Wings Unseen

by Rebecca Gomez Farrell

  The warrior laughed, and Vesperi wondered what her mother would sound like if she had ever done the same. This woman was no larger than Lady Sellwyn, but they could not be more dissimilar. Her mother would keel over from the weight of a sword, and Sar Mertina swung hers like a feather.

  “You strike me as a woman who knows the performance is sometimes more important than the script.” Mertina’s smile was sly but genuine. “They need me here watching you so they can pretend sleeping next to you is not betraying themselves.”

  “And you are not so concerned with your conscience?”

  “The king trusted you enough to send you with his son. And the Lady Serra is willing to work with you despite your crime. I have served the Albrechts nearly all my life and definitely all of hers. Their judgment is enough for me.”

  Vesperi was unused to loyalty that did not stem from fear of a noose. Mertina’s came from the right to weigh one’s rulers and serve them if they proved their worth. As she slipped back into sleep, the soldier’s smile dominated Vesperi’s dreams.

  Her “guards” the next day were not so understanding. Hamsyn waited by the door when she rose to break her water. She gave him a pleasant “Good morning” without a trace of sarcasm, and he said nothing in response. Most of the others slept, but when she had finished, she spotted Janto leaning against a pile of glass shards, speaking with one of the Rasselerians. He had supported her, had convinced the others to let her stay with them rather than kill her on the spot. But when she placed a hand on his arm, he shrank back from it. The frogman stopped talking, flicking its tongue into the air between them instead.

  “Good morning, Janto.” She tried to sound as innocent as she had with Hamsyn. She raised her elbows to the frogman. His tongue withdrew into his mouth.

  “Mer Hallorn here has informed me of another attack close by. We need to move fast—the villager fell silent only an hour ago, so the claren will be there in mass.” No greeting, only business. It doesn’t matter. She could do this without camaraderie. It was how she had always lived her life.

  “Should we get Serra and go then? We could be back before anyone else woke.”

  Janto disturbed the ground between them with the toe of his boot. “No, we will all go. They would not like it if we split up. I will wake them. Just—” he waved his hand “—just wait right here.”

  Hamsyn took a few steps closer to her as Janto went into the hut. His eyes never left her, watching and waiting as though she were a hare hoping to flit away. It was almost funny, considering what she would do if trying to escape.

  “Here.” The Rasselerian offered her a corn cake that looked more appetizing than Yarowen cheese, at least. “You must keep your strength up as you travel. The need is great.” She tried not to touch his webbing as she took it. No one in their group was apt to offer her food this morning, and Serra kept the store. There was no request she would ask of Serra presently.

  The seer came out of the hut just then, and the first thing she did was seek out Vesperi. Their eyes connected long enough for Vesperi to feel the hatred. It felt worse than it had been yesterday. Yet Serra had defended her last night, had fought alongside Janto to keep her alive and working with them.

  I should have escaped when only one of them was awake to guard me. But the disappointment it would cause the king and her companions kept Vesperi rooted to the spot no matter what her survival instincts said. Curse Mertina and her talk of loyalty.

  She scowled. She did not have to like it.

  During the ride to whatever hovel had been attacked, Vesperi readied her talent. Napeler rode beside her, and the disdain rolled off him in waves that she used to strengthen her tie to Esye, scorn that she could channel when she received the go ahead from Serra. All that power waiting right there for her to pull it and then release. The air thrummed, and she drummed her fingers on her thighs in anticipation. When the frogman Hallorn stopped them, she dismounted and scanned the horizon, impatient.

  “Let’s go,” she said to the nearest person when she spotted the low-lying roof. “We have bugs to kill.”

  “Maybe you could sound less excited about what you do.” Flivio cocked his head. “We might find you more tolerable if you did not take such obvious joy in it. I bet killing gets you off better than an orgasm.”

  Amusement and cruelty mixed in his face, a combination she had last seen when her father laughed away the hopes she had dared to harbor. She responded to it the same way she had then. But this time when she ran, it was into the fray. These people might never trust her, but she would make them respect her regardless.

  CHAPTER 48

  JANTO

  Serra watched as Vesperi took off at full-speed toward the hut. “What does she think she’s doing now?”

  Janto shrugged, more worried about them coexisting than her escaping. The claren report this morning signaled the shortest time between reports they had yet received. Who knew how far the pestilence had spread? And on Janto’s team was a murderer he could hardly endure and an ex-fiancé who barely acknowledged him.

  “I cannot do this.” Serra sounded as though she spoke to herself, but Janto knew better. “I thought I could, but every second near her, I relive it again. Reading the letter, opening the box—”

  He dared to grab her hands and press his own against them for a moment. “I know. Believe me, I know. But you are strong enough, Serra. I … I don’t entirely understand why you left, but saving our people was enough for you to put aside our love. It has to be enough for you to put aside hatred.”

  She tilted his face toward hers. “Can you set aside hatred to find love? I don’t want you to stop it for me, you know. I want you to be happy.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  His confusion surprised her. “You mean you do not know—”

  A silver flare demanded their attention a second before the hut exploded into radiant flame.

  They were running before he knew it, already halfway there before Vesperi released another wave of flame. A loud crackle of claren followed.

  Nap caught up to them, dismounting with sword in hand.

  Janto touched his arm in restraint. “That will do no good. She will only strike you instead.”

  Nap frowned.

  “Keep everyone outside the hut, no matter what you hear. Serra and I have to do this alone.”

  Janto should have been more concerned. Fire consumed the walls of the hut. Vesperi was a loose cannon, but still he did not think she would harm them unless threatened. She had waited until now to release her magic, and Madel knew she’d had plenty of reason to unleash it in the past day. He pulled his handkerchief up and stepped inside.

  Silver energy engulfed Vesperi, illuminating the hairs on her body. She faced east, eyes jumping wildly, straining to see what she could not and shaking with frustration.

  With no hesitation, Serra pushed Vesperi’s handkerchief up her face and took hold of her left arm. She guided them around until they faced the wall to Janto’s right.

  “Now,” Serra said calmly and Janto ducked.

  After the stream of energy rushed past him and the air combusted with blackened red shells, he felt its heat, so cool it burned. The hair of his left arm curled and disintegrated. He leapt toward what should have been the other side of the structure, but there was only the bright of day and piles of ashes. Everywhere he turned, ashes. Janto kicked them, grunting and yelling as the piles exploded into clouds that spread over the floor. Why did she have to go off on her own? Vesperi had lost control, destroyed this home. The Rasselerians could have used it for another family. Her lack of discipline and selfish anger had almost killed him and Serra. Janto had defended her to the others, said he trusted her not to harm them and that she was with them for the right reasons, not to avoid the dungeons again. But that defense felt thinner than the gran-faylon’s façade when she acted this way.

  Both women gaped while he leveled the piles to the ground. Nap, exposed by the burned out walls, gave them the cour
tesy of looking away.

  “We cannot do this,” Serra repeated. Janto shared her exhausted frustration. “I know our people need us. The claren have to be stopped, but how we are to do it with her?” She did not sound angry but resigned, displaying a resiliency he had never known she had. He was both proud and pained he had not been there to watch it develop.

  Vesperi’s armed crossed. “I know that was not … restrained. But I did not ask to be here, either. I never thought I would be in Lansera, stuck with a pair of lovelorn dolts and shooting at invisible insects. But I am committed to this, I pro—”

  “Your promises mean nothing.” Serra’s nostrils flared. “You are Meduan. You know nothing but lies. It is your way.” Still, her voice was calm and her drawn face had color in it again—her formerly constant flush that Janto found adorable. It had been missing since she’d reappeared in Mar Pina’s kitchen. The graceful lines of her sheath made her far sexier than she had ever been when wrapped in yards of glistening fabrics, metallic threads, and feathers.

  Vesperi’s dark curls, limed with receding silver, were just as fetching.

  Am I twelve that all I can think of is a woman’s shape, even now? It was below him, below them, but his mind could grasp at nothing else. He slid to the ground and pulled his handkerchief over his whole face. These two women held the fate of his people in their hands, and he weighed which was prettier.

  “Janto,” Serra’s voice broke in to his thoughts, “how are we supposed to continue? She is as untrained as a newly birthed colt in Eddy’s stables.”

  Worse than a colt, he thought, remembering how she spat at the sandwich roll that day in the mountains. Yet his impulse was to defend her. She was so proud yesterday. Vesperi was despoiled, vain, and utterly power hungry, but he had a hard time holding it against her. Medua was not Lansera. She had not been raised by people who knew kindness.

  “I have never pretended to be other than I am.” Vesperi faced her accusers while trying to dust ash from her gray tunic and matching pants, a hopeless cause. “But I am honest when it benefits me. I do not care what happens to your kind, but I want to live. The king and those Brothers of yours have made it clear I will not if we let the claren multiply.”

  Janto rose. “They already multiply. Every day their numbers increase. We have been here for a week, and how many dead have we found?” His voice trembled. “And Ryn Cladio has had more reports of fallen Wasylim, of bodies drained and shriveled beneath their citrus trees. We cannot stop their spread, not like this. The Lanserim will only suffer.”

  Realization hit as memories cycled through his mind: a shimmering fish in deep river waters, a stag bleeding invisible blood. Some things, like the claren, straddled the line between two worlds, impossible to fully grasp—or defeat—in only one of them. Then he spoke with conviction.

  “We must defend all Lanserim, including those on the other side of the mountains. We must do it for them first, if we hope to stop the claren. The pestilence is born from the Meduans’ actions, and we have let it fester too long.”

  Serra frowned, but Vesperi laughed at his words. “We will never again be Lanserim in Medua. It is quaint you harbor such hopes. But it I had crossed your path in Sellwyn, do not doubt I would have stricken you down the moment you stepped across my father’s terrace, bursting with all your polity and concern.” She twisted her lips around that last word. “I would have done that without the promise of a place at my father’s side. I would have done it without thinking at all.”

  “You have a place now, you know.” Janto held her gaze as he spoke fast, excitement building. “Your place is here, helping us get rid of the claren. Serra and I do not dispute that, though it is difficult to understand why you did what you did to Agler. But that act does not change the existence of the claren. This evil should not exist, but it does, and we three must stop it. We have to do whatever is needed to make that happen.”

  Serra agreed. “But like you said, for every claren horde we strike, a hundred more are likely created by the Meduans. If Vesperi’s experience is typical of that land, they will never stop breeding.”

  Janto’s mind was back on Braven, standing beside Jerusho as he held a creature that was never meant to be in his net. “It’s their source of course!” He clapped his hands together. “Medua is sick, and we must go to the source of that malady to cure the symptom, defeat the claren. There is no other way.”

  Serra shook her head in disbelief. “You are crazy.”

  “No, listen to me. If we stand any chance, we need to stop the claren from birthing. We need to cleanse the temple in Qiltyn.”

  Vesperi laughed. “You two would never last on the road from Sellwyn to Qiltyn, much less inside Mandat Hall. Only Saeth’s priests and invited guests are allowed there by the Guj’s decree, and nothing happens in Medua without his consent. He is untouchable. His wizards alone would see right through you.”

  Janto bounced on one leg, his half-formed plan solidifying by the second. “Which is why we need you—besides your magic, of course. You can guide us through Medua.”

  Vesperi paled.

  Something softened in Serra’s face. “You don’t want to return. I did not realize that.”

  Vesperi looked away.

  Serra placed a hand on Janto’s arm. “I do not think we should go. They killed my brother, Janto.”

  The implications of her wording pleased him. She’s beginning to understand as well. Vesperi was not fully responsible for Agler’s death. Serra placed a hand on her head and shook her finger at him. “I will never go into that pit. Isn’t it enough that I can … that I can stand to be around her?”

  Janto sighed and kicked up more ash that clung to the moist air. He’d found the right path, or at least the beginnings of it, but the women were right, too. Sneaking into Medua and finagling their way into its stronghold would be no easy task. The Meduans had never been fool enough to assault Callyn by force and he, Vesperi, and Serra were no army. They were three heads of Madel’s bird, and they fell back to the ground every time they caught air.

  Serra twirled an unscathed feather in her hand, watching the patterns it made in the light. “You are right. I wish you weren’t, but you are. There is no other way we can defeat them. You did not kill the stag by pricking it with darts—you pierced its heart with an arrow.”

  “And watched its blood drain out.” He had her in his arms instantly, hugging her. The smell of her clove necklace filled his lungs, made him ache for what might have been while he nonetheless felt joy she understood him so well. He did not want to let go. She pulled away first, her attention on the oddly quiet Vesperi.

  “Will you come with us, then?”

  He could have hugged Serra again for the tenderness in her voice. He had never seen Vesperi this way. Usually a kill brought her satisfaction, not this palpable trepidation. The Meduan quavered almost imperceptibly, a cattail in the breeze. But she nodded, then lifted her head and placed her hands on her waist, reclaiming her usual stance.

  Good. They were agreed. Janto was nearly giddy as he called the rest of their group over.

  “Are the claren gone?” Nap spoke first.

  Flivio rolled his eyes. “Do you have to ask after the show the Meduan put on?”

  Janto chuckled. “Yes, we’ve destroyed the claren here.”

  “Is that why you’re so happy?” Hamsyn speculated. “It has been a rough day or two. Another culling is worth a celebration. We are one step closer to safety for all Lanserim.”

  “That’s true, but our steps must be bigger than we thought, and now they face east.” Janto should have been nervous, but he felt peaceful instead. He hoped it a sign he had made the right choice.

  “Back to Callyn to tell the king Ashra’s been purged, then, and send a company after any more of the Guj’s men?” Hamsyn plucked at the Old Girl’s bow.

  Sar Mertina offered a different guess. “Or to Wasyla, to investigate the reports from Ryn Cladio?”

  “No, no. We travel to Medua
.”

  Their smiles slid away faster than leaves over the falls of the Call.

  CHAPTER 49

  SERRA

  It took near a week to reach the mountains, pushing their horses as much as they dared without drawing attention. In another two days, they had crested them. The near-constant riding had brokered a begrudging peace within their band, a peace with which Serra was not entirely comfortable. But it was necessary, so she held her tongue when Sar Mertina spent an evening showing Vesperi how to properly build a fire. She let herself be entertained when Flivio began a bantering match with the Meduan over the edibility of barools. She ignored the feeling of defeat that grew each day Janto’s anger boiled off. He was enraptured with the woman, always touching her without reason though he barely acknowledged it. Serra wanted him to hold on to his anger on her behalf, to resist the curve of Vesperi’s breast and sultriness of her laugh, but she was not the one who had been left at the altar. Janto did not owe her anything.

  But did she have to see it all the time? It was barely day, and Janto was already by Vesperi’s side, struggling not to chuckle as she rearranged the items in her saddlebag again and again, dropping her smallclothes in the dirt every time she tried to squeeze them in.

  “Morning.” Elbows raised, Hamsyn addressed Serra from his night’s watch post a few feet from the ladies’ tent.

  She returned the greeting. “Anything on the horizon?”

  “Trees. A grove, much thicker than the ones we passed in the mountains. I think we have found flat ground at last.”

  “That is a relief.” The horses had stumbled too many times on the slick downhill passes. “You will have to excuse me. I need to break my water. I will be right beyond those prickly bushes.”

  She returned to a scene of near domesticity that would have comforted Serra under different circumstances. Janto was helping Flivio make breakfast porridge over their morning fire. Vesperi sat nearby, smoothing the tangles in her hair. Nap had replaced Hamsyn on watch, so Hamsyn curled up on his bedroll to get some sleep before they set out again after breakfast. Sar Mertina sat back against a log, sharpening her blade.