Sunkissed Feathers & Severed Ties

by Kellie Doherty

Misti shook her head, fidgeting with her pack. “That wasn’t Met’zil Zarious’ style, and he’s the only Met’zil I’ve studied under.” Now she knew there was a vulnix way of fighting, Misti felt Zarious was more than a little stupid to refuse to teach her a different style.

  “You seemed to hold your own pretty well, though.” When Misti lifted her gaze, Arias gave her an encouraging nudge. “That dagger was effective.”

  Misti shrugged. “Met’zil Zarious wouldn’t have approved.”

  “Well, that’s more of a Vagari way, too, headstrong and all,” Arias murmured, and Misti looked at her with a frown, stunned Arias would stereotype her race like that.

  “Not all Vagari are headstrong,” she replied, a bit more harshly than she intended.

  “Probably not.” Arias gave her a smile to soften the blow. “But a good number of you are, in your own ways.” She looked pointedly at Dylori.

  Misti couldn’t contain the chuckle rising in her throat. “Well, she is headstrong, I’ll give you that.”

  “Maybe your style is simply different than his.” Arias reached out and squeezed Misti’s arm in a friendly gesture, one that Misti found she welcomed. “It seems like your skills lend themselves to nimble movements, less brute strength and more speed. More distance, too, if you can manage. Did you ever consider learning under anyone else?”

  “There was no one else. I mean, he was the only Met’zil I studied under. I had requested a change a few times, but I was ordered to stay with him. I’m not sure why, and to be honest, it wasn’t the…best of orders.” It was one of the first times she had voiced a criticism of the Moon Knights and it felt strange to do it. For all its faults that she was just now beginning to dwell on, the knights had been her one and only path for so long. “And it won’t matter anyway since I’m not a Moon Knight anymore.”

  Arias removed her hand and nodded, a sympathetic glimmer in her eyes.

  Even though she had only known Arias for a short time, Misti found herself drawn to her, and it seemed like Arias felt the same. “You don’t happen to know anyone who could teach me this new style of fighting, do you?”

  Arias lifted her bow. “I can teach you the bow and arrow, but only the basics.”

  A bow and arrow. Misti had thought to use those types of weapons before but never had the chance to learn, and it dawned on her how terrible Zarious’ leadership actually had been. Why not use my talents? A bow and arrow would better suit the vulnix way, a way she was slowly learning on her own. A bow would use her crafting perfectly, since she could see so far with it. Her aim would be truer than most. She bit her lip, a spark of interest and hope brightening her spirit. If she could learn a new style, maybe she could become a guard in one of the cities and build a new path for herself. “I’d like that.”

  “Wonderful!” Arias lifted the bow higher, eyes to the sky, as if she rested the bow on the black backdrop. “Once you learn more skills, you’re welcome to come my village. We could always use more hunters.” It took her a moment to realize what she had said. Her next words came out in a rush, a dark blue blush staining her cheeks like a bruise and her hand and bow falling to her lap. “Oh, my apologies! You wouldn’t hunt, would you? How idiotic of me. You could be a guard. We could always use more of them.”

  Misti found herself smiling. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t hunt, but some Vagari do. We’re not all green-eaters, you know. And many of our people take care of the herds you enjoy eating so much.”

  “Oh, I assumed you all would be. Because of your…” she pointed to Zora.

  Zora had been snoozing, but she cracked her bright blue eye open, as if she knew she was the subject of conversation. Her tails swished back and forth over Misti’s chest until Misti stilled them with her hand, guiding them away from the pendant. “As long as we respect the kill and use all the beast provided, it’s perfectly acceptable for us to hunt and eat meat. I don’t, though.” What she didn’t say was her reasoning behind not eating it: it reminded her too much of that day in her parents’ shed. The vulnix hanging there, skinned for some bloody ritual. Her jaw hardened, and she rubbed it to loosen the muscles there. “Dylori’s parents are actually herders.”

  Arias arched an eyebrow. “Dylori’s?”

  “Yeah, she has quite the humble origin,” Misti replied, her gaze drifting to Dylori’s sleeping form. “She grew up in a Divus-dominated village in the middle of the desert in Elarial, north of Ventra. Has a family of five, an older sister and younger brother, plus her two dads. And she was shy, if you can believe that.”

  “Dylori, shy?” Arias laughed. “No, I can’t believe that at all.”

  “So she tells me. Her family has always been herders, save for her. They deal mostly in desert beasts. It’s a good life for a Vagari, because we know what the animals most need and how to kill them in the honorable way.” She frowned. “But we never kill a companion animal.”

  Arias had leaned forward now, arms across her chest, expression serious. “But how do you know which ones are companions and which aren’t?”

  It was Misti’s turn to shrug. “Some say they can feel when a companion animal is around. Others say it’s because the companion animal won’t stray far from its partner, so they’d be able to see the Vagari. I would never be completely sure, and wouldn’t risk it.”

  Arias shook her head. “I wouldn’t either. Have other races killed companion animals?”

  “Not that I’ve heard of, but I’m sure it’s happened by accident. But we know when hunters are around, and we make sure our companions stick close by.” Misti shifted her gaze to Dylori. “Though Dis has taken an arrow.”

  Arias gasped, her hand gripping her own bow tighter. “What? That’s horrible!”

  Misti frowned at the memory and scratched Dis’ back. Dis’ thunderous bellow that early morning when he got hit woke the forest, and Dylori’s rage soon after could’ve rivaled any storm. “It was an accident. Dylori was sleeping at the time, but she was spitting mad when she awoke. Nearly pummeled the guy, but I stopped her. The hunter apologized, and Dis healed fine, so no harm done. Dylori was mad for a long time. Super protective, too.”

  Misti gave Dylori a pat on the leg and wondered how her friend didn’t fall off, slumped over Dis’ neck like she was and snoring gently.

  “You’ve been through quite a bit together.” Arias looked at Dylori.

  “We have.”

  “She seems to have a keen eye for you.”

  Misti stared at the dabbler. Could she mean…no, of course not. “She’s protective of me, yes.”

  Arias laughed softly. “Not that kind of a keen eye, Misti. She likes you as more than a friend. Surely you’ve noticed.”

  “That’s…” She was about to tell Arias off, but a bubble of hope in her chest made her pause. Heat crept over her cheeks as feelings she hadn’t really allowed herself to think about spread through her once more. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “And it seems like you like her back.” Arias tapped her own cheek, as if confirming Misti’s blush. “Don’t wait long. She seems like too much of a hero to be single.”

  This was the kind of talk good friends had over honey tea and spiced bread. The kind Misti never really had. She talked with Dylori, but Dylori usually gushed over her new mate while Misti silently stewed. But this was between her and a woman she hardly knew. A woman who seemed to confirm one of Misti’s deepest desires. But it seemed too good to be true, so she scoffed and turned away.

  “Thanks for the advice,” she muttered, the heat spreading to her neck now. She tried to rub it away.

  A finger poked her in the side, tickling her, and she laughed in spite of her embarrassment. “You’re welcome,” Arias said. “Anytime you need a reality check, ask me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Misti murmured, but as much as she was embarrassed, a part of her enjoyed this back and forth, this quiet conversation, this budding friendship.

  Chapter Nine

  THEIR TREK TO INGO passed by a small offsh
oot of the larger Myceli Grove to the far northwest. Misti knew this by the sudden change in their scenery, the long grasses and high slopes gradually transforming into vines, colorful shrubs, and telltale white flowers called starblossoms that would bloom and glow only in the moonlight. Folk from Whels and Elarial requested trade from this smaller section of medicinal plants instead of making the long trip up north to the Grove itself. She had hoped they would pass through during the night so they could see the flowers bloom, but dawn had already kissed the horizon by the time they arrived, and the blossoms were closed.

  As they traveled deeper into the Grove, carefully following the dirt path, the sight drew a grin on Misti’s face. The Nemora always brought her peace. Zora seemed calmer here as well, curled up happily on top of Dis’ head, eyeing the vines and flowers.

  A bald Nemora crouched down by some brown and white mushrooms, but they turned and raised their hand the moment they saw the travelers. An older male, his bright-red skin seemed to shimmer, the white dots on his cheeks, neck, arms, and bare chest marking him as Myceli Nemora. The accompanying swirls on his white pants told them that he was a high-ranking Nemora.

  “Anoc-suna, Nemora,” Misti said, using the greeting she learned from Zykiya, the Ratnaa Nemora who had helped her when she’d been fleeing from her parents. Zykiya had given her the gemstones that kept a roof over her head and food on the table on her way down to Whels. Misti dropped down from Dis’ back and bowed to the man.

  “Anoc-suna, traveler. How can I be of assistance to you?” The Nemora grinned, showing sharpened teeth also tinted red. He rose and inclined his head, and then glanced at the rest of the group. “Of you all?”

  “We’re headed to Ingo.” She bit her lip and glanced at Dylori, who shook her head. Best not to tell this Nemora anything. “For supplies.”

  The Nemora took a step closer, his narrow brown eyes flicking from her face to the pendant and back up again. “I hope my fellow Nemora have what you need.”

  “We hope so, too.” Misti looked to her companions. Arias seemed transfixed by the pink and blue palebells flowering at the base of a nearby bush, but Dylori motioned for them to move along. Misti nodded, but remained where she was. Her thoughts, as they so often did these days, wandered back to her parents.

  She turned back to the Nemora. “Do you have anything for the mayla fever?”

  “Mayla?” He tilted his bald head and looked down at the vines by his bare feet, as if thinking. A smile grew on his thin lips. “Yes, I have something for that. One moment.”

  He turned away and headed for some yellow jaho, a spindly pink bush with yellow tips. Crouching down once more, he bowed his head. The dots on his skin glowed a deep brown and Misti knew he was using his Nature crafting. Plants, poisons, metals, water, rocks, gems, fruits, vegetables, trees—it always awed her, the things they could do and create. She bit her lip, wanting to go closer, but she knew better than that. Traveling off the path would mean the highest disrespect.

  The Nemora gently touched the yellow tips and the plant grew at a rapid rate, its ends now curling into vines around his palm, wrist, and arm. Amazing. Misti’s grin grew wider. But all too soon the glowing dimmed and the Nemora gently snapped the vines off the plant. He pulled some powder from his pocket and rubbed it onto the freshly cut plant, whispering to it. Thanking it.

  He unwound the yellow vines from his arm, drew them into a tight bundle, and brought it back to Misti. “Grind it into a tea. Drink three times. Once during the night and twice during the day. The fever should be gone within a hand’s span.”

  Five nights, then. Misti tucked the vines into her pocket and nodded. Her thanks came out stiffly, as though strangled in her throat. “I thank you.”

  “Certainly.” His now empty hand was outstretched.

  She unhooked the daygem from the night before. Arias shot her a worried look, but Misti shook her head. They had plenty to spare, and the Nemora expected something in return. Demanded it, really. But the Nemora and the Vagari had good relations, as did the Elu and Nemora, and Misti respected the give and take. The Nemora did control all the natural resources, and their trade rules always seemed fair.

  Handing the daygem to the Nemora, she bowed once more. “I must be off now, or my companions might get restless.”

  “Indeed.” The Nemora palmed the daygem and flicked his gaze to the others. “I believe they already are.”

  Misti looked back just in time to see Dylori sigh and let her head fall back, staring at the pink sky. She chuckled. “Indeed.”

  “There are banished ones between here and Ingo. Take care,” the Nemora said, before crouching down at the brown and white mushrooms once again, effectively ending their conversation.

  Pulling herself up onto Dis’ back, Misti motioned for them to go ahead. Dis plodded carefully along the path, and didn’t speed up until they had left the Myceli offshoot behind. The scenery changed once again, colorful plants stopping suddenly at a gray-and-white rock outcropping. Sharp shards of stone now crunched beneath Dis’ heavy hooves. The outskirts of the Ingo Grove.

  Misti knew it would take a night to get to the center, where the Nemora lived and worked. She also knew the suncreatures of this area were tougher, stronger, less afraid of Dis’ strength, and more likely to attack. Arias had said the sun worshippers were more vicious in the Groves, though Misti had never encountered any. Misti had heard tell of a Dara Nemora worshipper crafting a tree straight through a knight, breaking bones and crushing flesh the entire way. Additionally, the Groves were the center of trade for all of Inber so the worshippers stood a greater chance at capturing travelers.

  She tightened her belt and rested her hand on her dagger, wishing that she had her armor back. I’ll probably never have that armor again. Sadness leeched into her, pulling her shoulders forward. Zora must’ve sensed it, for she stretched and fluttered to Misti’s lap, curling up there. Misti ran her fingers over the soft fur and feathers, silently thanking her companion. Her Moon Knight status might never be returned, but some things would never change.

  Dylori rode sideways, a feat that wouldn’t be comfortable for anyone else but her, glancing at Misti every so often. So often that Misti grew weary of it. “Spit it out, Dylori.”

  “Who has the mayla fever? Your sister? Is that why she’s writing to you so often?” Dylori frowned at her.

  Even though she’d known Dylori would ask, Misti’s gut clenched. She didn’t want to lie to her friend, but she didn’t want to tell her the truth, either. Not yet. But the truth burned in her, scorching her insides, licking up her throat. If she couldn’t speak the whole truth, perhaps a smaller one would work just as well.

  “My sister mentioned that she’d like some yellow jaho on hand,” she said slowly, testing the words. “You know how common a sickness it is in the north. And Char isn’t a traveler like me.”

  Dylori nodded and reached over to scratch Zora’s head. “Should you send it now?”

  “No, it can wait a little. I want to deal with this pendant first.” Misti rubbed her fingers over the blue cage once more, its coolness comforting on her skin.

  Arias tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to a particularly sharp outcropping of rock, one that rose high over their heads with broken white stones. “What’s that?”

  Misti didn’t see anything other than a bunch of sharp stones, but an even sharper noise caught her attention. A low groan, like a wounded animal. Zora raised her head, wings spreading in alarm, and leapt from Misti’s lap. Fear tightened her grip on her dagger. The groan was familiar, much like the noise Dis had made when he was shot with the arrow. She swung her gaze to Dylori, who had gone pale under her markings.

  “A neades,” Dylori muttered.

  Before Misti could react, Arias grabbed her arm once more and turned her to the outcropping. A short, stocky woman with a shaved head raced toward them with incredible speed. An eneeraa or basilisk Vagari, perhaps, but no companion followed. The woman raised a black sword with wicked-looking
serrated edges, each one sticking out from the blade like curved teeth. An arrow from Arias’ bow narrowly missed her, and when Misti threw her dagger, the woman ducked past it. Dylori leapt from Dis’ back, slashing with her sword. None of her strikes hit. The woman seemed to slither away from each attack, moving like liquid. A basilisk Vagari for sure.

  Lunging forward, the woman got around Dylori’s guard, but she slashed at Dis’ leg. Dylori swung her blade around just in time to meet the black sword. Sparks flew from the impact. She couldn’t stop all the forward momentum, but instead of a crippling blow, the black blade sliced a shallower cut. Dis bellowed as the sword cut into his fur and flesh.

  “Kill you! Kill you all!” the woman shouted, darting back.

  An arrow sliced into the woman’s arm from Arias’ bow, but the woman darted around the steep outcropping and out of sight. With an even louder yell, Dylori disappeared after her.

  Dropping to the ground, Misti snatched her dagger up and cursed her friend for rushing headlong into danger like she always did. They had no idea what lay behind those rocks, or if this banished one had friends.

  She called up to Arias and Zora, “Help Dis!”

  Zora yelped in reply, and Arias, wide-eyed, nodded. She clung to Dis with her legs, nocking another arrow. “Be careful!”

  Good weapon, that, Misti thought as she darted after the Vagari and her friend. She skirted the outcropping, catching up with the two who had disappeared behind it. She skidded to a stop. For a moment, Misti couldn’t move. Couldn’t think straight. The bloodbath before her was too much to take in at one moment and too familiar to ignore in favor of the fight.

  Sheltered by the outcroppings that loomed ahead, pools of orange blood dripped from strung-up beasts hanging from the rocks. Basilisk, muol, dragon, and vulnix. The wounds on these poor animals were deep and, judging from their purple veins, spoke of poison.

  By the far outcropping, a ritual had been started, interrupted, it seemed, by their arrival. Four beasts were arranged in a square, and a totem of the sun goddess sat in the center, equidistant from each animal. So this woman isn’t only a banished one, but a sun goddess worshipper too. A hulking neades with its leg cut like Dis tried to stumble away but couldn’t get far, lashed by its neck to a pole driven into the rock. A brilliant green dragon cried out in a cage nearby, its tail severed and bleeding. A thunderclap the same height as Misti had been lashed down, some of its stunning gray and white plumage plucked and assembled almost daintily around it. Its dark skin orange where the feathers had been ripped out. A nearly translucent ashray was trapped in a glass box filled with water, the water spilling from a crack at the base of the ashray’s prison, scaring it senseless as it tried to swim away but had nowhere else to go.