Revelations

This isn’t about the girl, the voice said, that was not purposeful. A loud snap echoed from beyond the stone enclosure. Here.

Bolero felt the mist dispel and the scent in the area shift, losing its hint of metal. His bare arms prickled as feathers threatened to erupt, the tips of talons pricking at his toes. If Indigo weren’t lying in a limp pile on the ground, he would have shifted and took to the skies. But no. That wasn’t an option.

How do I get her out of here?

With this fell bird, hauling an injured girl wouldn’t be possible. Even if he managed to bypass it, the predators stalking the Nithra would smell the blood. They would scent her weakness, see his vulnerability, and they wouldn’t make it even half way home.

His pulse surged and his body erupted into panic. Inhaling deeply, he used the chance to summon flame, which flickered up the blade of the saif. Where the glow of the fire should have reflected off of the dark falcon’s feathers, no light came. As if the bird was absorbing the light around him.

What could he possibly do? Perhaps if he could use his fire, and frighten the dark bird away, he could escape with Indigo in his arms. Find a safe place for the both of them.

The voice, closer this time- and was that exasperation? Said, “Very well. I gave you a chance.”

A force- the heavy magic that suppressed Bolero prior- fell heavily upon him again. His flame, all of it, was extinguished immediately. The weight of it nearly caused him to lose footing. He reached his hands out for balance, narrowly avoiding falling upon Indigo’s senseless, unconscious form.

Swearing, he begrudgingly sheathed his sword. With the merlin in the way, engaging in combat would accomplish nothing.

“Ahh, so you are capable of reason,” At once, the fog began to dissolve again as if being consumed, shrinking in upon itself. Bolero could just barely make out a shape as it became clearer, cutting through the air. “I was beginning to think I had made a mistake, summoning you here.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

So it wasn’t a nature spirit, after all.

A figure stepped into his periphery, a dark swath of fabric billowing in a breeze Bolero couldn't’ feel.

Before him stood a woman with her lips pressed together tightly, adorned in a long, black thobe. Her curly hair was a brilliant ochre , streaked with silver as it tumbled loosely over her light gold flesh. Bolero inhaled sharply at the color of her eyes- a brilliant silver, the steel of a freshly-smithied blade. If he hadn’t known they weren’t shifters, he might have assumed she was from the Eyrie.

“Who are you?” Bolero demanded, his fists clenched. He angled his body to shield Indigo.

The air shifted as a second figure came into view, a broad shouldered man. He looked no older than Bolero, and wore a black sigil-laced cloak, his shoulder-length thick hair a dark red. Golden hoops hung from his ears, glimmering even in the dim lighting of the Nithra. Bolero found himself drawn inexplicably to the man’s resplendent eyes, a gold brighter than that of his earrings and sigils.

His complexion was darker than the women’s, a deep, sunbathed olive. This man reminded Bolero of the sunscorched, reddened plains of the Rihlian Steppes. He bore a thick, leather gauntlet, where a second shadow bird stood. The bird fidgeted on the glove, scratching its chin and rousing before watching Bolero with mild interest. He thought the bird looked bored, however, if its body language was any sort of tell.

The falcon was larger than the other, with golden equipment on it, but nearly identical otherwise. The darkness of the falcon shifted with the air, swirling and warping as if the atmosphere feared to come near.

A folk tale from childhood came to Bolero’s mind. One he had nearly forgotten about completely. He doubted even Maeby knew it despite her obsession with the Histories, it was so old, and strange. Nonsensical.

Impossible.

Altairi had forbidden young birds from discussing them, banned any quiet ramblings or mentions of the cursed tribe. Envy and deep hatred of the Eyrie had led them to attack the temple, and kill dozens of shifters. In her anger, the Celestial Eagle had laid a curse upon them. They were seekers of holy power, of a way to end their plight and fill the emptiness within. Their only desire, and purpose for their existence, was to absorb and steal Eyrie magic.

Icy dread crept up his spine as Bolero regarded the two figures, dressed in black and accompanied by birds so starless that the sun’s light dared not shine upon them.

And quietly, so only his Goddess might hear, whispered the words he knew now as truth.

“Void Falk.”