Earth Bound (2 page)

Talon Morin tried to focus on his father’s words. It was all he could do to stay seated and keep his expression neutral.

Barrett stopped mid sentence, brown eyes narrowing. “Are you even listening to me?”

Talon nodded, words beyond him at the fresh wave of pain, clenching his hands in his lap. He was grateful the desk was between him and his father.

“Then what did I say?”

Talon stared at Barrett. He had no idea what his father had said for at least the past twenty minutes.

“You’re twenty-one. No longer a child. Do you,” a finger jabbed momentarily in Talon’s direction, a shade darker than his own golden brown skin, “think you can spend the rest of your life dabbling with paint? You have no talent.”

“I do,” Talon argued even though he knew his father was right. It took all his effort to focus as another wave of pain hit him.

Barrett continued as if Talon hadn’t interrupted. “One day you could be a general too. Don’t you want to be War Leader of Terst?” He paused a moment as if expecting Talon to answer. “You need to return to classes before you’re too old to be accepted back. Being so far ahead of your classmates when you left will at least mean it won’t take you long to catch up.”

Talon rose slowly to his feet, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. It took him a moment before he could speak. “Without art I have no life.” He turned and slowly crossed the room, each step a struggle.

“I’m not finished speaking to you,” Barrett roared as Talon opened the door.

Ignoring his father, Talon shut the office door behind him and broke into a run. His boots pounded on the stone floor as he wound his way through the fortress towards his room, several doors away from his family’s apartment.

“Talon.”

He closed his eyes for a split second, his teeth clenched tightly as he continued to run. If he stopped, he might not make it to his room in time.

“Hey, Talon!”

Behind him footsteps pounded in time with his own. Talon slowed and came to a stop, leaning against the cold stone wall as sweat trickled down his back and under the bandages wrapped around his chest. “Marshall.”

“Didn’t you hear me call out to you the first time?” Marshall looked him up and down. “Are you well? Don’t tell me you’ve already heard. I came as soon as I found out.”

“Can we talk later?” He wanted to scream. Punch something. Tear away the bandages and get it over with. Maybe death would be the better option.

“Bellamy’s been bragging all day that your father talked to him about training under him.”

Talon was glad he leaned against the wall. The pain those words caused were as bad as the physical one coursing through him. “I’ll talk to you later.” He pushed away from the wall. If he didn’t get to his room soon it’d be too late.

“But Talon-”

“Not now.” The words were sharper than he planned. He tried to hold back the shout that wanted to escape. “Later. Not now.” His attempt at softening his tone didn’t work. He shook his head and turned away, breaking into a run. His hands tightened into fists as he approached his door. Opening his clenched fist to turn the doorknob was nearly impossible. When he was behind the safety of his door he locked it and tore his shirt from his body. The bandages were next and black wings burst forth from the ridges on his shoulder blades as he dropped to the floor. His hands splayed out on the stone floor, the heat of his palms barely cooled by the contact. He bit back the cry he wanted to utter as he threw his head back, gasping for breath.

That was his place. His father should be training him, not Bellamy. It wasn’t fair. He could do a better job. It was in his blood. His family had been high-ranking officers for generations. He dropped his head to the ground, his wings folding in, the pain ebbing. Instead he’d been forced to give it up. Forced by the wings that had developed not long after his eighteenth birthday, causing a death sentence to hang over him.

Bellamy. How could he? His father knew how things were between them. He groaned. Of course he knew. He pushed himself away from the floor. Barrett was a general. It wasn’t just his rank. It was who he was. Anger filled the hollow space the pain had left behind. Of course Bellamy was his first choice. His father thought this would drive him to return to the army. But his father didn’t know about his wings. If it weren’t for his wings he never would have left the army in the first place.

Talon strode across his room and stared at the painting he used as his excuse for quitting. He struck out at it, sweeping it from the easel. His father was right. It was crap. He bit back another yell, wanting to hit something. Anything.

It wasn’t fair. There had to be a way to get rid of them. He reached behind him, his hand grasping a handful of feathers. They had to go. Somehow. He held back a scream as he pulled handfuls of black feathers from his wings. He stared at the fistful of feathers. What was he going to do with them? He had to hide them. Destroy them. Something. He couldn’t let anyone find them. His eyes darted around his room, finally landing on the fireplace that would remain unlit until winter. What choice did he have?

It took him several minutes to light a fire, using his canvas doused in lamp oil. He threw the feathers into the flames and the room was filled with acrid smoke. Coughing, Talon raced across his room and threw open the window. It wasn’t long before someone was pounding on his door.

“Talon? Are you all right? Talon? What’s burning?”

He closed his eyes at the sound of Marshall’s muffled voice. “Go away.”

“Talon.” Marshall knocked on the door again. “Let me in. What are you doing? You’re not doing anything stupid are you?”

Talon groaned and retracted his wings until they became two bony ridges, barely visible on his back. He pulled on his shirt, leaving it to hang open since the buttons were now scattered across his floor. Kicking the bandages under his bed, he strode to the door and half opened it.

“What’s going on?” Marshall tried to peer past Talon.

“I burned my canvas.”

“Does that mean you’ve quit painting?”

Talon’s gaze slid to the side of his friend, unable to meet the hopeful look directed at him. “No. It wasn’t going right. The next one will be better.”

“Talon-”

“Leave me alone. Can’t you understand I want to be left alone?” He still couldn’t meet the brown eyes of his best friend. Everyone else had given up on him, but no matter how hard he pushed, Marshall refused to desert him.

“Let me in. Maybe I can help you figure out what to paint next.”

“I’ve already figured it out.”

“You have?”

Talon nodded. “The Infernal World and the tortured souls of the sinners banished there at death.” He couldn’t resist a glance at his friend and when he saw the pity in his eyes, wished he hadn’t. Stepping back, he closed the door, leaning against it. The Supreme One preached about sinners being banished there, but he felt like he already lived in the Infernal World without having committed any of the sins. His hands curled into fists and his muscles tensed as he fought not to strike out. What else was Bellamy going to steal from him?

Brianne entered the hushed building of The Earthly House of the Lord and Lady, walking across a dark, polished timber floor. The last of the day’s light sent long coloured images across her pathway. The stained glass windows depicted robed figures with cupped hands raised in supplication to the Lord and Lady of the After World. She stopped by the first pew, running a hand over the fine grained wood of the carved ends. The honeyed tones took on the colours from the stained glass windows spreading patches of different colours across the carvings of kneeling winged people with heads bowed and cupped hands raised.

She raised cupped hands towards the altar, which was draped in a white silk cloth, bowing her head before she sat in the pew. Staring behind the altar at the carved marble figures of the Lord and Lady of the After World, she waited for her grandfather and fumed. It had taken a day before curiosity had driven her to send him a message to meet her here. The one place the winged were forced to walk. Even the Supreme One, Elders and Penitents walked. And no one ever tormented them over the fact they never used their wings when they answered the call to join the House of the Lord and Lady. But that wasn’t enough to make her give up her identity and join them. No. She belonged in a squad.

A noise drew her attention and she turned her head to see Briant, her grandfather, enter the house and wave away his aide who went to stand guard at the entrance. He was no longer First Officer, that was his son’s position now, but he was still a high-ranking officer. He strode towards her, his wiry frame straight, his once blond hair now completely white. He raised cupped hands towards the altar and bowed his head before sitting beside her.

She guessed he wasn’t happy with her when he didn’t greet her with his usual kiss on each cheek. Well she wasn’t happy with him either. “You sold me out.” She glared at him, starting with the words that had echoed in her head since yesterday.

He stared at her with faded blue eyes and nodded once. “So it would appear.”

“How could you?” It was all she could do to remain seated.

“I wanted to meet with you in my home. Why would you choose this place? We aren’t alone here.” He nodded towards the figure, robed in dark brown, lighting candles on the altar.

Brianne wondered where the penitents in their red-earth toned robes were. Elders usually only lit candles on special occasions. She turned back to her grandfather. “And how was I meant to reach your place?”

“I didn’t think you’d let your pride get in the way of common sense. Maybe I should rethink what I have to tell you.” Briant rose to his feet.

She tried to hold onto her anger, but curiosity had her rising also. “I’m not joining this place.” A gesture towards the altar. “You can’t expect me to give up who I am to serve the gods.”

Briant nodded sharply. “Do you think I don’t know my own flesh and blood? Are you going to stop sulking and come home with me?”

It took a moment before she made the same short, sharp nod Briant had made. “How am I going to get up there?”

A grin appeared momentarily. “I’m not so old I can’t carry my own granddaughter.”

The last thing she needed was for someone to drop her out of the sky. “I’m not a child anymore.”

He stared at her a moment. “Are you sure? You’re lucky you didn’t sulk any longer or we would have rethought our plans for you.”

She was tempted to ask what plans, but he’d already told her, in his own fashion, that he wasn’t going to discuss anything until they were in his home. “I wasn’t sulking.”

A half smile escaped before Briant banished it. “Of course not.” He turned and headed for the door where his aide stood, arms crossed, wings at rest.

After a moment’s hesitation, Brianne followed her grandfather, her eyes drawn to the ridges visible through his open backed vest. She fought the urge to rub against the places on her shoulder blades that should have looked the same.

They walked silently through empty streets, the aide following behind them as they strode side by side. The true pathways were above the ground, but Brianne didn’t allow herself to look upwards. There were enough reminders of what she’d never have without seeking them out.

Briant stopped and turned to face her, making a twirling motion with his finger. She knew what he wanted, but it took her a minute to turn her back to him. Raising her arms slightly she waited for him to slide his under hers, crossing them over her chest and pressing his hands down on her shoulders. So many times one of her relatives had transported her like this. It was extremely familiar. She closed her eyes as they shot upwards. She used to feel a surge of excitement as she rose into the sky, thinking that one day she’d be able to do this herself. Never again would she think that. There was no hope that she’d ever be anything other than earth bound.

Her feet touched the balcony at Briant’s front door and she opened her eyes, stepping away from him as his arms released her. They were alone. The aide had remained behind.

“Grandfather-”

“Inside. No need to stand out here all day. You’ve already wasted enough of my time.” Briant stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him.

With a last glance at the aide still at the foot of the tower, Brianne strode inside, closing the door. She headed for her grandfather’s study. About to step into the room, she froze, her eyes drawn to the man seated behind the desk. “Uncle Ewyn?”

He looked up from the dispatches he frowned over. He had the typical wiry build of their race, dark blond hair, dark blue eyes and a close trimmed beard and moustache. “About time you got here. Do you think we’re going to tolerate being made to wait like this?”

Brianne glanced between the two men, confused. “Wait?” What was he talking about?

“You technically have nearly a year before you have to decide which offer you’ll accept. You will-”

Brianne interrupted Ewyn. “Neither. I already know.”

Briant pointed a finger at her. “Sit down, shut up and listen. And stop jumping to conclusions. This is bigger than you, Sprite.”

Brianne sat on the stool. His use of her childhood nickname stopped her from arguing. “I’m listening.” She bit back the words, and this had better be good.

Ewyn stared at her a moment before he gave the same sharp, short nod he had picked up from his father. “Every time we send out a squad, the Terstens are waiting for them. Every. Time.” The base of his fist hit the desk in time with his last two words. “We always know where they plan to attack. Merchants stumble across information, people are captured, information arrives mysteriously. Every single time we somehow find out when they’ll attack and we are there waiting for them.”

“It isn’t natural,” Briant said.

Brianne frowned. “It’s good, isn’t it? Knowing when they’re going to attack.” How could they be upset that they always found out in time to stop the Terstens?

“So you’d think.” Ewyn slid a piece of paper towards her. “The last battle.”

She read the names of the deceased. Nine names. Only one would have survived from that squad. She looked up at her uncle. “I don’t understand.”

“Seven years ago we changed from five in a squad to ten. So did they.” Ewyn pointed to the paper she still held. “These days we’re so evenly matched that only one soldier survives each battle. One of ours or one of theirs. Every single time.”

“We’re trained to fight to the death.” Brianne still couldn’t figure out what the point was.

“We need an advantage. One no one else knows about,” Briant said.

“No one knows-” she broke off mid sentence as it finally dawned on her. “We have a spy passing along information?”

Briant shrugged. “We have a lot of coincidences. We’re matching each other battle for battle. No one is advancing. We even sent out a squad under the flag of truce, but they were all slaughtered. We need a spy to infiltrate the enemy and see what they can discover. Someone that only we will know about.”

“How can-” again she broke off, her hand going to her shoulder blade. “Oh.”

Briant nodded. “Yes. Oh.”

Her hand reached up to touch the waves of blond hair that fell halfway down her back. “Impossible. I don’t look anything like them. They’re all dark haired, dark eyed and dark skinned.”

Ewyn placed a leather pouch on the desk between them. “Nothing is impossible.” When she didn’t take it, he pushed it towards her.

She slowly reached out and undid the drawstring, tipping the dried berries into her hand. She dropped them on the table, bringing her hand to her chest, the other gripping the edge of the desk. “They’re poisonous.”

“Not really. It takes years of eating them before they kill you. They’ll make you infertile if you take them for about a year, but that isn’t a problem for you. The Supreme One will have you killed if you even think about breeding.” Ewyn gestured towards the berries. “A week of taking those and your skin and eyes will darken and your hair will start to grow out dark.”

“You’ll have to cut your hair short. All their soldiers have short hair,” Briant said.

Her hand reached up to her hair again. “How short?”

Briant leaned towards her, his hands pressed against the desk. “You have three choices. Stop worrying about inconsequential things. Do you want to teach fledglings?”

Brianne met his eyes, rising to her feet. “No. You know I don’t.”

“We’ll tell everyone you’ve retreated to the coast to think about what you’re going to do. We’ll stash you by the border and get word to you when an opportunity presents itself.” Briant met her stare.

Ewyn scooped up the berries. “You’ll start taking these and cut your hair close. We’ll give you dye to use. Trim the dyed ends when it starts growing in dark and then you wont have to worry about dye.” He held the berries out to her.

Trim the ends when it started growing in? How long did they expect her to spy for them? Fear and excitement rushed through her. She’d trained forever to be in a squad. To take to the air with a bow and fight to protect her country. Fight to take back the land the Terstens had stolen from them. They’d come over the mountains centuries ago and stolen their fertile lands, leaving them a barren country.

She had dreamed of being a soldier, not a spy. Her eyes were drawn to the berries. A spy was a thousand times better than becoming a penitent or teacher. And she’d still be protecting her people, which is what she would have done if she’d become a soldier. Reaching out, she took the berries, meeting Ewyn’s eyes as she popped three of them into her mouth. Bitterness made her wince and she took the glass of water her grandfather held out to her.

“We have a lot of preparations to make.” Ewyn handed her the leather pouch to put the remaining berries in. “First you need to meet my new aide. I believe you were in class together until he gained his wings.” Ewyn opened a second door in the room and gestured someone forward.

Brianne barely kept from gaping when Macklyn stepped into the room with a grin. “He’s your aide?” It was an effort to keep her voice neutral.

Ewyn nodded sharply. “Yesterday. He’s the best in his class, comes from a well placed family and shows potential.”

Brianne’s hands curled into fists. Best in his class! Only once he’d left the class they’d both attended. Until then he’d been second best. The bitterness she tasted this time couldn’t be washed away with a glass of water. “I thought you didn’t want a lot of people knowing about this.”

“Only the four of us,” Ewyn said.

“I’ll be your transport.” Macklyn smiled.

She could almost hear the words dirt walker at the end of his comment and wanted to knock the smile off his face. Instead, she dredged up her own insincere smile. “I’m glad they finally found a use for you.” Her smile widened as Macklyn’s faded.

“I want you both back here tomorrow at the same time, but before then, you need to practice flying together,” Ewyn said.

“Unsupervised?” Brianne nearly took a step back at the smile that returned to Macklyn’s face.

“We’re trying to keep this quiet. Get out in the desert. Alone,” Briant said.

Brianne shook her head. “Then people will talk. There’s no way they’ll think we’ve suddenly become friends.” She itched to slam her fist into his smiling mouth.

“She’s right, sir. No one would believe we’re friends. When I moved onto the next class without her, she started trying to pick fights with me.”

Her hands curled into fists. She’d show him all about picking fights with someone. It took every bit of willpower not to hit him.

“Then the pair of you had better figure something out. This mission hinges on the two of you spending time together without raising suspicion,” Briant ordered.

Brianne opened her mouth to say impossible, but smiled instead. “I can think of one reason people would believe we’re spending time together. Only if it was an order.”

“Come up with a better idea. There’s no reason for us to order that,” Ewyn said.

Brianne continued to smile. “You would if you caught us brawling.”

Briant chuckled, turning to Ewyn. “See, quick on her feet. She’ll manage.”

“She better. Ailis will have both our hides if she doesn’t come back in one piece and she found out the reason why.”