Sunkissed Feathers & Severed Ties

by Kellie Doherty

  Frowning, Dylori pointed to the worshipper behind Misti, the one who still breathed. Misti nodded and turned back to her opponent. Since they found the worshipper committing an obvious crime, the worshipper should be killed, and it wouldn’t be considered murder. Though it was fairer to haul them to the nearest guard and have the lawmakers give them a trial first. But knowing her parents were worshippers made Misti hesitate, since they deserved to die for their deeds, too. Any trial for them would be quick, and their deaths wouldn’t be pretty. She thought back to the mayla fever. Dying by sickness was one thing, but dying by a hand like hers was quite another.

  A sharp yip came from her left, and Misti turned to see Zora fall to the ground beneath an eneeraa suncreature. Forgetting the worshipper at her feet, Misti rushed to help her vulnix. But before she could get there, Dis let out a bellow and head-butted the eneeraa suncreature away from Zora, stomping it to ash. Zora lifted herself from the ground and flew up onto Dis’ shoulders, nuzzling his head.

  Misti peered through the smoke that curled around the site, but that seemed to be the last of the suncreatures. Dis and Zora had done a remarkable job at fighting them, however many there had been. A surge of pride raced through her at the thought of her vulnix fighting alongside her once more.

  “Look out!” Dylori shouted, darting toward her.

  Misti felt movement behind her, and she twisted and threw the dagger at the worshipper by her feet. Raised on one arm with the other lifting his sword, the worshipper sank to the dirt, dark blue blood bubbling around the dagger in his neck. She bit her lip, swallowing the bile rising in her own throat. She had only killed five worshippers before now, and each had reminded her of her parents. This one was no different.

  Zora flew from Dis and settled on her shoulders, lifting her from her thoughts by nipping at her ear.

  “You did great.” Misti scratched Zora’s neck and looked at Dis, who followed her vulnix. “You both did.”

  “Yes, we all did.” Dylori’s hand clamped down on Misti’s shoulder. She seemed distracted, her gaze shifting to the smaller worshipper, a deep frown on her face. But after a moment, she gave Misti’s shoulder a squeeze, shook her frown into a happier expression, and sauntered over to the musicians, pulling Misti along with her.

  “We all did indeed. Look.” Arias beamed at them and pointed at the wagons. The fire that had once burned so bright and hot had been extinguished.

  Misti arched an eyebrow at the dabbler. “How’d you do that?”

  “A bubble.” Arias said, staring at the scorched wood. “I created a bubble around it, kind of like your cage, and the fire went out because it didn’t have enough air.”

  Dylori chuckled. “I haven’t seen that before.”

  Arias shrugged. “We get quite a few fires in the foundry. It’s best to have a quick way to extinguish them.”

  Of course. Misti eyed Arias’ wrists, which had fresh cuts from her crafting. But to use crafting for such a small thing? I wouldn’t have done it.

  Dylori shifted her attention to the travelers. “And how are you travelers doing?” She shook one of the men’s hands as he stepped forward. He had a vibrant green robe trimmed with gold, shining brown hair, and a matching goatee. His dark skin seemed to shimmer in the light, from sweat or fear Misti didn’t know. He held a long, wooden flute, fingers tight around it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

  “Much better now that you’re around.” The man had a singsong voice, much like Arias.

  They exchanged pleasantries as they helped the musicians pick up some supplies that had fallen from their wagons. Misti went over to the skittish muols and calmed them down with a few words. Most of the people had taken to their wagons, but a young woman with thin red hair and storm-gray eyes meandered over to her, petting the muols as she did so. The woman walked awkwardly, favoring her left side in a heavy limp, but her hard gaze seemed intent on Misti’s pendant.

  “Pyrosa,” the woman said in greeting. “What is that?” Her features were all sharp angles, wide eyes, and off-white, nearly translucent skin. A Divus, for sure. But her ears had a strange pointed twist to them, an odd feature for a Divus to have.

  Remembering the two men the pendent had killed, Misti backed away a little, covering it with her hand. “Nothing.”

  The woman stepped closer. She wore heavy dark layers with scaled armor overtop and large belt with lots of pouches. Though the woman had tucked it behind her, a tek also hung from her belt. A wide sword that curved in a spiral and a deep serrated edge that pointed outward from the side of the blade, the tek could be slipped onto one’s arm and used as both a shield and a weapon. It was a weapon Misti had only heard about.

  “That has Blood crafting in it,” she said, pointing to the pendant.

  Misti’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  “I can sense it.” The woman drew a strange book with symbols pressed into its leather binding and a short white quill from her pocket. She scribbled something in it. “How long have you had it? Who gave it to you? What does it do?”

  She asked these questions in such rapid succession that Misti couldn’t answer them all. “It’s a Blood pendant, forced upon me by a banished Divus. Have you seen one before?”

  “No, but it’s fascinating.” She scribbled something else in her book.

  “Adaris,” the Elu in green robes said from his perch on the wagon. “We need to leave now.”

  Adaris looked over her shoulder at the man and sighed. “Okay.” She turned back to Misti, beamed, and held out her hand. “I’m Adaris Kavari, by the way. Scribe, wanderer.”

  A scribe? That was what Char always wanted to be. Misti took the woman’s hand without hesitation, almost forgetting the pendant around her neck because of Adaris’ likeable charm. “Misti Eildelmann.” She let go quickly and backed away once more.

  “If we ever meet again, you’ll have to tell me about that Blood pendant. I’m sure it’ll be a fascinating story.” She scribbled something else in her book, and then pointed at Zora. “Why pick such an odd-colored vulnix? Sunkissed beasts like that one are usually left for dead.”

  Adaris’ question shocked her, but not as much as it once might have. Many people only saw the color of Zora’s fur and feathers instead of the loveable creature who wore them. Zora, however, tensed. Her tails curled by Misti’s left shoulder, so she scratched one.

  “Not on my watch,” Misti replied, her voice firm.

  “Interesting,” Adaris said, pointing her quill at them. “You’ll have to tell me about that, too.”

  The wagons had started to leave, heading the way Misti and her group had come, probably toward Amiin. Adaris swung herself onto the last wagon and waved the quill at them. “May the wind always be at your back!”

  “Yours as well,” Misti called back, allowing herself a small smile at the Divus’ farewell.

  She stroked Zora’s tails until her vulnix calmed down. The others gathered around her, watching the wagons disappear into the last rays of the sun, but Misti was far away, tugged by memories. Sunkissed. The word brought her back to when she had first picked her companion animal so many seasons ago.

  Rain splattered down in thick sheets, drenching everything it touched but bringing with it a heavy clean scent. Even though they were well past the winter cycles, the rain was still chilly. The Ruinswick region was never truly warm, but the folk who lived here dealt with it.

  The cold, damp weather couldn’t bring Misti’s spirits down. Nothing could. She was ten seasons of age today. The age when Vagari picked their companion animals, a beast of their bloodline they would share their lives with. Tonight was a wonderful night, for it was where a Vagari became whole—Vagari and companion, as it should be. It was one that all Vagari looked forward to, and Misti was no exception.

  She wrapped her little hands around the bars of the vulnix enclosure and stared at the tiny beasts before her. They had just hatched not even a crescent prior, but they were ready to find a home with th
eir companions. The parents had been taken away by their own Vagari this morning, and the babies needed help. It was the first task of a Vagari to aid their companion animal right after birth.

  There were five vulnix in the enclosure—a small, open space covered by tree branches and surrounded by bars. Misti was the first of her siblings to get a companion animal and the only Vagari this cycle to choose, so she had quite the selection. The other fledglings would go back to their parents until the next cycle. A brown vulnix hopped over to gnaw on the ear of its black sibling, who yelped and snapped back. A fat green one clawed at the bars, trying in vain to get to the branches above it. Two blue ones—a dark and a light—obviously twins, curled around each other, tucking their tiny wings in and wrapping their long tails around the other.

  Misti beamed at the sight. Five to choose from, all with pretty coloring and bright personalities. Excitement sparkled inside her, threatening to burst out in a thrilled scream. Looking up at her mother, who held her little sister in her arms, and at her father carrying her baby brother, Misti eyed the vulnix perched on their shoulders. Her mother had a brilliant blue one, much like these twins, and her father a silky black. They weren’t their original vulnix—those had died young a few seasons ago after a terrible accident—but rather their children, and just as loyal as their parents had been.

  “Come on, now, Misti. Time to choose which one you’d like,” her father said, frowning. He had work to do at home, Misti remembered, work in the shed that she wasn’t allowed in. He slicked back his dark hair and sighed, gaze flitting up to the covering above them.

  Turning back to the enclosure, Misti saw a bright orange bundle in the corner move. She had assumed it was a blanket or pillow before, but then the creature stretched. A sixth vulnix. It blinked sleepily, and Misti gasped. Its eyes—one blue, one orange—were just like hers. It trotted over to its fat green sibling and pulled on one of its tails in play. The green one fell over and then lunged, and soon they were locked in a playful fight. Misti couldn’t take her eyes off the sixth vulnix. Its coloring was brighter than all the rest—orange, red, and yellow—like the sun itself had dappled the fur and feathers in its light.

  She pointed to it. “That one.”

  The caretaker, whom Misti had all but ignored until now, frowned. Her white hair strayed from its bun, whisping around her face even through the dampness. Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head.

  “I don’t think you want that one, little one,” she said, her voice grating like rocks underfoot.

  “Why not?” Misti asked, stubbornness furrowing her eyebrows. It was her choice, why question it?

  The caretaker sniffed. “It’s the runt.”

  The sixth vulnix yipped, drawing Misti’s attention as it ran around its sibling. She looked back at the caretaker. “So? I like it.”

  “It’s sunkissed, little one. You would bring shame upon your family if you chose that vulnix.” The caretaker looked at her parents giving them a glance that Misti couldn’t read. Her parents returned the gaze with a worried look of their own. But when the caretaker looked away, her parents shared another look, a curious one Misti couldn’t understand, but one that made Misti wonder all the same.

  Sunkissed? Misti knew the stories. Everyone did. Knew how Ponuriah, the evil bloodthirsty sun goddess, had grown jealous of the old races—the elves, humans, nymphs, and venators—and how they could wield all the crafting abilities. How the old races grew greedy for more crafting, more power, more everything and tried to threaten Ponuriah and her sister, the moon goddess Aluriah.

  The sun goddess destroyed the ancient races, burned them away, and wanted to burn the world, too. Aluriah, the moon goddess, had intervened, protected the world, and created new races born from the old, splitting their power so each race only had one. Ponuriah directed her fury at Aluriah and split the moon goddess in two while she defended her races but Ponuriah destroyed herself in the process. Slivers of her became the suncreatures that walked the dirt now. That was why folk stayed inside during the day and lived at night. It was why some folk even feared the sunlight.

  Her gaze drifted down to the sixth vulnix once more. To turn a beast away because it looked like a rising sun didn’t make sense to her. She liked those colors; they were cheerful to her, not scary. But she was also one to go walking in the sunlight at a young age, even when her parents told her not to. To secretly hoard daylight flowers instead of nighttime ones, and to love the fall because it seemed like the sun itself had painted the leaves.

  Misti crossed her arms and pouted, as only a ten-season-old could do. “I want that one. That vulnix is my companion animal. I’ve chosen, so that’s that.”

  Her parents sighed, though her mother did smile a little, and the caretaker went over to the pile of siblings now yipping and biting each other. She wrestled with them for a moment, extracting the sixth fledgling and petting the rest. She walked back to Misti, all but dropping the vulnix into Misti’s waiting arms. The soft bundle of fur and feathers, sharp claws and teeth, and big, wide eyes yipped at her, licking her with a long, pink tongue. Misti giggled and hugged the beast tighter. She felt it, the instant connection, the warm tether uncoiling from her soul and connecting with the vulnix, and she knew at that moment she had chosen correctly. She knew at that moment that she had found her companion.

  A hand on her shoulder shook Misti from her memories. “Come on, Misti, it’s time to make dinner,” Dylori said. “We’ve had a long day, and I hope to go the night, too.”

  Misti stroked Zora’s tails, reaching back to scratch under her chin as well. She looked at Dylori. “Of course. I’ll be right there.”

  Dylori nodded and headed off the road a little, away from the dead bodies of the worshippers. From the shaking of the ground and the loud bellow, it seemed like Dis was taking care of the bodies, splitting the dirt and pushing the dead into it. Misti was glad for it. She couldn’t stand to look at the sun worshippers any more than she had to. Zora nudged the side of her face and nipped at her ear, making her laugh.

  “Sunkissed, huh?” She pulled at Zora’s crimson paws. “That Divus woman didn’t know anything. If we ever meet up with her again, we’ll set her and her little book straight, won’t we?”

  Zora kneaded her shoulder, and Misti took that as a yes. She headed back to where the others were setting up for dinner. The sun had fully set, and darkness encroached upon their space. A fire had already been started, and skewers of meat and vegetables crackled above the flames. Giving the furrows in the ground a wide berth, Misti sat down next to Dylori, who still seemed distracted even after the pleasant conversation with the musicians. Her gaze kept to the fire, her lips turned down. Arias had taken the opposite side for herself and the packs, and she kept moving the skewers around in an experienced way. One that made Misti intrigued, in fact. As Arias looked up from the flames and gave Misti an impish grin, the woman did say she liked adventure. And she had traveled the Rainy Pass.

  “So, what are we having?” Misti asked, cutting the silence.

  “I’m having muol meat I bought at Amiin. You two are having prawsli because that’s the only vegetable I had in my pack and I know your kind prefers vegetables, and we’re all having some of the cheese and bread from my village. It’ll be a decent dinner, actually, especially on the road.”

  Dylori chuckled. “You’ve had some indecent ones?”

  The flames caused shadows to dance across Arias’ skin as she leaned forward and turned the skewers again, then put some spiced leaves on the fire to char. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Some of the folk I traveled with while heading east barely had any supplies. I lived off vermin for crescents. Didn’t see a fresh vegetable the entire time.” A grin lit her features even brighter than the fire and enthusiasm filled her voice. “But I had a lovely time. It was the first real traveling I did, but I grew to enjoy it. Thrive on it, actually. My parents would say it’s in the Elu blood.”

  Dylori nodded approvingly. Misti knew that she always wan
ted to be on the move, fighting this battle and that, and Misti had always followed. It was something Misti loved about her friend, her thirst for adventure, even though Misti couldn’t quite summon that thirst herself. Adventuring was fine, but her first trip—fleeing her parents, fleeing her past—hadn’t tasted good on her tongue, and had soured every journey after. She was moving farther away from her parents, but judging from the way her stomach clenched each time she thought of her sister’s letter, she wasn’t getting any closer to easing her guilt.

  “Did you meet any worshippers in your travels from Shey to Whels?” Misti asked Arias.

  Arias plucked the skewers from the dirt and handed them around. She even set a few chunks of the yellow prawsli on the dirt for Zora to munch on and threw a couple handfuls of charred spiced leaves to Dis. Their companion animals could find their own food, but Misti appreciated the kind gesture.

  “None on my travels,” Arias replied, her tone a little sharper than usual before softening. “They seem really vicious in the Groves. Even the Nemora can’t handle them.”

  “They might not all be vicious. The young one today seemed inexperienced,” Dylori chimed in around a mouthful of food, oil from the prawsli dripping off her chin. She swallowed. “I actually felt bad killing him.”

  “Really?” Misti glanced at Dylori, shocked.

  “I know.” Dylori heaved a sigh. “It’s strange, feeling bad for killing one of them, but he was so young. Maybe sixteen seasons. And the other one…” She put the food aside, her eyes reflecting the fire’s glow. “The other one had a drawing of a family tucked in her clothing. Three kids, a wife, a little hut behind them. She’ll never see them again.” She seemed to darken, her frown returning. “Sometimes I forget they’re people, too.”

  “They are people, but most of them deserve the Aluriahian Law, deserve to be in a tight cell at least. Perhaps not all of them, but most are terrible people,” Arias said slowly. “They do terrible things, terrorize the commonfolk, perform blood sacrifices to their goddess. Burn villages to the ground. When they decide to worship Ponuriah, they’re signing up for all of that.”