by A A Woods
The prince spilled to the side.
Iara stumbled.
They were close to the opening. Carlette could see immense shadows moving in the clouds, the Featherhands raptors calling to them.
“Grab his legs,” Iara commanded, wheezing.
Carlette obeyed, wrapping her arms around Dirlen’s knees as best she could. Together, she and Iara lifted his body and shimmied to the hole. Carlette’s head spun as she peered out. The waves were crashing and violent and so very far beneath them. Birds swooped like gods of lighting and thunder. She heard another caw, felt its power resonate in her bones.
Suddenly, Iara threw back her head and cawed in return, the sound a fierce campaign against the night. Carlette jerked in surprise.
“Ready?” Iara asked, her smile impossibly wide and wild.
“No!”
“On three.”
Before Carlette could try to argue against the insanity of their plan, Dirlen’s body was swinging.
“One.”
Another bullet pinged, this one closer to Carlette’s ear.
“Two.”
Someone was stretching through the tunnel. A uniformed torso grasped at broken rocks, face twisted in a snarl.
“Stop in the name of the king!”
“Three!”
Carlette released Dirlen’s legs. His body sailed through the opening, caught by the wind, spinning into the near darkness. Carlette watched the bastard prince disappear.
“You’re mad!”
“Thank you!”
And then the Pirate Queen linked her iron glove through Carlette’s elbow and pulled her bodily into the open air.
Carlette’s scream was swallowed by the shrieking wind. She was tumbling, hair whipping, heart pounding. Iara’s arm slipped out of hers and she heard the unsettling sound of feral laughter. The world tilted; the sky blurred. She couldn’t tell where the ocean ended and the horizon began. Red streaks of dawn light made everything look ripped and bloody.
Something snagged against her leg, not quite grabbing hold. She spun. Jerked. Thick bands of steel closed over her chest, stopping her tumble. But they weren’t steel. They were talons, as long as she was tall. Oily black hooks curled around her body, cradling her against the protruding toe-joints of the raptor. Carlette scrabbled helplessly with her useless hands, frantic for something solid to hold. Wings thumped. The air hummed. A victorious caw broke through the storm, echoed by three other birds.
Carlette gaped up at her rescuer. She couldn’t see the pirate, but the raptor itself was monstrous. Iridescent blue wings beat at the air as the great beast cut through the maelstrom, undaunted by the tempest.
Tuleaux vanished below them.
For a moment, Carlette couldn’t see. The air turned grey and dark and so thick that Carlette felt like she could reach out and grab it. Cold filled her, numbed her. Ice crystals scraped her throat.
Finally, the raptors broke through the clouds with a burst of blinding sunlight.
Carlette gasped.
It was beauty like she had never seen before, a sweeping ocean of white and gray. She soaked in red sunlight and midnight blue sky and the sensation of a great and open emptiness that you could explore your whole life and never fully understand.
All at once, Carlette understood Tuk’s love of flying.
The raptors sliced through the sky with powerful, confident strokes. Carlette strained to see where they were going. There. Dark shapes moved in the distance, growing larger. She blinked, frozen tears making her eyelids stick together.
When she realized what they were approaching, Carlette fought the urge to laugh.
The pirate blockade had taken flight. Six chariots cut through the air, sailing on the clouds, each pulled by two raptors. Long wooden arms reached out on either side with fabric stretched between them to keep the ships aloft. They were painted in elaborate blues and golds to match the birds, with the largest and most beautiful soaring right in the middle. It was huge, pulled by four raptors, teeming with activity, and flying the Featherhands emblem.
A skull over crossed blue feathers.
Both animal and human voices rose as the rescue party approached. Birds shrieked with pleasure. Men shouted orders. Carlette braced herself, wondering what kind of welcome awaited her on Iara’s flagship. The talons shifted and clicked around her, adjusting. Her raptor swooped closer to the crowded deck. Crew members grouped below her, but she couldn’t make out their expressions, just the noise of a bustling, celebrating people.
Abruptly, the raptor released her. She fell, shouting, only to land hard on the deck. The chariot dipped once and then leveled out. Carlette panted, bent over on hands and knees, trying to swallow air that felt strangely insufficient. Two other bodies thumped down next to her, making the whole ship wobble again.
“Hook up the birds,” Iara shouted without missing a beat. “Full flock, on the double!”
There was a scuffle of footsteps and a strangled sound of excitement. A hand grabbed Carlette’s arm. She made to yank herself away, but someone taller and less exhausted dragged her into a hug.
“It worked!” Tuk shouted as he squeezed Carlette’s bruised ribcage. “I can’t believe it worked!”
“The daisy doubted me,” came Byrna’s acerbic voice. “His first mistake.”
Carlette drew back, drinking in Tuk’s smile, his bright expression. He was backlit by the sunrise, dark skin glowing, hair oily and wet. She blinked against water, not knowing or caring if it was rain or tears.
“You saved me,” she whispered.
“Well really, they saved her,” Byrna said, jerking a thumb at Iara. “You were just in the way.”
Tuk rolled his eyes, still grinning. “Of course we saved you,” he said, loosening his grip. “I couldn’t leave you behind.”
Emotion rose in Carlette’s chest like a tidal wave. For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to ride it, feel it wash through her body and set fire to her blood. A girlish blush spread over her cheeks and she didn’t do a damn thing to hide it.
With hands still bound into tight fists, Carlette snaked her arms around Tuk’s neck.
He released a small, breathless “Oh!” before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. A flicker of surprise batted against her mind, brief, unsteady, before his arms tightened around her waist and his mouth opened to hers and suddenly, he was welding together her broken pieces with a glorious, earth-shattering heat.
It was the kind of magic she’d never known, had only dreamed of.
But made so much sense.
Carlette felt the sizzle around them, waves of it, pushing away the rain and wind and cold. It could have been a sunny summer day or the winter solstice and she wouldn’t have noticed either way. A terrifying, liberated voice sang in her chest and she didn’t bother to silence it.
All she could think was that it was a tragedy she hadn’t done this sooner.
When she pulled away, Carlette felt the minds and eyes of the ship on her. She didn’t care. She wasn’t afraid or ashamed anymore.
She never would be again.
Byrna leaned against the edge of the chariot, smirking and gripping Prince Dirlen’s arm as if he were a naughty child and not a semi-conscious royal. All around them pirates sniggered, but Carlette was immune to whatever they were thinking.
Instead, she stepped back and addressed their queen.
“You saved us. Thank you.”
Iara cocked her head as a crewmate picked the locks on her wrist. One manacle clinked off, thudding against the wood. The deckhand began to work on the other one.
“What you said back there,” Iara answered as if nothing had happened. “In the cells about a better future. Did you mean it?”
The other manacle fell off.
“Every word.”
Iara looked at her for a long moment, flexing fingers tattooed with iridescent feathers. Carlette noticed that the Pirate Queen’s eyes were hawk-yellow and twice as piercing. She felt like her heart
dangled out of her chest, vulnerable and open for all to see.
Let them.
Finally, Iara’s lips pulled into a sly grin. She nodded to the deckhand who’d freed her.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Get her loose.”
As the young pirate began—more than a little nervously—to work on Carlette, Iara stepped forward, her stride graceful and balanced despite the shifting of the chariot.
“It appears, my new friend,” Iara said as the heavy gloves fell away, “that we’re on the same side after all.”
Carlette flexed her own fingers, savoring the rush as her power came back in full force.
“It appears we are.”
The Pirate Queen offered her hand. “Welcome aboard the Last Shadow.”
Carlette accepted without hesitation.
Iara’s strong grip had the confidence of a ruler, the certainty of a free woman, and Carlette wondered how much she could learn from this creature of the sky. Hope bubbled inside her, infectious, raw, impossible to resist. Standing there above the clouds, surrounded by people she barely knew but deeply loved, the whole world felt like a promise.
Carlette grinned back.
Iara leaned in close, winking.
“But let’s try to keep the kissing to a minimum, eh? I’ve got a ship to run.”
Epilogue: Eylon’s Curse
Commander Invitas had always hated Ferren. It wasn’t the black magic or the Delasir settlers or even the deadly creatures that constantly ripped his squadrons apart.
It was the stink of death.
Persistent, inescapable, it seemed to settle over the whole island like a cloud. No matter how many times he sent his uniform away for cleaning, it reeked of smoke. Even in the pristine glass halls of Caika, overlooking the mountain tips and clouds, he could still smell the Moian city burning, feel death the way he’d been told the witches felt life.
No matter how unnatural and threatening the native magic was, it had never gotten any easier to murder children.
The commander sighed as he glared out at the view, absorbing none of its splendor. When he first arrived, he’d stared at that behemoth mountain range for hours, wondering how close he could get to it, how much of it he could fly over without being sucked into the sky. He smiled to himself. It was that kind of thinking that had drawn him to the air corps in the first place.
Boots thundered behind him.
He turned, brushing a stray lock of salted black hair off his face.
Two men strode in, their uniforms torn. One bled freely from a slice on his arm, another wore a bruise on his cheek like a rebel tattoo. Between them hung the sorriest creature Commander Invitas had ever seen: a fat, balding, middle-aged man who slumped like a dead fish. To the casual observer, he looked worse than useless.
But the Delasir anchor on his neck spoke differently.
Commander Invitas swept his sharp gaze over the bruised men. These were the unit leaders he had sent to investigate the possible attack on Tuleaux. A captured Bloody Paw had suggested—between screams—that the Gaulday celebrations might not go as planned. Judging by his men’s appearance, the commander thought that might have been an understatement.
“Report,” he snapped.
One of them stepped forward as the other supported the stranger, whose head lolled to one side, bleary eyes crossing.
Was he… drunk?
“Our suspicions were correct, sir. The Bloody Paws attacked Tuleaux. It seems they baited an entire Amonoux pack into the settlement. Their fences collapsed and half the city is destroyed, but a good number of civilians survived. Somehow, they managed to turn back the wolves and the Bloody Paws all at once, although the details remain unclear. There are rumors about a Furix, but it’s probably just terrified colonists imagining things.”
Commander Invitas nodded, his gaze flickering to the half-conscious man. Ideas bloomed in his head, one after another, but he kept his face schooled and impassive. Invitas had been entrusted with this station for more than just his impressive military heritage. His mind was made of strategy, of violence. Opportunities to honor the Emperor came as easily to him as breathing. So he saw the opening before them like a paved road. This was the perfect chance to press their advantage and take vengeance on their enemy.
“What of Jemelle?” the commander asked as his thoughts hummed.
“No immediate news, although the school stands empty at the moment. Some witnesses said that the headmistress was in the main square when the attack started. We have no idea if she survived or not.”
Commander Invitas jerked his chin at the stranger.
“And him?”
To his surprise, the man’s expression split into a wide, triumphant grin. It was the kind of smile that a soldier would never wear in front of his commanding officer.
Unless he couldn’t help himself.
“We found this one wandering through the woods, drunk as a Ziggurat lady on her birthday,” said the man, trying and failing to control his glee. “Calls himself Eylon. I think you should speak to him, sir. He’s an… interesting person.”
The commander’s eyes narrowed. He took a step forward, boots clicking on the tile. The drunk man raised his head and it took everything Invitas had not to express his surprise.
Rather than white, this man had bright red circles around his pupils.
“Who are you?” the commander asked in perfect Delarese, voice crisp and cutting.
“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna’ speak my language,” Eylon said, his head tipping back.
Invitas’s lip curled against the stink of body odor and stale whiskey. “You will answer the question, witch, or I will have my men extract the answer from you.”
“I’m jus’ a hood, sir,” said the man, his speech slurred almost beyond comprehension. “Don’ have anythin’ t’hide.”
“Your eyes. Why are they red?”
Eylon tilted his head in a clumsy, curious movement.
“I’d love t’help you, sir. Really. Don’ have much loyalty t’ the king, if ye know what I mean. But I need… reassurances.”
“Like what?”
The man shook himself free of the soldier supporting him. He swayed for a moment, spreading his fingers.
Why hadn’t they put gloves on him?
“I think we can help each other,” the stranger said, enunciating with obvious effort. “But not if you kill me.”
“Keep evading my questions and I’ll kill you anyway.”
Eylon smiled, as if the idea of death was little more than an irritation.
“Tell me,” Commander Invitas said, dropping each word with the weight of a gavel. “Why are your eyes red?”
“Because, sir,” Eylon answered with a leering smile. “I’m exactly what you’ve been lookin’ for.”
The commander was struck by the sudden impression of a rapidly approaching wind change that would alter their course. Perhaps their world.
He leaned in to ask, “And how would you know what I’m looking for?”
Eylon smiled, breath rancid.
“I… can cure magic.”
For a moment Commander Invitas could do nothing but silently absorb the implication of his words.
Cure magic?
Is that even possible?
His men smirked; his mind buzzed.
And then Eylon the Null fell to his knees and vomited all over the Commander’s polished leather boots.
To be continued…
Glossary of Terms
Adenai: one of the two tallest mountains in the Shadow Peaks and the Ebonal goddess of life.
Amonoux: the large, seven-eyed wolves who prowl the Shadow Peaks and sometimes come down from the mountains to feed. According to legend, the seventh and most magical eye sees the invisible power that binds the world together and is fueled by the souls of their victims. Considered sacred in Ebonal lore.
Aurok: native to the Wihach Plains, these are large, horned grazing mammals, most often used by the Raebus people as b
easts of burden or raised for milk and meat.
Ave Maisan: the street in Tuleaux known for its brothels and orphanages.
Ayurai: a wealthy seaside trading port in Nurkaij.
Beraselle: capital and main trade port in Delasir.
Bloody Paws, the: the main rebel group on Ferren, led by Yokan. Their goal is to purge the island of all foregin influence and destroy the Delasir invaders.
Bodywalking: the Ferrenese term for enhabiting a human being and controlling their body. Considered a great social taboo, this power is used only in the most desperate of situations.
Caika: the secret base of operations used by the Nuri Stormriders to strengthen their hold on the island.
Cairog: also called forest beetles, these are long, many-legged insects that are found in the Giant’s Wood and mining caves around it. Difficult to enhabit and feared for their terrifying visage, they are considered to be one of the worst monsters of Ferren.
Cerise Tower: a school of Jemelle also known as the Tower of Blood, this is the main dorm of red hoods, also known as Prederaux, who enhabit predators.
Ceillan Isles, the: homeland of the Ceillan people, consisting of a group of stony islands that float over the ocean. Believed to be held aloft by some power of the trees that grow there.
Ceillan People, the: Inhabitants of the Ceillan Isles, this Ferrenese tribe is known for riding raptors and guarding the oceans around Ferren. These people see themselves as the rightful guardians of the island and are currently led by the Pirate Queen, Iara.
Chantiere: main square in Tuleaux, most commonly used for festivals, announcements, markets, and executions.
Chevin Tower: a school of Jemelle also known as the Tower of the Steed, this is the main dorm of brown hoods who enhabit horses, farm animals, and beasts of burden.