Wyvern’s Angel

  She laughed again, then shifted shape, becoming a radiant angel with eyes of fire. She was a parody of what Bond knew to be good and right, a horrific sight as she flapped before him.

  She was a shapeshifter trying to deceive him, not one of his own kind.

  “Choose wisely, Boel,” she taunted and Bond chose.

  He summoned the last of his strength and peered into the villain’s soul. He endured its filthy darkness, digging deeper to find the gem she sought to hide from him. It was a formula, a sequence of numbers and letters. A chemical formula.

  An antidote.

  Bond sent his will after it and ferreted it out, memorizing the long string even as it was revealed to him. And when he reached the end, he raised both hands and fired. He shot his lazes at the abomination before him.

  She flapped above him, charred, smoking, but not dead.

  Then she became a mirror and Bond couldn’t stop his laze quickly enough to avoid the reflection of the blast. It singed him in the shoulder, in the leg, in the back when he fell to his knees. She laughed again and he felt two lines of fire on his back. He didn’t know how she recalled the pain of his injury to him, or whether he shared Percipia’s anguish. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and watch his assailant shift shape, hoping she would reveal her identity. She was an eagle. She was a mouse. She was a plume of smoke. She was a woman in trailing robes with hatred in her eyes. He fired the laze at her and she screamed when the blast hit her leg. Bond fired until both lazes were empty of charge, wanting to destroy this creature that had taken so much from him.

  She became a griffin again, one with blood running from her leg. She was an angel soaring high above, an angel with tarnished wings and eyes of fire, an angel that trailed blood into the sky, an angel that suddenly disappeared as if she had never been.

  Bond closed his eyes and licked his parched lips.

  He was alone with Percipia, blood on all sides. Did he dare to hope their attacker would leave them alone?

  If she came back, she might destroy Bond completely.

  He crawled to Percipia and laid his hands upon her back, drawing the last of his power in an attempt to at least staunch the bleeding. He feared she would die, that they both would die, and all of this, his entire mortal existence would have been an exercise in futility. He drew his healing power from the last of his reserves and he poured it into Percipia, wishing he could heal her with his determination alone. Her skin heated beneath his hands and that white power of healing seared his mind.

  Like angelfire.

  Because it was angelfire, the greatest healing force of all.

  And then it was spent, gone, vanished from within him. Bond looked down at the motionless Percipia and felt his tears rise. He had failed her when it mattered most.

  But she was alive, and so was he.

  He was only mortal now, devoid of all his gifts and powers, but it would have to be enough. He had to carry Percipia to Gela and then steal a Starpod.

  He would take her to the angels and beg for their intercession.

  The stolen Starpod ran out of fuel when Finis Island was in sight.

  Bond hadn’t had nearly enough choices in Gela to suit him. It was an artist colony and there had been few Starpods. The selection was paltry, the models all old, and none of them had been fully charged. He’d made his best guess.

  He was afraid it wouldn’t be enough.

  Bond had stopped repeatedly to let the solar panels recharge, but they were old and inefficient. He’d jettisoned everything that he could spare and there was nothing to do but hope for the best. He wasn’t going to leave Percipia behind. She needed the intervention of the Host. Progress was slow and painful, and there wasn’t another sign of life as far as he could see.

  By late afternoon on the following day, Bond was more exhausted than he’d ever been. He’d poured his life force into Percipia with no discernible results. He felt that he was even lower on fuel than the Starpod.

  But he had to get to the rendezvous.

  He was worried about her, not just because he feared the memory of him in this realm would die with her. He wanted to know that she survived. He wanted her to have her wings back, although he couldn’t imagine how that would happen. He hated that her involvement with him might cost her life. She hadn’t awakened since being injured and she was pale. Bond knew he would have given anything to see that golden shimmer surround her or the flash of her eyes.

  He kept looking back, scanning the sky for signs of pursuit, but wasn’t relieved that he didn’t find any. To be pursued by a shapeshifter meant that attack could come from any direction.

  The Starpod crash-landed into the dark sea, not far from the coast of the island. It splashed, then skimmed across the surface of the water, propelled by its momentum. Bond didn’t want to think about needing to swim but the Starpod smashed into the rough rocks of the shoreline before coming to a halt.

  Upside down.

  He heard the water lapping at the exterior and didn’t waste any time escaping the Starpod. He pushed Percipia out first, then followed her, picking her up and wading the last distance to dry land. When he had climbed to safety, he looked back in time to see the vessel tugged away by the tide. It floated, then slowly filled with water and sank out of sight.

  He was exhausted.

  Bond picked up Percipia and began to walk toward the middle of the island. The sun seemed closer to the horizon and the air was definitely colder. He hurried as quickly as he could, hoping that the Host could heal her.

  And that they would.

  Bond’s journey was a haze of pain and cold and pending darkness. He stumbled onto the central plain with relief and saw the first glimmer of angelfire high overhead. He summoned the last of his strength then and ran, holding Percipia close. He was panting, his heart racing, perspiration running down his back, but he made it to the designated location.

  He closed his eyes and tipped back his head, hearing himself sigh at the first touch of that divine fire on his skin.

  “Bond?” Percipia murmured and he bent to kiss her sweetly, slowly, knowing it would be the last time.

  “We made it,” he whispered in reply. “We made it because of you.”

  “I wasn’t the one who got us here from Gela,” she said, humor in her voice but Bond shook his head.

  “I would have died in Incendium without you.” He met her gaze and stared into the blue splendor of her eyes.

  “The griffin,” she said dazedly, then shook her head. “Did that happen?”

  “Can’t you feel it?”

  Her tears rose. “My wings?”

  He held her close. “Gone.” He wouldn’t promise what wasn’t his to give. He hoped again that the Host would be merciful.

  “Do you know who it was?”

  “A shapeshifter,” he said as the light brightened above. “Her true form might be that of a woman.” He met Percipia’s gaze. “You must be on your guard. She was a griffin, a snake, a woman, a wisp of smoke, and an angel.”

  Percipia nodded. “And she hid herself from view.” She frowned. “Do you believe in spells, Bond?”

  He smiled. “Only the one you cast over me.”

  She smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll survive.”

  “I wish I could have had the time to become your HeartKeeper,” he confessed and saw her eyes fill with tears.

  “Me, too.” She raised a hand to his cheek, then stretched to brush her lips across his.

  “Close your eyes,” he advised. “No one can look upon angelfire but a member of the Host.”

  “Because it’s dangerous or because it’s forbidden?”

  “Both. It will blind you, if not more.” He kissed her eyelids and she kept them closed. He looked at her, illuminated by the radiant light, and wished again to have one memory to take with him.

  Bond’s heart ached so much that he thought it would shatter, but there was nothing he could do to change the truth. He looked up again, his eyes stinging as the Host
descended in its glory and majesty. He heard the angels sing and his own tears rose at the beauty of their chorus. The light of the angelfire grew searing in its brilliance and he closed his eyes, seeing red as their power burned against his eyelids.

  He felt himself rise slightly and felt Percipia ease out of his embrace. He couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet or the wind in his hair. He heard instead the whisper of a thousand thoughts, the flutter of a million feathers, the heat of angelfire.

  The Host had come for him.

  Bond raised his hands, surrendering to the power of his fellows. He opened his mind to them, letting them share his thoughts and all that he had learned.

  I have failed in my quest, but beg your intercession for this one who has helped me. I offer the antidote to the virus and the tale of the beacon that will come, my wings, my soul, all that I am and ever will be, and I entreat you to heal this dragon shifter.

  Bond heard the song grow louder and felt the light brighten even more. He heard thousands if not millions of angelic voices join the chorus and add their radiance to the angelfire.

  He sensed the consideration of his request.

  He felt his offering accepted, the chemical formula unfurling from his thoughts into the greater consciousness of the host. Then he felt a familiar joy as his essence surged skyward, free to fly once again, spared the pain and burden of a material form.

  As he became again what he was destined to be.

  He felt the power and majesty of his wings, sprouting from his back then spreading wide. He felt the exhilaration of flying with his fellows, of being surrounded by them, of the companionship of their thoughts all around him.

  Then he looked down upon the dragon shifter princess who had won his heart, the valiant woman who would carry his child.

  He saw the angelfire engulf her in brilliance and knew a profound relief that his prayers had been answered.

  She was being healed. He saw her change form, shifting from woman to dragon, and saw the restoration of her wings. Her scales shone in the angelfire, reflecting it brilliantly, making her look as if she was made of jewels. She stretched her wings wide and laughed with joy, so hale and whole that Bond knew her eyes would be sparkling.

  She would be able to fly back to Incendium, her wings restored.

  Bond hoped that she would remember him.

  She took flight in her dragon form, soaring high as the Host retreated from the rendezvous. It was as if she didn’t want to lose the touch of the angelfire and Bond felt the amusement and admiration of his fellows.

  Then they soared much higher, moving faster than the speed of light, and the solitary dragon was left far behind. She was silhouetted against the white ground of Finis Island, a red and gold dragon becoming ever smaller, until Bond couldn’t discern her shape at all.

  Incendium itself became no more than a distant orb and the stars swirled around the Host, as if in welcome.

  Then Bond wept as his own memories were swept away like so many cobwebs, like a morning mist before a persistent breeze, and there was only the brilliant light of angelfire and the communion with his fellows.

  Percipia felt the heat of the angelfire and dared to peek through her lashes to see them descend. She knew she’d never experience this moment again. Her strongest impression was of white hot light, searing in its brilliance, but she glimpsed faces in it and caught sight of wings. She heard a rustling of feathers and a song just beyond earshot, one she couldn’t quite discern. She couldn’t hear the words but she felt a persistent tug of joy at the sound and found herself smiling.

  She felt rather than saw the presence of the Host around them and sensed their concern for Bond.

  “Boel,” a whisper corrected in her own thoughts.

  “Keeper of the keys,” came another whisper, and she sensed that it was from a different source even though it sounded so similar.

  Bond’s face was upturned, his expression rapturous, and she understood his feeling of triumph and homecoming. She slipped from his arms, standing on her own feet. She squeezed his hand, then stepped back, uncertain whether he’d even felt her farewell.

  She narrowed her eyes against the brightness and tried to watch, wanting and needing to know what would happen to him.

  What he was.

  Bond was becoming less substantial. Even in that brief interval, he had become more of a mist than a man. It was as if the angelfire was dissolving him, breaking him down, returning him to thousands of tiny white feathers. His figure seemed to be filled with feathers, then they fluttered to the ground, slowly at first then with increasing speed. She caught her breath when his hands were gone, his shoulders, the strength that she had caressed and loved. The last flurry took his face and she blinked back her tears, hating that she would never see him again.

  The only thing that remained was two brilliant red lines, and she had the impression that his scars had caught fire. Then she saw a pair of tall wings, their roots replacing those scars. They were gloriously lush and shone with a luster of their own, sweeping out to a span as wide as her own. They shimmered once, like a ghostly apparition of what he had once been, then were replaced by thousands of tiny white feathers, falling to the ground like snow.

  Percipia saw the feathers glimmering on the ground, reflecting the angelfire from above, and she bent to scoop up a handful of them, wishing she could keep just one.

  Then she cried out in pain because the angelfire seared her back. She understood that the Host was healing her and turned around to face them, spreading her hands in supplication and closing her eyes, submitting to their fire.

  It stole her breath away, slicing through her with savage heat. She feared for an instant that they would kill her, either by accident or design, but then she felt the wound turn warm. She could almost feel the muscle healing, and she gasped aloud at the power of the Host. She shifted shape without having chosen to do so, and understood that the Host were completing their task. By the time the heat had faded to a glow, she felt as if she’d never been injured at all.

  She realized then that the light of the angelfire was fading. She took flight and followed them as they ascended, not wanting to lose Bond forever. She watched as the Host retreated and left her behind, a lump in her throat as the shimmering white light moved farther and farther away. There was one last glimmer, as if the stars winked, then the light of the angelfire was gone.

  The air was cold. Percipia shivered and descended, shifting back to her human form when she landed on Finis Island again. The land was bleak and bare, as if the angels hadn’t come at all, as if it had all been a figment of her imagination.

  As if Bond had not been real.

  Percipia swallowed the lump in her throat, then looked down at the ground.

  There was one small pearlescent feather at her feet.

  She bent and carefully picked it up, halfway certain it would disappear. When it didn’t, she tucked it into the pouch on her belt, as a gift for her child.

  Their child.

  Percipia wiped her tears. She spared one last glance toward the heavens, trusting that Bond was happier to be with his fellows again. She hoped he remembered her, but knew she would never forget him.

  She shivered again, then summoned the tide of change, letting the shift rip through her body. It made every sinew vibrate and surged through every fiber of her being, reminding her that she was alive. Her wings spread high and wide behind her, whole and healed, a gift from the angels themselves.

  And Bond.

  Percipia took flight and headed for the palace, a warm meal, and a soft bed.

  Seven

  Three Incendium months later, Percipia joined the party that would greet the Archangel upon its return to port.

  Anguissa’s freighter had come out of a jump two months before, but had emerged short of the jump gate for Incendium. Fortunately, that quadrant had been empty and more fortunately, the momentum of the vessel had sent it drifting along a trajectory toward Incendium. It had immediately been i
dentified and hailed, and Percipia didn’t think anyone in Incendium was unaware that her sister Thalina was aboard, pregnant with the Seed from her Carrier, the android with whom she’d fled three months before.

  Percipia could only think of that day as the one she’d met Bond.

  She ached for him, but knew she’d never see him again. At least her memories had remained, and she hoped his had, as well. Their child would live and she could only hope that the infant resembled Bond. She wanted a reminder of him every day for the rest of her life.

  She wanted there to be a little bit of Bond in the physical realm, even though there was no tomorrow for them together.

  In the sporadic communications with Thalina, it had become clear that Anguissa had departed on some adventure to points unknown. The nature of Thalina’s Carrier was also made clear, and Ouros had been active investigating a change of laws upon Incendium to allow Acion to remain with Thalina. Thalina’s insistence that Acion was her HeartKeeper had spurred the king to action.

  The Archangel had been harnessed and was being hauled into port, due to arrive this very day.

  The best part was that the worm Bond had warned Percipia about hadn’t been activated.

  Which meant that she would install and activate Bond’s beacon. She’d found the code in the timer for her pyrotechnics display and the discovery had made her smile. She’d been hoping ever since that she could complete Bond’s quest.

  On this day, she would do it.

  She had also reconciled with Sansor, who had quickly guessed the truth of her feelings for Bond and reconciled himself to it. Percipia had helped him to develop a scanning utility that would summarize the information in his books so he could learn more, and learn it more quickly. That had helped to restore some measure of friendship between them. She knew he thought he had acted for her benefit, but she couldn’t entirely forgive him for threatening Bond’s survival.

  There was no sign of the Gloria Furore or of the shapeshifter who had attacked Percipia and Bond at the end of his mission, which was frustrating.