Sunkissed Feathers & Severed Ties

by Kellie Doherty

  Misti looked down once more, craning her neck at a painful angle to see the pendant more clearly. Ithuia was right. One half of the metal spiral stuck to her skin and the rest enclosed the orb, yet the orb had settled more to the outside rather the inner. The orb itself wasn’t touching her skin at all. What kind of strange crafting was this?

  Arias actually smiled—Misti couldn’t imagine what there was to be happy about—her pale green eyes shimmering in the glow of her shield. “Perfect. The cage will be stronger than my shield, especially with both of us crafting it. It should hold for a while, though with such a localized one I don’t know how long.” She paused as if gathering her thoughts and then gave a single nod. “But it will hold.”

  The shield flickered, sparkling like firegnats before fading from view. Arias and Ithuia reached for Misti, glowing blue cuts weaving over Arias’ palm while similar ones traced Ithuia’s elbow. Everyone’s crafting demanded something of them, but it was because of Misti that they had to suffer this price. As she watched the glowing cuts travel across their skin, one thought filtered through her mind. A Moon Knight is supposed to protect people, and all I’ve done is hurt.

  Chapter Three

  MISTI GLANCED DOWN AT the white orb, now glowing within a soft blue cage, an almost welcoming light. The crafting was working, encasing the orb and not setting off some horrible pulse. Misti no longer felt bone-tired and ready to fall asleep at any moment. Not all of her strength had returned: she was still fighting-tired, walking-for-hours tired, and not-eating-enough tired. But it was a tiredness she was used to as a Moon Knight. Misti sighed with something like relief. The danger appeared to be over.

  The others shook themselves and began to rise. Arias and Ithuia quietly made their way over to each of them in turn, asking questions, lingering on Stee a moment longer than the others. He held a hand to his head to cover a cut on his forehead and a trickle of dark orange blood ran down his fingers. His eneeraa clouded around his feet like a fog, but Misti couldn’t tell if the pendant had affected the creature. It was hard to tell anything from an eneeraa.

  A soft screech caught Misti’s attention. Tuatu had perked up at last, hopping from Met’zil Zarious’ arms and flying into the darkened sky. As she swooped around Zarious, he grinned. Misti’s eyes widened. As long as she had been under his command he had never once smiled, but the delight of Tuatu’s flight was now clearly reflected in Zarious’ usually stony expression. The Met’Zil hadn’t spoken to her since the orb had made his dragon fall unconscious and she desperately wanted to know her fate, but she knew better than to pry.

  It was said that a Vagari’s bond with their companion animal couldn’t be matched. When their companion was sick or wounded or close to death, the Vagari knew. Sometimes when their companion animal died, the Vagari would sink into a deep depression, for an integral part of themselves, of their soul, had disappeared. If their companion died of old age, the Vagari would likely heal from their sadness, but if their bond was broken by something else—an attack, a sickness—then the Vagari might never recover and would never connect with another companion animal again.

  Misti watched the dragon flit about, breathing spurts of ice into the air. Some bloodlines were luckier than others. The wyvern and dragon bloodlines didn’t have to worry about their companions dying before they did. Some were even passed down through the generations! But others, like the vulnix or strixi bloodlines, had a limited time with their companions before they passed away. In those cases, it was common for the Vagari to choose a descendent of their original companion, though Misti couldn’t stand to think of her Zora dying. It hurt her heart each time she did. Zora has decades left, she reminded herself. She closed her eyes, calling up her crafting to touch base with Zora. They couldn’t communicate over such distances, but Misti could feel her, sense her life-energy, and knew she was recovering in Amiin.

  Misti opened her eyes in time to see Tuatu swoop in and out of the daygems’ light, in and out of the darkness. The sleet dragon screeched in happiness, but Misti worried about what would happen when she and Zora reunited. She wrapped her hand around the smooth blue cage that now separated her and the rest of the world from the pendant’s power.

  A neades’ deep-throated grunt shook her from her concerns. Dis nudged her shoulder, his large bulk nearly pushing her off her feet. She started to shove him away, but Dylori’s hand on her arm stopped her.

  “He wants to help.” The white blood splattered across Dylori’s cheek had been wiped away, and her scar was now in full view. Close up, Misti noticed the orange tint in Dylori’s weary dark eyes, the dirt caked on her horns, the tiny cut by her left eye that had sliced an orange sliver in the once-perfect v from the corner of her eye to her hairline.

  I caused that. She swallowed the guilt riding up her throat like bile. “Help me?”

  Dylori pulled her hair into a bun, glancing at her neades with a curious expression. “He wants to give you some of his strength, Misti.”

  Misti stared at Dis, who lowered his huge head down to her level. The neades’ dark oval eyes shimmered, the gray v from his eyes crowning his head like Dylori’s. Or rather, Dylori’s was like his. He nudged his thick muzzle against her again, pulling back his slobbery lips and showing her his dull teeth. His giant pink tongue slurped up the side of her neck and into her hair. Misti laughed and rubbed between his eyes, admiring the dark and light stripes in his soft fur and mane, echoed in the pattern that rippled down Dylori’s back. Another relic of the ancient ones who could actually transform into their bloodline beasts and fight alongside their companions.

  “Yeah. And I’ll allow it.” Dylori patted Dis’ nose.

  “That’s…” Misti couldn’t finish her sentence. She could use her crafting, with permission, to take life-energy from the beasts around her. Technically Vagari could take life-energy without asking, but respect went a long way in the beast world. Creatures would give more if asked rather than stolen from.

  Vagari had to be careful not to take too much life-energy from a beast, companion or no, or even when taming other creatures for a short time to use for defense or attack. Take too much life-energy or bend too many creatures to their will at once and the beasts could die, a wicked deed. Killing animals for the sake of saving one’s own life would count as an act worthy of death under both Vagari and Aluriahian Law. If the killer somehow escaped from death, they were banished from society and hunted down by any Vagari who wanted the kill. And that death, regardless of how bloody, would not be considered a crime, the hunter protected by the Vagari crown regardless of where the hunt took place.

  Dis really wants to give me his strength? He’s never proposed that before. While not a crime, Misti never considered taking the energy of someone else’s companion animal. She’d heard of other knights doing so in the heat of battle, but never considered it herself. A companion animal was a lifelong family member to its Vagari. A bonded pair. Taking life-energy forged a connection, if only for a moment, but one that shared memories and thoughts and dreams and fears. A connection a Vagari should only have with their own companion animal. Having Dis offer his life-energy in order to help Misti was an extraordinarily thoughtful and intensely personal thing for him to do.

  “I know it will be strange.” Dylori ran her fingers affectionately through Dis’ mane, stroking him behind his pointed ears. “But if he wants to help, I’ll let him. I give you permission to connect with him in this way.” Here she gave Misti a hard look. “But if you feel anything from that sunbaked orb of yours, you snap out of it. Immediately.”

  Misti wrung her hands a little, trying to rub away the shock that made her hands feel numb. “I could always just take a nap. I mean, I am feeling better and—”

  Dis interrupted her by huffing directly in her face, and the warm moist breath full of spice blew past her. Misti waved the strong scent away, but Dis stomped his hoof on the ground.

  “He’s worried about you. You don’t have Zora with you right now and he knows the to
ll that’s taking on you. Knows your spirits are low and he wants to help.”

  Even with Dylori’s blessing and Dis’ insistence, it felt almost wrong to take the neades’ strength. More than ever, she wished her vulnix was here. She could give and take from Zora with no need to worry. Her little vulnix couldn’t lend her much brute strength, or the ability to fly, or to extend claws from her fingers, or to strike with lightning, but Zora always knew how to help.

  The crafting gifts granted by the vulnix bloodline were focused vision, resilience, and endurance, but when Zora was with her, Misti became faster and more confident in her footing. Since her little vulnix was swift, she could be. And Zora never failed to lift Misti’s spirits. Even a creature so massive as Dis had limits to how much life-energy he could give before falling himself and those life-or-death limits should only be reached by Dylori.

  Misti eyed the neades, how his head loomed five hands over her own, remembering how Dylori could laze comfortably on his back during long rides. His heavy hooves sank into the dirt, and even though he’d been in a fight, he smelled like dirt, not sweat or fear or blood. He nudged her a third time, huffing slightly, the tiny horns behind his ears tapping her shoulder. A strange sense of longing started in the pit of Misti’s belly. Never had she experienced a connection with a neades, even when learning how to tame creatures to her will, and she actually did want to know what that kind of raw strength felt like. But she could use a different neades, not Dis.

  She scratched Dis on the nose. “Thank you so much for the offer. I deeply appreciate it, but a good rest is all I need. I wouldn’t feel right to intrude on that bond you and Dylori share. This crafting will hold.” Dis huffed in her hand, warm breath puffing around her palm. Clearly displeased, he blinked at her and shook his body. Gratefulness tugged at Misti’s lips. Dis was so kind, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “If I need it, though…if I truly need it, I’ll take you up on that offer. Sound good?”

  At that comment, Dis bumped into her so hard she nearly lost her footing. Misti chuckled, giving his nose another scratch.

  “I hope you never need to take him up on his request,” Dylori rumbled, scratching at the base of her left horn. She’s nervous? Seeming to realize what she was doing, Dylori dug some brown, prickly leaves and white nuts out of her pocket for Dis. He slurped them up and snorted his thanks.

  Her statement was a curious one, both sweet and sour to the taste. Dylori worried for her, that much was clear, but her bond with her neades came first. Just like Misti’s with Zora.

  “Me too,” Misti replied.

  Misti led the way to the rest of the group. Arias and Ithuia were in a deep discussion with Met’zil Zarious, so Misti wandered over to Markus and Stee, who were busy gulping down water. The men gazed warily at her as she approached.

  “Wait,” Markus said, holding up a hand and pointing to the blue cage around the orb. “Do we know how long that thing will hold?

  Misti stopped a few paces away. “It’s holding for now.”

  “And we’re fine.” Dylori sidled up beside her, her neades bringing up the rear. “Are you?”

  Markus eyed them both, then lowered his hand. “More than a little bruised, and terribly weak. I’ve never seen Blood crafting tied to an object before. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  A shiver ran down Misti’s spine. “I know.”

  “Did you use your crafting on Dis, Misti?” Stee asked, calling his eneeraa. The creature floated up and settled on his right arm, twirling around his chest and linking its claws into Stee’s black tunic. “Ume nearly went over to investigate.”

  “No, he offered but I decided against it.”

  Stee nodded and went back to stroking his eneeraa, his hand disappearing into the smoky body.

  Markus’ eyes widened. “Are you even able to do that? Craft on a companion?”

  Of course he’d be confused, Misti thought. At least for her and other Vagari children, teaching about other races only went so far in their schooling: names and a basic understanding of their crafting and that was it. Apparently it was like that for the other three races as well. Some folk mingled and chatted easily about their abilities, and scribes and travelers typically knew much more than others, but most tended to stay in their home region, their interest in their work and life instead of the other races and cultures. She knew a bit more because of her time with the knights, but not much.

  “Yes, but—” Misti wasn’t able to finish the sentence, as Met’zil Zarious had stalked over to them and tapped her on the shoulder. She saluted.

  “How do you feel?” he demanded, voice rough and eyes locked on the blue cage. “Do you sense the pendant anymore?

  Misti stumbled over her reply. “I…I don’t sense the orb anymore, and I feel fine, Met—”

  “Did you get a good look at the Blood crafter who gave this to you?” He interrupted her again, gaze lifting to meet hers. “Did you see any others who had pendants?”

  “I got an okay look at the Divus, but I didn’t see any others who had pendants.” Misti forced herself not to back away from the intensity of Met’zil Zarious’ bright purple gaze.

  “Start packing,” Met’zil Zarious said.

  “But, Met’zil, we—” Dylori jumped in.

  Met’zil Zarious glared at her. “We are going to have a discussion, Clyofis, but it’s clear what we need to do about this situation.” He turned to Misti again and guided her firmly toward the direction of the village. “Pack up your things. Stee, take Markus back to camp and then go help her. See that it’s done quickly…and quietly.”

  His orders followed her as Misti headed back to the village, not bothering to look back as Dylori’s voice rose to a shout. Packing up meant they were leaving. It made the most sense to go to Amiin and see if this problem could be dealt with there, for better crafters were stationed there than they had in this unit. But what about the two banished ones who got away? They couldn’t just leave them here; the village wouldn’t be safe. It wasn’t the Moon Knights’ way to desert people who needed them.

  Footsteps crunched behind her, and Stee and Markus arrived at her side.

  “We’d better hurry it up,” Stee muttered, wrapping an arm around Markus’ waist and quickening their pace. Markus gave a pained groaned in response. “Dylori isn’t happy, but I don’t think anyone else can change Zarious’ mind, not even Ithiua. Or that village girl.”

  “Arias,” Misti murmured.

  “Yes, her. Come on.” Stee led the way back through the darkness to the village. Even with Stee’s aid, Markus’ face grew paler each step they took. She wished they could do more for him, but they didn’t have any other Blood crafters in their group.

  “Will you be able to heal yourself soon, Markus?” Misti asked, worry clenching her stomach tight. Maybe his injuries are too severe?

  Markus nodded. “I should. It’ll be fine.”

  But his clouded eyes didn’t give Misti much hope. Why had the pendant affected him so much? The cursed thing was around her neck and she didn’t feel as bad as he seemed to. She wanted to question him, figure out why touching it had had this affect, but the way he groaned made her stay silent. He has enough on his mind…like making it back to his tent without throwing up. Misti helped Stee put Markus down in his tent, made sure he had enough food and water, and then hurried to her own dwelling.

  Tucking herself inside, she wrapped her bedroll tight, securing it with a bit of rope, and tied her feather pillow on the top. She hauled all of it out of the tent, and then piled her armor and sword next to her pack. Running her hands over the rough cloth, she unpinned the tent’s metal poles, trying to follow Met’zil Zarious’ orders and make as little noise as possible. The poles clanked when they fell. Misti winced. So much for being quiet. Every Moon Knight knows that sound. The sound of moving on.

  Luckily, the rest of the Moon Knights seemed to be enjoying themselves. Music, loud conversations, and laughter drifted over to her from the center of the village. She ev
en heard a merchant or two calling their wares, trying to do an honest night’s work before the day broke again and they went into hiding. The suncreatures roaming Whels seemed particularly vicious this time of year, so close to the solstice. The crunch of dirt behind her caught Misti’s attention, and she spun around.

  Stee looked at her, his eneeraa floating by his side. “I was supposed to help, remember?”

  Misti nodded. Together they folded her tent, stuffed her pack with clothes, food, and water, and strapped her bedroll to the top. Moon Knights packed light, and Misti was no exception. She lashed the armor to the back and started to do the same with her weapon, but Stee stopped her.

  “Maybe you should keep that out,” he said, nodding to her sword. Then he dug around in his belt for a moment and handed her two daggers. “I found these while we were hunting those banished ones who got away. You nicked one of them.”

  A bit of dark blue blood crusted the side of one of her daggers, and Misti hoped she had gotten an artery. Her mind wandered back to that moment: the anger in the Elu’s face, the glowing cuts, her fear at seeing what race this banished one actually was.

  Sighing, she took the blades from Stee. “Thanks.”

  Stee eyed her for a moment longer then stepped back, orange tinting his gray eyes. He glanced at the pendant and stepped back another pace. “Listen, I’m sorry for snapping at you before. It’s not like you wanted the banished ones to get away or that sundamned pendant anyhow.”

  Shock raced through Misti, straightening her spine. Stee’s apologizing? He was always cruel to her, berating her whenever she did something wrong. He’d brought up her weak vulnix bloodline at least twice when they went into battle. But she could discern nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

  “Thank you for saying that,” Misti murmured.

  “When I’m sleepy, I apologize for everything.”

  Annoyance started to boil in Misti’s chest from the flippant remark, but before she could retort, Stee grinned. The idiot is teasing me again. He straightened, stretching his arms over his head. With his lean body, striking gray hair and eyes, and easy smile, he would’ve been handsome had he not been so annoying. She did find him handsome, in fact, and had developed quite the crush on him when they first met but then she had realized just how haughty he actually was and the crush evaporated like a fine morning mist. His eneeraa drifted lazily at his side, and Misti wondered again if the pendant had affected the creature. It appeared not.