Wings of Wrath

  “So you fed a mouse to a tiger and were surprised when it got torn to bits. That doesn’t give me great confidence in your judgment.” Was the creature listening? she wondered suddenly. Could it hear the echo of fear in her voice? The cries in the chasm had ceased; the labored breathing had subsided. Siderea had the impression that it was waiting for something. How much did it understand of what was going on?

  If I had even a year’s worth of soulfire left in me, she thought, I would go running from this place as fast as my feet could carry me. And never look back.

  Of course, if I had any soulfire left in me, I would not be here in the first place.

  “So this time we brought in a tiger for our tiger,” Amalik said. “A witch with a lifetime’s experience of power; a queen with a lifetime’s experience of command. A good match by all measures, since the creature you see before you will be a queen among her own kind. So the only question now is whether you have the courage to grasp this opportunity, and make it your own, or whether you would prefer the lingering death of a senile witch, with your kingdom crumbling around you.”

  She hissed softly. The creature in the chasm raised its head, aroused by the sound.

  “What do you have to lose?” Amalik pressed.

  “Do not pretend you would let me go home to die in peace. Not after I have seen this . . . thing.”

  There was silence.

  Finally he said to her, “No. I am sorry. There is no going home.”

  “Do not lie to me ever again,” she said sharply, and she turned away from him.

  The female Souleater had come to the part of the ravine that was closest to Siderea. Her eyes were large and multifaceted and fixed upon Siderea with unnerving intensity; their color was a black so deep that it reminded her of the Magisters.

  Bile rose to her throat, sour and bitter, at the thought of them. Don’t let yourself be distracted, she ordered herself. What little hope you have of surviving this mad enterprise surely depends upon thinking clearly. “What is it you expect me to do?”

  She could hear his sharp indrawn breath at the question. “Go to her. And if you believe that your gods care about such things, then pray.”

  No god I know of would approve of this madness.

  Slowly she walked toward the highest point of the rockfall, a few yards beneath the edge of the ravine. Black jeweled eyes watched her from down below. She didn’t dare look at them directly for fear she would lose the last of her courage. For a moment she hesitated, and it seemed to her all the world was still. And quiet. So quiet. Not even the insects were stirring.

  There is nothing left to lose, she reminded herself.

  With trembling hands she lowered herself to a seated position on the ravine’s edge, and prepared to drop down into its depths. Then the great creature hissed. Her breath caught in her throat. Souleaters were said to mesmerize their prey before they devoured their souls. How close did she have to be for that to happen?

  Nothing to lose, she repeated to herself. A mantra of false courage . . . but it was all she had.

  Slowly she lowered herself downward into the ravine. She hung on to the cliff’s edge as long as she could—would that the moment could last forever!—and then, finally, she abandoned herself to fate and dropped down the rest of the way. The rocks were sharp and loosely packed, and as she hit the mound they shifted beneath her feet and she fell. The thin silk of her summer gown was little protection. Pain shot up her left arm as the sharp rocks tore through both fabric and flesh; she could feel warm blood trickling down her arm as she struggled to right herself.

  The Souleater did not make a sound, but she could sense it watching. Waiting.

  She took a minute to catch her breath and wrapped the long silk sleeve tightly about her arm to stop the bleeding. The creature still hadn’t made a move toward her. Was that a good sign, or was it simply waiting until she came down to it, away from the rockfall where the other Souleaters might attack it? Clearly it was afraid of them.

  That is something we have in common, she thought.

  Trembling, she worked her way down the rocky slope as best she could, wincing every time her damaged arm was jolted. But the pain was a good thing: a finite, rational sensation that helped her focus on something other than fear. The stale air within the ravine became more and more overpowering as she descended, a rancid perfume of rotting meat and stale animal droppings. For a moment she thought she would vomit—as if that would make things better!—but she managed to get enough control of her body to limit herself to a few dry heaves.

  If the creature had attacked her during that bout of sickness, there was nothing she could have done to stop it. But when Siderea finally looked up, she found the Souleater was still not moving. It was hissing softly with each exhaled breath, and its muscles were tensed like a wolf about to strike, but for now it was just watching her with those eerie, unnatural black eyes.

  Waiting.

  Now that she was on its level she could see how large the creature really was, and how poorly it had fared in its captivity. The filth of the ravine was spattered all across its hide, and its delicate paned wings streaked with mud and waste and dried blood; this recent injury had clearly not been its first. Flakes of dried skin were peeling from its hide in several places along its flanks and high about its neck. Did it shed its skin like a reptile? Was it in the midst of that transformation, perhaps? Or was the blue-black hide a more permanent skin that had suffered more permanent injury? Fury filled Siderea’s heart as she looked upward, to catch sight of the human and inhuman vultures perched high overhead. She could only see two of the Souleaters from her current position, silhouetted against the brightness of the open sky, but it was clear that those two were sleek and clean, their blue-black scales glistening in the sunlight. That was the final indignity. Rage welled up inside her, on behalf of the miserable creature before her. She hated the Souleaters who had forced such indignities upon one of their own kind. She hated the men who had conspired with them. She hated the Magisters, who were like them in so many ways. Vultures, the whole lot of them, human and otherwise, who cared only for their own masculine hungers, and not a whit for the suffering they caused. The hatred welled up inside her, magma-hot, and she shook for trying to contain it. Let it go, an inner voice whispered. It hurts too much to hold it inside. Just let it out.

  She screamed. It was a terrible, primitive sound that should never have issued from a human throat. The walls of the ravine shook as echoes coursed up and down its length . . . and then shook again as the female Souleater let out a cry of its own. For one terrible instant the two of them were as one, screaming out their defiance to the same enemies, bound together in a communion of hatred . . . and then Siderea staggered and fell, as the power of her fury left her. She felt empty inside, but that was a good thing; something within her had been cleansed, and her soul felt right again.

  Now the Souleater was moving toward her. The creature stepped slowly, clearly wary; perhaps it thought Siderea might call down the bigger ones to punish it if it came too close. Siderea could smell its presence as it approached, and she thought she could pick out the musky-sweet odor of the Souleater itself from underneath the rankness of the canyon. It seemed that for a moment she could sense the life inside the creature as well, the soulfire at its core. Hot, so very hot. She hungered to warm herself at that fire, to let its heat fill her, restoring her vitality. Among humans, only children had souls that bright; she had never sensed anything like it in an animal before.

  The creature’s head moved slowly forward, until it was close enough that Siderea could feel its hot breath on her face. Trembling, she stood her ground. Its teeth were sharp and angled backward like a snake’s; its faceted eyes reflected Siderea’s sweat-streaked face in a thousand mirror-shards. Unexpectedly, she felt a strange sense of communion with the creature. Both of them surrounded by vultures. Both of them hating, and fearing, and despairing. Sisters, across the bounds of species.

  With effort, she raised
herself up from the rocky slope. Her arm throbbed with pain and she could feel blood trickling down to her fingertips, but she pushed herself upright and managed to get to her feet once more. Then, drawing in a deep breath for courage, Siderea took a few hesitant steps toward the Souleater. The jewel-like eyes followed her as she moved, but the creature made no move to stop her. Not even when she came close enough to touch the thing.

  For a moment Siderea hesitated; then she put her hand upon the creature’s thick neck. Beneath her fingertips she could feel the pulse of its heartbeat, alien in its rhythm but familiar in its substance. This fearsome creature was no supernatural construct, no demon, but an animal wrought of flesh and bone, capable of suffering and bleeding—and hating—as powerfully as any human. She could feel the hate through her fingertips now, a warm, vital energy that vibrated along its skin. How powerful the emotion must be, for her to be able to feel it in her weakened state! Normally she would have had to use witchery to sense such things.

  You can imprison us, she thought to the vultures waiting overhead, but you cannot possess us. You can torture our flesh, but you cannot control us. And if we die in this place because of your arrogance—she stared into the Souleater’s eyes, and understanding came to her—then you will lose the one thing that matters most to you.

  There was strength in that knowledge.

  She turned back to the rockfall, no longer fearing to have the deadly creature behind her back. She knew it would not hurt her. The mound of rubble looked steeper than it had from above. No helping that. With a muttered prayer to the god of desperate causes, she began to climb back up. Slowly—painfully—trying to use only one hand to steady herself whenever possible, she made halting progress up the treacherous slope. One time she did indeed fall, and landed hard on her wounded arm; as pain shot up through her shoulder she heard the Souleater cry out behind her. I’ll be all right, she promised her silently, and then: We’ll be all right.

  As she neared the top of the mound she could see that Amalik had come to the edge of the ravine to meet her. But the mere sight of him, after all that he had done to the female Souleater, was intolerable. “Get out of here!” she whispered hoarsely, as she reached the top of the mound and stood. Her own voice sounded harsh to her, and barely human. “And take all these others with you!”

  He opened his mouth as if to speak. To do what? Give her orders? Demand answers? Rage, hot rage, welled up inside her at the mere thought. “You will all leave here,” she commanded, in a tone that would brook no disobedience. “NOW!”

  Whatever Amalik had expected from her, this was clearly not it. Uncertain, he looked up to his companions for guidance. She growled low in her throat. He’d wanted a tiger, right? Very well. Now he had one. Gods help them all if they treated her like anything less.

  Finally, hesitantly, Amalik backed away a few steps from the ravine’s edge. Her soft hiss made it clear that it was not far enough. An hour ago he might have argued with her, or perhaps even dared to give her orders. Now . . . now their relationship had changed. He wanted something from her—something that she still had the power to deny him—and now that Siderea understood that, he had no cards left to play. He was no longer master in his own court, but petitioner in hers.

  Which was as it should be.

  He signaled something to the men and monsters beyond her line of sight. Siderea felt her heart skip a beat; were the others going to leave now, as she had commanded, or would they come down to the ravine and try to force their will upon her? If the latter, then she would go down fighting. Behind her she felt the Souleater brace herself, ready to fight alongside her. It was an odd sensation, to know that without words. The mesmeric power of the other Souleaters would be unable to affect her now that the female had accepted her; she knew that instinctively as well. So let them come.

  One of the Souleaters swooped down low over the ravine, close enough to her that its wingstroke raised dusty whirlwinds from the earth and the breeze from his passage stirred her hair. In another time and place she might have cringed from such an approach, terrified of the massive creature. But not here, not now. No weapon in his arsenal could be more terrifying than her descent into the ravine had been and she had passed that test. These vultures would not have the satisfaction of seeing her afraid ever again.

  One by one the other Souleaters followed the same path, passing over her head with a cry, and then headed out over the mountains. She thought she saw something clinging to the back of one of the creatures that might have been a man, crouched down low over its shoulder, but from where she was standing she did not have a clear enough view to be sure. No matter. What was important now was that they were leaving here, men and Souleaters both, because she had ordered it.

  Below her, in the ravine, the female was now moving toward the rockfall, trying to pull her damaged wing free as it did so. Siderea winced, her own arm throbbing in sympathy. She might have risked descending again to help the creature climb if she thought it would do any good. But there was nothing she could do in such a tight space that would be of any use, and she would probably wind up crushed for her efforts. “It’s all right,” she said quietly. Did the Souleater understand her words? If not, would she at least understand her tone? “They’re gone now. Everything will be all right.”

  How surreal this whole scene was! How casually she spoke to one of the greatest predators on the planet that (if legends were true) fed upon the souls of human beings. She did not look so fearsome now. Siderea could feel waves of fear rising up from her as she regarded the rocky slope that was her only path to freedom. “You have to climb out yourself,” she said. As if the creature could understand human language. “I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

  The female began to climb. Slowly, unsteadily, digging each taloned foot deep into the mound of scree before daring to move the other, bracing her long tail against the solid ground beneath her for as long as she could. Siderea felt every jarring step as if she were the one making the climb. The damaged wing trailed behind the creature, freed now, but useless. She could see it twitching as the creature tried to use it for balance, and she winced each time it did. There was no need to tell this Souleater that she mustn’t fly, Siderea thought grimly. It would be a long time before that wing could support her again . . . if ever.

  Finally, exhausted by her efforts, the great beast reached the top of the mound. There she shuddered visibly, eyeing the distance yet to go. From here it was several yards straight up the wall of the ravine. The vertical surface offered few footholds sufficient to support a human, none of them large enough to support such a creature. Her head jerked about as she studied the walls surrounding her, but there was no better place that might be reached on foot. The long tail coiled and uncoiled like an agitated snake as she searched for some solid patch that she might brace herself against, as she had on the ground below. But up here there was only loose rock that shifted with every movement.

  There was no easy way up.

  Finally the Souleater settled herself opposite a section which seemed more navigable than most, and tension rippled along her flanks as she prepared herself for motion. Then, with a force that sent a shower of rocks flying in all directions, she leaped upward, struggling to use her wings to add every possible inch of height. It was a desperate move, and Siderea sensed that it might indeed have worked if imprisonment hadn’t weakened the creature so badly. As it was, the Souleater didn’t make it to the top. Her talons grabbed for the edge of the ravine and struck dirt just beneath it. If the ground had been more solid, perhaps that might have been good enough for her to work her way up. But as Siderea watched in horror, the earth started to crumble from underneath the great claws, sending a warning cascade of dirt and rocks plummeting down into the ravine. For a moment she thought the Souleater would go down with it, and she backed instinctively out of the way, lest she crush Siderea when she fell. Then, in a seeming act of desperation, the creature whipped her long tail over the edge of the ravine, shifted her weight, an
d attempted to lodge one of her feet against a narrow stone ledge off to her left side. Siderea held her breath as she watched. She could hear a crack as the tail impacted something, then it pulled taut, providing a counterbalance. The earth stopped crumbling then, as the Souleater’s weight shifted to its new foothold; the sharp talons of her other foot had a precious second in which to dig deeply into the ravine wall for purchase . . . and then, with a final effort, the creature was over the top and out of sight.

  Siderea fell to her knees on the rock pile, exhausted. She felt as if she had been the one struggling to climb the wall, and was only slowly coming to realize that her own ascent had yet to begin. But then the long, sinuous tail snaked back down into the ravine, heading toward her. She did not draw away from it. Pythonlike, it found her by touch and began to wrap itself around her, smooth coils kneading her flesh as it shifted its grip, tightening itself about her torso. Even when she saw the sharp blades at the end of the tail and felt them pass right by her face, she felt no fear. Perhaps she trusted the creature now. Or perhaps she was simply too exhausted to feel fear. One thing was certain: whatever primitive strength had sustained her while the other Souleaters were challenging her, it was gone now.

  And then the muscular tail pulled Siderea off her feet, dragging her upward. She was scraped against the wall of the chasm, jolting her damaged arm; she winced in pain but did not cry out. Then she was pulled up and over the edge and dragged onto a patch of sunlit earth beyond. The snake coils finally relaxed, releasing her. She did not have the strength to crawl out of their embrace, but simply lay where she had been deposited, resting against the dirt-encrusted hide, gasping for breath. She could feel the creature’s pulse against her cheek, and it seemed she could hear her powerful heartbeat in the distance, slowing now that the terrible exertion was over. But that must have just been an illusion. In actual fact her senses were fading now, and she could barely hear a thing. She knew why. The last sparks of her soulfire were sputtering out and a strange chill was seeping outward from her heart. The sunlight was growing dim as her vision began to fail her. This mad day’s trials had finally exhausted the last of her life-essence.