense spider? Did Spider Woman or her Aelfae kin have any inhuman descendants we should be wary of?”

  “I don’t know,” Dindi said. The horror on her face mirrored his own.

  “How do I know you aren’t lying to me again?” Umbral asked. It came out more harshly than he’d planned.

  “How do I know you won’t change your mind again about killing me?” she shot back.

  “So that’s it? Nothing’s changed between us? I still can’t trust you?”

  “What has changed between us? You still haven’t told me!”

  “The Bone Whistler is alive.”

  He watched her face carefully.

  “You knew,” he said.

  “From the Visions,” she admitted. “Yes. At least, he was twenty-some years ago. So what?”

  “So what?” he exploded. “Can’t you see how this changes everything? He’s Aelfae and he’s trying to bring his people back. Everything he’s ever done, every murder, every atrocity, every lie, every scheme, has been toward that one end. And the White Lady is his lover. She’s been helping him from the start!”

  “That’s not true!”

  “I saw it for myself. She led some fool named Vio into an ambush. The Bone Whistler killed him, and the White Lady helped.”

  “You saw Vio murdered in the Vision? Actually killed?”

  “The Vision cut off before he was actually killed, but the intention was clear.”

  “Visions are tricky things,” Dindi said slowly. “What they seem to show is not always…” She broke off and put her hand over her mouth. She stared at him with the oddest expression.

  “What?” demanded Umbral.

  She shook herself out of some distraction. “Nothing. I was just saying that it would be strange if the Vision had showed Vio being murdered by the Bone Whistler and the White Lady more than twenty years ago, because Vio is still alive. He is the Maze Zavaedi, War Chief of the Rainbow Labyrinth tribe. And the White Lady is still his wife.”

  In the back of his mind, Umbral could hear Kavio snickering. So Kavio had known and said nothing. Shut up, Kavio.

  Umbral paced across the polished circle. “Then I don’t understand what I saw. Or why I saw it. Or why you saw it. Visions aren’t random. They are supposed to have meaning.”

  “Usually discovered too late.” Dindi sighed.

  “We can’t afford to be too late,” Umbral said sharply. “We must know the Bone Whistler’s plan. Even you cannot want him to eradicate humanity.”

  “Of course not. Despite what you seem to think, I’m not a monster. You think that humans and Aelfae could never have learned to live together in peace. I think they could have. But I don’t want humans wiped off Faearth any more than you do, Umbral.”

  Umbral stopped pacing.

  “What if what happened in the past is relevant to what’s happening now? If the Bone Whistler had a plan to destroy humanity twenty years ago, why hasn’t he done it already? What stopped him? Dindi! We must invoke the corncob doll again. Together. Share the Vision. If we can combine our powers, maybe we can force the Vision to show us what we are missing!”

  “Dance together?” she asked.

  He didn’t understand the quaver in her voice until he remembered that the last partner she had danced with had been Kavio. Umbral could never escape it. It would never go away.

  But she stepped closer to him and let him take her in his arms and begin the dance.

  Vessia (20 Years Ago)

  Vessia masked her pain in indifference while Xerpen’s minions beat Vio. He didn’t even try to resist, not when they hit him and not when they tired of their games and finally bound his hands behind his back. She had never seen him look so defeated. She knew it was her fault. She had seen the light die in his eyes when he’d discovered she had once been Xerpen’s lover.

  That was over ages before I met you! she wanted to shout at him. Would the distinction matter to him? Or would jealousy still destroy any love he’d ever felt for her?

  Xerpen sidled up to her. “I’m glad you finally saw the human’s true colors, Vessia.”

  He kissed her, taking obvious delight in the fact that Vio watched. It was like letting a scorpion crawl over her lips, but she endured the kiss. Despite Xerpen’s seeming friendliness, he had confiscated both her weapons and her wings, still in the shape of an opal. For safekeeping, he’d explained with a slithery smile.

  “You recovered the cocoons, I gather?” she asked coolly.

  “Yes.”

  “How? The ash buried everything.”

  Xerpen laughed. “I was War Chief of a human tribe for many years, Vessia. I could order my slaves to serve me as I wished, even if the orders made no sense to them. Humans are so gullible.”

  He sneered in the direction of the Orange Canyon humans, who were still ignorant of his true identity as an Aelfae. Vio had guessed, finally, but said nothing to his captors. Perhaps he thought they knew. More likely, Vessia thought, Vio had just given up.

  “We all have our blind spots,” she said grimly. “So where are they now?”

  “Not far. Where’s my flute?”

  “Not far. I thought humans were so gullible. What do you need it for now?”

  His tongue darted between his lips. “Crowd control. They become unruly in groups. There’s always the danger of a smart one bucking the herd. Like Vio.”

  Or me? She raised an eyebrow. “Let’s wake the others, and then we’ll recover the flute and discuss our plans.”

  Xerpen snapped his fingers. The Orange Canyon Riders, who had waited at a respectful distance, led their large birds over and everyone mounted. Vio was taken too, as a mariah—a sacrifice. That was strange. Vessia could not imagine what spell Xerpen had in mind to revive their friends, or why blood sacrifice was required.

  The Raptors flew
them to a mountain Vessia recognized. Like most places of power in Faearth, it had once belonged to Aelfae, and now belonged to humans. Orange Canyon tribehold. The humans had built themselves a frail village on the split head of the mountain, over the deep, narrow canyon on the ruins of the Aelfae settlement. All that remained of the Aelfae’s original holding was the Bridge of One Thread and the Loom.

  However, the Raptors did not land on the summit. They swooped halfway down the mountain to a narrow ledge in the canyon, where only Xerpen, Vessia and Vio, bound tightly, dismounted. The Raptors and the other humans flew away.

  Xerpen kicked Vio before him, driving the prisoner into the narrow cave. Vessia followed.

  The small cave entrance opened into a huge limestone cavern deeper within the mountain. In the glittering white heart of the mountain’s bones, Xerpen had prepared a dancing ring of polished rock. The six cocoons dripped like frozen tears from stalactites which roughly ringed the circle. To other stalactites, in between each of those, five living human prisoners had been bound. Two men, two women, even a girl child. Vessia felt sick.

  Xerpen lashed Vio to the missing place. Six cocoons, six sacrifices. She saw how this would go and she didn’t like it.

  “What about the Windwheel?” she asked.

  “I haven’t found it yet,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ve found a better way. It has the beauty of eliminating the humans at the same time it revives our people.”

  “That was never my plan, Xerpen,” said Vessia.

  “Your plan? Your plan?” For a moment his mask of charm slipped and the ugliness underneath showed through. “Your plan didn’t work, did it, Vessia? There’s only my plan now!”

  He shuddered and visibly calmed himself. He restored his broken smile. “Of course, if you could find the Windwheel, that would be different. We could use it. But it was lost or—let’s be honest—destroyed.”

  “By the traitor among us,” Vessia said evenly. “We never found out who.”

  “I often wondered if it was you,” said Xerpen.

  “Why would I sabotage my own spell? Hide my own Windwheel?”

  “True, that part never quite made sense. Did you wonder if it was me?”

  “No,” she answered honestly. “If I know one thing about you Xerpen, it is that you would never side with the humans. They are imperfect. The one thing you could never abide was other people’s imperfection.”

  He beamed at her, oblivious to her thick irony. “True.”

  “Let’s kill Vio first.” She stood in front of him. Her husband. So imperfect. So human. He was bruised but conscious, aware of everything they said. No anger, no defiance showed on his face. Only weariness. She looked Vio right in the eye when she added, “Let me do it.”

  Still, not a flicker from Vio.

  Xerpen looked at her sharply however. Her eagerness aroused his suspicions. She had killed many humans in battle, but Xerpen knew she did not like killing anyone, human or animal, who was tied down.

  “The others are strangers to me,” she offered. “I know they must die, but I don’t want to be the one to do it. Vio, however…” She grit her teeth. The betrayal still cut too close. “Vio stole my wings.” She rubbed her cheek, mockingly. “Broke my jaw too, I think. Not his fault if it didn’t take.”

  Xerpen nodded, convinced. “He’s yours.”

  He tossed her a stone knife.

  She leaned close to Vio. “Fight, damn you.”

  She cut the ropes around him, and in the same motion, whirled and threw her dagger at Xerpen’s heart.

  Xerpen ducked the knife. Dozens of bird-headed Vyfae flew into the circle of light from the shadows where they had been hidden.

  “Did you really think I was fool enough to trust you, Vessia?” demanded Xerpen. “You aren’t fit to live in the new world I am creating! I already have your cage prepared. That’s where I’ll keep you until I can unweave all the bad habits you’ve acquired since last we were lovers!

  “Here—take back your wings!”

  Xerpen threw something at her—her opal stone, her wings, but knotted in a cocoon of darkness—a hex foul and venomous, a hex he had obviously spent long months preparing. Trust? No. He had prepared to betray her from the start.

  She tried to evade but the curse hit her with the opal. Agony ripped into her. She could not even scream, only gargle and foam at the mouth. Xerpen’s magic was in the venom, but so was something even more horrific. He had laced his curse with the oldest Curse of all.

  Time seemed to slow. She fell but never hit the ground; Vio caught her.

  “Vessia! Vessia!” he cried. He pressed his lips to hers, as if he could draw the poison out of her.

  The Vyfae closed in on them, bristling with spears. Vessia was too weak to even see them clearly. Everything spun around her in an agonizing blur. Vio was little better off, but he set her down and stood in front of her, and fought off with his bear hands the first half dozen Vyfae who tried to peck her eyes or entrails out.

  He had a dozen bloody marks already and she knew he would not last long. Then Xerpen would own her, and keep her in a cage, while he destroyed all the humans in Faearth. She no longer doubted he could do it. Somehow he had mastered Death’s own magic and combined it with his own. Who could stand against him?

  Black shadows danced in the flicking firelight. Vessia thought she must have started hallucinating, but Vio shouted gleefully, “Deathsworn!”

  One of the black, masked Deathsworn warriors tossed Vio a spear. He joined the fight. Vessia could do no more than drag herself out of the way while the fighting raged all around her. A few of the Deathsworn untied the other human captives and hurried them away, she knew not where, but hopefully to safety.

  “You’ve taken the humans’ side one to many times, Vessia!” Xerpen shrieked at her. “It is time for you to die with them! I curse you, Vessia! I curse you to bear the spawn of the human you love so well, a son who will kill you with his own hand!”

  Vio roared and rushed him, but Xerpen turned tail, fleeing like the coward he was, the Vyfae with him.

  “Fa! He escaped again!” Vio cussed and punched a rock. “I will kill him for you, Vessia! Or is he immortal, like you?”

  “He is no longer immortal,” she said. Her voice was hoarse. “But…I think…no longer am I.”

  “Surely you don’t believe his curse?”

  As if on cue, the Deathsworn warriors formed a square two men deep around them. Vio stood in front of Vessia, facing them. “Leave us alone. We have no fight with you. We’re on the same side.”

  A raven-haired woman, masked by a soot-painted skull, armored in tight black leather, stepped into the square.

  “Are we?” she asked coldly.

  Vessia felt recognition like a painful sting. “You.”

  “Do you know this woman?” asked Vio.

  “Of course,” Vessia said. She smiled archly. “Lady Death.”

  Lady Death inclined her head.

  “For many years I have known the Bone Whistler’s true identity. However, his power is great enough to rival my own. Even now he returns to the holding above, which he has hexed against me. I cannot touch him as long as he remains there.”

  “I can make sure he stays holed up in Orange Canyon,” said Vio. “I can dedicate a whole army to the task. But I doubt I could take the tribehold either. My people are too exhausted from years of war to start another.”

  “For now it is an impasse,” said Death. “But I fear greatly what our friend will try next.”

  “He cursed Vessia,” said Vio. “Can you reverse his spell?”

  “Xerpen used magic he had no right to use. But, Vessia, you do bear the growing seed of Vio’s son in your belly. If I undo Xerpen’s Curse, you will lose the child, and never bear another.”

  “Will she regain her immortality?” asked Vio.

  “Yes,” said Death.

  “Do it,” he said. “Give her back her immortal life.”

  “It’s not your cho
ice, Vio!” snapped Vessia. “I want the child.”

  “No! Vessia, think!”

  “I want the child.”

  “It is done,” said Death. She melted away into the shadows, and the Deathsworn warriors slipped away after. Vessia heard the brush of their black boots on the stone, then nothing. She and Vio were alone in the limestone cavern, with the untouched cocoons still dripping from the stalagmites.

  After a time, Vessia felt well enough to stand; at length, she could walk around and stretch her arms. Vio watched her anxiously the whole time.

  Vessia touched a cocoon. Whose corpse did it hold? Hest? Gwidan? Kia? The spongy webbing felt dry to touch, not sticky.

  “What are they?” asked Vio, not able to conceal his revulsion.

  “Crypts,” said Vessia. “Fallen friends. We had no time to bury them. We were all being buried alive under a boiling mountain, you see. But they were the last of our kind. It seemed important to honor them at death, not just leave them to melt in the ash.”

  “Vessia.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry. For so many things. What do you want to do with them?”

  “Leave them to their rest here,” Vessia said. “It’s a better tomb than they knew before.”

  “I know it doesn’t matter,” said Vio, “because I’ve already lost you. But I love you, Vessia. I will always love you.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “I know.”

  “Of course it matters. It’s the only thing that matters.”

  She kissed him. Thoroughly.

  Even after that, he still looked disbelieving.

  “I’m never going to be a good wife,” Vessia said briskly. “I’m never going to be a good mother. I’m going to embarrass you in front of your human friends. I’m going to be a liability in your political games. I’m never going to like corn. And I’m going to fly.”

  He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Let’s fly home.”

  Dindi

  The brightness of the Vision drained away, leaving the dim fire lit cavern. Dindi and Umbral exchanged glances.

  “Did you see the Vision?” she asked.