CHAPTER 13

Blind To All Else

His boot kicked me in my cracked ribs. Sharp, hard and with utmost cruelty.

“Get up, cuz,” Cian chirped brightly. “Your day of destiny hath dawned.”

Cursing him into the furthest reaches of hell, I staggered, ungainly, to my feet. My outraged rib-cage screamed in protest, white fire coursing through every vein. During my time unconscious, my broken nose quieted a fraction, though dried blood cracked against my lips as I grimaced in effort. Short on breath and long on agonizing pain, I fought to stand upright and toe to toe with him. My hands bound behind my back hampered me greatly, but I won my footing and stared my cousin and brother Atan in the eye. Working saliva into my dry mouth, I spat at his boots.

He grinned, the half-healed slash on his left cheek puckering. “An officer and a gentleman,” he commented. “Ever so proper. Once you’re ashes, I’ll post your name on a park bench somewhere.”

“You’re too kind.”

“I know.”

Cian smirked, his right hand tangled in my chain leash. Pulling me forward, toward him, he inclined his face into mine. The half-thought that he intended to kiss me crossed my fractured brain waves, although I knew he liked girls rather than boys. Instead, he offered me a deep glance at his tonsils and a full wash of his noxious breath. “Only the good die young, Van.”

“That explains why you’re still here.”

He chuckled, poisoning my air intake on his exhale. “I protest that remark, dearest cousin. I’ve been wronged, by you, and merely seek my honest revenge. I stand in the light of right while you, um, don’t.”

“I did you no wrong, Cian.”

“No? How about you murdered my lady.”

“What lady?”

Cian scowled, his scar dancing. “You know, dammit. You knew Zeani and I were in love and intended to marry. You robbed me of that.”

His face inclined toward me again, his nasty smile rising anew. “And you’ll be paying the price.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you truly that thick, cuz? I never thought so, but, you know, you excelled at deception in school.”

I knew my words jolted him, for he jerked away in a rapid there-and-gone twitch of his facial muscles before his sneering expression returned. How did I know? his eyes asked. My own malicious grin rose to match his and I caught his eye. And held it.

“Zeani didn’t love you,” I commented, my upper lip curling. “She slept with every officer above the rank of sergeant. She wasn’t too ambitious, our Corporal Zeani, but she did like her boys with connections.”

His eyes flattened. “You lie.”

I chuckled. “Do I? Should he survive this debacle, yon Broc will inherit a fortune and a title one day. Am I right or am I right? Broc, you scoundrel, elaborate for us on the night you drank too much at the Atan festival three years ago and Zeani pursued you until you surrendered. Didn’t she suck –”

“Liar!”

Cian’s yank on my chain dropped me to my knees. He kicked me in the gut, dropping me instantly onto my face in the dirt, coughing, and unable to draw breath. I floundered, gritty dust filling my eyes and sending them into a fury of watering. Though helpless tears tracked down my filthy cheeks, I never quit trying to get up. An Atan died on his feet and a curse for his enemy on his lips. I regained my knees, halfway there, and grinned upwards into Cian’s rage.

“Thank you,” I gasped, choking, my chest burning.

“For what, you idiot? For what?”

His heavy hand on my leash dragged me upright, gagging, as I seized every sweet breath with gratitude. “For proving to me she’d never love someone like you.”

“You don’t know jack,” Cian screamed into my face, his own purple with rage. “She loved me! She said she did!”

“If you say so, cuz,” I answered, smiling. “Keep telling yourself that. Imagine her fury when I said no.”

His heavy fist cracked across my cheekbone. Its collective force all but knocked me back into unconsciousness. I’d like that. Cast me into the empty darkness where I’d not feel the flames taking my life. Do it, please. Zeani screamed when the flames ate her up, I recalled. She sucked in air, yet only the terrible heat filled her lungs. I remember. Ah, I remember so clearly. Her hazel eyes boiled in their sockets as she died. Her flesh melted from her cheeks, her lips, her chin. She fell onto her once-beautiful face, mercifully hiding the scorched flesh of a self-confessed traitor. She went down as an Atan should: brave, strong and utterly fearless.

Her voice shrieked one word. A name.

That name wasn’t Cian’s.

“Lieutenant!”

Broc and Tris lunged forward. Between them, they caught Cian low, tackling him by his belly and his knees. He went down hard, and might have taken me down with him had my chain not slipped through his hand. I stayed on my feet through sheer cussedness and a determination to not hit the ground again. Taking only shallow breaths, I spat blood and the swinging world steadied a fraction. Though I tried sending the awful pain to the back of my head, it refused to leave.

Cursing, Cian socked Tris in the gut a fraction before Broc caught him in a shoulder lock. “Calm down,” he yelled. “Do you want him to fry or don’t you?”

“Of course I do! Get off me, you ass.”

“Stop beating on him then. He wants you to kill him quick, like. Can’t you see that?”

“Lemmee go!”

As entertained as I was by this fracas, I briefly thought of escape. And dropped the idea almost as quickly. Not just trussed like a feast-day goose, I was powerless and weakened with blood loss and injury. Pity Cian didn’t let his temper loose and hit me hard enough to kill me outright, I thought. Better that than death by fire.

Yestin and Drust flanked me as though suspected flight was foremost on my mind rather than furthest, while Kado nocked an arrow and pointed it at me. Not at my heart or throat, where I might die quickly should I make an error in judgment. He aimed that deadly barb at my knee. He smiled.

In a swirl of dust and coarse oaths, Cian scrambled to his feet. His face coated in dust and spittle, he slapped away the hands that now reached to help rather than hinder. He glared around at his men, included me in his furious hate, and straightened his clothes.

“Did you sleep with her?” he bellowed at Broc.

Broc paled. “Me, boss? No, of course not, whyever would I? She loved you, boss, never even looked at another man.”

I almost laughed. Clearly Cian didn’t believe him. By their sudden sour expressions, neither did Tris nor Yestin. Zorn scowled, and turned his head to spit into the dirt. Kado still smiled at me, and I half-wondered if he prayed for me to try an escape just so he could shoot me. I declined his obvious invitation by standing still and rolling my shoulders to ease the discomfort.

Broc’s obvious lie didn’t save me, however. If Cian now realized his love was a slut who preyed upon anything male, he’d never release me with an apology. If I wasn’t to blame for her behavior, I was still to blame for her death. He loved her with a passion that blinded him to all else. And I took her from him.

“Mount up,” Cian ordered, his voice hoarse.

Grabbing up my chain, he jerked it viciously in a juvenile rage vent. Dragging me with him, he stalked to his grey gelding. In an unnecessary show of subservience, Broc held the horse’s bridle as Cian mounted. With his commander safely ensconced on his mild-mannered steed, Broc, his skin as pale as a dead fish, vaulted into his own saddle. I caught a swift glance of pure hatred directed my way. But as Cian’s spurs struck silky hide and I was hauled off my feet, I failed to return an appropriate response.

Forced to walk quickly and keep pace with the horses, I focused on the ground at my boots and concentrated on each step forward. For once, Cian kept his mouth shut and his hands to himself as his boys rode in a semi-circle behind us. Their awkward and tense silence spoke louder than shouted curses. No military unit I ever rode with, unless under strict orders, ever travelled without lewd jokes, gossip about women and superior officers, or whose horse ran faster. These boys knew I was in the right and Cian in the wrong. Yet, they’d never stoop to either admitting it nor to helping me.

When the steep, rocky terrain demanded it, they rode in an even line behind Cian’s grey, with me tagging along at his flank. As Cian led the way downhill rather than up, I maintained his pace without too much agony. The horses were forced into careful walks to avoid nasty stumbles that might tip a rider out of his saddle. In addition, their stiff silence offered me several interesting ideas to pursue.

Though they tied my hands and collared my powers, they hadn’t bothered to disarm me. My sword clapped against my left leg as I walked. Why? Even if I was incapable of using it, what fool didn’t seize his prisoner’s weapons? In a less than totally bizarre situation, they’d have stripped me of every weapon I possessed, real or imagined. Did they deliberately ignore it? Did they see it?

Had my sword’s own magic, outside my own, blinded them to its presence? Could I call upon its strength when I had none of my own? Despite my desire to call forth the sword’s own power, my need to keep my footing prevailed. The mountain landscape constantly threatened my footing. If I didn’t keep up, or if I fell, Cian would no doubt drag me by that cold pewter collar to my destiny. I couldn’t, and dared not, focus my thoughts on the sword.

We reached the lower shoulder of the huge mountain just as the sun passed its zenith and headed west. Cian permitted only the briefest breaks to water the horses on the lush mountain streams. They munched cold fare as they rode, but I received no water and no food. My injuries and constant weakness kept hunger at bay. Yet, my throat felt as though I’d swallowed sand. At every break I asked for water and was ignored.

Within the lower elevations, my boots trod thin tough tundra rather than the wickedly sharp rocks of the higher peak. Deer and mountain grouse fled in swift panic as the snorting horses and creaking saddle leather spooked them into flight. The heavy forests of twisted pine and lush evergreen thinned into emaciated knots of scrub oak and elm trees. Below lay the Auryn River where Malik, Kiera, Grey Mist, Wind Warrior and my special lady, Sky Dancer, met their end gurgled and burped over countless boulders and fallen trunks.

All of them dead. Their restless spirits stalked beside me, calling for me to join them. Though their loss cut me to the quick, I embraced their presence. They came to accompany me to the other side. Soon, I’d join them as one more spirit, one with the gods, and with the Creator of All. My mind shied away from all thoughts of Iyumi. Her beautiful eyes, her sardonic smile – much too painful to contemplate. Must think of something else, quick, no don’t remember her lovely curves, her blue on blue eyes, think dammit, don’t reminisce, think.

The gradual incline down flattened out, and only a few hundred rods away the rushing river galloped faster than a horse might run. I knew this area. We approached the Auryn many leagues to the east of where my brothers died in a region with fewer high hills and more open grasslands. Prey animals of all species leapt, jumped, bolted and hopped out of our way. An eagle screamed high overhead, it’s hunting call breaking into the tense silence. The river’s voice increased in tempo and volume the closer we travelled toward it. It roared over boulders smoothed by time, white foam splashing high.

The sun in its glory ascended into the deepest west, throwing spears of red, orange, purple and gold over the forbidding peaks above. The pain I’d ignored all day expressed its displeasure. Weakened by blood loss, thirst and cracked ribs, I could no longer ignore the damage done to me. All had taken their toll, and if Cian didn’t stop to murder me soon, I’d collapse, unable to walk any further. At which time he’d no doubt drag me until I was dead.

Hmmm. Perhaps I might be instantly killed if his collar snapped my neck, dragged as I was behind his mount. Or I’d slowly strangle while rocks and shrubbery smashed into my face and head, thus adding to the torture while not necessarily sending me into the arms of the good gods very quickly. Crap. Not as good a choice as I first thought. Best keep one’s footing, I thought, haphazard.

Before I did indeed fall, unable to put one foot in front of the other, Cian called a halt. He dropped my chain, permitting it to coil up on the ground at my feet. None of his men jumped forward to point arrows at my knees, preventing a swift run away. He knew as well as I did escape wasn’t in my travel arrangements, and swung down from his gelding. Leading the horse away, he left me to my own devices. Sweat trickled into my eyes, stinging sharply, as I gasped for breath. Sitting gingerly on a rock, I shut my eyes and focused on staying conscious. If I could concentrate, if I could pull in enough willpower, maybe, just maybe, I could call on my sword’s magic. But will took energy and I had precious little to risk on a maybe.

Around me, Cian’s men dismounted and led their beasts to water and grazing. I couldn’t hear what they said to one another, but their voices held little humor and none of the usual soldier bitching about the hours, food and commanding officers. If I didn’t know better, I’d guess they didn’t much like their current assignment but dared not let Cian know. I shut my eyes to better listen, hoping against hope that one of them might remember their Atani vows.

“Here.”

Cian’s rough voice roused me, and I glanced up. Standing over me, his back to the sun, his eyes appeared hooded and in shadow. This is it, I half-thought, he’s going to burn me now. I braced myself, ready for the final burst of power that set me ablaze. He had some magic outside his Shifter skills, possibly enough to murder me in a swift burst of fire. Yet – it didn’t happen.

He held a flask of water to my lips. All thoughts of willpower and sword vanished as I tilted my throat back. Icy cold water slid down into my belly like the sweetest wine. Though I half-expected Cian to yank it away, he permitted me several healthy swallows. Though I craved more, ‘twas enough to assuage the worst of my raging thirst.

Nodding my gratitude, I licked moisture from my lips as he pulled the flask away. “Why?”

Cian shrugged, plugging the flask with its wax stopper. “You saved my life once. Though I’m bound to take yours, I do pay my debts.”

Repay a life with life-sustaining water. I half-nodded, accepting the gift with grace. “Thanks.”

“You’ll burn at sunset,” he continued, as though informing me of where I’ll sleep that night. “We have but a league or so downriver to ride. Then you can rest.”

Crikey, I thought. Rest in peace.

“How’d you find us, Cian?”

He actually smiled. Squatting on his heels, he fingered the stopper on the flask. “We’ve been following you. We picked up you and Malik’s little party before Flynn and his boys attacked you the first time. When you and the princess took off for the cave, I had an idea of where you were headed. We merely rode ahead of you and waited.”

“I see.”

He fiddled with the flask, his gaze downward, as though unable to face me. “Just tell me, Van,” he said, his voice soft. “Why did you ignore the royal courier and go in that day? I’m not promising a repeal – I want the simple truth from you. You owe me that much.”

I swallowed hard, utterly flummoxed. “What courier? I had that warehouse surrounded, waiting for orders.”

Cian glared, growing angry. “The courier from headquarters. Don’t lie to me, Van, not now. You were told there were two terrorists inside, with twelve hostages, ready to blow everything up. You were told to stand down and await reinforcements. Why would you send in your unit against specific orders?”

“Gods,” I muttered, wishing I could run my hands through my hair. “Give me a minute, let me think, let me think.”

Frantic, my memory raced to that deadly day. A warehouse in the small fishing village of Dalziel. A Raithin Mawrn terrorist inside with hostages and barrels of oil. A single bomber. I dispatched my unit to surround the place and not permit even a mouse to escape. I held firm, shouting negotiations to the Raithin Mawrn, promises that would free the hostages and permit him to surrender unharmed.

“No courier came,” I muttered.

“What?”

“There was no courier,” I said, my voice rising. “Gaear flew in, as an eagle.”

“Gaear? Whatever for? He’s not in the courier corp.”

My memory flooded my head. I returned to that moment as though it happened yesterday. I crouched behind a nearby water trough, close enough to hear the Raithin Mawrn’s demands and deliver my own, yet protected from attack. Behind me, Sergeants Catlan and Zeani, both Shape-Shifters, awaited my orders.

Gaear dropped to the ground and folded his wings. “Orders, First Captain, sir,” he said, his raptor’s voice high. “The Lord Captain commands you send in your unit to resolve the situation. He understands there is but one unarmed Raithin Mawrn inside. There’s no threat, sir. Arrest him, and bring him in for trial.”

I frowned. “I heard through the local grapevine there were two buggers in there. How does Malik know there’s only one. And unarmed, you say?”

“Indeed, First Captain. The Lord Captain Commander’s intel is solid, sir. He wouldn’t have sent me, otherwise.”

I shrugged. “Jolly good. Will you join us in our hour of triumph, Gaear?”

“Sorry, sir, would love to, but the Lord Captain Commander has me racing to fetch him his favorite wine. It’s that day of the week, as you know, sir.”

I grinned. “I do indeed. Off with you, now. Tell Malik I’ll toss this prisoner at his feet in an hour.”

“Will do, sir.”

Gaear flew away. I organized my unit of twelve elite Atani soldiers into attack formation. With a sharp kick, I broke down the door to the warehouse just as my Atans either followed me inside or broke in through windows from the rear. Charging in, I saw two things at the same time. One: the frightened Raithin Mawrn with his hands in the air, screaming in panic. Two: the frightened hostages huddled together in the middle of the hall, surrounded by barrels of whale oil.

As the rest of my men grouped around the crying, milling civilians, urging them to their feet with jokes and laughter, I noted a third thing – the single hostage who watched me with a smile. A smile of deadly, deathly, calculation. Just as he lit the fuse.

“Get them out!” I bellowed. “Get out! Now! Now! Now!”

The fuse hissed and sparked its way toward a stack of dry wood. No doubt the bomber’s bundle of incendiary powder lay packed tightly within it. Set the wood aflame, then the casks of oil. If the oil ignited – it could bring down not just the warehouse but half the block.

The wood ignited. Fire raced outward from behind the barrels of flammable oil. But even oil took a few seconds to ignite, for flames to eat through the heavy oak to reach the combustible liquid inside. I shoved hostage after hostage toward the door, my Atans fearless and calm as they saved one life after another. When the smiling Raithin Mawrn came at me, swinging a savage dirk, I killed him with a single bolt of my power through his heart. I never drew my sword.

“Captain!” Catlan yelled, near the door. “Let’s go!”

The hostages and my Atans were safe. All had reached the safety of the doorway, or had run beyond into the late afternoon sunshine. But one hostage remained. He bolted toward the fire, not away from it. Obviously he felt something inside was worse risking his life for. His life was worth risking mine for.

I raced after him. My hand touched his shoulder just as the warehouse blew up.

A cask of oil struck me sideways and threw me, crashing, into the wooden wall of the warehouse. Had it remained solid, I’d have been crushed and killed instantly. But the blast fractured the wood’s integrity and I crashed through splinters not firm construction. Thus, the blast itself blew me to safety, and saved my life. The hostage I tried to save died, screaming as he lit up like a torch. Though I tried to scream orders, stay out, stay away, my team didn’t, couldn’t, hear me. They, as a group, ran back inside. They split up, dodging the flames, shielding their faces with their arms. I heard them calling my name, searching, frantic. Gods, no. Get them out. Get them out.

Struggling to rise under the weight of a broken pillar, I yelled, waving my arm. Zeani saw me. From across the flaming chamber she ran, yelling for the others. I see him! I see him! More followed her voice, scrambling to avoid the flames that reached with licking fingers to snag them.

Then the second explosion hit.

With a low coughing roar, the casks of oil previously untouched by flames detonated. A firestorm of liquid death spewed across the broken warehouse, striking my Atans with all the force of an avalanche. Most died instantly from the force of the blast and broken oak driven by searing winds. A few more, like Zeani, died more slowly. In agony, they sucked down the fires of hell when they drew breath to scream. Like living torches, they burned, consumed at last by the Raithin Mawrn hatred of our land.

“They died because of you.”

Cian’s voice broke into my thoughts. I nodded slowly. “Yes.”

I managed a small smile. “Just not in the way you think. I’m alive through sheer fate. They died because they loved me.”

He turned his face away, showing me his scar. “As she loved you.”

I tried to speak, and halted. The words rose to my throat and were strangled there. “She – Zeani – wasn’t what you thought she was, Cian. Malik placed her in my unit so I might watch her. Uncover her role. She was a spy in the employ of King Finian. She screamed his name as she died. ‘Twas him she truly loved.”

“You lie.”

I tried to shrug and smile. “I wish I was. For that would spare you great grief.”

Cian struggled, trying to come to terms that the love of his life didn’t just love another man, or was a whore, but a traitor who loved the greatest enemy our nation ever faced. Under Finian the Fair, the terrorists and the bombers had more than quadrupled, they quadrupled ten times again. Never before had we fought the silent war as we fought the Raithin Mawrn under Finian’s iron fist. He sent his spies, his horrors, his bombs in to kill not just our King but our magical way of life. He alone sought our beloved lands and to silence the joys of the Faeries. Along with the Centaurs, the Minotaurs and the sleek Griffins, Finian wanted, no lusted, to slay us. For some odd reason, he feared us the most: the Einion’nalad Clan – the Shape-Shifters.

Cian’s family.

His eyes calm, he asked, “You have proof?”

“Yes. Malik sent in his own spies, but they failed to uncover much. Then he got lucky. He waylaid certain letters, a courier was intercepted, a horse recognized – a Faery mimicked words meant for Finian’s ears alone. Malik ordered me to arrest her that evening, but the call to capture the Dalziel hostage taker came in. Placing her under arrest had to wait. Then, well – you know.”

“Did she know you were going to arrest her?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Why would she rush in to save you?” he asked, his tone not accusing, but curious. “If she suspected you knew about her, wouldn’t she see you burn before rushing in to save you?”

I managed a small smile. “My unit had no clue, remember. They didn’t know she was a spy or that the King planned a very long, painful interrogation. They rushed in, and if she were to keep her cover intact, she had to go along. Any Atan loyal to her commander would.”

Cian nodded. “I think I see. She didn’t plan to die.”

“She rushed in, yelling, hoping to find me dead. But I wasn’t. I remember her shock to find me still among the living. With so many witnesses, she couldn’t sink her dagger into my throat and escape. No one counted on or expected the second explosion. It killed her. It killed them all.”

Cian nodded, accepting all I told him as the gods’ own truth. He knew I spoke it. He saw it in my eyes, heard it in my voice. He recognized the truth when it was waved in his face. Though he didn’t reject any of it, he still loved her. In spite of all.

“This doesn’t absolve you.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready?”

I nodded. “I am.”

His arm under my shoulder helped me up. His eyes caught mine, a vague shadow of sorrow, or perhaps regret, behind them. “She shouldn’t have died, not that way,” he said, his voice soft. “But maybe I can forgive you, just a little.”

“Don’t bother,” I replied, my throat thick. “I can’t forgive myself.”

Nodding, he took up my chain once more and mounted his grey gelding. If his pace wasn’t quite so fast, only I noticed and appreciated that fact. His compassionate gift of the water offered much more than he expected. Already I felt some strength return, and my agonized ribs quieted a fraction. My mind focused more sharply, and if I spent too much of it remembering the past, who’d blame me?

As the sun westered over the distant mountains, Cian called a halt, his voice hollow. “Zorn, mind the horses. Tris, you, Kado and Drust gather wood. Only the dry stuff and lots of it. Yestin and Broc, find a stout tree, preferably dead with lots of space around it. No sense in firing the entire forest.”

As his men hobbled their mounts and hastened to follow his orders, Cian permitted me to sit near the rushing Auryn. Lying on my belly, I sucked down more refreshing water, easing my terrible thirst. He led the horses to a quiet rivulet nearby, urging them to drink their fill. I felt he was near to apologizing, for he glanced at me now and then, but he didn’t speak. I didn’t bother.

Instead, I used the added strength the water gave me, and buried my face in the icy stream. The chilling cold numbed the pain of my busted nose and cleared my head. It also washed away some of the horrid guilt of that dreadful day, and reminded me that while Iyumi still lived, I must be at her side. If an opportunity to fight came… well, Cian best look to his own welfare.

Letting him believe I’d given up, I permitted him help me to a rock to sit while his men piled armload of wood after armload under a long-dead red oak tree. Beneath its spiked branches, only rocks thrived. Greenish grass grew in sparse tufts, but as an execution site, it fit Cian’s order perfectly.

When the piles of deadwood reached halfway up the trunk, Cian stood up. He lifted my chain. “Van. It’s time.

I glanced at the sun. It hovered over the mountain peaks, its bright rays of gold, orange, pink and rose-blush streaking eastward as though yearning for the dawn. As you love me, your lordships, I prayed silently. As you love her, help me through this.

I offered no fight as Cian and Kado untied my hands only to retie them behind the stout, dried trunk of the old oak. Just more tinder to catch hold, I thought, gazing down at the pile that shifted uneasily beneath my feet. I leaned my head back against the bark and shut my eyes. Focus, damn it. Focus.

Concentrating, I slowed my breathing, my heartbeat – I focused on my sword. If you’re there, I said, deep within my mind, I need you now. Slowly, too slowly, I sank deeper into a trance. Only by casting out all distractions might I call upon the sword’s power. As is lay outside my own, perhaps it was not constrained by the cold pewter collar around my neck.

“May you be reborn in paradise,” Cian called, safely returned to earth with Kado in tow.

His voice broke my infant trance. Frantic to reclaim it, I felt it slip from my grasp. I heard a torch lit with a whoosh, scented its smoky flame. I knew someone, probably Yestin, handed it with devout ceremony to Cian. The sun sank an inch, coloring my closed eyelids in purple and gold.

Down, I thought, my mind fogged, sluggish. Down, deep and down.

The trance hovered at the threshold of my mind, calling to me.

At my feet, flames licked the dry wood and found it palatable. Heat rose to warm my body, and smoke teased my nostrils, burned my eyelids. Ignore it, my mind whispered. Ignore it and control thy fear. Fear is your enemy. Make it your ally.

Dropping deeper into a trance, I called to my own blood, captured deep within the sword. Hear me. Feel me. I am yours and you are mine.

I hear, the sword hissed in reply. I obey.

The flames rose higher, hungry, feeding on the dry wood. I needed no eyes to witness Cian fall back, shading his brow against the terrible heat. I saw within my mind his companions curse in dreadful fascination as they stumbled into one another, seizing arms, tripping over themselves in their haste to escape the licking fires of hell.

Sweat burst from my pores only to dry an instant later under the searing heat. The pain from my busted ribs felt as naught to the savage terror that filled my soul, my heart. The trance slid back, panic emerging, my throat raw and ready to scream. I’m going to die!

Not yet.

The sword’s power caught my mind, my heart. I saw through its empty eyes, felt its calm regard, listened to its silent voice. It knew me. I knew it. Like lovers reunited after a long absence, we rushed toward each other. We collided like twin moons in the aether, sparks and smoke erupting in showers. I now owned its absolute power, the kind of power the gods themselves outlawed eons ago.

“Break it.”

Hot, lethal flames surged upward, licking my knees, straining toward my thighs. Raging hot flame climbed up my body, burning, destroying. I knew, distantly, my boots had melted and only my feet smoldered, not quite burning. For the next ten seconds anyway.

“Break it!”

I sharpened my mind and focused my will. Now!

With the sound of six-inch ice breaking, the collar about my neck shattered. As though hit with a divine hammer, it dropped into hundreds of pieces, into the licking flames, gone. My power roared through me, restored, my birthright. The agony of my injuries receded as the new flood of adrenaline forced it to the sidelines.

In a blink, I was airborne. The ropes that once bound my hands dropped to the flames, consumed. My falcon’s small form rose high into the violent colors of the sunset, my screech of triumph breaking across the sound of crackling flames and the scent of burning wood. My wings forced the dark smoke into roiling behind my tail, coiling like deadly serpents before the light evening breeze set it adrift. I soared high and free, climbing into the dusk.

“No!” Cian screamed, his voice echoing through the mountains.

Finish it. The soft voice whispered in my ear.

Yes, I thought. Let’s finish it. If I don’t kill him now, I’ll never be free of him or his vengeance. It’s time he met the true Zeani.

Folding my wings, I dropped like a stone. Straight toward the hot fires he set, the death he planned for me, I aimed my raptor’s beak. The wind whistled past my ears, rustled through my tail feathers. My keen eyes saw him, far below, watching the skies for me, his mouth open in a howl of despair. His boys flanked him, watching the sky, the wood, the mountain – huddled together like sheep before the onset of a storm. They feared me. They were right to fear me.

I was always the best. I won every contest. I defeated every prior champion. I could change forms on a pinfeather and slay with the fangs of a tiger before my enemy knew what killed him. My enemies feared me. My friends wished they could be me. No one ever bested me in a fight. I didn’t intend to lose now.

A rod from the ground, I changed.

Striking the ground in my human shape, sword in hand, I charged. From the darkness I rose, unseen. They searched the skies as I dropped among them. My first strike took Kado across the face, splitting his mouth from ear to ear. He smiled as he pointed his arrow at my knee. Then let’s permit him to smile forevermore.

His scream of agony not just alerted the others, they broke apart in panic. Cian yelled and seized steel, bellowing orders his men didn’t heed. Darkness hadn’t yet fallen completely, and the firelight glinted off our bared blades. Only the first stars twinkled from the heavens, and I half-wondered if Zeani watched from afar and hoped her lover would win this bout.

As Yestin and Tris reached Kado to succor his injury, Cian and I met. And clashed. Our swords rang against one another, slithering in a shiver of sparks as I fought to kill him and he fought not to die. His fear worked against him just as my rage worked for me. I parried his amateur stroke and feinted a blow to his left. When he swung to block it, I lunged in, under his blade, to his right. The tip of my sword cut his thigh near the groin. Not close to his femoral, but enough that his leg buckled under him. I feinted again, striking close to his head. He ducked, parried and responded with a quick cut to my belly.

I jumped back easily, avoiding his blade and slashed downward and sideways. His sword swung hard left, harmless, leaving his right shoulder exposed. I cut backward, slicing through tough muscle and tendon. If he lifted that sword again, I’d be impressed.

He didn’t. His sword clanged to the ground as he staggered, blood gushing from two wounds. As desperate as he was, I expected him to change, to shift into a new body. His favorite form was the fox: swift, clever, and nimble. As a quick predator, he might escape my blade and my wrath. Instead, Cian cried aloud, screaming names, calling for reinforcements. “Broc! Yestin! Help me! Help!”

Finish it.

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I swung my blade hard, from left to right, across his throat. Blood fountained high, spattering into the growing darkness. He stood still, his eyes wide and staring. What the hell? I know I killed him. Still he stood, gaping at me in astonishment. His mouth worked. His eyes bulged in his head. The scar across his cheek paled to a dim pink as the blood drained from his flesh. Damn it, why aren’t you dead? I tilted my head sideways, considering. A swift glance downward showed me a clean blade glinting in the bright firelight.

Uh, did I kill him or didn’t I?

Van, he tried to say, his lips moving. For –

For?

Forgive me.

Oh, bloody unlikely. I lowered my sword and watched in casual amusement as his head slowly, like a mountain collapsing, tilted sideways. Only a thin thread of flesh that my sword missed kept his head on his neck. Then it split, torn, as Cian’s head fell to the tundra and rolled, over and over, bumping his nose, to rest near my bare feet.

His body slumped to the stony soil, bleeding out from his empty neck, pooling in thick clots amid the thin grass and fallen pine needles. I spared a moment to grieve for the kinsman I killed. He was my kin, a Clansman, after all. But he sent my girl into the hands of a murdering prince with all the thought of ordering his next round of ale. For that, I kicked his head into the rushing river.

“You killed him,” Tris said, his tone low with awe and disbelief.

Broc, Yestin and Drust slowly rose from a still groaning Kado and stepped on light, cautious feet toward me. Zorn ran in, nocking an arrow to his bowstring, raising it, aiming. Their bared swords gleamed in the firelight as they circled me round, their eyes glowing redly. Spinning my sword in a tight circle, I raised my free hand toward them, grinning faintly.

I lowered my face and spat on Cian’s still twitching corpse. “I reckon you boys want to join your master, eh? C’mon, then. Let’s dance.”

Drust rushed me first, yelling for all he was worth, his sword raised. I lifted mine, braced to meet him head on. He never arrived. Something from the near darkness seized him by the shoulders and yanked him high. His despairing scream of agony and terror trailed down to me at the same instant his sword clanked to the ground at my feet.

What the –

Zorn’s arrow whistled past my head at the same moment Drust’s flayed body, his skull crushed beyond recognition, fell to the ground behind me. I whirled to defend my rear. I saw nothing to defend against, yet the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. Blood poured from the myriad cuts and slices to his body, his neck half severed. His slowly glazing eyes stared at me, accusing. You did this.

No, I swear, I didn’t.

Tris rushed me next, his eyes bugging with not just fear but outright terror. His sword swung so wild, all I need do to avoid it was step aside. I never bothered to raise my own. He staggered past me – and screamed. Something huge and darkly shadowed lifted him from the ground and hugged him close. I heard his bones snap as his ribs and spine gave in, his last breaths of life broken with bubbles of blood.

He died, yet I had no idea what killed him.

Thudding hooves warned me in time.

Spinning, my sword high and my body low, my narrowed vision watched as a huge dark creature galloped into the firelight. The red-orange flames glistened off black hair, black hide, a rayed star high above with gold gleaming around his throat. Moon and fire licked off a raised sword, but the creature’s face dropped my sword’s tip to the dirt. Oh, no way, this isn’t right, this isn’t happening –

My oldest and best friend slammed between me and my enemy. Yestin charged in, his sword high, yelling his challenge. Malik spun, his own blade ready, his tail lifting away from his huge quarters. The Lord Captain Commander didn’t swing toward his charging enemy, but away. My breath caught in my chest as Malik’s huge rear hooves kicked Yestin’s head clean from his shoulders.

“Hiyaaaa!” Broc screamed, charging into the battle, his sword held high.

I spun to face him, my own sword ready, but I’d no need.

Malik wasn’t done. He charged, full out, dead on target. His nocked arrow took Broc through the left eye. Broc, dead before he hit the ground, fell backward, his body falling onto the rocky soil beside the Auryn. That bad boy’s sword was flung wild and free to land with a clang beside the rushing river’s edge. Malik leaped Broc’s corpse, his front hooves tucked beneath his shoulders, his heavy tail flagging the wind. Spinning around, he raised his bow, searching for his next target.

Zorn charged in, aiming to kill me where I stood. He saw me, alone, undefended by the dark spirits of the night, and sought to kill me. No doubt, in his mind, I commanded these foul demons. Should he kill me, he and Kado might yet survive this hell on earth. Before I raised a defense against his attack, a huge body with eagle’s wings, huge talons and fierce raptor’s eyes settled upon him from above.

Zorn screamed – once.

Slack-jawed and captivated by the sight, I stared. That can’t be, my mind gibbered. You’re dead. I know you’re dead.

Windy’s huge beak ripped into Zorn’s shoulder at the same time his raptor’s talons tore his heavy body in two. Zorn died almost instantly, his wailing scream echoing across the river and shivering into the gathering dark. True to his name, Wind Warrior reared back on his lion haunches, his talons raking the shadows, and screamed his challenge to the night.

“Windy,” I gasped. “What –”

Kado, wounded, the last officer of Cian’s detail, rose to fight. Blood gushing from my slash, his eyes wide in terror, he nevertheless fought for his life. Gauging me helpless and unable to fight back, he lunged in, hoping against hope that he’d at least take me with him. Sword in hand, he struck for my throat –

Until Sky Dancer dropped to the earth between me and him.

She screeched, a wordless warcry of death and hate. She needed no sword, no arrow, nor any magic to defeat her enemy. Her weapons were a part of her. Talons sharp enough to cut steel extended wide. A savage beak powerful enough to break a bull’s spine reached downward. Lion’s claws the length of a man’s hand gripped the earth as she lunged forward.

Her angel’s wings wide, I couldn’t see a damn thing from behind. I ducked around her, my sword up, prepared to fight alongside her, as I had countless times before. Together, we’d slay our kingdom’s enemies or die trying. As one, we’d die Weksan’Atan.

Zorn skidded to a halt. His eyes bugged from his head, terrified, faced with one of the world’s ultimate predators. Had he wet his britches, I’d not be surprised. As a man facing an angry Griffin, he knew he’d lose and lose big. Yet, he was also Atan. At an early age, he trained alongside Centaurs, Minotaurs and Griffins, as well as Shifters and humans. He fought for his King and his country. He knew very well he was guilty.

He also knew he was trapped. A dead man. There was only one death for him now.

With honor.

Atan to the core, he raised his sword to his face. In stiff accolade, his face bleeding from my cut, he saluted his death. He shut his eyes as Dancer raised her talons, slashing him through his throat. Choking, gasping for his last breath, he fell to the rocky tundra. His blade fell from his fingers as his life drained unto the grasping soil. Zorn died, the last of Cian’s loyal men, his sword in his hand as an Atan should.

Stunned, I stared at my dead enemies. I killed Cian, sure, but – the others? Did I yet flounder in the throes of injury and deprivation, dreaming in color where black and white suited best? What in the name of heaven just happened?

“Malik,” I gasped as he slid to a trampling halt before me, flanked by Padraig and red-maned Edara. “You’re alive.”

I found no welcoming twitch of his facial muscles. His dark, hooded eyes held little I recognized. Padraig and Edara both stared down at me with twin bland expressions. Although I knew Padraig hated me, I also knew Edara did not. A shiver of icy cold ran down my spine. Although I shouldn’t expect warm embraces, I didn’t warrant the chilly regard those three Centaurs offered me. They just saved my life, but acted as though they prepared to take it themselves.

Though Malik opened his mouth, he’d no time to answer as Clan Chief Ba’al’amawer, Raga and Muljier at his left and right shoulders, arrived at a brisk military trot. “My Lord Commander,” Ba’al’amawer said, his right hand rising in salute. “My unit has surrounded the immediate vicinity. All enemies are dead, save this one.”

Malik raised his fist, commanding silence, his dark eyes on me. “My thanks, Clan Chief,” he said, his tone low. “We but await His Majesty.”

Padraig lifted a silver-chased horn to his lips and blew it. A signal. In the distance, horns answered, echoing across the river’s valley. From out of the pink and purple clouds flew three wings of Griffins. In perfect formation, wingtip to wingtip, they soared down from the mountains toward the river. Their dark shadows eclipsed the sunset, and what little light remained fell prey to their might. The air, the very ground beneath my feet, thrummed with the soft yet puissant sound of their feathers. Three more wings flew in from the south, while the skies to the east and north darkened under their massed bodies.

Heavy boots striking rock made a drumming noise as platoons of armed and armored Minotaurs closed in from all directions. In perfect lock-step, squared units marched in perfect cadence to the beat of drums. The evening darkness never shrouded the emblem of the Eastern Sun that graced the hundred plus banners whipping above their curved horns.

In loose formation and flanking the Minotaurs galloped the Centaurs units. The thunder of their hooves woke the slumbering Auryn valley as they bore down on us at a gallop. The grinning Death’s Head skull, the emblem of the Atan, snapped in the breeze. Without their normal Atani yips and yells, they, and the royal cavalry that galloped with them, splashed across the river, arriving from the north, the west and the south.

My own Clan, the Shape-Shifters, rode horses with the cavalry units, their cloaks bearing the Clan’s Tiger’s Eye at their throats. Still hundreds more closed in, guised as leopards, wolves, panthers, hawks, eagles, lions, stags. My own Aderyn, whom I thought dead, bounded out from under the trees in her deer-shape. Gaear loped in, a wolf, to halt not far behind Malik. He changed to stand at attention in his human body, at parade rest, his hands behind him.

Turning in a tight circle, I tried to take everything in at once, stunned. My friends, my brothers, weren’t, against all odds, dead. They rode to my rescue accompanied by the entire Atan army. The entire army. A Griffin platoon dropped to the ground and folded their wings, taking up positions surrounding the river bottom with their beaks high and raptor eyes watchful. While most of the Minotaurs stood at attention in a wide ring, Chief Ba’al’amawer’s personal unit took up stations at critical points. The Centaur and cavalry leaders trotted closer in, leaving their soldiers to guard the outer rings.

The horns blew again, closer. I turned toward the sound, upriver, just as Malik clapped the pewter manacles over my wrists. “What –”

“First Captain Vanyar,” he said, his tone neutral. “I am placing you under arrest by the order of His Majesty the King.”

“What the hell? Malik!”

“Silence him!”

The voice shouted, not from Malik’s jaws, but many hundred rods away near the Auryn River. Instantly, like a gag in my mouth, I couldn’t speak. I moved my jaws, my lips, I breathed, but no sound passed my tongue. Trembling with anger and fear, I glared at my friend, my brother, trying to ask with my eyes: why are you doing this?

Malik stared at me, his dark face impassive, as always. My brother, my best and oldest friend, backed slowly away from me. No welcoming jest at my expense crossed his aristocratic lips or his mind. Never before had I felt him distance himself from me, or fail to rise to my bait. He snapped his fingers. Padraig and Edara paced around him to flank me.

My guards.

A new commotion brought me around. From under the trees along the riverbank, riding a golden Centaur, cantered King Roidan. Royally escorted by his household guard of Centaurs and cavalry soldiers, Roidan raised his fist. In a special saddle built for his useless legs, he could ride and wield a sword as he had in his younger, healthier days. His attendant, Daragh, on a brown horse at his flank, accompanied him here as he did everywhere.

As a boulder parts a stream, Griffins, Minotaurs, Shifters and human Atani split aside. As the King and his escort passed them, they bent the knee, crossed fist over chest and bowed low. Malik’s front hoof buckled and he swept downward, his fist thumping his bare shoulder. I saluted as best I could, awkward, with both hands bound. My cracked ribs screamed in protest, but I rose with Malik as the Centaur arrived at a gentle halt a rod from where Malik and I stood. I lifted my head, fearless and undaunted, to find Roidan glaring down at me. His usually mild eyes burned with derision and hate. My fear rose as I swallowed hard, reining in my panic. When Roidan was angry, people died.

“Put him where he belongs,” Roidan grated. “On his knees.”

Padraig’s hands pushed me downward hard, sending me hurtling to the rocky soil. The new agony from my knees was nothing compared to the raw burning that flamed across my chest. I gasped, unable to make a sound, sweat trickling down my cheek and sliding down my back. Clenching my jaw tight kept the worst of my pain from showing on my face.

“I don’t want to hear a word from this traitor’s mouth,” Roidan snapped. His finger pointed like a sword. “You got my daughter killed, boy. You were supposed to protect her, bring her back safely. Why was that so difficult? Now she, and the gods’ messenger, are in the hands of that filthy Raithin Mawrn. Because of you, everything we are and will ever be are dead and dust.”

Cian gave her to him, I tried to say. Of course, nothing came out. I couldn’t speak in my own defense, not utter a single word of explanation or protest. Had I conquered Cian’s pewter collar before he gave her to Flynn – had I not liked and helped Flynn in the first place – had I died honorably at Dalziel – the recriminations endlessly paraded through my crazed mind. All my mistakes and well-meanings were as the dust beneath my boots.

“First you kill my soldiers,” Roidan grated, his mouth a tight white slash in his face. “But I trusted you to save my daughter, to save your country. I believed you still had honor, still owed allegiance to the Atan code. I thought you were smart, had talent. My mistake, obviously. I should have executed you when you first turned up in my castle.”

I bent my head and shut my eyes. I love your daughter. I will continue to love her when I am ashes.

“Tomorrow at dawn, I’ll rectify that mistake.”

I didn’t look up. I’ve stared death in the face many times, but this time, I couldn’t. He’s right. I am as guilty as he said I was. I will die for my dishonor. At Dalziel, my death would not have been in vain. Here I die as the criminal I have become.

“You will die tomorrow, First Captain Vanyar,” Roidan went on, his tone deathly cold. “But no easy execution for you. As you are tortured, you’ll be permitted to scream and beg, and confess all the evil you’ve committed. But tonight – you have tonight to make your peace with the gods. They perhaps may have mercy on you. I have none.”

I lifted my face to meet his hot, angry eyes, and dipped it once, in a nod. I accept.

Roidan jerked his head to his left. “Chain him to that tree over there,” he commanded. “Let him breathe the stench of death all night. We’ll set up camp upriver. And upwind.”

Padraig’s heavy hand dragged me up from my knees. I tried to catch Malik’s eye, but he wouldn’t look at me. As I was pushed past him, I once again turned my head, willing him to – what? Say he’s sorry, wished he could help, best of luck? I don’t know. I just wanted to see in his eyes that he didn’t want me to die.

“Oh, and strip him of that sword,” Roidan called. “I want it back.”

Edara’s firm hands unbuckled my belt, and handed my sword to Malik. He accepted it with a nod, and without a glance back, walked downriver, the dying firelight flashing off his black rump. The King’s escort unwound like broken spring as his gold Centaur turned and loped upstream, away from my funeral pyre and the dead soldiers. Chief Ba’al’amawer and his attendant Minotaurs stalked behind the King’s escort, ignoring me like the worm I was. Sky Dancer leaped into the air and circled high into the darkness. Flames licked the new evening as men and Centaurs lit torches, trotting in the King’s wake. Most of the army melted away to set up smaller camps around the King’s perimeter, passing me by as silent as ghosts. Gaear returned to his wolf form and loped after the torches. Aderyn bounded into the woods, her tail flashing like a star.

Neither Padraig nor Edara spoke as I was trussed to the tree trunk with a rope around my neck. Another tied my ankles together, and Edara wound a chain several times around my broken chest and locked it behind the sturdy oak. Weary unto death, injured, I could never slip out from the ropes and chains. Without my magic, I’d never untie the ropes or unchain myself and escape. Without my sword, I couldn’t augment my own, and break the manacles. They left me to sit, alone, friendless, to contemplate my last night on this earth. As a pair, Padraig and Edara stalked into the darkness, side by side, and vanished.

Malik disappeared, presumably downriver. Windy, also. He killed Zorn to save me, then vanished like a ghost. I frowned, confusion easing my pain and discomfort for a short time. I never heard him take flight and follow Sky Dancer, though Griffins tended to make a great deal of noise and blew great washes of air about when they took off from a standing position. Perhaps in their high regard for me, Malik and Windy opted out of tomorrow’s entertainment.

I leaned my head against the tree trunk and shut my eyes. The glowing coals off my pyre lent me enough warmth to be relatively comfortable against the chilly mountain air despite my awkward position and my pain. Who would Roidan pick as torturer? I asked myself. Though most Atans shied from torturing their prey, the Atani did employ oen or two lunatics. As a child, Raga often cut small animals into pieces, just to see them cry and squirm. I recalled him watching me with no small satisfaction and pleasure. He might jump at the chance to torment a superior officer.

Though I could see the dim glow of the King’s camp fires, I heard little save the soft noises of the mountains. The night breeze soughed through the branches high above my head, and whispered through the thicket. Roidan’s choice of my execution was a slender young oak with a heavy growth of timber at its base. Something rustled deep inside the branches, a mouse, or perhaps a snake. I smiled a little, thinking of the jekki snake I cooked for Iyumi a lifetime ago.

I was tired. Well, exhausted really. Rather than contemplate what little remained of my life, or worry over my coming death, I tried to wrap sleep about me. Make my peace with the gods? I didn’t bother. Either they liked me or they didn’t and no amount of belated worship on my part would alter their opinion.

I did, however, find some peace within myself. I did wrong, obviously, but in my life I committed mostly right. I refused to permit Dalziel to swamp me with guilt any longer. I can, I will, face the coming dawn and my subsequent execution with courage and honor. That’s all I have left to offer this world. That enough, your effing lordships?

The river hurrying its way over stones lulled me, soothed my strung nerves. I pictured Iyumi within my mind’s eye and held her close. Drifting toward exhausted sleep, I wanted her face to be the last thing I saw this night. I felt her touch upon my brow, listened as she whispered I love you into my ear. Good gods, be merciful. Let us be together again on the other side.

A branch snapped to my left.

I jerked awake, my instincts screeching an alarm. The noise could be anything at all: a rabbit, a deer ambling to the river for a drink, a hunting fox. Any or all were zero cause for alarm, I thought. All harmless despite my vulnerability. So why did the small hairs on my neck suddenly stand on end? Because something watched me with evil intent. My roiling gut informed me someone, or something, stalked me. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. Despite the royal command that I was to die on the morrow, something or someone had plans of their own. My survival instincts loudly and stridently told me so.

I stiffened, listening hard. Rather than strain my eyes trying to see in the dark, I shut them in order to better concentrate on listening. Four soft paws stepped slowly, lightly across the clearing. Past the corpses of Cian and Yestin, I heard the swift intake of breath as the creature sniffed the air. Though the dead hadn’t been dead long enough to really reek, the odor of blood and piss tickled my nostrils. The breeze pushed most of it away, fortunately, though if I was to die in the next few moments it hardly mattered.

The paws drifted closer. Not big enough for a bear, I thought, and too graceful. Not a great cat, either. A wolf perhaps. Or a wild dog. Some said the descendants of huge mastiffs who escaped their masters roamed these mountains. Perhaps I was dogmeat. I breathed in deep, scenting a wild canine odor. A wolf? It stopped directly in front of me.

He changed forms the moment I opened my eyes.

“Hello, Van.”

Malik’s spell still locked my throat, thus preventing me from answering with a curse or a sharp retort. I knew why he was there before I saw the dirk in his right hand. How he dared the wrath of the King by killing me under his royal nose, I didn’t know. That he had the guts to try was astonishing enough.

I answered him with a silent snarl, my lip curling in defiance.

Gaear grinned. “You should be grateful, boyo,” he said, his voice hushed to not carry to the camps. “I’m going to kill you swift and clean. His Majesty has some rather creative plans for you. How would you rather die? His way? Or my way?”

My fingers still worked. I offered him that sign.

Gaear sighed, his eyes rolling. “How droll. You’re a nasty sort of fellow, Vanyar, the world is a better place without you. I wish I could permit the King to put you down tomorrow, I’d enjoy every last moment of it. But I can’t risk you saying something you shouldn’t. You know about me, don’t you?”

I lay my head back against the oak trunk, smiling. Indeed I do, laddie, I thought. You’re the spy I’d been looking for. And you knew I knew. You flew to me on eagle’s wings when you despise flying so you could beat the courier. You set me up to die, but I survived.

“Yes,” Gaear mused, looking down at me. “I spied for him, told him all about the Atani. King Finian pays awfully well, you know. I’m disgustingly rich. After you’re out of my way, he’ll make me richer.”

Money can’t buy your soul, boyo.

He advanced, lifting the dirk, its keen edge poised to cut my throat. “Sorry, like. I tried killing you several times now, but you have the devil’s own luck. That warehouse trap was a stroke of sheer genius. How you managed to survive is beyond me. How did you, by the way?”

I offered him a curled lip of defiance in lieu of a spoken answer.

He pouted, his eyes gleaming. “No matter, I reckon. I wish I could take the credit, but it was all Finian’s idea. His and that whore, Zeani. Damn, I never knew what he saw in her, she slept with anything that walked. Stirring up the crowd was dead easy, you know. Already hot to avenge the deaths from the fire, all needed to do was tell them you murdered your own unit and point you out. Even our brother Atans believed me.”

He sniggered. “Once you’re gone, His Majesty will launch an investigation but will find nothing to tie me to you. I’ll find Finian another slut, and he’ll get greedy for more intel.” He chuckled. “I’ll certainly sleep easier now you’re finally dead.”

I forced my eyes to remain on its faint gleam, watching it glide closer to my throat. Don’t warn him by shifting your eyes, stupid, I thought, my Atan discipline keeping my eyes on his weapon. Not on him, his weapon. As though in fear, I widened them, letting my jaw slacken.

He bent toward me, forced to stoop in order to shove the knife into my throat. “Hold still now,” he almost crooned. “It’ll be over soon.”

The shadow rose behind him.

Swift talons locked the collar around his neck at the same moment Malik burst from the thicket behind me. Gaear screamed, his voice high and womanish. Still, he tried to lunge, to shove that dirk into my face, my throat, anything. Malik reared high, his front hooves boxing, and struck Gaear squarely in the chest. Gaear, still wailing, crashed into Windy. He fought on, trying to slash and cut, his dagger slicing nothing but air.

Muttering a curse, his wings flared, Windy took him down. His right front talons pinned Gaear’s torso to the rocky soil as his victim struggled, trying to stab Windy’s leg, shoulder, foot – anything that might free him.

“Bloody bugger,” Windy growled.

His talons closed on Gaear’s right wrist and squeezed. Despite the noise Gaear kicked up, I clearly heard the bones in his arm snap like twigs. Gaear screamed again.

Malik plucked the dagger from his lax hand as Windy picked him up with careless ease and tossed him on the stony beach. Gaear landed hard on his back, gasping, choking, trying to shriek in his agony but lacking the necessary breath. Though he sought to rise and run, Malik, his arms folded across his bare chest, planted an implacable hoof on Gaear’s chest and leaned forward.

“Malik! Don’t you dare kill him.”

King Roidan, riding his Centaur, galloped from behind the trees, his escort on his mount’s creamy tail. In a whoosh of wings, Sky Dancer settled to earth on Windy’s left. Chief Ba’al’amawer led a charge of a dozen Minotaurs into the faint firelight, their twin swords in both hands. Above, Commander Storm Cloud and several Griffins circled low overhead. Cavalry soldiers and Centaurs ringed the small clearing, kicking up dust. Someone added wood to my pyre and flames climbed high.

“Malik, dammit, is he alive?”

“Oh, he’s alive, sire,” Malik replied, smiling down into Gaear’s agonized face.

“Who is it? Damn it, who dared betray our country?”

“Lieutenant Gaear, sire.”

“Did he confess?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Windy said, saluting, his wings furled over his massive shoulders. “The Lord Captain Commander, First Captain Vanyar and I are witnesses. He confessed he was paid, and paid well. He realized First Captain Vanyar suspected he spied for King Finian and thus helped set the trap that killed the Captain’s unit in Dalziel. Corpora Zeani, deceased, was also implicated in the plot. Captain Vanyar, his intended victim, escaped. He planned to kill Captain Vanyar, here now, to silence him before you put him to the question.”

“So my plan worked?”

“Indeed, Your Majesty.”

Roidan rocked back in his saddle and grinned. “Damn. I love it when a plan comes together. No need for a trial, kids, he’s a self-confessed traitor. Gaear, your sainted father will have some rather choice words for you when you meet him. And you will be meeting him very soon, I promise.”

His Majesty’s eyes found mine. His grin broadened. “Sky Dancer, be a dear and untie Van. I’m sure he’s dreadfully uncomfortable and I know he’s injured, poor fellow.”

I caught Malik’s swift wink and tiny smile. Suddenly, I could speak again, though my voice was hoarse. “Your Majesty,” I began, as Sky Dancer towered over me. Her clever talons loosened the ropes, but the chain and its lock rebuffed her.

She straightened. “Who has the bloody key to this?” she snapped, obviously unconcerned she spoke thus in the King’s presence.

“Oh, crap. I do. Hang on.”

Edara trotted forward, into the light, fumbling at her belt. Removing the key, she tossed it into the air toward Sky Dancer. Though her raised talon would catch it, Padraig’s swift fist intercepted it.

“Permit me, Lieutenant,” he said, striding forward, his tail sweeping his hocks.

Sky Dancer gave ground, muttering and hovering, as Padraig, smiling, bent to the lock that bound me to the tree. “I apologize, First Captain, sir,” he said, his voice low.

“You –”

As the chain fell from my chest and pooled in my lap, he picked it up and tossed it aside. “I owe you that.”

“An –”

“Apology, yes, sir.”

Amused, Padraig helped me to stand, his hand under my shoulder forcing me to lean on his strength. “I had to feign hatred for you, Van. You needed to believe we all hated you, all of us in the brotherhood. For His Majesty’s plan to work, to uncover the spy, you were our scapegoat. We didn’t know who the spy was, but knew he’d try to kill you, thus reveal himself. Vanyar, you were the King’s bait.”

“Only a small handful knew of my plan to smoke out the traitor,” Roidan said, his Centaur pushing his way between Sky Dancer and Windy. “I, we, knew of a leak in the Atan, but couldn’t determine who. When you fled in disgrace, with half the nation crying for your blood, we knew our moment had arrived with bells on.”

“Only His Majesty, the Lord Captain, Clan Chief Ba’al’amawer and Corporal Edryd, plus myself, knew of the plan to use you to find the traitor.” Padraig smiled sadly. “I hope you might one day forgive me.”

“We needed every Atan’s hand set against you, Van,” Roidan said. “To set our little trap.”

“Fortunately,” Malik said, closely examining his victim. “Gaear fell for it.”

“It’s my fault, Van,” Roidan said, “I’m sorry to have put you through all that. I’m to blame.”

“Your Majesty,” Malik said sternly, his hoof still planted on a squirming, weeping Gaear. “A King never apologizes.”

“This one does.”

Roidan leaned out of his saddle and put his hand on my shoulder. He smiled, his blue eyes earnest and sincere. “I’m sorry you suffered so, Vanyar. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“Your Majesty –” I croaked, leaning heavily on Padraig.

“Hush now and know this, lad,” Roidan went on. “I’m damn proud of you. And I’m damn glad you’re on my side. If you were on hers, now, we’d all be in deep doo-doo.”

“It’s called ‘shit’, Your Majesty,” Malik said primly.

“Why haven’t you healed Captain Vanyar, Malik?” Roidan demanded, glaring daggers. “Can’t you see he’s in pain?”

“I’m babysitting this miscreant here. Sire.”

“Oh, for –” Roidan straightened in his saddle and looked around. “Chief Ba’al’amawer, are you busy?”

“Right now, sire?”

“Yes right now.”

“No, sire.”

“Then kindly string up Malik’s little nuisance from Van’s tree. I see a stout branch right there.”

“Right away, sire.”

Ba’al’amawer strode forward, Muljier and Raga at his shoulders. Windy stepped aside, but Sky Dancer scowled and hovered as close to Padraig as she could get. “Van?” she hissed. “You all right, bro?”

I found a lopsided grin for her. “Right as rain, love.”

Malik took his hoof from Gaear’s chest and retreated several steps, permitting the huge Clan Chief to seize Gaear by his hair. Ignoring Gaear’s screech of agony and panic, Raga bound Gaear’s hands behind him, as Muljier picked up the rope that bound me to the tree.

“Oh, no,” Roidan said, shaking his finger. “That one. The chain.”

“By the chain, sire?”

“Yes, yes.” Roidan waved his hand impatiently. “Loop the chain around his neck, throw the end over the limb and haul on it. Must I do this myself?”

“Of course not, sire.”

“I’m feeling bloodthirsty, for some odd reason,” Roidan complained, crossing his arms over his chest. “Must have something to do with treason, I suspect. No, dammit, use several loops, there. Can’t have him dropping out it, then we’ll be forced to do the bloody thing all over again. I’m tired, you know, haven’t ridden for years, and supper is waiting.”

Malik walked toward me, his dark face lit by the dancing flames. He patted Sky Dancer on her shoulder as he passed, nodding respect to Windy. “Van,” he said, his broad hand on my shoulder. “Glad to have you back.”

“Ditto. How is it –” I glanced around at them all: Malik, Padraig, Edara, Windy, Sky Dancer, Aderyn and even Gaear. “How is it you all survived? I thought you were dead.”

Padraig chuckled. “Never underestimate our Malik, here, Van. No demon can come close to kicking his black ass.”

“But,” I jerked my head at Edara. “I saw her killed. Aderyn, too. Flynn’s bombs –”

“Killed Grey Mist and Kasi, yes.”

Malik’s face and tone lowered in grief. “Nor should we forget brave Valcan or young Dusan. Once we dispatched Flynn’s hellspawn to its home, I turned my attentions to our wounded. Ilirri helped.”

“Ilirri?”

“The King had already commanded troops, they’d been following for days, Ilirri among them. She’s truly the best healer there is, Van. Without her, Edara, Moon, Windy, Aderyn and Edryd would have died. The demon almost killed Edryd – that boy has more courage than brains. Tried taking the beast on, himself.”

“Where are they?” I asked. “The others.”

Malik smiled as much as he ever does, his dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Still recovering. Ilirri is taking good care of them and Alain is helping her. Edryd is at his wits end, by the way.

“Uh –”

“He was deeply involved in the scheme to ruin you, Vanyar. Remember his arrow in Kiera’s mane?”

“Um – “

“That one, yes.”

“Well –”

“We had to keep you thinking there was an Atan plot to kill you. Flynn’s little ambush gave Edryd a prime opportunity. He’s the best shot, as you well know. Anyway, he’s terrified he’ll die before telling you, to your face, he knows you didn’t kill his father.”

I turned my cheek away from him, swallowing hard. “That – that means a great deal.”

“Oh, by the way, I think you need to see her.”

“Her?” I asked, confused.

Malik whistled.

A sharp whinny, from the far side of the river, answered him. My jaw dropped. My mouth dried to dust. Oh, gods, it can’t be –

“Persuading her to remain behind was a task in itself,” Malik commented, his eyes on the black water. “She wanted to be here, but if she were – let’s just say she’d compromise our little trap. Gaear might have never walked into it.”

A dark speck crashed into the foam, coursing its way across the rushing stretch, swimming, lunging, sending water high into the night. She screamed again, calling, calling to me, her only love. Tears I didn’t realize had formed and tracked down my cheeks. I remembered her lying there, broken, her eyes rolled back in her head – and never thought for a moment she’d lived.

“But – she died. I watched her die.”

Padraig sniffed, scowling. “A piss-poor healer you are, can’t distinguish unconsciousness from death. I gave her enough healing to keep her alive, but Malik saved her life. Thank him, if you will. Ilirri finished the task, and healed her completely.”

Kiera crashed through Centaurs and horses, kicked her way past cursing Minotaurs and sent Griffins hurtling into the night sky like dislocated pigeons. Charging past Roidan’s stiff guard, her heels missed Muljier by a fraction, and forced a startled curse from Chief Ba’al’amawer. Leaning on Padraig, I smiled through my pain as Kiera dropped her muzzle in my hands.

“Nice horse, what?” Roidan commented, his tone dry. “Vanyar, you’re stealing my thunder. Quiet that mare, now, and pay attention.”

I buried my face in Kiera’s heavy mane, breathing in her scent, her living, heart-beating, essence. She’s alive! The weight I didn’t know was there lifted from me, like a passing thundercloud crossing the sun before the light emerges, triumphant.

Kiera snorted down my neck, nickering, stamping, with her muzzle digging into my shoulder.

“Leave off,” Padraig muttered, pushing her away. “You’ll kill him, dammit. He’s not too keen on his feet, like.”

Crooning under his breath, Malik coaxed her a few steps away from me, his arm over her neck. She suffered herself to be led away, her tail swinging from side to side. Not liking the distance from me, but trusting in Malik’s good sense, Kiera stood quiet. Occasionally nibbling on the sparse highland grass, my lady watched me with dark liquid eyes as Malik stroked her neck.

“Oh, good,” King Roidan said, rubbing his hands together. “Vanyar, consider selling that mare to me, will you? Jolly good. She’ll improve my stock no end.”

“I love you, Your Majesty,” I replied, smiling. “But my answer is no.”

“The buffoon.” Roidan sniffed. “Won’t sell his horse to his King. Clan Chief, why is that idiot still alive?”

“We’re merely awaiting the royal signal, Your Majesty,” Ba’al’amawer intoned, his hands on the chain.

“Great good gods, hang him already.”

Per his King’s command, Raga had wrapped the chain around Gaear’s neck several times, yet stood behind the still-weeping, convicted traitor. Over the stout branch above, the chain hung loose and ready. Ba’al’amawer backed away, Muljier at his shoulder, the chain loose in his grip. At Roidan’s signal, he’d haul with his considerable strength and lift Gaear, strangling, high above the ground.

Roidan’s golden Centaur mount swung toward the self-confessed felon, bringing Roidan closer to Gaear. “Any last words, traitor?” Roidan asked, his tone pleasant. “I’ll record them for posterity, of course.”

Gaear merely cursed, still weeping.

“Not what I’d expect, but as you wish. Clan Chief.”

Ba’al’amawer hauled on the chain, using every considerable bull strength he possessed. Gaear flew from a standing position on the ground to two rods above the ground in less than a second. His legs kicked and danced, his face changing from pale ocher to dark blue. Slowly strangling on the chain around his neck, my Clansman paid dearly for the money he earned. In selling Atani deaths for illicit gold, Gaear died for his loyalty to the wrong side.

May the red witch burn for this treachery, I thought, watching as Gaear slowly stilled, hanging by his neck, his face turning from blue to black. Only his feet twitched as his life sped into the aether, his soul now judged by those that kept score. If the gods will have mercy on you, I thought, then let their mercy be done.

The pewter collar, still clasping his purple neck, gleamed dully in the red-orange glare of the fire and torches. Although caught between his flesh and the chain, it suffered not one scratch upon its cold surface. One day, I mused, entranced by it, I’ll learn its secrets. Perhaps Malik would teach them to me. After all, I’m no longer a hated criminal.

“Malik.”

The King’s voice roused me, though turning my head proved a difficult task indeed.

“Sire, I’m on it. Padraig, lay him down. Windy, get Sky Dancer out of my way, I don’t care how you do it. Where’s my kit? Dammit, I asked for – right, set it down. Yes, there.”

I drifted, my eyes on the stars. I fancied Gaear up there, though why he’d smile down on me I’d no idea. My world spun as Malik rested his hand on my brow, calling for this, for that, for water, for the gods’ blessing. Without Iyumi, I am nothing. I am a husk of what I once was, an empty shell, awaiting someone to fill me.

The stars spun wild, out of control. I cried aloud, a name, a face, yearning, reaching. I missed her by yards, rods, miles, her face receding from me. Darkness fell completely when his hand shut my eyes, but the spinning refused to relent. My head whirled, my gut along with it. The agony of my broken chest rose on a high crescendo and I think I screamed along with it.

Under Malik’s power, I blacked out.

How does one hide an invading army?

If one were a tactical genius, such as His Majesty King Roidan, one might follow the intricate mountain passes and valleys, hugging the terrain as one embraces a long-lost brother. By creeping like a louse across a lady’s hat, the aforementioned King might conceal the approach of Minotaurs, Centaurs and cavalry soldiers. He might utilize those unique flying creatures known as Griffins to fly high and spy out potential trouble, such as lone farmsteads, a passing patrol, or a merchant hastening his way to market. Such a genius might also throw those deliciously deceitful creatures known as Shape-Shifters to spy out the land. Who knew what flew, crawled, leaped, bound, stalked or wriggled in the mud might be in truth a spy for the King.

If magic couldn’t diffuse the situation, force of arms did. While many Raithin Mawrn fell prey to the magics used upon them by the Bryn’Cairdhans invading their land, they’d no knowledge of it. If magic didn’t work, they died. Thus, no word of the invasion reached the sensitive ears of King Finian. He trusted in the protection of the mountains surrounding his castle and his country, never realizing how they might betray him.

By exploiting such creatures, His Majesty guided his royal Weksan’Atan forces across the Shin’Eah Mountains, undetected by the Raithin Mawrn or their King. Due to His Majesty’s sheer audacity and determination, the Atan army stood high above the gates of Castle Salagh in the darkness before the dawn. This day, foreseen long ago, the sun and the moon joined in the sky. The portent of things to come. The time of the prophecy.

Concealed within a curved arm of a hillock, less than a league from Castle Salagh and its surrounding town, King Roidan frowned. Mounted aboard his loyal Centaur, he peered below, his fist cupped in a circle as his magic brought every sight from far away up close and personal. Following his example, I studied the silent town where nothing moved and only the street lamps were lit at this early hour. The town surrounded the castle’s high walls, looking much like chicks gathered under their mother’s wings. Though I saw no guards on the walls, I knew that meant little. Even with magic, I’d easily miss seeing black-cloaked men in the dark.

I bit my lower lip, thoughtful, considering the light that burned in the window of the high north-side tower. It gleamed red-orange, indicating a fire rather than the yellowish glow of a tallow candle or oil lamp. Someone built a hearth fire up there.

“Now, boys and girls,” Roidan said, lowering his fist. “What am I looking at?”

“Castle Salagh, Your Majesty,” perked a bright voice from our rear.

I rolled my eyes as Malik sighed heavily, shaking his head. Green as grass, I thought.

Roidan snorted softly and glanced over his shoulder, briefly. “I was hoping for a bit more intel than that,” he commented. “Does anyone have more to contribute?”

“The town itself has few arms and fewer trained men to wield them,” I said, sitting Kiera to Roidan’s left. “It’s comprised of merchants, a few nobles and many, many poor peasants. Finian isn’t known for his generosity toward his people. He doesn’t trust them, thus they can’t rebel against him if they’re ignorant and weaponless.

“For the time being, the town can be ignored. Sire, the greatest threat will come from the four towers. At the four corners: east, west, north and south. Each are guarded by well-trained soldiers armed with bows and cross-bows. At least twenty to a tower. The parapets are also guarded, but have only a few men to walk them. They are also armed with cross-bows.”

His Majesty eyed me sidelong. “Someone has done his homework. What else do I need to know?”

Malik’s long finger pointed out and down. “There are also two heavily guarded gates, my liege. We cannot enter unless we can lower the drawbridges. A deep moat surrounds the castle and unless we dive in and murder all the reptiles within them, we cannot swim it. We must have those gates up and the drawbridges down. They are the key to our success. Without them, we fail.”

“Give me a half hour, Majesty,” Chief Ba’al’amawer rumbled, at Roidan’s left shoulder. “I’ll have those bridges down.”

Roidan held up his hand, stilling us all. “You’ll have your chance, Clan Chief,” he muttered, frowning. “Vanyar, you know where she is. Don’t you?”

I knew the she of whom he spoke, and it wasn’t Iyumi. I didn’t blink. I pointed. “There, sire. The north tower where she sits beside her fire, awaiting Flynn and his prisoners. Like a spider in her web, plotting.”

Roidan sat back, smiling. “You see why I like this boy, Malik? I told you a long time ago he had quality.”

“I’m so very glad I took your advice, sire,” Malik replied, his tone neutral.

“Of course you do,” Roidan commented. “We’d all be in deep doo-doo if you hadn’t.”

“It’s called –”

“‘Shit’, yes, I know, Malik. Stop correcting me, will you?”

“Whatever, sire.”

“My liege,” I said, my tone low and urgent. “We’re behind Flynn by only minutes. We’ve been hard on his heels for the last couple days, I know he’s only just arrived at the castle. If the Duchess must sacrifice the baby at the moment both the sun and moon join –”

“I know, son.” Roidan replied, his grizzled expression set and grim. “We’ve less than an hour. The sun and moon will rise together at dawn.”

The King’s hand gripped my shoulder, hard. “You’re my hand, here, Van. I’m relying on you, on your talents, your unique skills. Will you lead the Griffins in an attack on those towers?”

I dipped my brow. “It’s my honor, sire.”

Roidan suddenly frowned. “I gave you back your sword, hadn’t I? Tell me I did, for if I hadn’t, I bloody well lost it.”

I grinned and patted my hip. “Here where it belongs, my liege.”

“Jolly good. Clan Chief, are your Minotaurs ready?”

“Ready and able, Your Majesty.”

“When Vanyar and the Griffins take the towers, you and your troops must seize those gates. The Griffins will bring the bridges down, Ba’al’amawer, but they must stay down. You understand?”

“We will keep those gates secure, sire, or we’ll die trying.”

“If you must die, my old friend, die after those gates have been secured. Are we clear?”

That old Minotaur bastard actually grinned, his bovine lips skinned back from his heavy teeth. “Command those flying kitties to kill the troopers inside and lower the gates. Then we’ll see who can take a castle by storm.”

“Malik.”

Roidan’s hand fell onto Malik’s arm. “Once the Griffins kill the guards and the Minotaurs seize the gates, will you ride with me?”

Malik found a rare grin that actually stretched his facial muscles. “With pleasure, my King. To hell and beyond.”

“Remember, all,” Roidan said, his voice raised to his troops. “We target the north tower of the castle. My daughter is there, and the prophetic child with her. Both must survive if we, as a nation, are to remain free from the hell bitch’s yoke. If she wins, we all lose, right down to the smallest serf child. We fight, now, for not just our liberty, but for our very lives. And for the lives of whom we love. We may die now, Atani soldiers, to a man. We may die here, on foreign soil, as interlopers and fiends. Here, we are the enemy, not the savior. Our blood feeds their offspring. But if we are successful, our deaths mean our families will live on in peace and prosperity. What do we fight for if not for that?”

Malik raise his fist high. “I fight for my King and for Iyumi. I will die, here and now, for her life and that of that child. Who’s with me?”

“I am.”

My fist popped up seconds before hundreds of others. No voice raised to alert the enemy to our presence, but none failed to show their allegiance in silence. Their raised fists shadowed mine. I may have been first, but Roidan’s smile didn’t recognize me, but instead fell upon all those who swore their loyalty and their vengeance upon those who dared lay hands upon She Who Hears. The King’s daughter. The gods’ voice. The lady I loved.

“Captain Vanyar.”

I stiffened my spine although he never looked at me.

“Lead them to her,” he said, his face smiling as tears stood within his eyes. “Bring her home to me. She’s all I have left in this mad, crazy world. You love her, as I do. I need you.”

I crossed my right arm over my chest, my chin dropping. Your will, sire. Sliding down from Kiera’s back, I took a moment to slide my hand surreptitiously down her face. She lipped my cheek, her eyes bright.

“You sure you won’t sell her to me?” Roidan asked, his eyes livid as they danced across my girl.

I grinned. “Ask for my soul, Your Majesty, you have it. But ask for my horse –”

“Never.”

Malik’s voice from my right completed what I hadn’t said. “Sire, you know better.”

Roidan turned away, his mouth frowning but his eyes laughing. “I know. Don’t part a good horse from his human. Or hers, for that matter. But still –”

“Majesty.”

“I know, dammit. Chill, will you? Malik, you seriously need a vacation. Remind me after we kill the witch and retrieve my daughter, all right?”

“Of course, sire.”

“Captain Vanyar?”

“Daughter, retrieved. Red Bitch, dead. Malik, vacation. Got it.”

“Good man. Always could count on you. Now, why are you still here?”

“I’m gone, my liege.”

Stalking to a relatively open spot near the line of Minotaurs, I turned my face upward, into the darkness.

“Windy,” I snapped. “Sky Dancer.”

Without much room to land, both circled low overhead, beaks pointed down as they eyed me from a dozen rods up. “Right here, Van,” Windy said. “Er, sir, rather.”

“So much for military discipline,” Roidan sighed, but his face smiled gently.

“Find the flight leaders. Lightning Fork, Swift Wing and Storm Cloud, bring them to me.”

“Where will you be?” Sky Dancer asked, her beak angled down to see me better.

I grinned. “Right here.”

As the pair winged high, out of sight, I saluted the King once more. “Sire. Might I respectfully suggest you remain here, with your guard?”

He scowled. “Are you suggesting I skulk out of sight like a coward, First Captain? That I refrain from leading my warriors into battle in person?”

I met his blue eyes and smiled. “Yes.”

“Nice try,” he snapped. “But forget it. I haven’t forgotten how to wield a sword, damn your eyes. You find my daughter and I’ll do the rest. Grow some bloody wings, First Captain.”

“My liege.”

I leaped into the air and changed. My heavy wingbeats tossed Roidan’s and Malik’s hair into their eyes as I rose, ponderously at first, then with more grace and power. Catching a thermal, I rose higher, my huge wings beating steadily as those below me retreated into the darkness. I glanced down, between my shoulders, and called out. “Keep him safe, Malik. He’s the only King we’ve got.”

“Mind your own business, Van,” Malik snapped. “I’ll mind mine. Take out those guards on the walls and the gates.”

“Your request is my command, Lord Captain Commander,” I answered, circling higher. “I’ll signal when we’ve neutralized the troops.”

Coasting upon the early mountain air, I found five Griffins winging toward me. Unlike a kestrel, a Griffin couldn’t hover. Rather than try, I tightened my circle. Like a funnel, high above the mountaintop where Roidan and Malik planned their attack, we five Griffins flew about one another, rising higher and higher until the army below were but specs in the darkness.

“Commanders,” I said, my voice terse. “Assign me five from each of your units. Storm Cloud, you take the south and east walls. Eliminate anything moving. Lightning Fork, yours are the north and west. Swift Wing, you seize the south gate. I’ll take the north. Once you drop the bridge, signal with a fire shot.

“Lieutenants Sky Dancer and Wind Warrior are with me. Once the walls are ours and the bridges down, protect the Minotaurs and the cavalry units. Do not, under any circumstances, allow Finian’s men to retake the bridges. If the bridges rise, our beloved She Who Hears and the prophetic child will die under the knife of the Red Bitch. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the fate we all face should that happen.”

“You don’t, First Captain,” Storm Cloud replied. “We’ll take the walls.”

“What if Finian has an army shut behind those gates?” Lightning Fork asked. “His Majesty will ride into a trap.”

“What if he does?” I replied, stretching my beak into a grin. “Are we not Atan, lads? Do we not strike from above, in the dark, as the angels from heaven do? Can any army of human soldiers withstand the might of Griffins, Minotaurs, Shifters and our own King? Please, tell me the truth here.”

“My apologies, First Captain,” Lightning Fork answered, a grin in his tone. “I forget myself, sometimes.”

“He hasn’t an army down there, Commanders,” Sky Dancer said, circling at my right flank. “Finian has but minions. He dismissed his standing army years ago, thinking them useless and unnecessary. He posts guards on Salagh’s walls, but they’ve grown careless over the years. They lack training, discipline, often falling asleep at their posts. While the real soldiers plow fields, his ‘protectors’ are little more than swords for hire. They owe their allegiance to gold and nothing more.”

I imprisoned my grin before eruption. “How do you come by such knowledge, Lieutenant?”

Sky Dancer sniffed. “Quite often I’m assigned to the princess’ guard detail. She tells me stuff.”

“And She Who Hears knows a great deal about many things,” Storm Cloud remarked. “But can her intel be relied upon? Things change, you know.”

“But the men Finian keeps around him?” I asked, my wings stretched to their fullest. “That won’t change, Commander. He guards only his castle, and his folks fend for themselves. He’s made himself easy prey, and we are the predators he fears. Are we ready?”

“Ready, First Captain,” Lightning Fork answered, his disciplined unit approaching in silence, their only sound the soft beat of a hundred huge wings.

“Ready, sir.”

Just as the obedient and loyal crowd of land-locked creatures crowded around Malik and Roidan, I commanded the skies. Swift Wing rose high above, his unit hard on his tail. He led his band wheeling south, but his soldiers weren’t the only to leap forward. Both Lightning Fork’s and Storm Cloud’s wings split apart from the main, and vanished into the night.

Under the direction of Windy and Sky Dancer, the borrowed fifteen Griffins flew in an orderly formation behind them. In turn, they flanked me. Banking high and over, my wings beat swiftly toward the enemy fortress. With only a few leagues to fly, I and my team circled high over the north tower within moments. From this angle, I couldn’t see the window or the hearth light. Yet, I scented wood smoke and blood with my keen eagle’s senses.

“She hasn’t killed them already?” Windy asked, having caught the same odor I did.

“Listen,” Sky Dancer said, her tone low, hushed. “Can’t you hear it?”

“Fighting,” I answered, my tone grim. “Something’s going on in there.”

“Van,” Sky Dancer said, buzzing up to fly at my right wing. “I see ten guards on the tower, with perhaps another twenty on the walls to either side. Well-armed and armored.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a challenge if we didn’t have enemies to fight,” I said. “Windy, Dancer and you three – with me. The rest of you spread out and kill Finian’s soldier boys. Try not to make too much noise, but if you must toss a trooper off a battlement and he yells, don’t sweat it. Here we go.”

Banking hard left and down, I closed my wings and dropped. As silent as an owl stooping upon her mouse, I fixed my raptor’s keen night vision on two men strolling casually across the rampart. The other eight also moved in pairs, some standing and chatting, the rest walking their patrol and gazing down at the silent keep below.

Down. Not up.

Catching Sky Dancer’s eye as she dove at my right I pointed at the pair furthest away, then cut across my own throat with my talon. I did the same with Windy on my left, ordering him to take out the pair walking in the far opposite direction. Thus, we three each controlled the middle and both ends. The remaining three Griffin warriors would mop up the other four between us.

Windy and Sky Dancer spread apart from me, dipping wide to reach their marks at the same moment I hit mine. I didn’t need to glance around to see the other three hard on my tail. While I gave them no specific instruction, I knew they’d recognize instantly the plan I implemented. Their Atani discipline and training would carry them through without further guidance from me.

Seconds before impact, I spread my wings and slowed. The troopers never sensed my approach, nor glanced around. My weight, twice that of a fully mature bull, took my first victim to the ground. His back snapped instantly. He cried out in shock at the same instant my talon sliced his throat, effectively silencing him. His partner stumbled back, trying to reach for his sword, his eyes huge in his panicked face. I pounced on him, my wings flared and my talons raking him from shoulder to crotch. He tried to scream as his innards burst forth along with his still-beating heart.

I never much cared for the taste of human blood on my tongue. Thusly, I refrained from biting through his neck to open his carotid. Instead, I slashed his throat with my lion hind claws and leaped clear of his gushing red torrents. I know, I admit it. I don’t much care for human blood on my fur or feathers, either. Sue me.

A swift glance around showed me the effectiveness of a silent Griffin attack. None felt the need to toss an Raithin Mawrn soldier off the battlements, but the top of the ramparts ran red with blood. I wasn’t the only fastidious cat there, either. Both Windy and Dancer sat primly atop the battlements, with only a few spots of blood to mar their feathers, while one Griffin, drat, I never caught his name though he ranked a Lieutenant, winged his way up to perch on the tower cupola and shake red from his talons. The other two circled, and eyed the dead soldiers closely to ensure they all were dead.

“Windy,” I said, leaping off the battlement. “I’ll cut the right drawbridge rope, and you cut the left.”

“Vanyar!” Sky Dancer screeched, diving on my tail. “You aren’t leaving me behind.”

“Go babysit the other three, Dancer.”

“They don’t require babysitting, sir,” she retorted. “You, however, do.”

“Never mind,” Windy said, catching my pained expression.

Even a razor sharp Griffin talon had trouble with the triple-thick, heavily coiled ropes that held up the huge northern drawbridge. Clinging to the tremendous rope like a bat on a tree limb, I held myself in place with three sets of claws while sawing frantically at the rope. Likewise, Windy also held on tight, his right talon whipping back and forth. Slowly, the cable’s strands broke and shredded, the weight of the drawbridge making it weaker the further we cut. The incredible tension on the ropes helped, and the many strands snapped one by one, even without our help.

“When that thing let’s go,” Sky Dancer warned, flipping between the two of us, “It’s gonna send you flying –”

My rope broke with a sharp cracking sound. Sky Dancer was right, for I was sent hurtling skyward, out of control. I heard the second cable break and Windy’s yell as he, too, was recoiled into free space. Fortunately, neither of us struck the castle’s very solid stone walls. Cast out of control and falling free, I fought to reclaim both balance and wings. But when I saw the distant stars rather than the ground, I knew I needed to upend myself before I struck that selfsame earth.

I regained control of my wings in time to watch, fascinated, as the drawbridge swung ponderously down. The cogs that kept it upright and shut tight unwound with a sharp rattling of metal teeth. Chains that reinforced the heavy oak timbers chimed musically as the structure fell, down, down, across the moat into its moorings. It hit with a resounding boom and a wash of dust, no doubt waking the neighbors.

In the distance, another boom announced the falling of the second bridge. An instant later, a huge sparking fire raced across the dark heavens. The signal.

I launched my own firedrake into the early dawn sky, informing the King the bridge was down. As I did, my eyes caught sight of the lightening eastern horizon. Beating my wings slowly, I rose higher, with both Sky Dancer and Windy pacing me. In a line of three, we flew slowly eastward, our altitude granting us a better view of the sight arriving over the distant eastern sea.

“What the hell?” Windy asked, his tone low and shocked.

“That’s just wrong,” Dancer added. “It’s like – like –”

“The sun and moon rising together,” I finished for her, grim.

At the edge of the world, the sun crested the distant horizon, gleamed redly and sent out shattered clouds of pink, orange, purple and gold. Yet, at its side, moving inexorably closer to the new sun’s red-gold sphere, moved a black round ball of evil. As we watched, enthralled, it inched closer to the rising sun, its darkness swallowing the brightly colored rays like a demon swallowing hope.

Not enough time, I thought, turning tail and diving. The moon’s shadow was but minutes away from eclipsing the sun. Unless I stopped it, the Red Duchess would slay the troll on her ghastly alter and control our world.

My keen hearing picked up the galloping thud of thousands of hooves from both north and south. Cavalry horses, Centaurs, Minotaurs – all raced down from the mountains through the silent, frightened town and into the Castle Salagh’s keep. Their task was to seize control of the castle.

Mine was to find Iyumi. And the Witch.

Banking up and over, I closed my wings and sped like greased lighting toward the north tower. Like ticks on a deer, Windy and Sky Dancer hugged tight to my tail, never letting me out of their sight. Crossing the parapets and their bloody dead guards, I aimed for the fire-lit windows.

“Van!” Windy yelled, the wind whipping his voice back. “Where are you going? Are you insane?”

“Vanyar, stop,” Sky Dancer screamed, her raking talons trying to catch hold of my tail. “There might be more troops there.”

“Take them out,” I ordered. “I see a balcony, and a door. I’m going in.”

“Van!” Windy cried, his voice no doubt reaching what few guards that yet lived. “We can’t fit through that thing.”

“But I can.”

“Dammit, you can’t go alone!”

“Watch me.”

Dipping my left wingtip, I dove down.