Windswept (The Airborne Saga)

by Constance Sharper

  “You need to show them you’re alive. If you’re alive the loyalists will rally around you, right? They said that no army in the world could really take over the harpie population if they had a leader.”

  “Yes, I need help but I don’t need a war. I need to cut to the source. I need the capitol back and when I have it, I would have cut the heart out of the rebel cause. It’ll wilt and falter.” He stood quickly and his wings opened with flurry. “I can call out to my people. Rally the soldiers and police that haven’t already been taken by the rebels. The fighters. The holdouts.”

  Avery tried to sit up. Her stomach hurt but she made it there.

  “If you try to call out, won’t they come for you?”

  Mason’s green eyes landed sharply on her.

  “Yes. But that’s why I have to go to the capitol and do it. I’m not afraid that my supporters will meet me and we will confront the rebels on the grounds that matter the most.” His words were firm and absolute. This was exactly why Mason was Prince, for even if it was unbeknownst to him or not, he’d never been cut out more for a war in his life. Except for one thing.

  “I’ll come. You don’t need to carry me but I’ll come.”

  “Avery.”

  “You heard the doctor! There’s nothing anyone can do. Mason, we’ve looked up everything we could. Consulted every expert and followed every lead. The doctor never figured out how to stabilize the elements and we don’t know how to get rid of the magic besides by my death. And putting me up in some room alone isn’t how I want to spend any time I have left.”

  He gave her a blood-chilling glare.

  “So you’re asking me to bring and watch you die. Like a dog on the field of battle.”

  “You have no other choice, Mason! You keep thinking you can do something, but you can’t protect me from this. At least let me help. I can use whatever magic’s left that will manifest, and if there’s nothing more at least, the rebels are afraid of me. We’ll need every bit of support we can get. I’m an idiot when it comes to PR but I did make one impression. Fear. They’ll follow me because they’re afraid of what I can do.”

  He didn’t have an answer. She gave her last shot.

  “I’m scared, Mason. I’m really scared and I don’t want to go curl up alone somewhere and think about what’s coming next. I’d take anything over it and fighting alongside you is one of those things. That is the last thing you can do to give me any peace of mind. And we’ve always tried to give that to each other. I know you wanted to be the knight on the white horse, but I’m not a total damsel in distress. We are stronger working together. Let’s be strong now.”

  No words followed. Because it was apparent they both knew she was right.

  Twenty Four

  She curled her arms around herself but it did little to hide the trembling. Luckily everyone had been sufficiently distracted. Mason stood in the center of the room, broadcasting over an amulet device. She didn’t quiz him too much on the how and why, instead concentrating on holding herself together. The area around them was fairly empty. The morning had come and dawn broke through the clouds. The atmosphere was chilly but comfortable, and a gust came off the ocean bringing the salty smell with it.

  Ironically, they’d flown back to the very island where Patrick had attempted to kill her and Adalyn had been held hostage. Mason had needed to move them and figured they’d hide in plain sight. The plan seemed reckless, but he’d been correct. It was barren and every building on the small island was at their disposal.

  “They’re bunkering down on the capitol,” Mason had said in regards to it. “They know we will be coming soon.”

  His words were even more impassioned now as he stirred fury in his unseen followers. “I am your Prince, and I am alive” was the tag line and probably all they needed. But he rallied them anyways and encouraged them to fight the rebels from their land with a grace that belonged in some Hollywood movie.

  Mason came back in, but she didn’t notice him standing near her for a full minute. In that time, it was clear his eyes had done a cursory glance of her and the knot in his brow indicated that he didn’t like what he saw.

  “Say it.” Avery growled. His arms reached out first and embraced her close to him like it’d become the most natural thing in the world.

  “You look like hell.”

  “Well, now that this is out there, how are we going about this?” she asked back. Avery didn’t need a mirror or a map to know her looks weren’t encouraging and spelled bad news, but she also wanted to keep Mason’s mind off of it.

  “Take a seat. We have to give them some time to show.” Mason gestured towards a white rocking chair in the corner. Avery sent it a long skeptical look before she did. This place had once been her and Adalyn’s prison, but where they stood now seemed disturbingly homely. The chairs sat near both a fireplace and a window for the gust and heat at once. Intricate ribbons had been tied as decoration and photo frames of unrecognizable people sat on the end stands.

  She settled in to the surprisingly soft cushion and leaned back. Mason had made a vague gesture for patience and headed outside again. When he returned, he wasn’t alone.

  “You’re late,” she teased immediately. Leon had walked in on Mason’s heels. Scrapped up and covered in dirt, he hadn’t walked in with a smile. But he did offer her a minor taunting bow when she called him out.

  “Too much like a queen already,” he said.

  “Are we ready to go?” Avery asked the second time, but couldn’t yet will herself out of the cushions. “This place is creeping me out. Did Patrick kill the people who lived here?”

  It was a valid question. One that she’d been pondering for a while, but didn’t realize it until recently.

  “No one lives here. This is not where the threat to the rebels would be coming from,” Mason piped in.

  “Someone does live here,” Avery insisted, her eyes going to the kitchen. These islands couldn’t have possibly just sat abandoned, all decked up like this.

  “It’s a vacation island called Seamist. Owned by Stern actually. He never vacations so it stays empty and it isn’t surprising the rebels would sneak in here.”

  “Seamist?” she repeated. She did remember him saying it. But then she also remembered Patrick referring to it as Turnasile.

  “It’s a more commercial name. No one who lives here call it that but those are few.”

  “Turnasile. That’s what they call it,” she must have been babbling because he gave her a sideways look. Shaking it off, she finally stood to pace the room. Waiting was always the worst part of any of this. While Leon used the extra few minutes to procure easily concealable weapons, she took to pacing. When he offered her a knife, she shook it off. Avery wasn’t flying or landing on her own. And without the control, she’d probably just stab herself during the arrival. Or at least she tried to explain that. By the time she got the last word in, Mason dropped a single foot and the resulting boom grabbed their attention.

  “We have to go now. I’m afraid our position has been compromised.”

  Even though she’d expected to be on the move, Avery’s stomach still did a back flip. She took a step forward, but Mason barked out, “Leon, please carry Avery. I can’t and do what I need to.”

  Leon’s arms seized her from behind without so much as a warning. They were outside in moments and in the air minutes after that. The sun bright in the sky, the whole place was blinding and hot. The flight pattern low, the salt of the waves beat up at them and the smell of ocean potent.

  “Is someone following us?” Avery demanded. They looped through the air erratically, staying at the backside of Mason’s right wing. Another loop and her stomach would be in the ocean.

  “We won’t see them if they do. We won’t make it out of the air.”

  Her blood felt like ice water and the temperature inconsistency left her feeling feverish.

  “Where are our recruits?” she demanded a second time.

  Leon’s attention stayed
trained on his target before him. It took an agonizing long time and another rough turn for him to answer.

  “That’s the island up ahead. I hope to hell they are there to greet us.”

  But the harpies that abruptly joined them in the sky weren’t recruits. She heard Mason curse loudly, but then the world spun. Leon dove sideways and dropped them. Rebels lashed at his wings and he did nothing until the island started below them. Opening his arms, he released Avery and she went face first into the dirt.

  The jolt might have shaken her skeleton, but she recovered quickly and regained her footing. Mason landed almost a yard away and was almost invisible because of the people scrambling on the island. Most looked like peasants but some had to be rebels. Avery saw no loyalists among them. Realization hitting her, she hurried to clear the path to Mason. Someone struck at her, but she lashed back.

  The threat of the Willow magic managed to keep the harpie at bay. She cleared him and ran to Mason’s side. He had stilled and she slid to a stop to recognize what encompassed his attention. Patrick stood before him. Skin shining red, it was clear her last blow out of Willow magic had taken a long term toll on him. He clenched a harpoon tightly and wore a coat of golden armor. Patrick held it ready. She couldn’t read his face.

  “You have disobeyed your monarch. You have joined in treason of the highest regard,” Mason said.

  If he was bluffing to buy himself time, Avery wasn’t aware. She was also unable to continue the audience. Rebels flew around them and mini battles broke out. Only then did the loyalists truly arrive. An older man sprung on the first rebel and they plunged to the dirt. Rebels joining the battle stood too close to Mason. She snuck a fleeting glance at him before dashing to help. Rebels coming in from all sides wouldn’t even give Mason a shot to fight fairly with Patrick. Patrick hadn’t budged at that point, hands still clenching the weapon and posture still drawn to fight.

  Avery, refocused on the task at hand, dashed for the battle. Rebels sensed her before she even came close. Most flew. One pitched a spear that only missed her by inches. A loyalist had crumpled into a ball on the floor. Dropping to his side, she rolled him. He’d miraculously lived through the dog pile and regained his footing with her help.

  “Ms. Avery!” He must have recognized her from the papers. “You should rest! You should get out of here and rest!”

  She grimaced. She looked bad enough that even an old harpie on the battlefield cared more about her health. Avery shook her head but a screech spun her head around.

  Mason stood crookedly. The source of distress unclear, Avery’s heart dropped. She couldn’t see Patrick. She’d left him to Mason—Patrick nowhere to be seen. She ran so fast that her feet slipped on the sand and she slammed into his side. Mason let out a grunt that sent the surrounding loyalists to stare with their knives. But his free hand snaked around her. Then she saw Patrick in the dirt. Blood had splattered the sand. Though she’d seen ugly wounds before, following the blood to him made her gag.

  “Oh no…” Avery struggled with the urge to avert to her eyes. Patrick had been pinned down by loyalists. But it wasn’t that which bothered her. His wings had nearly been shredded. His black eyes peeked through bluish lids and sweat slicked his ghostly white skin.

  Mason held his hand up to act but that’s when the commotion stirred. A flash made them spring backwards. Avery made the brunt of movement and tipped them, narrowly avoiding knocking them both down. The flash landed on Patrick and the loyalists that held him released.

  Avery had to double take.

  Strewn over Patrick’s body with her long blond curls covering both of their faces was Adalyn. Her torso twitched, seemingly suddenly thinner and more boney than ever. Her wings sat at a skewed angle and her purple decorated hands held his face.

  “Adalyn.” Mason spoke as the first recovered. Avery took a step away to clear the area. Her heart thundered so loudly in her ears, she struggled to hear. “Adalyn, you have to go. Please move.”

  Too much commotion prevented Avery from being able to comprehend the tone in Mason’s voice. But his green eyes appeared panicked and sad.

  “No,” she snapped back. Her face hadn’t lifted. She whispered something to Patrick but it sounded nothing like an escape plan. It sounded so quiet and soothing. His blood continued to escape and Adalyn’s turquoise blouse had been stained.

  “Adalyn, he’s an enemy of the state. Adalyn, you have to get up.”

  The loyalists in the surrounding circle began to shift. Avery shot a glance upward. For the first time, she realized they weren’t all civilians. Sharp blue suits that had been torn and transformed into darker uglier colors of gray stood in the group. These were police. Or soldiers. They stepped forward of the now shifting mob of loyalists. No mercy stayed in those eyes.

  “I can’t fix this!” Mason suddenly roared. “I can’t stop this! There is even law beyond me. Adalyn, move!”

  Mason actually pled. Frozen in place, it appeared he feared shifting would spur the bloodlust of his companions.

  “No. Mason, I’ve asked you for much in my life. I have, but let me ask you for this. And I will not ask for anything else.”

  “Wait,” Mason gestured for the loyalists to pause.

  “Adalyn, even if I wanted to grant your wish, Patrick won’t be forgiven by any law in society. I can’t guarantee his safety. I can’t even guarantee him a trial. This crime means instant death. You know that. And if you won’t move…” Then Adalyn might be roped in with Patrick. Mason didn’t have to say that part. Knowing time was limited and the world fell apart in battle around them, they only had mere seconds.

  Adalyn only had one thing to say.

  “I won’t move. He’s all I have left.”

  Mason’s face faltered. The soldiers grabbed at her and tore her free. Patrick coughed sickeningly.

  “Mason, do something!” Avery yelled.

  Mason did. Glancing up towards the sky, his eyes landed on a rebel. Hand suddenly lashing out, he summoned the Willow magic with a sickening burst. The magic wasn’t strong enough, but the rebel reacted. Diving from the sky, he charged them. Mason dove backwards and Avery slipped free. She whirled too, following in suit. She picked a rebel and drew his attention. It wasn’t hard. Away from the group, the spare rebel soldier charged her anyways. Readying herself, she edged backwards.

  The group of loyalists nearby had to react as well. Dropping Adalyn, they shifted to intercept the rebels from their targets. The better half of the group went to shield Mason. The remaining struck at her attacker. Avery stole a glimpse backwards. Adalyn had seized the opportunity. She’d reached the air before Avery even saw her move. Only a deep crimson stain remained where Patrick had been.

  Someone smashed into her hard. Avery yelped but stopped before she fought. Mason clenched her arm and gestured towards the capitol. She followed his direction. The rebels had been cleared from the path. More loyalists had taken to the island, and the others had fled. Mason had indicated the capitol. Clear led skies straight to the balcony from which he made his speech.

  “The council is still in there. We need to get them out and get the word out. We need to end this!”

  Avery held out her hand, a smile gracing her face, and a bright sensation entering her chest.

  “I’m right there with you. Lead the way.”

  Twenty Five

  Inside the capitol building was dark. It resembled nothing of the grandeur that Avery had seen before. It only took her a few minutes to realize why. Beyond the cracked marble décor and walls splintered and covered in soot, the remaining windows had been boarded up. Shadows owned the hallways and the only illumination slipped in through the way they had come.

  “Be careful,” Mason warned. “We are not alone in here.”

  The place appeared silent, but the ugly feeling plaguing Avery had her believing him completely. They stepped by the rubble cautiously and Mason led them tiny step by tiny step towards the throne room. Avery had only seen it once and kept the pict
ure in her mind. Massive gold seating surrounded by the extravagant seats of the council. Her expectations to see the throne room the same way now was foolish. The place would likely be in ruins. The council would likely be dead.

  They reached the massive wooden doors without trouble, but it was much darker here. Avery listened carefully for any danger to follow. On the doors, just faintly visible, were markings around the handles. It looked as if someone had clamped these doors shut, but whatever the obstruction had been was also long gone. Mason pulled until the door gave. The springs cried out deafeningly, and the room inside smacked them with a wave of dull and dusty air.

  Inside, the overhead fluorescents remained partially on to reveal the people inside. Avery snuck by Mason’s wing to steal a desperate glance around. Seeing no bodies on the floor, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The council members she didn’t know had stacked up against a corner, their eyes as wide as a deer caught in headlights. Stern stood away from the group, hunched in the corner, and met their eyes. Across from the group stood several Guard. Mason’s hands snaked out and met her abdomen, stopping her from going any farther. The room remained quiet until Mason opened his mouth.