Sunkissed Feathers & Severed Ties

by Kellie Doherty

  Misti laughed, petting Zora’s fur, tickling her wings under the joint, and scratching behind her ears. Zora’s warm pink tongue darted out and licked Misti’s fingers. She flipped her companion over and inspected Zora’s bright-red belly, running her fingers through the fur there. The wound had completely healed. Divus are amazing. There is always supposed to be balance in crafting. Everyone has their part. Zora allowed the inspection, though Misti knew that if any other person tried to do such a thing, she would lash out with her black claws and teeth. The trust she could feel surging through their bond lifted Misti’s spirits even higher.

  “Hello, my little girl,” Misti whispered, ducking her head so she could nose Zora’s soft belly.

  Zora nipped her ear in return and yipped, so Misti pulled back. But Zora’s ears had tilted back and her hackles were raised. She stared at the pendant, then nudged it with her paw. Misti trusted the Elu who crafted the protective cage, but she put her hand over the smooth surface, blocking it from Zora’s view. The vulnix’s head tilted to the side, her wide eyes blinking, and Misti knew that Zora wanted to speak to her.

  “Of course, Zora,” Misti said. She settled into her crafting easily, the world taking on an orange tint. Worried images filled her mind of the attack that had wounded Zora, the banished one who had sliced her stomach open. Of the long travel back to Amiin carried in a sling by three other vulnix, but without Misti. Of the long daylight hours sitting in the stable, surrounded by white cloth and worried eyes, waiting and wondering when, or if, she’d return.

  “I was worried about you, too, Zora. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to heal you completely,” Misti whispered, holding her vulnix tighter.

  A burst of understanding, then joy and love flitted through their connection. But then the images shifted into a crisp view of the pendant and the cage around it.

  “What is this, Misti? This crafting around your neck?” Zora asked, her voice high-pitched in Misti’s mind. Some might call it squeaky, but Misti knew Zora would take offense. She also knew her own voice was a bit high-pitched as well, like Dylori’s deep rumble matched Dis’.

  “It’s a…” But then words failed her. How can I explain such a horrible object, one that can drain energy? One that killed people? How can I explain it in a way Zora would understand? Vulnix were smart, but they only understood Vagari crafting. They knew there were three other types, saw the flashes of color and sometimes felt the warmth of healing, but Vagari crafting was the only one that made sense to them.

  “Here, let me show you.” She drew up her own images of what had happened, everything since the fight with the banished Blood crafter. She even let the two deaths flash between them, and a little bit of sorrow and guilt slipped through before she could stop it.

  Zora gently bit Misti’s arm to banish those thoughts, her teeth pinching but not breaking the skin. “It was not your fault. It was this pendant’s.”

  “Yes, I know, but…” It seemed her words were failing her today.

  “But you think of your parents all the same.” Zora let go of Misti’s arm and licked her skin, her warm tongue removing the sting.

  At the mention of her parents, Misti’s mind went back to Char’s letter, and she sent that over their connection. Zora stiffened halfway through another lick before withdrawing to gaze up at Misti.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t have any idea. Not yet, anyway.” Misti had to blink away the sudden blur in her eyes. Guilt twisted deeper in her stomach, but Zora bit her arm once more, harder this time, and the pain swept the guilt away.

  “You did it for me, my friend.”

  Zora’s high-pitched voice comforted Misti far more than the pain in her arm, but she welcomed them both. They had been through a lot together, and she knew she could trust Zora’s instincts and animal wisdom. They’d figure out a way to deal with Misti’s parents together.

  “We have to go to the metal Nemora. Are you up for the travel?”

  Zora let go and nuzzled into the crook of Misti’s neck, her nose a cold, wet spot on Misti’s skin. “Always.”

  Misti drew herself slowly out of their connection, making certain to project gratitude at her friend before breaking their communion. The orange glow dimmed. Zora yipped, climbing up to settle across Misti’s shoulders in a manner similar to Stee’s eneeraa. Misti scratched her vulnix’s neck and grinned. This is much more my speed than the eneeraa.

  Dis was still on his back, and Dylori had settled down next to him, scratching his side and looking at the cloudy sky. Dylori’s eyes had turned a deep orange—they were having a conversation of their own. Misti’s heart ached a little to think this might be the last time she’d see the pair. Knights didn’t get much downtime. And who knows where I’ll end up? She could wind up on the southern coast for all she knew. Dylori and Dis would have a hard time getting there if she even wanted to see Misti. She sees me as a friend, nothing more.

  After a few more moments, Dylori’s eyes dimmed to their usual darkness and Dis shook his great head. After righting themselves, they started toward Misti and Zora, who met them halfway. Stray pieces of grass clung to Dylori’s horns, and Zora fluttered up next to her, batting the grass off. Dylori chuckled and pushed her away, so Zora settled back on Misti’s shoulders. Misti knew they should be leaving, knew they only had a short amount of time to get to Ingo because the cage could theoretically break at any time, but she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Dylori and Dis.

  Misti scratched Dis on the nose and snuck him some spiky leaves she kept in her pocket for just this occasion. Dis nudged her in thanks.

  “I’ll see you when I return,” Misti said, holding out her hand to Dylori.

  Dylori grabbed Misti by the waist and pulled her close. For a heartbeat, it seemed as if Dylori would kiss her, but she didn’t. Down, girl, she’s just a touchy person, Misti chided herself, schooling her features from shock to skepticism and hoping the heat on the back of her neck didn’t show. Zora yipped a little at the closeness, but Dylori gave Misti a wink. Teasing her, like always.

  “You don’t honestly think I’m letting you make this sunbaked trip by yourself, do you?”

  While she loved being held by Dylori, Misti backed out of the hold, dipping her head to hide the heat now flaring on her cheeks. “You’re certainly not coming with me.”

  “Ponuriah’s ass, I am. I have permission, too.”

  “It’s dangerous!” Misti protested, lifting her gaze once more. A sudden fear lanced through her chest. What if the pendant killed Dylori? I’d never forgive myself.

  “I don’t care how many times you argue, you’re stuck with me, Misti.” The firmness in Dylori’s voice almost made Misti swallow her next argument.

  But stubbornness took over, making her cross her arms and stand her ground. “You aren’t coming with me. I won’t let you.”

  Mischief tugged at Dylori’s lips and her eyes glinted. “Oh? And how are you going to stop me?”

  The thought of tying her up flashed into Misti’s mind, but then it went to an entirely unexpected place and made her lose her words once more. Her blush crept higher on her cheeks, burning her skin.

  “That’s right. You aren’t. I can either come with you, or I’ll just follow you.” Dylori pointed back at Dis, who huffed at them. “Besides, Dis wants to help. Even said you can ride him again.”

  Hearing that, Misti bit her lip. Riding Dis would make travel so much easier. And having Dylori around to help wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Now that Misti had lost her rank, Dylori’s Moon Knight status alone could get them into places a commoner couldn’t go. And Misti’s heart tugged a little, traveling with Dylori was always an adventure. Maybe, since they were no longer comrades in arms, she could tell Dylori how she felt. She had never said her true feelings out loud because relationships within units were forbidden. That, and her crush had grown so much that her nerves would never let her say anything for fear of rejection. If she was honest, it was more the latter tha
n anything else.

  Sighing, Misti nodded. “You should get your gear, then. And probably some extra supplies.”

  “I’ve got all the supplies you’ll need,” a familiar singsong voice said from their left. “I assume you didn’t eat all the food during your two days in captivity.”

  Arias was carrying two packs laden with food and water in one hand and her bow in the other, her own pack and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. The beautiful Shey sword hung at her belt, glinting in the light. A grin brightened her face, and her bushy hair had been pulled back into a thick, messy bun.

  “You want to come with us?” Dylori replied, arching her eyebrow and folding her arms.

  “I told you, I’m always up for an adventure.” Arias patted Dis on the shoulder. He obediently lowered himself to his knees and allowed her to climb up. “Cute vulnix, by the by. Peculiar coloring, though.”

  Misti ignored the comment. She couldn’t believe it. She had hardly wanted Dylori to come along, knowing the power this pendant possessed. But Arias? She barely knew the woman. Then a thought slammed into her harder than Zora. Arias was an Elu, a Moon crafter. If things went sideways, she could put up another shield like she did earlier or drag Dylori away at least. Misti tilted her head back and stared at the dabbler.

  “You’re only going for the adventure? I have a pendant that could suck life right out of you. It’s unsafe, Arias, and you hardly know us! We’re only going to Ingo, three nights’ travel at most. You could always find a…less perilous group to travel with.”

  Arias thumbed her bow, her pale eyes staring down at them. “Like I mentioned before, I need supplies. I thought the metal would be here in Amiin, but apparently only the Ingo Grove carries what I need. This kind of thing happens often. And besides, how many times do you get to travel with a person in such a unique situation as yourself?”

  “With a walking death bomb, you mean?” Dylori grinned at Misti to soften the jest, but her saying it did hurt a little.

  A walking death bomb. Yes, that does sum up what I am now.

  Arias’ voice softened. “More importantly, I think you two need all the help you can get, and I’m happy to provide aid however I can.”

  Misti had her doubts, but Dylori clapped her hands. “Okay, then, let’s go!”

  They gathered Dylori’s gear, procured some daygems and meats from the Moon Knights to trade with the Nemora for aid, and got an updated map to show where the worshippers, the banished ones, and the suncreatures had been active lately. They also tied ropes around Dis and secured the packs to the rope so they couldn’t lose any more to suncreatures, or the rigors of travel.

  Misti stared down at the crinkled map, at the dark blots on the paper, the areas of activity from their enemy seeming to grow ever larger. A shiver of fear ran down her shoulders, and she rolled them to loosen the muscles there. She felt defenseless, even with her Vagari crafting and her dagger and her friends. But she had to stay positive, she told herself as she climbed onto Dis’ back, tucked between Dylori and Arias. They’d make it to Ingo, the Nemora would melt the pendant off her, and then she’d return to Amiin with the white orb, safe and sound and ready to give it to Vivia to fulfill her final orders as a Moon Knight. She’d figure out what to do with herself after that.

  Chapter Eight

  THE FIRST FEW HOURS of travel passed quickly enough. They took the Whispering Path connecting Amiin to the cities in the southern Whels region, but they soon had to head further west on the Stolh Road. They passed by a few groups of smaller suncreatures, mostly pyrewolves and eneeraas, but none of them wanted to take on a neades, and Misti felt like luck was on their side for once. The sun was setting, a brilliant purple-and-blue horizon that ebbed away their worries with it.

  Misti was about to suggest they rest for a little while under the cover of dusk to eat before pushing onward. A scream dashed that thought away. A little way down the road, three wagons had stopped. One of the wagons was burning, flames licking the wood and growing higher every moment. Its passengers rushed back and forth into the burning wagon, pulling out supplies and yelling. But the screaming seemed too intense, too terrified, to merely be attributable to the wagon fire.

  Misti narrowed her eyes, calling up her crafting to look past the panicking people, further than anyone else could. Beyond the wagons and the burning wood, a band of hooded figures dressed entirely in white with a red sun stitched into the front of their robes marched toward them. Pyrewolf suncreatures followed the marching group.

  “Sun goddess worshippers,” Misti muttered.

  Dylori took in a sharp breath and let it out. “Well, let’s go kill them, shall we?”

  There was bloodlust in her dark eyes as she angled Dis toward the fray. Misti put a hand on her shoulder to halt her and glanced back at Arias. “Do you want to join?” She remembered how frightened the dabbler looked when the suncreatures attacked them before, how wild her pale eyes seemed.

  Arias rolled up the sleeves of her black tunic. “I’ll help protect the travelers.”

  Misti nodded and let go of Dylori’s arm. Dis pounded down the road. He reached the wagons at the same time as the marchers. The burning wood sent smoke billowing into the air, making it hard to see and even harder to breathe. Muols—skinny and hairless four-legged creatures with long necks and narrow heads—whined in fright. A few travelers unhitched them from the wagon, and the muols bolted behind Misti’s group, their white eyes wide with alarm.

  Coughing, Misti put up a hand to her mouth and nose to try to block some of the acrid smoke. The band of travelers was backing away from the advancing worshippers, calling out to Dylori for help. Three men, five women, and a child, all in brightly colored clothing and clutching instruments. Musicians, Misti realized. They didn’t stand a chance against the suncreatures or the worshippers.

  Dylori’s orders came out fast and sharp as she slipped off Dis’ back. “Arias, protect the travelers. Misti, come help me with the worshippers. Dis, take on the suncreatures, and we’ll help as soon as we can.”

  Arias gathered the panicked group to one side of the road, nocking an arrow into her gleaming bow and calling for them to follow her. Dis charged forward to meet the suncreatures while Dylori raised her sword and slipped between the wagons, vanishing from Misti’s sight.

  “Go help Dis,” Misti said to Zora, who yipped and leapt off her shoulders, flying after the neades. Taking a deep breath and wishing she had armor, Misti pulled the dagger from her belt and rushed after Dylori.

  The group of sun worshippers wasn’t as big as Misti had suspected. Only five of them battled with Dylori. Knowing Dylori’s prowess in battle, truly, they didn’t have a chance. The worshippers slashed out with brilliant bronze longswords that moved like the rays of the sun, gracefully falling from one position into the next, bathing Dylori in the gentle but deadly glow of blades glinting in the firelight.

  Try it the vulnix way. What would Zora do? Be sneaky and quick, for one. One of them had their back turned to Misti so she snuck forward, intent on slitting the worshipper’s throat, but her boot crunched on a fallen piece of wagon wood and the worshipper turned. She stabbed them in the side and then darted back, away from the sword’s reach. The worshipper grunted. White cloth covered the bottom half of their face, darting in and out with her opponent’s pained huffs. Their strange red eyes misted with tears, but the color had to be false for no person had red eyes.

  Dark blue blood dripped down the dagger’s blade and onto the dirt. An Elu, then. Misti held the dagger tight, point up. The worshipper breathed heavily, both from the wound Misti had delivered but also the gash across their chest from Dylori’s blade. They raised the bronze sword and slashed, trying to keep Misti back, but she had a different plan. Strike now. Quick. Misti darted sideways, using her vulnix speed to circle around the injured worshipper and slide her blade deep into their other side. The blade caught on bone and the worshipper yelled in pain, lashing out with their bronze sword. Misti sidestepped, the blade hu
mming through the air by her shoulder, missing her by a few hairs.

  Circling, they glared at each other. The worshipper’s eyes seemed to glow red with the intensity of a crafting glow, but no crafting had that coloring. It reminded her of the suncreatures’ eyes. Like two little suns had settled onto their face. Fear prickled under Misti’s skin at the sight. The worshipper blinked, looked skyward for an instant, and slashed again. This time Misti ducked under it, letting the worshipper’s momentum carry them past her and striking hard with the butt of her dagger at the base of their neck. The shock of impact radiated down her arm, but the worshipper went down with a groan, the cloth covering the worshipper’s nose and lips ripping from impact and showing the man underneath. Not dead, but no longer a threat.

  Misti looked to Dylori and her attackers. Three lay dead on the ground around Dylori, blood staining their white garments with deep browns and blues—Nemora and Elu. Dylori stood in the ring of dead, breathing hard and staring at the people she’d killed. She stared at one in particular, smaller than all the rest.

  An Elu worshipper had broken from the others, stumbling toward the travelers, but with his neck sliced open, it was clear Dylori had taken care of him as well. Blood gushed through his fingers as he grasped at his wound. The Elu stumbled two more steps, then hit the ground and stilled. A shiver ran through Misti. Dylori had always been good at protecting people, but she had always been good at killing people, too. It was one of the reasons she had risen to T’zil so rapidly. When the fighting went sideways, she was able to make hard decisions. It didn’t seem to bother her, either, or at least in any sense that Misti could tell. They were in a war with these worshippers, and Dylori was a warrior.