Beneath Stained Glass Wings

by K Kazul Wolf

  I’m slammed against something, the sharp rap on the back of my head giving me some sense. Someone’s binding my wrists together.

  “Wh-what’s going on?” I blurt out, tendrils of panic prying through my thoughts. It’s brown and dead and worn around us. We’re not in the sky anymore.

  The hunter gives me an apologetic look—as if an apology would heal any of this—then drops my tied hands.

  The rope’s pulled by someone else, someone…above me?

  No, there’s no one above me. It’s just a pole, the rope being pulled through a hole at the top. My arms ache as I’m pulled off the ground, my breathing getting tough with my shoulder blades pressed together. I kick my feet, but I can barely touch the straw at my toes, my wings hanging uselessly by my sides.

  Wait.

  Straw?

  There’s a giant pile of it at my feet. And…we’re in the middle of the marketplace, back down in Mercatus. Or, what was the marketplace. It’s all smoke and ruins now. People crowd around, corralled by the hunters at all exits and the dragons crawling along the rooftops. Some of them are rebels; I catch sight of some Story Collectors. Others wear streaks of paint across their skin, bearing the markings and words of the Azelain.

  All of them are gathered here to watch me burn.

  To see how thoroughly I’ve failed them all.

  I try to see the whole market, swinging around until I glimpse another pole behind me.

  Vito.

  I stop moving, stop trying to think, start trying to find a way out of this. But my illusions are still gone, no moisture in the air around us. My hands are useless, and even if I were on the ground, my ankle throbs hard enough without standing on it.

  “Hey,” his voice murmurs behind me, low enough that the near-silent crowd can’t hear.

  “Hey,” I murmur back, wanting to see him.

  Silence creeps in for a moment before he admits, “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  I laugh. It’s so absurd, all of this. “I’m disappointed. How do you not know what to say at your own execution? I practice it every night before I sleep. It’s a girl’s dream, you know.”

  He snorts. “Oh? And what would you say then, Ava?”

  So many thoughts race through my head. So much I want to apologize for, so much I want to admit. But one thing rises above all that, floating cleanly through the chaos until it’s all I can see. Something that’s been there so long, too long unsaid. “I love you,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”

  “I love you, too.” His voice breaks, too, and I can’t hold back the tears. “You have to know that, after all this.”

  “I know,” I choke out. I wish I had the time to process the words, to let them grow in me, consume me, stain my skin and let their warmth consume me instead of the fire. But there’s no time. There’s no point. I had everything I could have wanted, and it’s all going to burn away. “I know.”

  The people part at the edge of the crowd, directly in front of me. A man in the crowd screams curses, but he’s shot through with an arrow before he can finish a second sentence.

  “What’s happening?” Vito asks.

  There’s no mistaking those peacock clothes. “It’s the king. It’s…time.”

  The king grins as he makes his way toward us. “What a wonderful opportunity this was! My dear hunters had a chance to properly break in their wings, and you damn urchins all get to have a nice taste of fear. It’s been too long since I’ve come down here to remind you all of your place.” He says it like he’s seeing loved ones after a long time apart.

  He and his guard stop in front of us, and I can finally see that it isn’t a grin that he wears, but a sneer that he directs at his citizens., his slaves, the ground dwellers. Anger flares in his eyes as he looks toward me, and a cold terror crawls under my skin.

  “Now…” He waves his hand. “We’ve had enough talking, haven’t we? I must say, I’m almost awed by your luck up to this point. However, it must end.”

  His hands fall. A hunter moves in from the side, a torch in his hand.

  “Goodbye.”

  The torch falls. The straw underneath is slightly damp from all the rain before, taking its time to smolder up to our poles. I want it to move faster. I want it to devour me already. There’s no way out and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the anger or the sadness or the loss. The fact that Vito’s hanging so close and so far out of sight kills me. We’ve found each other again only to be torn apart.

  We were doomed from the start, but I never realized it. I never gave up.

  And there’s a sliver of me that still hasn’t.

  The king turns back to the crowd. “Hello, worms. You are the lucky few. You survived. And you will keep on surviving. You will watch your hope burn, and then you will flee this place. You will tell every other town that there is no chance for them to be free of Caelum.”

  His eyes graze across the crowd. “I am your king. And if you do not bow to me, I will personally break each and every one of your backs.”

  Slowly, as the flame truly catches, the crowd starts to kneel. Only a few people at first, the brave people of the two rebellions try to hold their ground. Then he cuts the first man down, a scream tearing through the smoke that billows from underneath me.

  The rest fall.

  41

  The Sacrifices

  “V-Vito!” I cry as the flames lick my feet. The heat is overwhelming, choking, but something cold and sharp moves through me. I lied, I’m not ready. The flame is going to eat me alive and I don’t want it to.

  He answers my call, but I can barely hear past the fear and panic spiking against my skin. I try to use my good foot, climb up the pole. But I can’t find a grip.

  “Don’t be proud, you fool.” The king’s voice is sharp enough to reach me past the terror and smoke. “You’re throwing your life away.”

  A laugh rings out. It’s familiar. “My life is worthless, same as yours.”

  There’s the twang of a bow and arrow, the thunk of it hitting flesh. Then more laughing.

  A rushing echoes through the plaza. Through the haze and the heat, something shimmers.

  “You’re—” The king’s voice is cut off as a tide of water flows through the plaza, consuming the demolished stands and the crowd of prisoners.

  Something slices my bindings and I fall into the water, slamming against the pole. The current picks me up, dragging me through the market, down a side alley. The alley I used to take to get to the Story Collectors.

  The water drains away, people scattered everywhere in the market, but only three are down this path. One being Vito, who I crawl to, ignoring my dragging wing and twisted foot. He gets his footing, reaching toward me and I grasp back. Then I look at the other person with us.

  Carita.

  An arrow pierces her middle and she clutches the shaft, blood flowing from her lips, spreading and mingling with the water dripping from her face.

  I almost move forward, but Vito clutches me back, fear in his wide eyes.

  She looks at us. “Kill him. Make the bastard hurt. Take his arrogance and kill him with it.” She drags in a shaking breath. “You are the last hope we have.”

  Her head falls to the ground. Her eyes are still open, but there’s no light in them.

  Did she…?

  She did. She died to save us. The people who murdered Bricius. Who she wanted to kill more than anything else in the world.

  Or maybe, not anything.

  The king. The city that cast her out, destroyed her and turned her into this heartless thing. She hated it all enough to kill us. Enough to save us.

  Maybe it should disgust me, that only her hatred rescued us. But I’m so grateful. It hurts that she died for us, it stings that she’s gone.

  But we still have a common goal, one that hasn’t been achieved yet.

  A roar echoes from the courtyard, followed by others of the same tone. He brought more dragons with him this
time.

  “V-Vito? Can you help me get up?”

  Without a word, he lifts the both of us, swaying on his feet. He limps away from the market as the flapping of dragons’ wings echo above us.

  “No.” Guilt eats at me. Leading him into danger… “We have to go back.” We can’t make it if we run. “Take his arrogance and kill him with it.” I plan to. None of this will be in vain—no one else will die because of this monster.

  He looks at me, an argument at his lips, but still turns. We hobble back into the courtyard on three legs, people scrambling up from the ruins of stalls, running from this place before the hunters can recover enough to catch them.

  And in the midst of it all stands the golden dragon, who couldn’t be bothered to do the grunt work and come after us. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to focus on Vito and me, wide and furious.

  Vito and I both stop, staring at him.

  “I really hope you have a plan,” Vito mutters, clutching onto me tightly.

  “Yeah.” I hope I do, too.

  The king roars again, screeching as the anger rolls off him in waves. It makes me grin. No matter how many times he corners us, we always escape from his grip. Confidence pulses through me, burning at the words on my arm.

  Carita was onto something, though I’ll never know if she knew exactly what.

  The king may not have marks on his arms, but his words are clear as day.

  An illusion reaches out toward us and I can feel it rippling through the air, its words crisp and cutting. Arrogance, as Carita said. Anger courses through the illusion as I grasp it, and I gasp with the effort. But I understand his jealousy and I conquer it. I know it. It’s mine.

  He fights against me. He crushes against me, my illusion—he knows my words better than I know his. He…has too much against me.

  My one good leg goes out from underneath me and I fall, Vito not fast enough to catch me. The king falters, too, but despite his weak words and flimsy soul, I’m tired. So tired.

  No. I can’t be this close. I won’t let him win, no matter the cost.

  I reach past his illusion, deep into the pulse of his blood. I stop it.

  He thrashes harder, but I cling to his dirty words. My vision blurs and my fingers lose feeling against too wet cobblestones. He weakens. The world shakes as he hits the ground, but my arms are too wobbly to withstand the contact. I collapse.

  A roar quakes the air. My grip wavers but I still try to look up. Blackness thrashes over the gold. His illusion breaks, shattering so that I have nothing left to hold.

  Vito’s arms snake around my middle, lifting me from the ground as I stare at the tangle of teeth and scales and feathers, and as I watch, crimson blossoms from the two.

  “Maur?” I barely whisper. He made it out of the battle. Somehow, by some miracle, he’s okay.

  The creaking of metal wings sounds close—too close. Vito hefts me so that I’m up straight, but I can feel he’s tired. That we can’t outrun them.

  I clutch Vito tighter, my marks on fire as I try to draw on them.

  With a thud, one wearing my father’s wings lands right in front of us, wings spread wide, casting their face in shadow. Vito tries to back us away, but they leap forward and…wrap their arms around me.

  “Oh, you’re still alive,” my mother sobs into my ear. “I thought I’d be too late. I thought…” She pulls away, wiping tears from her face, inspecting me as I stare dumbfounded at her. “We need to get you out of here.”

  There’s a roar from behind my mom. She turns in time for me to see Maur ram into the king, sending him flying back and into a clay building. The wall crumbles and the building consumes him, like it was only a sandcastle to begin with.

  “Maur!” my mom calls, letting go of me to run closer to him.

  Maur glances at the king, but closes the gap to us, scales rolling back to show the man whose skin is nearly black with markings.

  Vito and I hobble after them, and all I can do is keep from toppling the two of us over.

  Bits of clay fall off the building as my mom hisses something at the tattooed dragon.

  Maur lets out a scream, shocking me upright. “It— I just— I can’t kill him.”

  His face isn’t its usual blank slate. His eyes are wide, in pain, mouth screwed, head turned a little away as if he’s shamed.

  “Fine. I won’t let that girl die for nothing. If you can’t kill him, I will.” My mom draws her blade, the sound ringing across the empty space. Like that was a cue, the crumblings and rustlings of the king stirring fill the air. “I’ll keep him grounded as long as I can. But we’re the only ones left. By the time he gets through me...” She flicks the tip of the scimitar to Maur’s face. “You had better be ready to deal with him.”

  Thunder rumbles in the dark sky overhead and claws scrape in the debris of the collapsed building.

  “Go! Get them out of here.” My mom looks toward me, giving a half-hearted smile. “I’m glad I got to see you again. I love you. And remember, no regrets.” Her voice is so soft, I can’t be sure those are her actual words. But before I can ask, she turns and runs away from us, back to the wreck.

  “M-Mom?” It barely comes out as a whisper. I reach out toward where she disappeared, but I can’t take a step forward. “Mom!”

  She doesn’t look back.

  I pull forward. Vito clutches me tighter, trying to hold me back. I turn to argue with him—

  But Maur changes, clutches Vito and me in separate claws, and jumps from the ground to catch the wind in those giant wings of his. My too-long hair falls into my eyes so that I can’t so much as see her. My fingers reach and stretch, but nothing grasps back toward them.

  My mom stays to face the king while we run.

  I’m not going to see her again, am I?

  42

  The Search

  We travel through the air and away from them, at a speed that seems too slow and too fast all at the same time. Maybe I’m crying, but by the time I lift my hands to my cheeks, they’re dry.

  This can’t be real. Pain pulses and claws through me with my heartbeat and exhaustion, eats at my thoughts, giving everything a dreamlike blur in this nightmare. None of this can be my life. I’m an illusionist, always kept in my dreams by the shelter of the clouds. My one responsibility in life was to take care of my dragon, live by his whim.

  Now I don’t know to whose whim my life belongs, if it belongs to anyone at all.

  We rush over the floating city, Maur evening out to take us across it, toward the heart of the sprawling buildings and streets. It feels like it went too fast, and I have to wonder if I was conscious for the whole flight.

  Caelum blurs underneath me. My wings flap uselessly in the wind, a feather or two floating to the ground below. It’s all too quiet. Everything’s perfect and pristine here, all metal and gold wrapped in a cover of fluffy clouds, like the earth was graced with paradise. Funny, how the place that looks the most peaceful in this country is the least like it.

  A howling snarl from the right. Something slams into Maur, sending the black dragon tumbling toward the ground. Adrenaline spikes through my dead limbs, his claws nearly crushing me as he regains his balance—

  Just in time to crash into a rooftop.

  Maur skids across the roof, his hind claws not enough to hook on the cloud-misted metal, the lot of us falling over the other side and into the large courtyard of the palace.

  He hits hard against the cobblestone, the wrist holding me jarring to the ground. I fly out of his grip, halfway across the grassy expanse. My fingers try to grip the dirt as I tumble, but all it does is bend and break my nails, rocks and roots eating at my skin while my wing and ankle scream with a pain that there’s no stopping.

  Finally, I fall still. I shift on my sore muscles, careful of the broken bits. Maur’s not too far off. I don’t see Vito.

  Scrapings continue on the metal roof behind us. From a swirling mist, two dragons crawl across the metal, bestial heads low. They’re
both shades of emerald, ivory teeth glimmering as they snarl at us.

  My heart pounds in my chest, my hands shaking so hard I can’t grip my sabre.

  Maur shifts, rising to his feet. The dragons on the roof hesitate, and I don’t blame them. He’s a huge dragon, power in every movement. But he turns his head toward me, jerking it toward the palace. Run.

  “But-but my ankle,” I whisper, wanting to curl my leg closer, but knowing it would hurt.

  A hand wraps around my shoulder, pulling me up. I nearly tip over to look up. Vito.

  We balance on each other and stumble forward, away from the sounds of the dragons screaming at each other, clashing. I keep looking back. It’s such a long distance to the palace. Maur’s holding his own, stopping the two dragons at every swipe and bite. I stumble, glancing back to see Maur’s teeth sinking between the softer scales of one drake’s neck, blood splattering across that onyx jaw, dripping down the dragon’s own mossy scales.

  The remaining dragon howls as I get up, keep hobbling forward. He can take him. Maybe we have a chance.

  More wing beats sound from behind us.

  Five dragons glide from the clouds above, circling Maur and the other dragon like vultures.

  We finally reach a door, Vito taking a hand from me to yank it open.

  One more time, I look back. Maur’s tackled the other dragon, gutting it alive with his back legs. The beasts in the air dive toward Maur, all at the same time. He sees but he doesn’t flinch away. He raises his head and roars so loud that I swear the glass of the palace’s windows shake.

  They crash into him.

  Vito pulls me through the door, slamming it behind us.

  For a second, we lean against the heavy, wooden door. My ears strain for a sound from the fight outside, any indication as to who’s winning.

  Not that I don’t know. Thinking that Maur can take on five full-fledged dragons is beyond naively hopeful. But, maybe, with his illusions…

  “We have to keep moving,” Vito says softly, between heavy breaths. He doesn’t make an effort to go, though.