A Flight of Broken Wings, page 19
part #1 of The Aeriel Chronicles Series
Hiya nodded, even as her lower lip wobbled with oncoming tears. But her eyes remained dry as she smiled up at Ruban, and the Hunter could feel his heart ache with pride. Hiya was a brave girl, she always had been. He patted her affectionately on the back, and she ran off towards the sedan where it was still parked a few yards behind the convertible, which had toppled over and was lying unceremoniously on its side.
As Hiya hopped into the back of the little black car, another feral snarl reverberated through the forest and Reivaa hurled Ashwin across the clearing created by the fallen trees and into the toppled convertible, which let out a violent, metallic groan and shuddered convulsively under the impact. Silently, the Hunter bent down to reclaim his discarded weapons, even as Reivaa unfurled her wings and dashed after the Zainian, who lay gasping against the destroyed vehicle.
Taking aim, Ruban threw his sifblade. It was largely guesswork; he could barely see the Aeriel when she was moving at full speed. Still, it was either that or watch the creature snap Ashwin’s neck. And even from a self-preservation point of view, that was a bad idea. Ruban harboured no delusions about his ability to take Reivaa on his own while trying to protect Hiya at the same time.
The blade connected, and Reivaa dropped out of the air like a singularly gorgeous sack of potatoes, her outstretched hand inches away from Ashwin’s throat. The metallic handle of the sifblade stuck out of her shoulder like a very intricately carved birthday candle even as effervescent light spilled like blood from the wound.
“Should’ve hit her in the heart,” Ashwin whispered as they stood catching their breaths, watching Reivaa stagger slowly back to her feet, her right shoulder a mess of torn skin and ruined cloth, the blade still sticking out of the flayed flesh like some kind of morbid banner. Ruban cursed internally. How was it that he never had more than one sifblade on him whenever he was being attacked by some of the most powerful Aeriels in creation? What use was a whole arsenal full of top-of-the-line ammunition when all he ever actually had to work with was an old standard-issue sifblade that any third-year at Bracken would scoff at?
“If I had that kind of aim I’d be an Olympic archer, not an underpaid government employee,” Ruban snapped through gritted teeth, not taking his eyes off the Aeriel. “Be thankful for what you got.”
“You live on less than half your income,” said Ashwin indignantly. “What would you do with more money?”
“Point,” agreed Ruban, even as they both jumped out of the way of the fiery ball of saturated energy that crashed into the ground where they had been standing moments ago, scorching the earth a charcoal black. It hadn’t been the most powerful blast, but it would definitely have fried them alive had it made contact. “Damn.”
“I’ll try to get close to her. You warn me if she tries anything. And shoot her in the wings if you can. It’s one of the most vulnerable parts of her anatomy.”
“Bullets won’t do any good without sif,” Ruban bit out, frustrated.
“The sif’s inside of her. How long do you think she’ll last with that thing lodged in her flesh? It’s a death sentence. We just have to keep her distracted until she falls over and dies.” With that Ashwin lunged at the Aeriel, throwing kicks and blows that connected more easily and seemed to have more of an impact now that Reivaa was being drained by the blade in her shoulder. As the Aeriel crashed into a nearby tree, hurled into it by a rather vicious kick from Ashwin, a tiny, iridescent light flickered near the palm of her right hand, barely visible in the twilight.
“Ashwin look out,” Ruban roared, jumping forward to push the Zainian out of the range of the shell as it flew at them in a headlong rush.
As energy blasts went, this one was a fairly poor specimen – barely managing to knock over a single tree when it finally detonated deeper in the forest. For once, though, the strength of the blast didn’t matter. The shell had grazed Ruban’s right calf as he pushed Ashwin out of its way and into the ground. He then landed on top of the Zainian in an unceremonious heap.
Ruban thought that if somebody had taken the dullest butter-knife in existence and used it to carve out a chunk of his flesh, it probably would not have hurt anywhere near as much as it did now. The stench of scorched flesh stung his nostrils and his throat burned with what had probably been the hair-raising mother of all screams, but his brain was too busy trying to crawl out of his skull to register much by way of sensory information. Apart from the earth-shattering, heart-stopping pain in his leg, of course.
Distantly, he heard Ashwin talking to him, cradling his head as he moved carefully out from under him, mindful not to jostle him more than necessary. “…I’m gonna take your gun,” the Zainian was saying, and through the haze of agony he felt hands fiddling with his holster, unloading the firearm until there was an uncomfortable emptiness at his side.
“Mpphhh,” he said, unsure of what it was he really wanted to convey, even as a gunshot rang out a few feet off to the side of where he lay. He looked up, forcing his eyes to focus, to see Ashwin standing less than ten feet to his left, facing Reivaa, gun held out in front of him as he moved further away from Ruban, deeper into the forest. He’s leading her away, Ruban realised after a moment, his pain-addled mind moving slower than usual. Grunting, he rolled over to his side, using his arms to push himself off the ground. It wouldn’t do to let a foreign diplomat – no matter how much of a useless pain in the ass – get killed on his watch. That would be all kinds of embarrassing, for everyone involved.
Another shot rang out and a high-pitched, subhuman screech filled the air, Reivaa’s massive wings arching backward and away from her body. He’s done it. He’s hit her in the wing. High on a strange admixture of pain, exhaustion and second-hand triumph, Ruban pushed himself to his feet, ready to run to the Zainian’s aid. And then promptly crumpled to the ground with a scream that might have rivalled Reivaa’s, if the echoes reverberating through the trees were anything to go by. His leg burned, muscles throbbing as unfiltered agony shot through his veins, and his lungs felt as if they had been dipped in acid, then ground into dust with a hatchet. It was a distinctly unpleasant sensation.
“Baan!” a shrill, childish voice wailed somewhere in the distance and to his horror, Ruban saw Hiya shoot out of the sedan and run towards him, russet eyes wide with terror. “Baan, what happened to you? Are you alright? Are you hurt?” she cried, falling to her knees beside him. When she finally saw his mutilated leg, her lips parted in shock, eyes welling with tears. “Oh God,” she whimpered, extending a hand to lightly touch his leg just above the wound.
“It’s all right,” Ruban said, trying to make his voice as reassuring as possible as he pushed himself up on one arm, careful not to jostle the wound. “I’m alright, Hiya. Go back to the car. You shouldn’t be out–”
Shrill laughter filled the air, interrupting him. A chill ran down Ruban’s spine as he turned to see Reivaa looking straight at Hiya, variegated eyes burning with a strange, alien light. Ashwin stood a few feet to her right, his stance defensive, gun held firmly out in front of him as if he had been preparing to fire another shot. He looked as horrified as Ruban felt.
“Where have you been, little girl?” Reivaa cooed, taking a staggering step towards Hiya, where the girl squatted beside Ruban. Her gaze made the Hunter sick. Forcing himself to sit up despite the burning pain in his leg, he tried to push the child behind him, putting his own body between her and the Aeriel.
Reivaa continued to speak with a sickly little chuckle, cooing at Hiya as she took another staggering step forward. “You look just like your mother; did you know that, little girl? You’ve got her eyes. Pretty, pretty eyes – like dirty diamonds. All big and round and filled with terror. She screamed at the end, did you know that? Screamed and cried, begged me to spare her. To let her go. Pretty eyes, so full of fear. So very gorgeous. Don’t worry, you won’t have to miss her for long now,” she whispered almost gently, inching closer to her target. “You’ll scream too, I’ll make sure of that. You’ll scream before you die, little girl. Before I kill you, just like I killed your mother all those years ago. It’ll be more fun this time, though. There won’t be any need to pretend it was an accident this time. I can take my time, have my fun. Tear your pretty little lungs out, nice and slow…”
Reaching for her own shoulder, Reivaa pulled the blade out, breathing heavily as she tossed it to the side. “If I’m to die tonight, I’ll take the girl with me. Feel her heart stop beating under my fingers before it’s over. I’ll finish my last mission for Tauheen, and finish it properly.” She held one pale, bloodless hand out, as if reaching for Hiya through the yards separating them, moving incessantly forward.
The girl whimpered, a strangled sound escaping her lips as she scampered haphazardly away, stumbling away from Ruban and deeper into the forest. His blood running cold, Ruban reached out to catch hold of her, keep her from moving away from him. “Hiya!” he called urgently – desperately – scrambling to reach her.
But she was too far away, already out of his reach. He tried to push himself to his feet, but his legs felt numb, paralysed; as if the pain had been replaced by a sheer lack of sensation. A faint, chillingly familiar rustle made him turn to look at the Aeriel.
Reivaa’s wings flared around her, sterling feathers burning like white fire tipped with a scarlet flame. Her eyes burned like twin stars on an angelic face, twisted almost beyond recognition with some alien emotion that Ruban couldn’t place. It could have been hatred, or it could have been glee, or some blood-curdling combination of the two. She was looking straight at Hiya, who cowered quietly behind a tree that failed to cover her little body completely. Tears streamed down her face and Ruban could see that she was shaking, curled in on herself as if to make herself as small as possible. A twisted smile appeared on Reivaa’s lips, her mouth curving upward as she flapped her wings – once, twice. A great gust of wind lifted the fallen leaves off the ground and scattered them everywhere. Just above them, a flash of lightning split the night-sky in two.
Ruban could only watch, paralysed, as Reivaa lifted herself off the ground, enormous wings beating the air for a few seconds like some hellish bird of prey, before her body flipped and she was horizontal in the air. Then she blurred, flying at the terrified Hiya at a pace that Ruban could not follow with his bare eyes.
Had he had time to think about it, Shwaan might have spared a moment to reflect upon the irony of the situation: that he was inviting death – most likely by human hands – trying to save a human child from a renegade Aeriel whose imminent demise was one of the few highlights of this entire ordeal.
As it was, though, there was no time, and he acted almost entirely on instinct as he watched Reivaa take flight, moving towards Hiya like a flash of lightning ripping through the sky. He felt his wings manifest around him, feathers cackling with pent up energy as he shot after Reivaa, the wind lashing against his face even as his mind reeled with the ecstasy of flight, after such a long interval.
On any other day, it would have been a close match – one he might even have lost, considering what Reivaa had on him in terms of years and experience. But today was not any other day. Reivaa was injured and exhausted and inching towards death with every passing moment. She was outclassed.
He shot past Reivaa and reached Hiya in plenty of time to flip easily in the air and plant himself firmly in front of the terrified, shaking young girl. His wings flared behind him like fiery barriers, shielding her from the oncoming enemy.
Reivaa caught up with him a moment later – silver-flecked eyes half-mad with some combination of pain and blood-lust – and reached blindly past Shwaan to grab at the girl, a look of animalistic hunger on her warped face. Shwaan batted her hand away with an easy flick of the wrist, turning icy eyes towards the delirious creature before him.
This had gone on for long enough. He had been holding back all this time to maintain the illusion of humanity, but that point was moot now. Not even the blissfully oblivious Hunter could have failed to notice the gigantic silver wings that had just sprouted on his companion’s back, or the sudden pearly whiteness of his eyes. Oh well. He reached up and slammed the side of his palm against Reivaa’s exposed neck with all the force he could muster, feeling the bones snap satisfactorily under his fingers. Sometimes, one just had to look on the bright side.
She barely even resisted, too distracted by the whimpering child behind him, as he swept her feet from under her and snapped her neck with one decisive flick. Reivaa raised her hand, grasping the air in Hiya’s general direction one last time, trying to touch that elusive prize, before collapsing in a broken heap at Shwaan’s feet.
Something gave way in the back of Shwaan’s mind, some tightly contained dam of barricaded fear he hadn’t been aware of before now, and he sighed deeply, sagging against the tree that half-hid the little girl. A muffled sob at his back drew his attention, and he turned to see Hiya biting quietly into the sleeve of her ruined shirt, face raw with tears even as her shoulders shook with aborted hiccups intermingled with great, heaving sobs.
Dropping to his knees, he reached for the girl, pulling her up off the ground and into his arms. Her little hands clutched blindly at his nearly-shredded coat as if searching for an anchor. He patted her gently on the back, trying to remember the way Maya had held him, comforted him during the attacks on the palace, in those last few days on earth. After a few seconds the sobs quieted, subsiding into the occasional hiccup, and Hiya sagged against him like an unwound clockwork doll.
At last he pushed himself to his feet, Hiya still snug in his arms as he turned back towards the clearing – to see Ruban inches from his face, the sifblade in his outstretched hand, eyes burning with a bizarre blend of terror and rage.
It had its arms around Hiya, gazing down at her through ghastly silver eyes. Gigantic wings spread out behind it – an argent blaze against the darkness of the night – arching upward and away from its body. Twin red marks – identical to the ones on Reivaa – stained the tips of the outstretched pinions like a bloodstained halo surrounding the familiar face.
Through the haze of pain, fear and blood-loss, Ruban watched – his heart beating a horrified cadence against his abused ribs – as the abomination that had been his companion – his friend – reached out towards Hiya and pulled the terrified, cowering girl into its arms. It was almost gentle, the way it touched her; almost the way Reivaa had been. Hiya’s sobs quieted, subsiding into little hiccups as the creature that had been Ashwin rocked her in its arms, whispering in her ears. Had it not been for the grotesque, inhuman whiteness of the eyes that looked hungrily down at her, the misshapen arch of unearthly wings, Ruban might even have believed that Ashwin was soothing the miserable child, comforting her.
As it was, all he saw was Hiya’s wrenching sobs fade into petrified little whimpers as the creature – the Aeriel – held her hostage in its arms, predatory wings surrounding the child like a huntsman’s cage closing down around his prey.
Ruban blinked, trying to clear the crimson haze that seemed to have descended upon his vision, tinging the world a bloody red. Blinded – partly by the darkness of the deserted night and partly by the fog of agony that clouded his mind – Ruban half crawled, half dragged himself across the clearing to the spot where Reivaa had stood before she flew at Hiya moments ago, although it seemed to him like it had been ages. Grasping unseeingly in the dark, his hands roving through dead leaves and dust, Ruban finally found what he was looking for. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the discarded sifblade.
Like an addict starved of his poison, Ruban clutched at the carved handle of the blade, feeling some clarity seep back into his addled thoughts. He had not realised how much he’d missed the reassuring weight of the blade at his side until it was back in his hands, where it belonged.
Stifling the cry of agony that sprung to his lips at the movement, Ruban dragged himself to his feet, stumbling momentarily before he found his footing on the uneven forest floor. Gripping the sifblade like a lifeline in his trembling hand, Ruban advanced towards the Aeriel – he could not bring himself to call this monster Ashwin, which was probably not its real name anyway – as quietly as possible. He bit viciously down on his tongue to keep himself from crying out as the movement exacerbated the pain in his wounded leg.
Ruban had long since lost track of time, and hours or minutes could have passed by the time he finally reached the creature holding Hiya captive. The thing was standing up, turning around. Its arms snaked around the girl in a vice-like grip.
Through the blood-red haze, Ruban smiled – a caustic thing devoid of all humour, all life. The creature will watch, helpless, as he killed it, as he avenged his father, his Miki. Ruban would watch the life drain from those hideous, pearly pits as he drove his blade into the Aeriel, snatching Hiya back from its monstrous clutches.
He raised his hand above his head, his fingers clutching the sifblade which glinted in the moonlight, just as the Aeriel turned all the way around to face him. Its eyes widened as they registered the Hunter, saw the weapon in his hand. It took a step back, hitting the tree behind it as it turned its body sideways, holding Hiya away from Ruban.
He would have gone for the heart, skewered the sifblade straight into the creature’s breast and watched the life seep out of its eyes like blood from a wound. But the Aeriel still held Hiya in its arms, its torso shielded by the child curled up against it like a lifeless ragdoll.
So Ruban did the next best thing. After all, it was Ashwin himself who had given him that bit of advice. It seemed fitting, in a way, to obey his instruction this one last time.
Pulling his hand back as far as it would go, he drove the blade forward through the air and buried it hilt-deep into the Aeriel’s outstretched wing, then dragged it down viciously through mangled feathers and torn muscle until it came out the other end. Light poured from the wound, momentarily blinding Ruban as bits of ripped flesh and torn feathers stained his blade and his clothes.
