Wings of Hope

by Pippa Dacosta

  “I warned you.” Spittle flew from his lips and sizzled on my scorched wing.

  Begging wouldn’t stop him. He liked to hear my cries. My only hope was to lay still and accept the assault all over again. No, my internal human voice screamed. Do not let this happen. Fire spluttered across my skin and pooled outward, but Da’mean was too far lost to the thrill of the hunt to care. My element lashed and spat, a slippery and wild thing. Ahkeel’s instructions abandoned me. In the chamber, making the fire dance for me had been easy. Here, facing Da’mean’s wrath, fear robbed me of control. When his claws sunk into my wing membrane, all thoughts of defiance scattered, and terror tore all reason from my mind.

  “No, please…”

  The blow from the sword when it came assaulted my senses and threatened to shove me into the yawning gape of unconsciousness. My body blazed. My jaw locked, then a shattering scream tore free. Maddened by the basic instinct to flee, I bucked and twisted, clawed at the earth, and tried to drag myself out from under him, but it was futile. Hot blood washed across my back—so much blood. The air was saturated with the metallic smell of it.

  He tossed something misshapen into the bushes. I saw parts of the thing protruding from the undergrowth. It didn’t make any sense. What had he done?

  My owner released the pressure on my back. I tensed to run when Da’mean stepped in front of me. The huge curved sword captured my panic stricken thoughts and silenced them. Blood—my blood—coated the blade and dribbled from its tip.

  “You. Are. Mine. Muse.”

  My vision flooded with darkness. My thoughts swirled. Some horrible inescapable truth tried to make its presence known. My body throbbed with blessed numbness. Heat washed over me, and in the next few breaths I knew I would lose my battle with unconsciousness, but not before the nagging truth revealed itself. I turned my head and rested my cheek against the mulch. There, half tumbled from the underbrush, I saw the thing he’d thrown away: a horrible, disfigured jumble of bone and flesh. I knew before I lifted my head to peer over my shoulder—I’d known the moment he’d brought the blade down, but I didn’t want to believe... I didn’t want to see... My wing was gone. A bloody stump protruded from my back, and I wondered, oddly detached, how I could ever have believed I was strong enough to kill him. The Prince of Greed had given me the gift of hope, but the gift was poison to a foolish mind like mine. As the sweet relief of unconsciousness gathered me up in her arms, I grieved the loss of my wing, and with it, my dream of freedom.

  * * *

  I lingered on the outer fringes of the feasting hall, cloaked in shadows, breathing in the humid, smoke-heavy air. Elementals devoured their meals, tussled for scraps, snorted, and snarled. Da’mean sat close enough to keep an eye on me as he regaled his kin with stories of the prince who had tossed me aside

  My wing was gone.

  I had never flown. No beast had taught me how. Short of falling off a cliff, I would never have experienced flight. Besides, it’s tough learning how to fly when you’ve been caged all your life. I’d tried and landed on my face for my efforts. Now though, I would never fly. What little potential I’d had, had been torn from me. Worse, wings were signs of status. Broad wings, proud wings, were displays of power and prestige. As a half-blood, I was already the lowest of the low, further down the order of things than the lesser elementals we ate at gatherings like this one. But now, a half-blood with a missing wing... It was the worst kind of punishment, only matched should both wings be sheared off.

  I wept dry tears for my wing, furious with myself. Why hadn’t I fought him? Why didn’t I call my fire as Ahkeel had taught me? He’d made it appear so effortless. Just gather all the emotion into a little ball, tighter and tighter, until the pressure explodes and the fire lives. But fear had had its icy grip on me. And then, once Da’mean cut through my wing, shock took over.

  Ahkeel was right. I couldn’t kill my owner. I wanted to. No elemental would doubt my conviction, but defiance alone wasn’t going to save me. Defiance will get you killed. Why had Ahkeel demanded my presence for three nights? Why did he bother showing me how to control my element and then let me go? What had it all been for? Was he truly so tired of his long life that playing with me simply amused him? I fancied the hate broiling in my gut was for him, but in truth, it was for me. I’d failed myself.

  I filled my lungs with the rancid air, curling my lip at the stench of so many elementals. It occurred to me, as I trawled my gaze over the crowd, that I’d never really belonged among them. I stood on the fringes even now, outside looking in. I shared their thrill of the hunt, their savage desires, but it all fell flat. It always had. I’d killed the elementals in the pit with tooth and claw, and briefly, I’d felt alive, but it wasn’t enough. There was more to this life. More to me. I was a shadow, living half a life. My other half, that fleshy, vulnerable thing, had desires too, and wants, and feelings, and dreams… Dreams of freedom.

  I lifted my hand, palm up, and curled my fingers gently. I reached inside, seeking that great well of emotion Ahkeel had spoken of. He’d talked of humans and their emotional grievances. He wouldn’t know emotion, not true emotion, like I did. I was half a human. Emotion stalked me.

  Tell me what Da’mean does to you. Tell me what you felt…

  Fire.

  A tiny flicker of flame danced in the center of my palm, sparking to life seemingly out of thin air. My element wrapped me in a comforting embrace, like Ahkeel’s touch the first time I’d summoned my human for him. The infant flame shivered but held. From that sliver of light and heat, an inferno could blaze. One tiny spark could devour this feasting hall and every beast inside these walls. I raked my gaze over them again, seeing them with fresh vision. The water elementals would need to die first. They could douse my fire. The others though, they would not pose a threat. This insignificant flame had the potential to destroy them all. My breaths shortened and quickened. The fire in the roasting pit spat and snarled. They didn’t notice. The torches on the walls flared brighter. The roof was dried grass, the walls timber, the elementals unprepared, and the fire was hungry.

  Da’mean’s slate-gray suspicious eyes brought my thoughts to an abrupt halt. I closed my hand around the flame and snuffed it out as our gazes fixed. He’d mutilated me. Cut me down. Used me. Beaten me to within a hairs-breadth of my life and dragged me back from oblivion to do it all over again. His cold gaze told me all of that. It told me to bow my head, to look away, to hunch and beg forgiveness, but defiance was in me now, sizzling through my veins. He took my wing. I tensed, breaths coming hard and fast. The elementals still milled about, oblivious to the battle of wills taking place between an air elemental and his half-blood pet.

  Trembling, I slid my eyes closed and bowed my head. Not for him. Never again for him. I did it for me. I could not fight him that night. I was not yet ready. But defiance burned brightly in me now, and hope fed the flames. If I died trying to kill him, it would be worth it. If I never saw Ahkeel’s fantastical world of humans or his odd honeyed-skin body that did peculiar things to my human half, I would at least know that I had once held my head high and my wings back and stood proud.

  * * *

  Trading day. I trudged around the wares behind Da’mean, my single wing limp and useless. My stump had healed. I had hoped by some miracle my wing might grow back. But while the fire in my veins usually healed even the most devastating of wounds, I couldn’t get back that which I’d lost.

  During the last moon-cycle, every moment Da’mean had left my side, I’d called the fire, just a little—just a sprites worth—and made it dance for me. Sometimes, when I knew he wouldn’t be back until dark, I’d danced in the flames. Just the two of us. I’d never really known my element. It eluded me, only rushing to my aid in the direst of circumstances, and then only manifesting as chaotic flames with no real direction. But the more I summoned it, the more I understood how it hungered and breathed and hoped, just like me. Fire is ever the optimist.

  Da’mean growled ahead of me
, coming to an abrupt halt beside a bank of carved items, bowls, plates…

  “Da’mean. The Prince of Greed extends an invitation for you and your half-blood to attend a gathering.” I knew that voice. Leaning out around the bulk of my owner, I saw the tree-like form of Samien blocking Da’mean’s path, a brave move, considering Da’mean could crush him inside the crook of his arm.

  Da’mean snorted and turned his back on Samien, spreading his wings as he did so, as if to drive home the fact Samien was wingless and therefore lesser. I tried to get a look at Samien’s expression, but Da’mean gripped my shoulders and shoved me ahead of him.

  “Do you deny the Prince of Greed?” Samien’s voice sliced through the crowd’s chatter with icy clarity. Several elementals stilled around us and then angled their gazes our way.

  Da’mean could not refuse Mammon’s invitation. It would be a challenge, one which I had no doubt Mammon would answer personally. I dared not look at my owner. He’d be raging inside, furious that he had to obey, and before a crowd too.

  I heard Da’mean’s wings ruffle as he turned back again and discreetly turned on my heel. Samien stood tall, measured enquiry on his haughty face.

  “I do not answer to you,” Da’mean growled, curling his hands into fists.

  “You answer to me.” Mammon’s thunderous voice silenced the crowd. He stood behind me. Now that he’d spoken, his undeniable heat washed against my back like waves lapping against a baked beach. My own element bloomed in response, recognizing the great reservoir of power he commanded. I turned, forgetting Da’mean, and found Mammon radiating predatory authority a few strides from me. Instinct demanded I drop to my knees. The crowd expected it. I was half-blood. But Mammon had told me never to bow before him, that I was to always stand tall. His gaze hovered beyond me, most certainly settling on Da’mean. His element appeared to bubble across his midnight skin. I realized his huge muscles quivered just the smallest amount. He’d curled his hands into fists. His lava veins pulsed. Was it fury curdling the flames in his gaze? Fury directed at me?

  Da’mean growled behind me, and Mammon’s response was immediate. “Kneel!” he boomed. I dropped, as did every beast surrounding us. If my owner had any shred of self-preservation, he’d do the same.

  “Do you deny me?” Mammon’s words had power. They pushed down on me, adding weight to his already suffocating heat. “Bring them.”

  Metal armbands locked around my upper arms, and a burlap bag fell over my head. Yanked to my feet and shoved forward, I staggered and stumbled, one foot in front of the other, closer and closer to Mammon’s presence. Behind me, Da’mean’s spluttered snarls and curses peppered the crowd’s murmurs. I expected Mammon to say something as I passed the throbbing beacon of power that signaled where he stood, but he was quiet. His element did reach out to mine, tentatively, delicately, with reverence? Confused, I stumbled on, allowing my captors to guide me. There was no escaping Mammon. That much was clear. But what did he intend to do with us?

  * * *

  C hains hooked into the metal braces clasped around my upper arms, and those were fixed to sheer stone walls. I slumped on the cold floor, grateful for my internal heat. The simmer of my element across my skin beat back an otherwise complete darkness.

  I’d listened hard to begin with, hoping to hear some signs of company, but silence soon robbed me of the passage of time. I wondered if Mammon would kill Da’mean. My owner hadn’t obeyed his prince. He would surely pay for that, or I would. Was that why I’d been tossed into the dark? Da’mean could be persuasive. Would Mammon listen to his words? My tumultuous thoughts came back to the same question over and over. Why? Why was I here? Why had Mammon picked me to begin with? Why teach me how to control my element?

  A perverse smile tightened across my lips, a human smile on my elemental face, one that meant the complete opposite of what it appeared to be. This new smile was bitter. Whatever Mammon’s reasons, he wasn’t my savior. His honeyed words and curiously human ways meant nothing. They were tricks, devices to distract me. What did I really understand of Mammon? I knew what he’d admitted to. He was the same as his princely kin. Ruthless. Cunning. I was here because he wanted me dumped in the dark. I snarled at the human in me, as she tried desperately to cling to the silken threads of hope. Foolish creature. Hope was but a dream. Mammon, like every elemental I’d ever known, wanted to use me. And the Prince of Greed gets his wants.

  “There was a time when the princes ruled this land…”

  I started. Mammon was here somewhere. A veil of darkness blinded me. I could see no further than my hand in front of my face. But I felt the uninhibited crawl of warmth coil around my ankle and weave its way higher.

  “When we did not squabble over scraps, as we do now.” He spoke as Ahkeel, his voice a soothing balm tempering the heat of my body. “We were free to do as we pleased. We answered only to one other beast, and she was…truly magnificent. We struck her down, scattered her elements in such a way to prevent the return of her immortal soul. Her power became ours. Thus began to reign of the Seven Princes. The light has faded from the world ever since. We sealed our fates, or she did. The curse of our Queen. We are destined to destroy ourselves. Elementals, such as ourselves, are weak, Muse. You believe your human half shames you, but what you fail to see is how your humanity is ripe with potential, the likes of which I and my brethren will never achieve.”

  I closed my eyes as his disembodied words spun their tantalizing web, and I wondered if he would kill me now. If this was how it ended, what a waste that would be. I had more to give. I didn’t understand what, or how, or why I thought I deserved more, but this didn’t seem fair or right. Fair? Right? These were things my elemental mind shouldn’t care about. I was a being of instinct, driven by the desire to live, by fierce needs and greedy intentions. But if that were true, why did I sit there, listening to him, really listening, hanging on every word as though, at any moment, my fragile mortal life might come to an abrupt end, and I would never see the wonderful world of humans where my other half might have a chance at walking with her head held high? Hope. I wanted to be free. I thought I deserved more. I knew this wasn’t all there was. These thoughts weren’t elemental, they were human, and they’d been there all along. My dreams, my defiance, my rage: they were all human vices.

  “We are echoes of them or they of us. As ageless as I am, I do not know which.” Ahkeel continued somewhere in the dark, “We resemble their physical forms, and we utilize speech. We exhibit the same hungers. Greed, for instance, is prevalent in their world. Even our landscape mimics theirs in places. Twin worlds, separated by a veil a hairs-breadth thick. We are not so different, and yet we are worlds apart.”

  Was my human closer than I’d thought, chipping away at my control, weaving emotions through my instincts… Is that why I’d always longed for a freedom I had no right to covet? “Will you kill me now?”

  He hesitated a heartbeat, “Like every single human being born to their world, you have infinite potential. You are tethered only by your own mind. Your freedom is in your hands, Muse.”

  I opened my eyes and glared into the dark, toward where I sensed his power. “Why am I here, Ahkeel?” I underlined my words with a snarl. “I cannot ‘stand tall’ while chained.” I gave my chains a rattle. “This does not feel like freedom.”

  He loomed out of the dark, his body suddenly aglow, bathed in undulating firelight. The smile playing on his lips was not a friendly one. I’d seen lesser demons smile like that right before they lunged for the kill. Even as human, he commanded a terrifying presence. His element hugged his impossibly sculpted body like a second skin, and those eyes, they burned with hunger. He stood before me, every inch an immortal chaos demon wrapped in sinewy human flesh. “You are not as you first appear, little half-blood deceiver. You will fight Da’mean in the pit, and you will prevail or die trying.”

  * * *

  The crowd bayed for blood. The noise of them, like a swarm of hunters, boiled the air beneath Ma
mmon’s fortress. Their many scents hung like a miasmic cloud above the pit. I swept my gaze over their anonymous faces. Fangs glinted, eyes blazed, claws grated. They hurled crude insults. Some admired me like they would their next meal. Others drooled, inspired by their lust for violence. I had no doubt I would die in the pit. If the impossible happened and I somehow defeated my owner, then the crowd would tear into me. Half-bloods did not win. I would not walk away from this. Not this time.

  Despite holding my wing high and my chin up, I had never felt so small. It was one thing to fight a hunter in front of a small crowd, but it was quite another to battle my owner before the entire settlement. Only those at the front would see how my fiery veins rippled in time to my racing heartbeat, how my fingers clenched and my body trembled. I couldn’t allow fear to consume me. Fear was only good as fuel should I try to run. But running wasn’t an option. I had to find something else to shore me up and drive me forward. Dare I believe in hope?

  The crowd peeled apart, revealing Da’mean. He had never looked so devastating as he did in that moment. Towering over most, wings spread, curled inward at their tips, as though primed to encircle me, he prowled toward me, slate-gray body quivering with rage. I stole a breath, then another. He controlled air. He could wrench it from my lungs and suffocate me without lifting a finger. Easily twice my size, three times as heavy, ten times as powerful, he could shatter my bones with one blow. I didn’t stand a chance. Better to go out in a sudden rush than to die horribly at a time and method of his choosing. I launched off my back foot and made a rage-fuelled lunge toward him. He struck, hard and fast, giving no quarter, and backhanded me, sending me sprawling face-first into the dust. The crowd thundered. Blood flooded my mouth. I spat it into the dirt, only for more to swell around my tongue. Elements swirled around me, their touch taunting, teasing. Fire tugged while the foreign touches of ice and water sought to distract me. I’d faced many beatings—in the past I’d hoped for death to claim me—but this was different. I didn’t want to die. But here, I would, and this time Da’mean would not be reviving me.