Page 27

Just Hold on Tight and Don’t Let Go!

I ’m freaking flying.

It’s beyond amazing.

We’re climbing higher and higher. All I can hear is the beating of Thanouq’s powerful wings.

I glance down and gasp. We’re already so high. The others are dark pinpricks against the rolling green landscape. I think Zayne is waving, but it’s hard to tell. We must have reached the desired altitude at that point because we slow and hover for a moment, then shoot forward. A scream is torn from my throat—shock, not fear. Honest!

I screw my eyes tight and take a few long, slow breaths. I can do this. I’m not going to fall. Falling is not an option.

A few more slow breaths and I open my eyes. The wind from our speed is in my face; I blink, and the sheer amazingness of it all grips me, overcoming my—very rational—fear. I realize my pain has been forgotten in the excitement. My hands grip the leather strap so tightly they’ve almost lost all feeling. I force myself to loosen my grip, one finger at a time. The motion is smooth, though I can feel the bunching of Thanouq’s muscles with each wingbeat. I’m almost crouching, leaning low over his broad, furry back, and I straighten so I can look over his head. Nothing but blue sky.

I used to imagine scenarios in my head for what would happen if I somehow went back to my pre-coma life. I never imagined anything even remotely like this.

Thanouq turns his head and looks at me with those eagle’s eyes, cold and gleaming, almost metallic. But I think I catch a glint of intelligence in there, and I nod my head to let him know I’m fine. He gives a little nod back and then turns away.

The air is cooler up here. So far, it’s not too bad, but we’re heading into the sunset, and I’d prefer to be on the ground by the time darkness falls, for many reasons.

The whole flying thing keeps the pain at bay for a while. But at some point, it starts seeping back. Not too bad at first, just an ache. That, unfortunately, grows and grows until it feels like my side is on fire. My thighs ache too. I shift and wriggle, trying to ease the discomfort. Thanouq glances back and looks at me, and I know he’s asking if I’m okay to go on.

Hell no.

But I nod and force a smile, and he stares a moment longer, then almost shrugs—if griffins can shrug—and turns back.

The sky ahead is shades of crimson and violet now—quite beautiful. This world must have been an amazing place at one time, before it was decimated by war, turning a beautiful place into a dangerous wasteland.

We make a sharp turn, and I sway and grip tighter as agony shoots through me, pain sizzling along my nerves. I bite my lip and grit my teeth together. This was my idea, after all. Now I just need to suck it up and get through it. Finally, when the sun has nearly disappeared and the pain is so bad that I’m seriously considering whether it might be better to jump and get my obviously imminent death over with quickly, we start to descend.

I just have to hold on a little while longer. Then I can curl up in a ball on solid ground and whimper.

Below us, the land comes into focus. First, hills and trees take shape, shadowy in the growing darkness. Then I see the trail we must have been following all this time. The grass is trampled, and there’s debris, but thankfully no more bodies. I raise my gaze from the ground and search the area ahead. There’s a haze of smoke in the air. Campfires? We must be close.

Thanouq must think so as well. He turns, circling for a minute. I’m so proud of the way I managed to stay balanced on his back. Then he swoops down, and I fall forward, pain shooting through my side, my face smothered in his coarse, thick mane. I stay where I am, breathing in his warm smell—like cats and birds and, underneath, man. Only when I sense the thud as he touches down do I push myself up.

I put on my brave face, unwrap my right hand from the leather strap, and give him a shaky thumbs up. He lowers himself into a crouching position, so he’s as close to the ground as he can get.

I fumble with the buckles of the harness; my fingers numb from gripping so tightly for so long, but finally, I get them undone. I sit for a moment, contemplating the best way to do this with the minimum pain.

Thanouq must sense my problem, as he spreads one wing, angling it downward, and I think I understand. I twist and grip it with both hands, swing out, and he slowly lowers me to the ground. For a moment, I hold on, not sure I can stand on my own, and he gives me time—bless him.

Finally, I unlock my fingers and stand on my own for all of about two seconds before my knees give out, and I collapse in an undignified heap. I close my eyes and try to get control of my ragged breathing. I feel a touch on my shoulders, and I open my eyes to find Thanouq—the man—standing there, a worried look on his face.

I lick my lips and swallow, then manage to get the words out. “I’m fine,” I croak. “Just a little stiff from all the holding on. Give me a moment.”

He nods but still looks worried. I slip the backpack from my shoulders and place it on the ground. Then I push myself slowly to my feet, clamping my lips on the scream that threatens to escape. I shrug out of the jacket and force myself to peer down. There’s no blood oozing through my shirt, which is good. I unstrap the harness and glance up to find Thanouq watching me, his gaze intent.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he says.

“Yes, I did.” I cast him a quick smile. “Anyway, agony aside, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Who gets the chance to fly on a griffin? Thank you for carrying me. And you were right—I wouldn’t have made it on horseback.”

“You’re tougher than you look.”

I shrug my shoulders, then wince as pain shoots through me. “Not so tough.” I look around for somewhere to collapse and head to a rock that looks like it might make an okay backrest. I gingerly lower myself to the ground and sit with my legs stretched out in front of me. I’m not moving again for a long, long time. But now that I’ve stopped moving, the cold is seeping into my bones, and I shiver.

Thanouq rummages in the backpack and pulls out a blanket and a bottle. He lays the blanket across my knees, then pulls the cork from the bottle and holds it out to me.

Brandy. I almost snatch it. I’m going to be a complete lush at this rate. But I’ll worry about that later. I take a gulp and almost choke as the fiery liquid burns down my throat. But I’m tough, so I take another, then hold it out to him. He’s been doing all the work, after all. He takes a swallow.

“So what now?” I ask. “Do we just wait for the others?”

He nods. “But I’m going to take a look at the encampment once it’s fully dark.”

“Is that safe?”

He shrugs. “I’ll be careful.” He hands back the bottle and sits down next to me, his long legs stretched out.

I give him a quick sideways glance. He’s staring into space, his shoulders hunched; he looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. And I guess he does. He’s the hereditary ruler of this place, after all. He must feel responsible for the shitty mess it’s in. On the other hand, it’s not exactly his fault.

“Do you know anything about these slavers?” I ask.

He gives a snort. “You could say that. I grew up in one of the slave camps, far to the north.”

“I’m sorry.” I bite my lip. I seem to be saying that a lot, and it’s so inadequate. “Were you born there?”

“No. When I was four years old, raiders attacked the village where my family was living. My parents died trying to protect me. It did no good.”

“What happened?”

“I survived,” he says. “They took us to a camp. A slave line like this one. Many died on the way—the old and the weak. But some survived. And I had friends who looked out for me. I was strong. The weak don’t endure very long in those places.”

“What do they use them for, the slaves?”

“Various things. If you’re lucky, some version of agriculture; otherwise, the mines—they’re a death sentence.” He’s silent for a moment. “Or if you’re really unlucky, you get sent to the shadowguard.”

I don’t like the sound of that. “What happens with the shadowguard?”

“What do you know about them?”

“Not a lot.” But probably more than I want to know.

“Well, we won’t talk of them here, not in the darkness. The shadowguard is a conversation for the light of day.”

“So tell me about the camps. Was it horrible?”

He stares into space, no doubt remembering. From his expression, I’m sure they’re not happy memories. “It was hard,” he says, “but better than many places. We were growing food—so we didn’t go hungry. The work was brutal, but not deadly.”

“And you got out?”

“Obviously,” he replies.

“How?”

Thanouq thinks about that for a long time. I've given up expecting answers when he starts to speak. “There had been a drought that year. Production was down. We were all hungry. And they decided to destroy the camp,” he says. “Eliminate everyone.”

Shock flares through me.

“It was less trouble than moving us all. There are plenty more slaves to find. Far easier than trekking a hungry mob across the continent.”

“That’s horrible.” Though "horrible" really isn’t a strong enough word for it.

Thanouq smiles, the first sign of amusement I’ve seen all night, and it’s genuine, reflected in his eyes. “We thought so as well. We decided it wasn’t a good idea, and we refused to comply.”

“How old were you?” I ask.

“Eleven. I should have died there. Many lost their lives protecting me. I hadn’t realized until that day just how protected I was in the camps. There was a group who knew my heritage and had sworn an oath to keep me safe. Therion looked out for me as well. We watched each other’s backs. He was only ten, but he fought fiercely that day. We both did. But then, we were fighting for our right to exist.”

I’d thought I had it bad just because I couldn’t remember who I was. But Thanouq had lost his parents when he was only four, became a slave, and fought to the death when he was still a child.

“Who ran the camps?” I ask.

“Some shadowguard, but mostly humans. There are many followers of Lucifer on Valandria. Right from the start, there were many who believed his silky lies of a better world. But then they were left with nothing to believe in after the Astrali withdrew.”

“The Astrali? That’s Khaosti’s lot? Where did they withdraw to?”

“They went home. To Astrali—the Astral Plane.”

“And that’s where?”

“Another dimension. You can only get there through the mirrors, and they are getting fewer and fewer.”

“What’s it like?” I ask, curious about where Khaos comes from.

“I don’t know. I have never been beyond Valandria. But Khendril told me that all the mirrors lead to a central place on Astrali.”

And I realize I've been there—the rooms with all the mirrors, the in-between place. “So there are just three worlds: Astrali, Valandria, and Earth?”

“Again, I believe so. It’s said that the God Vortex created Earth and Goddess Selene created Valandria as playgrounds for their children, the Astrali. And they played and were worshipped as gods. But they are a selfish people. They take and take and give nothing in return. Then, when Lucifer appeared and the war escalated, when we were in greater need of the gods than ever, they all but disappeared from Valandria.”

“When was this?”

“Around five thousand years ago.”

“Wow.”

“I don’t think anyone really remembers what started it all. It’s lost in time.”

I go over the conversation, and something occurs to me. “Wait, you’re saying Khaosti’s people are gods?” Wow, that might go a long way toward explaining his attitude.

He’s silent for a moment. “Maybe. Who knows what a god is?” He sighs. “Enough of this depressing talk. Time for me to take a look at that camp.”

I realize that a full night has fallen.

Thanouq gets to his feet. “Will you be okay?”

“Of course. I’m tough, remember?”

His mouth quirks in a brief smile, and he nods. “There’s food in the bag,” he says, dropping the backpack next to me. “Don’t wander off.”

I want to say… don’t leave me. I mean, what if the slavers find me? I doubt they’d bother with me—I’m hardly in good shape. They’d probably just slit my throat like they did with the slaves whose bodies we came across. At this point, I sort of feel it would be a mercy killing.

So instead, I nod. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but he just copies my nod, and then he’s gone, silent as a big cat.

Leaving me alone in the darkness with just a bottle of brandy for company.

I suspect we’ll be very good friends before too long.