Blood Bond

I had been riding the thermals for a day now, soaring west toward the second highest peak of the Anduin mountains.

Anya had told me she had seen Theron's army coming from that direction. For some reason, he was marching out in the open, as if daring the invaders to come at him. I had even glimpsed this army in the thoughts of a man I drained back in the rubble.

The wind, once a supportive pressure beneath my wings, now strained my muscles with a deep, weary burn. The blood essence in this body was running low. I broke from the updraft and began to circle.

I need to hunt.

My eyes pierced the dense canopy. Far below, a dark shape lumbered through the forest. I could distinguish the individual bristles on its hide and the way its claws churned the dark soil with every step. A row of horned spikes ran along its back. Its head was like that of a horned demon, and I could see the distortion of heat around its mouth as flames licked from it.

I didn't know the name of the creature, but my bird mind recognized it as a threat. It wasn't something I would normally hunt, but I could sense the power and vitality of the thing, even from this distance. Had I gotten more attuned to the sensation, or was it this body?

I folded my wings and dove.

The wind shrieked past me as the world became a blur of green and brown, my entire being focused on the lumbering, massive, quickly expanding shape below. I hit the beast's side claw first, the impact reverberating up my legs.

It reared upwards, attempting to shake me off, but my talons sank deep into its tough, bristly hide. A roar rumbled up from its chest, a deep and rolling thunder that rocked the body beneath me. My claws dug in deeper, just to hang on. A nearby tree exploded, raining bits of shattered wood down as the beast slammed its massive body against it. I was inches away from being flattened.

A wave of heat washed over me as it spewed a torrent of flame from its maw, igniting the surrounding forest. The air grew thick with smoke and the smell of burning pine.

I have to end this, now!

My talon sliced a quick line across my chest, and my own blood dripped from the wound, down into the deep gashes my claws had wrecked over its back.

Once my blood splashed into the wells of its sliced-open wounds, it began to consume and spread, following the rich, sweet blood essence coursing through its veins. My blood was voracious, a wildfire raging forth as it engulfed tissue, vessels, and organs. I didn't need to control it; I almost couldn't. The sensation was disturbingly familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

The creature stopped. One of its giant paws froze mid-lift, while its body was caught in the midst of a twisting thrash. Its mouth was open, but no flames came. Just smoke.

Instinct pulled at me, and I tore at the monster's hide, ripping away chunks of hot flesh and swallowing them down. It was a raw, animalistic act, but the taste and sensation of warm, soft meat moving down my throat was physically… satisfying.

I kept draining its essence. There was no stopping it; it was fed back into this body, and then further out to… The thought faded as my mind was filled by a light-headed haze from the flood of oncoming essence.

The creature sank to the ground. Its body shriveled as my blood drained it dry. I watched from the alien vision of a hawk, feeling almost detached from the scene. When the dried-up carcass crumbled away, there in the center sat a large, red crystal. It was the color of red flames like Astrid's fire-affinity Soul Seed, except there was no rune, and it was the size of a large melon.

What is this?

Details from one of the more boring fairy tales Meris had droned on about trickled back into my memory. When heroes killed monsters, sometimes they retrieved a stone from the body: a magic stone. I pecked at the large, faceted crystal with my beak. Nothing happened. But I did sense something pulsing from it. It was a faint, subtle sensation, almost like something imagined. I didn't have my own Soul Seed to probe it further.

My mind swarmed with questions. These crystals didn't seem to rot away like Soul Seeds. Did they stay around forever? Were they some source of power, like magic batteries? I thought about our hover carriage, the displays in The Arena. Could they be powered by these stones?

And, of course, the lights. I had always just taken for granted that there were lights at night, but those weren't flames or candles. And there was no electricity here, so what could fuel those lights? I really don't know anything!

In any case, the crystal might be valuable, and I wanted to experiment with it later. I picked it up with my talons and then dropped it off in an abandoned-looking nest high in a tree.

—

The winds howled past as I soared over the encampment below. Tents dotted the ground, flying a multitude of unfamiliar colors. But interspersed between them, proudly unfurled, was the royal Aethelgard blue. This must be Theron's camp.

I banked my wings, circling for a better look. I was shocked by the size of it. Anya had told me that Theron was with an army, but this was on a scale beyond what I had imagined. Dots of soldiers swarmed over every open field, and the line of pitched tents stretched out of sight to the mountains.

And they seemed well equipped. I flew over mounds behind which sat vehicles that held stacks of wooden tubes upon them, looking almost like an MRL tank from Earth, and each was connected to a glass vat where a sickly green liquid bubbled and glowed with a toxic light. A chemical tang, sharp, sterile and un-natural, stung my nostrils even from high above.

Further on, I recognized the familiar shapes of ballistae, but as I flew closer, a wave of nausea washed over me. The ammunition was not steel-tipped bolts. They were living things. Live, squirming serpents, their bodies thrashing against the metal wires that lashed them in place, ready to be fired. It looked and felt wrong.

Long, thin shadows striped over the sunlight and swiped down at me. I tucked in my wings, spun, and dove away at the very instant that sharp spikes clawed the air where I had been. It was a giant, spindly hand extending from a long, stick-like arm that was attached to a long, thin body—some kind of grotesque, insect-like golem. On the top of its body was a giant, green-tinted crystal instead of a head.

A fresh commotion broke out below. Riders scrambled onto the backs of horse-sized lizards with massive, leathery wings: dragonettes. Soldiers on the ground tossed up bright, glowing lances to the riders. One of the beasts let out a sharp cry, its powerful wings kicking up a cloud of dust as it launched itself into the air. Then another followed. I realized with a jolt: They are coming for me!

I plummeted for the only spot sanctuary might lie: the large tent in the center of a pavilion, where a cluster of Aethelgard blue flew with the symbol of the silver Aethelwing.

My wings unfurled to break my fall, and I landed with a thud at the entryway. A wall of spear points greeted me. It was at this point that I realized how large a bird I was. My body was larger than a hunting dog; my wings, fully extended, covered the entire entrance.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Let it in. I will not be cowed by a symbol of my house." A deep, familiar voice called out from behind the wall and the spears instantly parted.

I hop-stepped inside with the word "Theron!" on my lips, except I only have a beak. The sight of Theron however shook me.

Part of the dark brown hair that reminded me so much of our father was now grey—no, more like ash. An ugly scar slashed down the left side of the face that had once held our mother's elegance. It cut over one of his dark eyes, which was now fully white. There was no hint of recognition or warmth on his face as he regarded me, only a hard-set grimness.

"So, what are you?" His voice was frigid. His lone eye focused on me as he tapped on the Castellan board before him. "A familiar? No, the wards would have warned us of that. Something else, then?"

I pictured the last time we saw each other. He was playing Castellan then as well, against himself. Judging by the fact that he was alone here except for his guards, he was doing that now as well. I tried to pull from my mind the image of that board: his hand was hovering over the tower piece, and it was surrounded by a knight, a soldier and a mage.

I hopped over to the board, and placed the pieces according to that image. Then I tapped my beak upon the carved female figure on the border of the board, leaving a dark red dot upon the chest of the figure from the leftover of my previous feast.

Theron looked from the figure on the border, to the positions of the pieces on the board. He studied it for a moment and then his eye snapped back to me. "Elara? How? I suppose, you will always be different."

I dipped my head a few times and stepped closer. I wanted to get closer to him, to somehow connect with him and give him the warmth that he seemed to be missing.

His fingers touched my head. "I heard of you through my ears in the keep. The Seducer of Iron. The Speaker for the Forsaken. The Flame of Aethelgard. And… The Fire Who Stands." He waved his hand and the guards left us alone in the tent. "You cast quite the shadow, my little ally."

He sank back into his seat. "Whereas I had been castigated to the shadows after our defeat."

My head circled back to the entrance, to the giant army massed outside, and then I looked back over at him with my head tilted.

Theron gave a self-deprecating laugh. "This army was the one Duke Armand and I had gathered before. We had done it behind father's back. I, in my hubris, thought it would be enough. It wasn't, and I nearly lost the Duke because of it. He's still recovering now."

My head darted about. It was really just Theron, here by himself.

He stroked my head. "You know, it was you that pulled me back into the light."

He gestured to the Castellan board. "You remember, up on that temple balcony, when you asked about other worlds and I told you it was forbidden."

I dipped my head again, though a sense of cold dread rose up in me.

"After my defeat, and losing this eye, I came to the conclusion that we can no longer fight with one hand tied behind our backs. I will abide by the restrictions of virtue and tradition no more." He tapped the side of his head. "I searched deep in the records, forgoing all restrictions."

Records? He mentioned them before as well. Where are they stored? I twisted my head again, feeling puzzled and curious, wanting to know if I could access them as well.

Theron raised an eyebrow, as if somehow catching my silent question. "Ah, yes. I keep forgetting they foolishly kept you so ignorant. They are Sage records." He tapped his yellow Soul Seed. "Each Sage has access to all the records written by previous and current Sages. They are stored like mental books in a vast library that any Sage can quickly sift through using thought. These works are labeled, sometimes by the authors or their successors. And there are ones labeled 'Forbidden.'"

My thin legs wobbled, my talons scraping against the polished surface of the Castellan board for balance. A shared library... in their minds? The idea was staggering. He was describing a collective consciousness, a web of knowledge linking every Sage, past and present. It was a mental internet, a concept that should be alien to this world, or perhaps it was just me that was ignorant. But the power of the Sage seemed beyond belief—not only could they split minds, but they could search each other's memories, and even those of the dead!

He slowly smiled at me, but it was a cold thing. "It's in those that I found mentions of other worlds. Other paths to knowledge and ways of thinking. Like magic, but not. And do you know who wrote many of these texts?"

I found myself slowly backing up, my leg hitting the edge of the game board.

"Elves… Deepwood. They have this knowledge, and they sold it for gain to our enemies. And I intend to use this knowledge to pay them all back in kind." He looked down at his wrist, and there I saw a delicate bracelet of woven silver flowers. "I've already paid the price to put this in motion."

I racked my mind for who that bracelet might have belonged to, and then I remembered: Theron also had a protector, Naleen. I remembered her cheerful, round face, her almond-grey eyes, her sharp, cutting voice, and her bright, silver hair. What happened to her?

Theron turned both his eyes, the black and the white, to me. "I've dredged up all the knowledge I could find. I've stolen. I've lied, and I've killed. I've found all the possible places I could stand to move this world toward my goal."

I shook my head from side to side and felt my body quivering. All the strange weapons I had seen out there: the rocket tubes connected to toxic, bubbling sludge; the entombed serpent ballistae; the insect-golems... and who knew what other nightmarish weapons were hidden. These must all be from forbidden knowledge. Was it just Earth? Or other worlds as well?

Theron, what are you about to unleash upon this world?!

He pulled a scroll from a desk beside him and idly fingered it. "We nearly won, you know? I had identified the conspirators and recruited their enemies." He gestured toward the tent's entryway. "They had plenty. But do you know what I hadn't counted on? Mobility, Stealth, and Deception. The ships of Serephos and the magic of the elves, carrying the troops of Rodinar while Ironfell and Veridia put up a front. Appearing where we were weak, striking, then disappearing. Hit and run."

This was Sun-tzu and modern warfare! Had this been why we'd lost? Another realization took hold of me. Serephos's silver ships... They were airships! And Cassian's betrothed must be Serine. No wonder she was so mad at me! That morning in the carriage ride up to the temple, did he not look at the airship because he was the price for them? Were the ships already on their way then?

"Battle doctrines… Right, Elara?" Theron's words brought me back, and I found him staring at me. He put the scroll away and then brought out a small pouch.

"I need you to do something for me. Since you're at the Keep, I want you to find those airships. I'm sure they are hidden somewhere there. Once you do, place the beads from this pouch on each of those ships. You can do it in this form or send some of your admirers, you have plenty."

He thinks I'm still alive back there. But even if I could speak, I'm not sure I would tell him that I was gone. He looked so very broken. How much more angry would he get?

The air shifted and in an instant he had disappeared from his seat and reappeared before me. A set of hands tied the pouch around my neck.

Theron smiled at me, but it was a grim smile that held none of the warmth of the brother I once knew. He held up a hand. "Five days. After that, take who you can and leave the Keep. Get as far as you can."

I shook my head at him. He was planning something awful; I just knew it. But there are people at the keep, good people, our people! Are you forsaking Mother, Father, and Astrid?!

Unlike before, he didn't seem to be able to read my mind.

His hand grabbed hold of my neck, fingers digging into the pale plumage. The reflection in his eye was not the sister he knew, but the symbol of his defeat.

What must it have been like? A silver ship appeared through a distorted haze in the sky, raining arcs of magic and explosions upon the troops caught unaware. He'd watched helplessly as his men went down along with Duke Armand—the screams, the blown-apart bodies, the surging panic. Then it was just him, left all alone with his pain and despair, with no Meris or Kael to watch and comfort him.

I leaned my head against his arm; a hollow gesture. I was just a ghost in this feathered shell.

"Yes, sister of mine." The finality of his voice crushed me from above. "Vengeance is coming."

—

My wail pierced the heavens as I flew back toward Aethelgard. I cried out until it felt like the sound was being torn from the very center of my heart.

Anya's words kept running through my mind.

"In life… we can't go back."