by Jenn Reese
“Family’s a good reason to go after Karl Strand,” Mags said. “No higher cause for fighting than that.”
He didn’t trust his voice, not right now, but he spoke anyway. “Will you help, then? Even after everything I have done, will you take me to the army so I can find Strand?”
“I’ll do what I can to help you,” Odd said. “Can’t speak for the others, but that’s me. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“I’m going, too,” Pocket said. “I want to rescue Dash’s family.”
“Squirrel?” Mags asked. “I won’t abandon you if this isn’t your wish. You decide what you want, and I’ll go with you. We’ll meet up with the others when they’re done doing what they have to do.”
Squirrel’s mouth pressed thin. “Kludge stays together,” she said. Then her face brightened in the firelight. “At least now I know why Dash smells so funny.”
Dash once again found himself stunned. “I can never thank you enough. For myself and for my fathers, and for Aluna, Hoku, and Calli, too. I am truly humbled by you all.”
“Thanks. Bah!” Odd said. “Not how we work.” He grunted and pushed himself to his feet with great effort. “Now, you stay there and build up that fire. I’m going to get your new swords.”
CALLI BEAT HER WINGS against the wind. The air was already cold and thin — she should have found another layer to wear over her shirt, or something to wrap around her legs — but she had to keep climbing. Strand’s army had Skyfeather’s Landing surrounded. The ground crawled with warriors, their weapons and tech gleaming. Rhinebras and huge, armored insects pulled carts burdened with weapons. Higher up, mechanical dragonfliers swooped and swarmed around the mountainside looking for Aviars trying to escape.
But they weren’t looking for a lone Aviar trying to find her way in. A few hundred Upgraders weren’t nearly enough to keep Calli from seeing her mother.
She tried to remember her mother going off on one of her angry tirades, or embarrassing Calli in front of the senators, or lecturing her yet again on responsibilities of leadership. Instead, Calli could only remember her mother’s face the last time she’d seen her . . . when Calli had asked to leave home and join Aluna and Hoku on their quest. Her mother’s eyes had been filled, maybe for the first time, with pride for her only daughter. Pride.
Calli blinked and headed into another cloud. When she was young, her teachers recited an ancient legend about a Human whose father built him wings of feathers and wax. The Human flew so high that the sun melted the wax and he fell to his death.
It was a silly story, because that’s not at all what would happen. Everybody knew it wasn’t the sun you had to worry about — it was the ice.
Like most Aviars, Calli played Icewing when she was young. They waited until none of the adults were watching, then everyone flew up, up, up as far and as fast as they could. The person who made it the highest won.
The real trick was knowing when to turn back. If you let too much ice form on your wings, they grew heavy and stopped working. Then you found yourself plummeting down toward the mountain, frantically shaking the frozen water from your wings and begging the wind to catch you and slow your descent.
But after that, you always knew how high you could go.
Calli had never won Icewing. She’d never even come in second or third. There were always stronger girls playing, or braver ones. Girls like Aluna. Calli had never seen the point in taking the risk when she had no chance of winning. She’d even told herself she was just being responsible. Smart. Maybe, deep down, she even thought she was smarter than all those girls who tried and failed.
Calli laughed through a shiver and rubbed her arms. But she’d been the stupid one after all. She’d been trapped inside the limits she’d set for herself. She’d built a cage and then dutifully stayed inside it. Unlike her friends, she had no idea how high she could go.
When she reached a good altitude, high enough to be safe from Strand’s army, she drifted, counting troops and beasts and whatever else she thought her mother and the other tacticians might find useful. Was that a catapult or a trebuchet? Why were certain groups clustered together, while others were spread out? If only she’d paid attention in her warfare classes instead of doodling equations in the margins of her books.
The Upgraders had the mountain surrounded; that much was clear. But where were the platoons of Aviars fighting back? Where were the countermeasures? The army swarmed in far larger numbers than Calli had anticipated, but her mother was not one to play a defensive game.
Calli felt the pit of worry in her stomach grow two sizes bigger. She circled again, identifying a few Upgraders who were clearly commanding forces and some structures that were either strategy tents or medical buildings. Either way, they’d probably make good targets.
Her stomach clenched again. She couldn’t help but think of Pocket and Squirrel from Odd’s kludge. Everything had been easier when she’d hated the Upgraders without reservation. Knowing that there were real people on the other side — some nice people, even — made the prospect of war almost too horrible to contemplate.
She soared, letting the wind lift her up and over the scooped-out basin of Skyfeather’s Landing. The Palace of Wings jutted up from the middle of the city, a lone, defiant spire, and Calli’s chest puffed proudly. Even under siege, her home was beautiful.
The Aviars, though . . . they were everywhere, scattered like feathers in the wind. Calli sensed no pattern to their movement, no plan behind their defense. They fought in small clusters and rushed toward the areas of most need. It looked like triage, not strategy. Where were the senators? They should have been commanding their forces, directing the flow of battle, not just reacting to it.
A thought pierced Calli’s mind: if her mother was alive, she would never allow this to be happening. Her mother — and maybe High Senator Electra — could be dead.
Calli began her descent, forcing herself to spiral slowly instead of diving, despite the painful racing of her heart. Her body needed time to adjust to the changes in oxygen levels in the air, and she needed to keep an eye out for enemy scouts. Five more minutes of drifting wouldn’t make any difference.
Yet . . . she couldn’t keep the logic in her head. It kept slipping away every time she thought of her mother’s face. Her mother could be dead, and here she was, being overly cautious again. Would Aluna take her time if Hoku were in danger?
Calli pulled her wings in close and let herself fall.
The sky streamed by, a smear of clouds and a howl of wind. Skyfeather’s Landing grew from a tiny, toy-size abstraction to a larger-than-life city filled with panic and feathers and hoarse battle cries. A few Aviars called out to her, “The nest grows warm at your return!” Calli gave the traditional response without even thinking: “And warm grows my heart!”
Home. She was home.
She opened her wings and gasped as they caught the air, her body suddenly torn about which way it wanted to go. Her descent slowed and she regained control of her direction. By the time she reached the base of the palace, her speed was perfect, her landing requiring only the slightest bend of her knees.
If her mother was still alive, this is where she’d be: in the war room at the bottom level of the palace. Previous presidents used the war room at the top of the spire, since the vantage was good for strategy and it put them in the center of Skyfeather’s Landing. But the Aviar’s previous leaders all had two wings, not one. Instead of accommodating tradition, her mother had simply bent it to her will.
There was only one guard outside the palace entrance, a girl not much older than Calli with dark skin and fierce wings painted green at the tips. The girl nodded. “Warm at your return, Vice President Calliope.”
The words startled her. Calli hadn’t been called that in months . . . or was it years? It felt like forever. As quickly as she could, Calli relaxed her face and nodded in return. “My thanks for your service, Senator.”
Those words, too, felt strange. Since when had being aro
und Aviars become something alien to her?
She entered the darkened hallway and paused as her eyes adjusted. Mosaics and frescoes covered the walls in bright colors. Most depicted the Aviars’ greatest battles, since artists seemed to be in love with sprays of blood and pointy spears, but there were a few honoring achievements in science. They’d always been Calli’s favorites.
She paused by the faded figure of Architect Stephanie, a young woman with a bright grin and brown hair that curled around her face. She’d been the first to harness waterfalls for their power. Not only had her discovery given the Aviars the means to free themselves from SkyTek, it had brought untold beauty to the city. The largest waterfall in Skyfeather’s Landing was named Steph’s Smile, after her. It was the sort of legacy that Calli had one day hoped to create for herself.
She walked quickly down the corridor and tried to wrap herself in resolve. When she’d convinced her mother to let her go off with Aluna and Hoku, she’d been worried that she might die far from home. It had never occurred to her that her mother would be the one who . . .
Calli ran, her wings bouncing uselessly against her back, and muttered prayers to the sky and the sun and the waves and anything else she could think of. She shifted through the palace’s halls, not even thinking about direction, just letting her feet carry her along the path she followed hundreds of times as a child.
She burst into the war room to find it stuffy and stale, packed with dank wings and women hunched over battle maps. “My mother,” Calli said. “Where is she?”
The Aviars looked up, startled, as if she’d woken them from a collective dream. She recognized some of the senators, but saw none of her mother’s closest advisers except Senator Niobe.
Niobe rushed forward as if she were going to hug Calli, but stopped herself. She stood a meter away, respectful, and adopted a formal tone. “Vice President Calliope, you’re safe! We’ve all been so worried.”
“My mother,” Calli repeated. “Is she alive?”
Niobe frowned. “Yes.”
Calli breathed deep, surprised to find tears suddenly pooling in her eyes.
“She lives, but . . .” Niobe’s composure broke and she reached out to touch Calli’s arm. “We don’t know for how long.”
Calli didn’t trust herself to speak. She couldn’t break down here, in front of her mother’s warriors. It would make them both look weak. She wiped the unspent tears from her eyes and straightened her shoulders.
“Where is High Senator Electra?” Calli asked. “I have to talk to her right away.” Her voice threatened to crumble, but held.
“Of course. She’s with your mother in her chambers,” Niobe said. Calli started to walk toward the back of the room, but Niobe gripped her arm and whispered, “Electra . . . she’s not herself. We’re trying to give her time, but we can’t give her any more. We’ve probably waited too long as it is. I’m doing what I can, but I don’t have a head for this.” Niobe released Calli’s arm and put her palm against her forehead. “So many dead, Calli. I was never meant to lead. I never wanted this.”
Calli pulled Niobe’s hand away from her face. “I know, Niobe. You’re doing what you have to do. It’s not your fault.”
If she said anything more, Niobe would crack. She could see that in the way the woman’s eyes grew large and wild, the way her pupils darted left and right, the way her hands shook. She knew exactly how Niobe felt.
Calli took a step back and lifted her chin. “Thank you, Senator,” she said briskly, and loud enough for the whole room to hear. “You may return to your duties.”
Her tone seemed to shock Niobe out of the panic she’d been succumbing to. The Aviar rustled her wings into place behind her back and stiffened her spine. She said, “Yes, Vice President,” her voice crisp, precise. Calli knew Niobe would be able to hold herself together a little longer.
While Niobe rejoined the other Aviars, Calli marched across the room toward her mother’s chambers. She paused only a moment outside the door before sucking in a huge breath and plunging inside.
HER MOTHER’S ROOM STANK of sweat and medicine. Calli put a hand over her nose and mouth but it did little to temper the stench. Heavy cloth had been hung over the tall windows, casting the large suite in darkness.
“Get out,” a shadow by the bed snarled.
Calli squinted. “Electra? Is that you?”
The shadow paused. “Calliope?”
She nodded, which was a stupid thing to do in the darkness, but she wasn’t exactly thinking properly and her eyes were already threatening to fill up with even more stupid tears. “Is my mom . . .”
Electra slumped. “Iolanthe — your mother — is alive, but not awake. She hasn’t opened her eyes for days, and she hasn’t spoken in almost two weeks.”
Calli walked slowly toward the bed, stepping over dis carded bandages and soiled clothes. The room felt thick with futility. Her mother seemed impossibly small in the huge bed, her body curled into one corner, her remaining wing hanging out of the covers and lying slumped on the floor. She could just make out her mother’s features pressed into her pillow: her small nose, thin lips, scarred cheek. Her mother’s hair, normally spiked and fierce, lay matted and defeated against her head.
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
“Infection,” Electra said. “The Upgraders sent someone to talk under a flag of truce. I wanted to send him back in pieces, but your mother . . . but Iolanthe wanted to hear what he had to say.”
“He attacked her?” Calli asked. She touched the scar across her own ribs where Weaver Sokhor’s men had stabbed her. “With poison?”
Electra slammed her fist into the wall and Calli jumped. Electra’s knuckles came away bloody, but the woman only dropped her hand as if nothing had happened. “No poison, just a dirty blade.”
“Where is he?” Calli said. “I want to talk to him. Maybe I can figure out where —”
“He’s dead,” Electra said. Her tone told Calli everything she needed to know about the man’s death: that it had been immediate, and that it had been at Electra’s hands.
Calli sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her mother’s hair. It was thick with sweat and grime. “Where are the healers — the medics? They should be in here cleaning the room.” And cleaning my mother.
“Useless,” Electra said. “I sent them away. I sent them all away.”
“Niobe needs help,” Calli said. “The battle — it isn’t going well.”
Electra leaned over the bed and tucked the blanket under Iolanthe’s chin. “She needs me. I’m not leaving her side.”
Calli sat back, shocked. She knew how Electra felt about her mother — the whole city did. But of all the people in Skyfeather’s Landing, she never expected Electra to be the one to fall apart. Not even for something as unspeakably horrible as this.
She felt heat rise to her cheeks, felt the first stirrings of anger course through her veins. Iolanthe was her mother. Calli was the one who should be sitting by her bed and wallowing in misery and self-pity. But now she couldn’t, not when Skyfeather’s Landing needed a leader and Electra refused to fly up and take her rightful place.
“Get up,” Calliope said, her teeth clenched. She’d never spoken to Electra like that, not ever. Her body trembled. “Get up now.”
Electra ignored her. “Go, child. Get something to eat and take a nap. I’m sure the others will want to hear of your exploits.”
Calli raised her chin and stood. “I told you to get up, High Senator, and that was an order.”
Oh, now she had Electra’s attention. The woman turned, red-hot rage flashing in her eyes. “What did you say?”
“You’re a disgrace,” Calli said. “Half the world is at war, fighting for its very freedom, and here you are, living in filth, forgetting your duty, letting your own people die. Niobe thinks all the deaths are her fault, but they’re not. They’re yours.”
Electra was up in heartbeat, her nose a centimeter away from Calli’s, her breath rank.
“Who are you to talk to me that way, little girl?” Electra said, her jaw clenched.
Calli wanted to cringe, to cower, to crawl under the bed and hide. Maybe even to whimper or cry. Her hands shook, so she gripped the hem of her shirt and silently begged them to stop. “I’m the vice president,” she said, trying to disguise her fear with anger. “I’m my mother’s heir.”
Electra’s lip curled up, ugly and threatening. “Well, then it’s your job to fix this place, not mine.”
“Skyfeather’s Landing is crumbling around you, and you won’t lift a feather to help?” Calli said. This could not be happening. Her mother couldn’t be lying there one breath away from death, and Electra could not be this grief-worn shell of the woman she once was.
“I know my duty,” Electra said. She pulled away from Calli and resumed her seat by the bed. “Now go do yours.”
And just like that, Electra was gone, spiraling back down into the pit of despair where she now lived.
Calli swallowed, uncertain of what to do. More yelling? Gentle pleading? A hug? All her options seemed to carry the same dismal chance of success. She longed to leave the room, to run away from Electra and her mother, and return to adventuring with Aluna and Hoku and Dash. She never felt alone when she was with them. She never felt so without hope.
She stood there, uncertain, feeling more and more awkward with each passing moment. If there was a right answer to her current problem, it eluded her. Her mother had to face moments like these all the time. So did Aluna. Right or wrong, they made a decision and acted. They led.
“I’m going,” she said finally. “I’ll do whatever I can to save our home from the Upgraders and keep our people from enslavement. If I come back to this room, then I expect to find those curtains down, the floor scrubbed, the linens changed, my mother wearing fresh clothes, and every ounce of dirt erased from this place.”