Wings Unseen

by Rebecca Gomez Farrell

  Janto moved aside so Rall could join him in the passageway. He looked weary, but his countenance had lightened some, as though the world he carried on his shoulders was a town or two less heavy. Janto had thought another claren attack would redouble Rall’s grief, but it must have been different not being his family, his home.

  That’s it! Janto smacked his head with the palm of his hand. What sort of hunter missed such obvious tracks? “How many days ride to your town?”

  “Four days, with healthy horses and no weather. Why do you ask, my pri—Janto?”

  Janto smirked at the familiar slip up, and Rall smiled. It fell away quickly, too quickly, but Janto could not worry about that. He felt as though he’d hit all thirty of Sielban’s targets in sixty seconds flat. “Because we are going to destroy the creatures that did this to your family, Rall. And I need to know how far so I can count down the seconds until we do.”

  Nap came out of his adjoining room and stalwartly pronounced, “I am coming with you. It would be my honor to serve with you on this quest.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.” Janto raised his elbows in acceptance. “Now that that’s settled, I need you to bring Serra and Vesperi here. Can we meet in your room? They need to be ready right away. This affects them more than anyone else.”

  “Of course.”

  Rall peeked back in on Evon, giving the boy’s hair a caress while Janto watched from the hall. Then they took seats at the table built of Wasylim wood in Nap’s room. Its metallic sheen came from gold flakes mixed in with the resin.

  “You will ride out with us tonight.” Janto spoke fast as he always did when excited. “We will ride straight to your home, and we will rid it of any of those vermin we find. It will be safe, cleansed. Then we will ride on to Lake Ashra, where Father said most reports of attacks had been made and Serra found other bodies—”

  “That sounds fine.” Rall fidgeted with the sleeve of his gray tunic, threadbare in the spot where his thumb rubbed. “But I am not coming with you.”

  “What do you mean? Imagine the excitement for Evon, riding with our party! Not that he can talk about it. Will he be able to keep the secret, do you think? We will need to leave tonight. We cannot let any more time pass.”

  “Is that an order?” Rall tapped his fingers against the wood. “I need to know if it is, please. Because if it isn’t, we are not returning with you. I—I cannot live there anymore.”

  New tears formed in Rall’s eyes. It had been cruel to ramble on like that. Rall sat across from him, too heartbroken to return to his home, and Janto had let the thrill of the chase cloud his vision. Again. He reached for Rall’s hand.

  “I am sorry. I assumed you would be returning. It is not an order.”

  Rall let out his breath. “Thank you.”

  “What are your plans?”

  He shrugged. “I have not thought that far ahead. Evon and I need somewhere new, I think. It will help us … help us grieve and move on. Going back would be too much for me and that would be too much for him. I cannot do that to him.”

  Serra spoke from the doorway, “Of course you can’t.” She had changed from the simple garment she wore earlier and was his Serra again. That made it more difficult on some level. On another, he was overjoyed just to see her. The feather tufts on her white skirt looked like balac blossoms.

  She caught him staring and blushed. “I could not resist putting it on. I love my gowns, but they’re horrible to wear at Lake Ashra.” Then she crossed the room and gave Rall a hug. “It was many years before I returned to Gavenstone after my parents’ deaths. I couldn’t bear it.”

  He returned the gesture. “Three months ago, I would never have dreamed I would be hugging a princess.”

  “You’re not.” Her reply was soft. Janto dropped his eyes to his feet.

  A knock on the door saved them for the second time that day.

  “May we come in?” Nap’s voice sounded from the hall.

  And I thought Ser Allyn’s manners ridiculous. “It’s your room, Nap. You do not have to knock.”

  The man did not disagree, which Janto considered progress. He shuffled inside after Vesperi.

  “Why did this prawn pull me from my room when the king specifically ordered me to bed?” Vesperi’s customary disdain grated. Nap and Rall frowned at it—at her—so out of place here. Janto wondered if that would ever change.

  “I think we should go to Wasyla,” he explained, “ride to where Rall’s family was attacked. And then to Lake Ashra, where the claren have struck most often.”

  “And then kill them?” Vesperi smirked. “That sounds fun.”

  Serra agreed to the plan with a forlorn glance at her skirt.

  “You will need more guards.” Nap shifted his footing. “Rall and I will not be enough.”

  “Rall is not coming. And you’re more right than you know, but we cannot take many.” A sudden draft made him smack his head, imagining a chiding from Sielban as he went to close the door. His father said Vesperi was threatened, and he’d relayed his plan through an open door. “And—and we have to leave tonight. Nap, I need you to speak with Ser Allyn. Tell him to send word to Hamsyn in Carafin that he and the Old Girl should join us in three days at the Crossing. I’m certain he will come—he hates the meadows once they’re browning, and all the rain has been in the east, not there. Send word to Flivio, also. He is to take that trip to Rasseleria he’s always wanted. Tell him the priests will greet him at the temple of Enjoin in seven days.”

  “Flivio?” Rall laughed, some of the worry disappearing from his brow along with it. “Are you trying to get caught? He tries to impress with that ‘wit’ of his every time he meets someone new.”

  “Actually, I am trying to bring someone along who can keep up with our charming companion on my right.”

  Vesperi did not hide her interest. “He must be hung like a craval beast then.”

  The image of Vesperi with Flivio—with anyone—made Janto incredibly uncomfortable, but he refused to acknowledge it, especially with the plain horror on everyone else’s faces. “He’s the only man I know who has a faster tongue than you. Make of that what you will.” Now I’m exchanging lewd barbs with the woman.

  “You’ll need fly masks, too, for the horses, special ones to cover their noses and mouths and ears. Do you have lace crafters in the castle? I can show them the ones we improvised back home.” Helping made Rall’s voice grow fuller, a heartening sound.

  “Yes, do that. Also wake Ser Eddy in the stables when you go to retrieve them. He sleeps in a room at the end of the barn. Tell him we need four horses, fresh and fast ones. Serra, you will need to pack for us. We’ll have to—”

  “Travel light, I know,” Serra finished. “I will take care of it, and I’ll have Bini pack us food. I doubt there will be anyone in the kitchen tonight to question her about it.”

  Having her here, safe and dependable, was such a relief. Yet he was aiming her—them—straight at a prey more dangerous than a dozen angered rhini. He did not have time to ponder the irony of it. “I will go tell my parents. They’ll want to see us off, and …”

  And he needed someone to tell him he was making the right choice. He hurried out of the room, Rall and Nap at his heels.

  CHAPTER 42

  VESPERI

  The woman—Mertina, Sar Mertina—tightened the ivory-maned horse’s saddle, and Vesperi could not stop watching. It was not the act of saddling that fascinated her; Vesperi knew how to do that herself. At ten, she had begged her father to let her ride and won his permission only when she claimed that horse riding must be beneath her if he would not allow it. That did the trick. Lord Sellwyn always enjoyed teaching Vesperi her place.

  What drew Vesperi’s eye so steadfastly was the swordbelt slung over the woman’s waist. She was slight, only an inch or so taller than Janto’s short Wasylim friend, and had ebony hair twisted into a bun. Once everyone had gathered at the stables, Janto had explained that Sar Mertina would accompany them to Wasyla a
s another armed guard. Vesperi had laughed at first, thinking it a joke. But the laughter died as soon as she saw Mertina’s sword and the assured way the woman kept her hand close to its pommel. It was spellbinding.

  Vesperi barely noticed when the king arrived, his queen at his side. Her single-minded attention did not shift until he spoke, his voice hushed, as the others secured the bags Serra had packed over their horses and practiced fitting the lace masks over the animals’ ears, latching them around their muzzles.

  “Janto, you are certain you don’t want to wait until tomorrow evening? It would give us more time to be confident in the preparations.”

  Janto shook his head. “It would give the claren more time to target our people. And any Meduan spies more time to get word back to Qiltyn that Vesperi travels with us.”

  Janto’s mother, her hair wrapped in gold and copper threads that glinted in the moonslight, clasped her hands together. “That’s smart, Janto, but your party is so small. We cannot help but worry.” She took inventory of everyone gathered there. “At least you are taking Sar Mertina. That’s smarter.”

  Janto grinned sheepishly. “She caught me walking across the yard toward the stable and would not let me go until I accepted her service. I will fill her in on the task at hand as we ride. I have also sent word to two of my Murat companions to join us along the way.”

  The king made a noise of approval while the queen moved to the guardswoman and raised her elbows to her. “Our thanks. You have served the realm for over thirty years, and we pray Madel keeps you with us for another thirty.”

  “As do I,” Mertina answered, her stature proud. “Serving Lansera is all I have ever wanted to do.”

  The queen hugged her, paying no notice to the muddy ground her skirts rested on. She moved to Serra next, and Vesperi wondered at the warmth in her eyes. King Albrecht had remained aloof except for that one afternoon in the dungeon, but the queen was full of tenderness for every person she neared. She spoke in hushed tones, but the tears Serra loosed at her touch made it clear the girl appreciated her words greatly. It was all so … so … honest. Did they realize how exposed they made themselves? Were they comfortable … happy with that?

  Do not do this. You cannot simply go where they want you. You cannot trust them. They let women be armed! It was beyond comprehension.

  But so were hooded figures appearing from a bell and the idea that Vesperi—she—could save the world with her talent. She had known its value but had not thought beyond helping her father wrest Durn from that dullard Lord Riven. Vesperi had never considered it making her appealing to another man. But King Albrecht thought the engagement promise from Ralion was a threat, which meant the Guj had plans for her and whatever they were had been foiled. Vesperi had run from Medua. She would never be trusted to play her role properly there, yet she could not help but wonder what might have been.

  A hand on her shoulder disturbed her thoughts. The queen trained her green eyes on Vesperi with curiosity and the same warmth she had shown the others. Those two eyes searched her, no words spoken. Then she smiled, the red of her hair luminous as she leaned in to whisper, “Stop running, silly girl. Live.”

  Vesperi sucked in her breath as though punched. The queen did not linger, moving back to join her husband. Vesperi hated that she had been read so plainly. Her body shook with the vulnerability of it. So she shifted toward her mare, focused on its smell of straw until she could collect herself again. Its rough, scratchy hair soothed until Vesperi remembered the last time she had paid such attention to a horse’s mane, torturing one with bursts of her flame. This animal would have to bear her for a hard, fast ride, and Vesperi had tormented its cousin once, without a thought. Is this regret? She checked the knots that tied her pack to the animal, then stepped into the stirrup and launched herself onto the saddle.

  The king spoke again, raising his hand toward a sky studded with stars and all four moons haloed. In a few more hours, that sky would turn royal purple as the sun began its upward journey.

  “May Madel’s hand guide you, keeping you safe as you do Her work. Lansera believes in you, as do I and the queen. May swift feet bear you and courage keep you on the path.”

  King Albrecht was not lit by the same light as he had been that afternoon in the dungeon, but she felt his words keenly. Janto spurred his horse to ride, followed by the Wasylim and then Serra. Not until Sar Mertina fell in line did Vesperi take reins in hand. As she pressed a firm kick into the mare’s flank, she focused on the line the woman’s leather sheath made against the white hair of her horse. The contrast was striking.

  CHAPTER 43

  JANTO

  The sky darkened fast into a cerulean horizon with a deep green layer above it. It looked no different than any other evening spent watching the stars, but Janto felt foreboding. The weight on his chest was not from the sky, but from the man he’d left at Callyn cradling his son. Janto had given Pic strict instructions to show Evon around the castle. A new friend would do both of them good after what they had lived through.

  Sar Mertina led their group, keeping them far enough from the main roads to avoid attention but not so far they might lose their way. They trod on hundreds of grasses, varieties that ranged from ivory tones to shades matching the darkening sky and the reeds of Rasseleria. The moist ground made Janto glad they had not delayed their departure. The farther west they traveled, the plainer their trail was to follow in the mud.

  Vesperi rode straight in her saddle, her contemptuous expression earned, for once, by the rough travel. She glared when she felt him stare, and he smiled back. No, I do not want her to be caught. He had grown quite fond of her scornful expressions now he knew most of them were faked. Serra’s mere presence still did not seem real. Janto did not know how to be with her without being with her, and he had never felt so unsettled.

  A whistle, pitched nearly as high as an angered drasmo’s shriek, cut through his thoughts: Sar Mertina’s call of warning. Nap, second in the line, increased his pace at once, and the others followed suit. A pair of tall, thin monoliths loomed ahead, two figures silhouetted against them. The stones rested lengthwise against each other at a 90-degree angle. They rose twice as high as the people in front of them were tall. Mertina was one of those, still on horseback. The tension eased out of Janto’s body as he recognized the second figure: Hamsyn kindling a torch. The Old Girl leaned beside him against the rock face.

  “I hope you brought a horse.” Janto climbed off his own to give his friend a hug.

  Hamsyn scoffed. “You think I show up to a royal summons unprepared? You mock me. My horse is tied by that citrus grove to the south. The Wasylim tendency to plant trees wherever they roam comes in handy on occasion.”

  “Your horse will need this, and I hope you packed the extra handkerchiefs we asked you to.” Janto drew an extra, newly cobbled together, lace mask out of his pack.

  Hamsyn raised an eyebrow but asked no questions. “I did, Your Highness.”

  Too exhausted to correct Hamsyn’s formal address to a friendlier one, Janto sighed. “I see you have met Sar Mertina. She is one of my father’s most trusted guards.”

  Sar Mertina blushed. “The prince is a shameless flatterer, but I have been in Lansera’s service for thirty of my years.”

  “That’s amazing. And these others?” Hamsyn gestured toward the women behind Janto, their faces obscured but for the flickering of his torch. Nap extended a hand to Serra to help her dismount, and Janto felt shame he had not offered it but … but he was not ready for that contact. He moved to help Vesperi instead. She scorned his outstretched hand and eyed the ground on the other side of the horse. He went back to introductions.

  “The lady on her mount, who prefers no assistance, is Vesperi Sellwyn of Medua.”

  The narrowing of Hamsyn’s eyes indicated the need for more explanation, but the Nevillim held his tongue. They narrowed more acutely when Janto nodded toward Serra.

  “The Lady Serrafina Gavenstone, my betrothed—” the
word slipped out fast, a habit not easy to break. He coughed and tried not to sound bitter, “—my formerly betrothed. You may have heard?”

  Hamsyn nodded in assent. “But I did not hear why. There were rumors of a Meduan plot”—he glanced toward Vesperi—“or that the Lady Gavenstone had lost her head.”

  “Oh, those are not so far off.” Serra did not bother to tender her tone as Janto had. She has changed so much. “In truth, I am not certain Lady still applies.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Janto was aghast. “We would—I—would never strip you of your title.”

  “If any of this was in our control, Janto, do you think we would be standing here at the Crossing, unwed, unhappy, and with a Meduan in our midst?”

  He did not reply, examining the monoliths in the evening gloom instead. Imaginary lines extended out from where their crossing made three planes and marked the borders between Wasyla, Rasseleria, and Neville. The stones had stood longer than maps had been drawn, and the people of those regions never complained at their perimeters. Janto had not seen this relic before, but the tombs and dungeons below Callyn were eerier. The Crossing simply existed. He envied it, sometimes.

  Hamsyn pushed off from the stone. “So where are we going? The message I received was not very detailed, and my sister may have issued death threats against the royal family when I left her alone with her harvesting.”

  Janto recalled the farmers’ plants outside of Urs. “I nearly forgot! I learnt a bit about those seeds foraging in the mountains. The plant is called fallowent. I would be happy to tell her what else I know, though it is not much.”

  “She would love that.” Hamsyn beamed, pleased at the offer.

  “Fallowent?” Vesperi looked up with interest. “We have that in Sellwyn, though not much of it. Our herbalist uses it for … I am not certain he knows what it is for. I had some myself, but I ate it in the mountains when I ran low on food.”