by Marjorie Liu
“This is another reason why I thought they should not come,” Tau said. “We must fly the rest of the way.”
“Fly,” Soria repeated.
“You can walk, if you like.” Tau smiled. “It will take longer.”
“I will carry her,” Karr rumbled, disliking the way his old friend looked at her. As though a mask was slipping from his eyes, revealing a hungry wolf.
Soria translated for Robert and Ku-Ku. Robert stared directly into the sun for one long moment, and then glanced away. “My little friend and I will wait here for you. I think, perhaps, that would be the best.”
“Indeed,” Tau replied, in the same language.
Robert smiled, but the expression was icy. “Tell me something, Professor Mulraney. Who taught you how to live forever?”
Tau gave him a sharp look, as though he was seeing the man truly for the first time. “You would not understand such things.”
Ku-Ku made a small sound, picking at her nails with the tip of her long knife. Robert’s smile grew. “I might not be a professor, but I am a curious man, and what you are and what you did are no secret. I don’t think how should be, either.”
Tau’s eyes narrowed, and he looked at Karr. “My wife,” he rumbled, in the language of the chimera. “You know she was a priestess. She was also aware of magic. She hid it well from everyone else, though she taught me some things before her death.”
Soria translated. Robert looked thoughtful, as if he did not entirely believe the chimera. He opened up the back of the wagon, and took out the blue cloth bag that Tau had brought. He tossed it at Tau’s feet and it made a clanking sound. Karr did not think it sounded like food.
“You brought the sword,” Soria said tightly. “Didn’t you?”
Tau began to strip off his clothes. Golden light seared his skin, feathers erupting in long, rippling waves. He bent to pick up the bag, and Karr saw his shoulders bulging with wing buds.
“I never go anywhere without it,” he rasped, his voice thickening, deep and sharp. “It is too precious.”
Too precious to leave behind—especially if you are never going back.
Karr slowly took off his shirt and pants, leaning close to Soria. In her ear he whispered, “Stay. Something is going to happen.”
“I know,” she breathed, brushing her lips over his ear. He pulled back, staring into her eyes. No fear. No doubt. Just trust and determination, wild stubbornness.
“My dangerous woman,” he murmured. “How I love you.”
He did not expect to say those words, but he felt no shame afterward, nothing but heat as her gaze turned liquid. A tentative smile touched her mouth and then shifted into something fierce. She grabbed his hand as golden scales rippled over his skin, and squeezed hard.
“Do not dare leave me here,” she said. “Promise me that I will face this with you.”
“I promise,” he agreed, closing his eyes as bones broke inside of him, expanding and growing, muscles churning. His haunches slipped into the form of a lion, and his neck stretched, mouth hooking into a short, draconic beak. Talons curled through his shifting hands but he was careful; Soria still held on to him, and her touch was an anchor. He could feel nothing else, not even the ground beneath his feet.
When Karr could see again, Tau had also finished transforming. His friend crouched on all fours, wearing the body of a wolf and the wings of an eagle. He clutched the satchel in his hands, which were still humanoid, though covered in thick silver fur. His eyes glowed, trailing light down lupine cheeks.
“Brother. It is good to see your face again,” Karr whispered. Heartache filled him—and anger at himself, for not forgiving and trusting Tau—but before he could say a word, the chimera leaped into the air, wings beating furiously.
Soria stepped back, shielding her eyes, and looked at Robert. “Are you going to surprise us?”
“Oh,” he said, as Ku-Ku tossed him something that resembled a black brick covered in tiny red squares. “I’m sure I’ll catch up somehow.”
Karr was not entirely comforted.
He picked Soria up, holding her tightly in his arms. His legs still ached, but not nearly as much. It had always been thus with his wounds: he was stronger in this other body; faster, tougher, harder to injure. Pain had always slipped away, as it did now.
His wings thrust down hard, and he leaped high into the path of a strong breeze. Slowly, painstakingly, he gained altitude, and then he followed Tau as quickly as he could.
The air was cold, and the winds gained strength. The world was vast beneath them, lush forests tumbling down rocky hillsides that were cut with frothing rivers. Light dazzled, and each breath was labored but sweet. Tau drew alongside him for a short time, and Karr could almost forget where they were and what had happened. It was good to be in the air again with his friend. Good to be himself with someone who remembered the old times.
He lost track of distance, only the changing shape and lushness of the land. Until Soria shouted, “I saw something glitter!”
Karr saw it as well: a reflective surface, shiny against the side of the mountain, there and gone in the blink of an eye. It was an odd place to see something like that: a sheer cliff face, just stone and nothing else. Except, as he drew closer he picked out small dark spots, like caves, and when he was closer still, some of the lines in the stones looked structured, as though cut by hand, shaped and molded into something that resembled a small, perfectly camouflaged city. Several narrow trails led up the cliff face, and Karr saw people on them. Men and women who wore loose robes buffeted by the wind.
Tau did not seem unnerved in the slightest to fly toward them. Karr followed his lead, noting uneasily how several of the humans pointed and started running.
They landed on a narrow ledge beside a rough-hewn staircase that wound against the rock face toward the open mouth of a cave. Karr heard a soft babble of voices above him, and smelled rich, smoky scents that he had not encountered since visiting the Nile kingdoms. Incense, thick and lush. Several men poked their heads out of the cave—just one of many caves, Karr realized. Their heads were shaved, skin dark and leathery, and they wore dark robes.
Soria sounded faintly stunned as she said, “They are monks. I have heard of remote monasteries, but this …”
Her voice trailed away. Karr understood why, also losing the ability to speak or think. Above him appeared a tall, pale woman, silver hair hanging loose down her back. She was very old, but her eyes were golden, and Karr knew her face.
“Althea,” he whispered.
She stared at him like he was a ghost or a demon, and staggered backward, clutching her chest. “No!”
“Althea,” he said again.
“You are dead,” she breathed, eyes large with disbelief. And then she looked past him and saw Tau, and her expression hardened with hate. “You. What have you done?”
“I do not yet know,” whispered Tau, staring at Karr. “I have not decided.”
Chapter Twenty
The woman named Althea leaned hard against the side of the cave entrance. She was striking, more than six feet tall and lean as a cat. She was clearly old, with pale, fine skin drawn tight over her bones, but she also had a grace that reminded Soria of a dancer. Despite her aged appearance, she would have put most supermodels to shame.
She was not happy to see Tau. In fact, Soria had the strong feeling that if Althea could have punched a hole through the chimera’s chest, she would have. Karr, however, was another matter. Soria could not quite judge Althea’s reaction to him, other than complete and utter shock. Which she supposed was natural after thousands of years thinking someone was dead. She could only assume this ancient beauty was a chimera from Karr’s past: if Tau, then why not more?
But why aren’t you dead? Soria wondered, a chill stirring over her skin. And did you participate in betraying Karr?
All around them, human monks leaned out of caves, or stood lightly upon uneven steps that had been carved and hacked from the mountainside, precarious
ly narrow, bordered by thick ropes used as handrails—not much protection against the stiff winds and dizzying drop that had to be well over a thousand feet. It reminded her of the cliff dwellings of the American Southwest, or of those in Afghanistan’s Bamyan valley, where the two giant Buddhas had stood before being dynamited by the Taliban. Those mountains were full of caves where people still lived, as were parts of China. And also, apparently, here.
“Althea,” Karr rasped again; and Soria felt a tremor race through him, held as she was against his chest. “What has happened?”
What have you done? Soria looked at Tau, and found him staring back at her, golden eyes glittering in his wolfish face. She did not like the way he held her gaze, as though she was a challenge, one that he already felt he’d bested. Dangerous, she thought. He’s dangerous.
Yet she did not disagree with Karr’s handling of the situation. Tau was dangerous, but in the same way a family member might be. Like her uncle. Someone you trusted who betrayed you.
Tau was like her uncle, except on a far more extreme scale. He had committed a terrible act, but had explained it away with a reason that Soria knew Karr would find compelling. In this case, revenge. Revenge followed by contrition. Which Soria totally did not buy.
“What happened is that you are alive,” murmured Althea, closing her glowing golden eyes. “Alive, after all these years. And, oh … if only you had stayed dead.”
Karr went very still. Soria tapped his broad, scaled chest with her palm, and he let her down slowly, carefully. When her feet were firmly on the ground, he shifted into a humanoid shape, his face becoming more leonine while scales and fur lingered over his powerful, naked body. Soria felt very small beside him; small yet fierce.
“You want to explain that?” Soria asked.
Althea blinked hard, staring down at her. “You speak our language. How is that possible? None but a handful of chimera understand our tongue.”
Soria tilted her head, jaw tight. “I asked you a question.”
Karr’s hand fell gently on her shoulder. “Althea. I was awakened from my tomb. I found the world quite changed. But I was not expecting to discover that any of you were still alive. Tau has offered some explanation, but he did not mention you.”
“And why would he?” Althea inhaled a shuddering breath, and ran long, elegant fingers through her silver hair. “We exiled him. For murdering you—and for other crimes.”
Soria turned to stare at Tau, even as Karr murmured, “Murder? But I asked him to—”
“Because you thought—” Althea interrupted, taking a step toward the edge of the cave. But she stopped, head tilted, listening. Soria tried to listen, as well.
Karr’s hand tightened on her shoulder. “Those … sky wagons,” he murmured. “I hear the blades.”
“No,” Althea breathed, covering her mouth. “No. Not now. Not again.”
“Who is here?” Karr limped up the stone steps toward her, golden light trailing across his shoulders. His voice shook with anger. “If you are alive, who else?”
“Dozens,” she whispered, staring at him as though he were both ghost and nightmare. “All of us who were your strongest warriors. After you died, we were changed. He changed us. And the things we did—”
She did not finish, and the expression on Karr’s face was horrible to look at. “Who is here now?”
“Just three of us,” Althea breathed. “And some children. Shape-shifters still mate across different breeds. This is one of several sanctuaries.”
Karr’s jaw tightened. Tau said, “I told you this would happen. I warned you he had come back to life. I felt it.”
His voice was closer than it should have been. Soria flinched, turning, and found Tau looming over her. He was almost human, though more animal than man. Standing upright, covered in fur; his face very much resembled a wolf.
Werewolf she thought, thinking that she finally understood the origin of the legend.
The duffel bag at Tau’s feet was open, and in his hands he held something both strange and familiar: a small brown doll with two gold beads sewn into its head, and a sliver of corroded metal that was larger than a needle but sharp on one end. Soria had seen that doll in a vision, red threads pouring from its gut. Dread filled her. She tried to grab, but he knocked her aside. Karr lunged, and Tau slammed the needle into the doll’s gut.
Karr folded over, grunting. Soria, sprawled on the ground with her ears ringing, saw blood pour down the front of his legs.
“Tau,” Althea said, voice choked. “Stop this.”
But Tau did not. His eyes were glowing. There was no madness in them, no delusion; just simple calculation. Three thousand years, Soria thought. He had been alive all that time, making a life for himself while knowing—believing—that Karr was buried alive. And he had thrived.
The heart that could do that was beyond cold. It was dead. It had been cut out, along with whatever soul Tau had possessed all those millennia ago. Soria suddenly felt as though she was looking at a burned out shell.
“Because of you we were losing the war,” Tau whispered, bending low to stare into Karr’s face. “Hiding, when it was our right to fight. Our right to take their children, as they had taken ours. Our right to destroy them, without mercy, as they were trying to do to us. And you … with your honor. With your rules. There are no rules in war, my friend. And after you were gone, we beat them. We won.”
“No,” Althea breathed, digging at her face with long nails that shimmered into claws. Blood welled. “We lost everything.”
“What,” Karr rasped, eyes glowing with fury and pain, “did you do?”
Tau’s wolfish jaw twisted into a grimace, and he dug the needle deeper into the doll’s guts. “You had no stomach.”
Soria gritted her teeth. It was difficult to imagine she was a match for this creature—this monster of myth who had betrayed his friend—especially when she had only one arm. Nonetheless, anger carried her forward. She lunged, taking with her a loose rock near her hand. She slammed that into Tau’s elbow with all her strength, and the doll tumbled from the chimera’s grip, needle still stuck inside.
Tau snarled, whirling on her, but Soria was too furious to back down. She had been this angry only once before, and a man had died. She had been afraid to ever feel that way again, but the rage was inside her, flowing through her blood, and it felt good and strong.
Karr was still bent over, blood gushing through his fingers, but he met her gaze and began hobbling toward the doll. Althea pushed away from the wall and leaped forward, landing light on her feet. She was also looking at the doll—but not, Soria sensed, to keep it from Karr.
Tau did not seem to notice. He was staring at Soria, and she spat at him, desperate to keep his attention. “Coward. Crippling a man you are too afraid to fight.”
Behind him, Althea reached the doll and pulled out the needle. Tau began to look over his shoulder, but Soria darted in, ready to smash her rock against his testicles. Instead, she found herself hit so hard that she flew off her feet—and right over the edge of the mountain ledge into cool, empty air.
For one moment Soria felt as though she were floating, the blue sky blazing above and surrounding her in soft light. She heard Karr howl her name. And then she plummeted toward the ground.
She had time to think, which was awful. There was time for her life to flash before her eyes—no joke, because she saw everything, including Karr—
Strong arms caught her. The impact was so jolting, Soria’s head snapped back and made a cracking noise. There was nothing broken, but Soria was so stunned that she could hardly muster the emotional energy for relief. She looked up, expecting to see Karr … and found herself staring into the angular face of another dragon entirely.
“I should drop you,” Long Nu rasped, her voice nearly lost beneath the roar of the wind.
“So drop me!” Soria shouted back, heart hammering. “You’ve come here to kill, haven’t you?”
The dragon-woman’s eyes glittered,
and she twisted sideways. Soria saw two helicopters behind her in the distance. “I have come to end this. Whatever it takes,” she agreed.
Karr watched Soria spin off the ledge and tried to follow her. He tried with all his power, blood still trickling from his closing wound—closing, he imagined, because the needle had been plucked from the doll—but Tau got in his way, slamming claws into his gut, grappling and holding him until Karr knew it was too late: he would never catch her. She was dead.
“You see how it feels now?” Tau hissed in his ear, hot spittle flying across his cheek. “I never loved Yoana, but I loved my child. How does it feel, Karr? Tell me.”
Karr screamed, throwing back his head in agony. Golden light blurred his vision, then darkness as well, churning and rolling inside of him like a storm. His heart cracked—with grief, and also with something pure and cold and primal.
Rage. Blinding, soul-killing rage.
He threw himself away. His mind was swallowed in golden light as his body transformed, thickening and breaking itself as his claws erupted and wings unfurled from his aching back. He felt his father in him, and his mother, and embraced every deadly aspect of his nature, lost in his desire to rip apart the thing in front of him.
Tau stumbled backward and then braced himself, snarling. His eyes also flashed, but the light was tinged with red: gold rimmed in crimson, bloodshot with hate and fury.
Karr threw himself at Tau and took them both over the ledge. He did not try to fly. The two chimeras spun wildly, snapping at each other’s throats, punching and raking with their claws. Karr closed his teeth over Tau’s ear and ripped it off, taking bone and brain. Tau screamed.
Karr broke away, twisting as the ground raced toward him. His wings beat furiously, but only enough to slow him down. His back feet hit rock, almost pitching him forward on his face in a devastating fall, but the strength of his wings was enough to save him. He tumbled, but not hard enough to crush bone.
He searched for Tau and found him nearby, sprawled on his back. Still breathing. Eyes open. Drool and blood flowed from his mouth, and his limbs were twisted at odd, broken angles. But there was defiance in his eyes. Satisfaction.