A Flight of Broken Wings, page 3
part #1 of The Aeriel Chronicles Series
“Of course not. In fact, I sent Saya to have a chat with him right before you two came in. They should be arriving any second now.”
The Zainian looked even more like a lost child up close than he did at a distance, Ruban thought as the young man stepped through the doors of the chamber accompanied by Subhas’s assistant. Having deposited her quarry where he was needed, Saya gave Subhas a brief nod and stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
“Hello, my Lord,” Subhas began, inclining his head ever so slightly. “It is an honour to make your acquaintance. Please, do take a seat.”
“Oh please, call me Ashwin,” said the boy, looking around the room with such profound interest that Ruban wondered for a second if he had never seen an office before. It seemed rather an odd reaction. While Subhas’s chambers were quite luxurious, surely a Zainian aristocrat – however minor – would have seen better. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Mr. Kinoh,” Ashwin continued hastily, as if suddenly remembering his manners. “I have heard a lot about you!”
“Good things, I hope.”
“Nothing but!” The foreigner looked at them through wide, guileless eyes that Ruban would have been hard put to disbelieve under any other circumstances. He wasn’t even sure he disbelieved them now. Ashwin really did look like an innocent, if idiotic, bystander who had somehow managed to get himself involved in things he couldn’t begin to understand.
“Well, that’s very good to hear. Although I must admit, I wanted to speak to you today to discuss a very particular matter. To be honest I have an important request to make of you, on behalf of my country’s government.”
“Oh. Anything you say, of course, sir. I’m completely at your service,” Ashwin said in that slight Northern accent that gave a subtly nasal quality to all his pronouncements.
A faint smile appeared on Subhas’s lips. This was turning out to be easier than any of them had expected. “It has come to my attention that you have some sensitive information regarding a formula. A highly confidential formula that is being developed in a facility within this city as we speak.”
“Oh! The reinforced sifblade formula!” exclaimed Ashwin eagerly, his eyes lighting up with excitement. Ruban flinched internally. The kid was like a walking talking time bomb waiting to go off at the slightest provocation. He could see how Casia had managed to make him spill all the beans about the sifblade formula; it barely required any effort at all.
“Oh yes sir, I know all about it. It’s terrible, it is. They say the Aeriels are planning to steal it. I was just telling Miss Casia this morning, who knows what those terrorists will do with it? Can you imagine! It’s all absolutely terrible.” Ashwin shook his head with heartfelt regret, although Ruban had a sneaking feeling the kid was secretly quite excited about the whole thing. He met Simani’s eyes and saw that she apparently felt the same way.
“Ah yes, about that,” began Subhas, and Ruban could see that he was trying to tread carefully. “I must ask you to cease any communication with Miss Washi on this topic immediately.”
“Oh? But why?” asked the foreigner, dark eyes wide with surprise.
Subhas sighed, and Ruban could sympathise with his uncle. He could tell that this wasn’t going to be easy, and for perhaps the billionth time was grateful that he had the job that he did. This sort of thing was not his cup of tea.
“Well, for one thing, that formula is a state secret, and has been for a long time,” Subhas began, but Ashwin’s confused gaze told them all that this was not an approach that was going to work. Something more personal was required, more immediate. “And also, if you speak to the media about the formula and the Aeriels’ plot to steal it, what do you think will happen?”
Ruban would not have thought it possible for the boy’s eyes to get any wider, but they somehow managed to do just that. “What?” he asked apprehensively.
“Well, the Aeriels will try to kill you, of course. You shall be a marked man, my Lord. And of course, despite our best efforts to keep you safe, sooner or later they will succeed. You know how vindictive Aeriels can be!”
“Oh my God!” cried Ashwin, his voice shaky, and Ruban could practically see the wheels churning laboriously in his mind. “Why did I not think of that before? What am I to do now?!” he squeaked, terrified.
“Well, for starters, you need to stop making yourself more of a target by speaking to the press,” advised Subhas, a subtle note of satisfaction in his voice as he leaned back into his chair. “And then you can help us stop the Aeriels by sharing with us everything you know about this plot.”
“Yes yes, of course!” Ashwin straightened in his seat and pulled himself back under control with visible effort. “I’ll tell Miss Casia I can’t do the interview with her tonight. But before that, sir, I need your assurance that you will allow me to be a part of this investigation.”
Surprised, Ruban turned to look at the young man. Of all the things he had expected Ashwin to say, this wasn’t one, and he could see the latter visibly fighting not to let his fear overwhelm him. It was obvious that the boy’s request had confused Simani too.
“But my Lord,” began Subhas, sounding equally baffled. “We could provide you with an escort to take you back to Zaini–”
“No,” Ashwin said, cutting the older man off. “I was sent here on a mission to help the Vandran authorities prevent the theft of the formula, and I plan to see it through. Besides, we can’t just let these evil Aeriels wreak havoc anywhere they please! I want to help stop them in any way I can.” He drew himself up to his full height, which really wasn’t very much, and nodded.
Ruban couldn’t help feeling a vague sense of respect for the young man. He was obviously trying very hard to act braver than he actually felt, but Ruban couldn’t begrudge him the sentiment. At least he had the courage to try and stand up for himself and his rights, however ineffectually. That feeling of vague solidarity, however, vanished quickly when he fully registered what his uncle was saying in response to the Zainian’s request.
“Well, my Lord, if that is how you truly feel, I suppose you could help our Hunters solve the case,” Subhas was saying, gesturing at the two other people in the room. “This is Ruban,” he said, indicating his nephew. “And this is Simani, his partner.”
“Hello,” Ashwin said, turning to smile brightly at the two of them, even as Ruban was busy glaring daggers at his uncle. Subhas ignored him in favour of gazing serenely at the clouds outside his window. “Let’s hope we can solve this case before the Aeriels manage to kill any of us,” the boy said with a rather watery smile, some of his initial apprehension bleeding through the facade, now that his wish had been granted.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that, my Lord,” said Subhas, still studiously avoiding his nephew’s gaze. “Simani here is one of the best agents under my command. And Ruban is the best Aeriel Hunter in all of Vandram. He’s killed more Aeriels in his short career than most Hunters have in their entire lives. You’ll be perfectly safe with them. And you can tell your friends in the media too that they’re on the case, so there’s nothing to worry about anymore.”
“Oh?” said Ashwin, turning to look at Ruban, dark eyes flashing momentarily silver again, as they had earlier in the lawn. Ruban blinked, a little disoriented. “Is that right?” the young nobleman murmured, smiling brilliantly once more.
Chapter 2: The Aeriel Prince
Her Royal Majesty Queen Safaa of Vaan stormed into her court in a flurry of skirts and feathers. Her regal wings were stretched out to their full breadth behind her, creating a semi halo of glowing, ethereal feathers around her unusually dark-haired head. The three little scarlet markings at the tips of her wings distinguished her as an Aeriel monarch. Her feet never quite touched the bright, misty floors of the palace, wisps of cloud floating serenely under them, as she propelled herself forward partly through flight and partly through sheer, unadulterated wrath. “Shwaan!” she bellowed, her voice reverberating throughout her irradiant domain, only to be greeted by the agitated quacking of firebirds rudely awakened from their afternoon slumber. Safaa was going to kill her brother, just as soon as she managed to find him.
“My Lady,” Jaheen murmured from the ornate gateway of the entrance hall, her pale silvery form barely visible against the light flooding in through the doorway. Vaan was always bright and sunlit. Had to be, in order to sustain her particular inhabitants; but on days like these Safaa truly believed that there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. Closing her unusually dark, silver-flecked eyes, she found herself momentarily wishing for the comforting gloom of earthly nights.
“Where is my brother, Jaheen?” she asked her lifelong attendant and childhood caretaker, doing her best to make her voice sound steely and firm. “I need to speak with him.”
“He’s in the throne room m’lady,” Jaheen answered with a slight bow of her head, wisps of silvery hair falling across her pale shoulders. “Though I think you’d find him…ah…otherwise occupied at the moment.” She said it with her usual circumspection, years of dealing with Safaa’s incomprehensibly human sensibilities having given her the unique gift of sensing an oncoming tantrum a mile off.
“Well, I’ll find something for him to occupy himself with,” Safaa snarled, stalking off in the direction of the throne room, pointedly ignoring Jaheen’s knowing – if highly unbecoming – smirk.
Her Royal Majesty Queen Safaa found her brother, His Excellency Prince Shwaan of the Luminous Realms, standing flush against the armrest of the royal throne, one leg wrapped around the thigh of her Chief of Guard, General Shehzaa, who seemed intent on tearing off his collar with her teeth, while the Minister of Treasury and Revenue, His Lordship Qwaan, had his tongue lodged somewhere firmly down her brother’s throat, one of his hands stroking Shehzaa’s waist as he nipped playfully at the prince’s lips. Shwaan giggled.
If Safaa had had a last straw when it came to her brother in particular and her subjects in general, the universe would have heard it snapping under the untenable strain of sheer frustration centuries ago. Aeriels could be, at once, the sweetest and the most infuriating race to rule over. And at moments like these, Safaa was reminded why she would rather take the constant threat of rebellion and decapitation with extreme prejudice faced by the erstwhile human monarchs any day, over the unique vexations of the Aeriel throne.
“Shwaan!” she thundered, striding purposefully into the dazzling heart of the Vaan Court.
Minister Qwaan, a vankrai like herself, flushed impossibly crimson and jerked back, trying to untangle himself from the compromising scene in a testament to the human blood flowing through his veins. With slightly unsteady hands, he pushed his long, dark hair, much like Safaa’s own, back and out of his eyes, bowing rather meekly to the Queen. In sharp contrast, her feather-born, silver-haired brother showed no such remorse, leaning in shamelessly to kiss the equally pure-blooded and silver Shehzaa, who giggled before capturing the prince’s mouth for one last, extended snog. Finally, she too managed to disentangle herself from her partner and with an impish grin, bowed to Safaa and disappeared in a flare of outstretched wings and silvery feathers. Flustered and slightly off-balance, Minister Qwaan too unfurled his wings and took flight after the Chief of Guard, leaving the siblings alone in the throne room; Shwaan looking content, if dishevelled and Safaa looking murderous.
“You are going to be the death of me!” Safaa declared, glaring at her little brother, who had now seated himself with his usual languid grace on her throne, his scarlet-tipped wings outstretched and resting droopily on the armrests. The two red markings on his wings distinguished them from Safaa’s – who had three identical little strokes of crimson across her topmost feathers – and marked him as the queen’s second-in-command.
Shwaan pouted.
“I’m an excellent brother, I’ll have you know. The best that you could hope for, really, considering our ancestry. It’s hardly my fault you inherited our dear Mother’s grumpiness, sister mine.”
Safaa snarled. “Don’t you dare compare me to her!”
“Oh dear dear,” murmured Shwaan, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his sister more closely from his perch on the throne, lips quirking into a mischievous smile. “What has she done now? Must’ve been something big, to get you this riled up.”
Safaa sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. None of this is your fault.” She looked sharply up at her grinning brother sprawled on the throne. “Well, apart from distracting my Chief of Guard and Revenue Minister with your ridiculous shenanigans, that is.”
“Love is no shenanigan, sister dear.”
Safaa snorted.
“Well, I would be much obliged if you could choose the subjects of your amorous attentions from outside my court for the moment, brother, because it looks like we need to start preparing for war. I can’t afford to have my soldiers distracted by your utter lack of subtlety while we are anticipating an attack. Perhaps multiple attacks.”
That got the prince’s attention. “An attack?” He at his sister in disbelief. “She wouldn’t dare.”
“As things were, she wouldn’t have,” Safaa agreed, looking away from her companion and out over the sunlit horizon, her hands clasped tightly behind her as if she were physically restraining herself from lashing out at some unseen foe. Her voice was calm and carefully measured. It made Shwaan’s feathers stand on end. His wings faded to thin air as he tucked them in and out of sight, hopping lightly out of the throne to stand beside his queen. “The situation has…changed.”
“In what way?” he asked, peering closely at his sister, his expression an odd mix of curiosity and concern. Proximity made their differences stand out even more than before, Safaa’s dark hair and eyes stark against her brother’s sterling locks and silver irises. “You know something you’re not telling me.”
“Wakeen’s returned from earth. And he has news.” Safaa’s voice was grim.
“Not good news, I’m guessing.”
Safaa laughed; a dry, mirthless thing. “Not good news, no. Disastrous news, to be more accurate. The humans have developed a new formula.”
“What’s so bad about that?” Genuine surprise coloured Shwaan’s voice. “They’re always developing new formulas. It’s all they ever do!” he said, in the tone of an indulgent parent humouring a rather witless child.
“A formula,” continued Safaa grimly, ignoring her brother. “For what they’re apparently calling ‘reinforced sifblades’. An enhanced version of the goddamned things, if reports are to be believed. Compared to these, regular sifblades would look like a child’s toys. Wakeen says they might be capable of killing five or six Aeriels at once, once they’ve been perfected.”
The thought of sif in any form sent an instinctive shudder down Shwaan’s spine, and he lifted himself into the air to conceal his reaction. His sister’s sharp gaze told him he hadn’t gotten away with it completely.
“I’m still not seeing the problem here,” he said finally, looking down at his sister. His silver wings were barely visible against the radiance of the Vaan sun, shining down dazzlingly over the roofless court. “Humans can develop whatever bauble catches their fancy. What does it matter to us? They’re on earth. We’re in Vaan. It’s not like they can reach us against our will. Unless you’re worried for Mother, that is,” he added slyly.
Safaa laughed bitterly. “More because of her than for her, but I suppose you could say that. I have it on good authority that Mother is planning to steal the formula for these enhanced sifblades, for her own purposes.”
“Steal sif?” Shwaan snorted. “And do what with it? Kill herself in the most uncomfortable way imaginable? What could she possibly hope to do with her prize?”
“Nothing by herself, certainly. But quite a lot with…human assistance. Humans cannot enter Vaan without Aeriel help. But what if they had Aeriel help? Her help. Their help. Reivaa, Saekaa, Swaheer, Kafeen – the whole lot of them. What if Mother were to attack Vaan…with a human army? A human army wielding these enhanced sifblades.”
“And what human,” began Shwaan, a twinge of exasperation in his voice. “Pray tell, would agree to help her in this outrageous scheme, even if she were planning something so audacious? They hate her, remember? Hate all of us, because of her. That’s the entire reason we’re here now, and she’s not. Why in the name of Zeifaa would they willingly aid her?”
“Because they’re humans Shwaan,” Safaa said. A tinge of exhausted desperation coloured her tone. “And because she’s her. It’s been six centuries since we left. Generations have passed on earth since humans last saw an Aeriel that wasn’t some murderous, blood-thirsty fiend, like Reivaa and her ilk,” she spat. “Who knows what mortals think now and why they think it? Who knows what Mother can make them think, if she puts her mind to it. Rationality was never their strong suit to begin with. And manipulation was never her weak point. She had humans spying for her during the Rebellion, betraying and murdering their own kind to dance to her merry tunes. Do you doubt she can ensnare a few now, when the war is nothing more than a distant memory to them?”
“A few don’t make an army, though,” Shwaan pointed out, landing gracefully and flicking long, silvery locks out of his eyes.
“Humans are clannish creatures,” Safaa sighed. “You were too young to understand these things when we left earth. But she wouldn’t need to convince all of them, or even most of them. She would just need a few, the power-players so to speak, the leaders and the opinion-makers. The rest would fall in line, if they decided to follow her.”
Shwaan looked up, gazing directly at the blazing sun overhead, soaking in the rays, his eyes unblinking. “So you’re saying she’s planning to attack us. Attack Vaan. Using these enhanced sifblades. With an army of humans.”
“I’m saying it is a possibility. One that is becoming more likely by the day. And I’m saying we can’t afford to sit around, waiting for Mother to make her next move, whatever that might be.”
