Page 65 of Sway’s Peace (Delivery Service #2)

They called him a pacifist. And maybe he truly believed in trying to do anything to save their lives at first. But resentment and envy of their ability to escape into death’s embrace had stripped even that away from him.

Eventually, he stopped caring. He kept them alive because the Master demanded it. Because his own warped and twisted sense of fairness demanded it.

When he first arrived here, the others had welcomed him back, praising him for returning whole. And that had always sat uncomfortably with him.

And now he knew why.

Because he wasn’t whole. He hadn’t returned with his honor intact. He’d traded his life for theirs. So many souls that he deemed worth less than his own. He’d crawled out of Rik-Vane, his feathers slick and stained with their lives.

The weight of that place hadn’t lifted at all. Rik-Vane was still a chain around his neck, pulling him down. Drowning him under the blood he’d spilled to save his own life.

Veesway took in a long breath, his crest starting to lower. A hint of sadness crossed his face as he focused back on Sway. When he spoke again, he sounded old and tired. Like he was feeling the weight of his own chains.

“You are no son of mine,” he said, the heavy words striking against Sway’s aching chest. “You are not a farasie.”

Sway continued to smile. “I regret nothing I did.”

Veesway recoiled. Visible shock on his face. “You…”

“I did what I did to survive,” Sway repeated. “I hurt who I needed to, I killed who I needed to, in order to survive. Is that what I am condemned for?”

“Yes!” Veesway hissed.

“Then, I suppose, your son is nothing but a monster,” Sway held out his hands, almost like he was asking for an embrace.

A motion that put a sickened expression on Veesway’s face.

“I won’t bother subjecting you to my presence any longer than necessary. Where is my female? Bring Grace to me, and we will go.”

Veesway fixed his face back into a hard mask as he stood straight again, tall and commanding. Like he hadn’t just disowned the very son that had driven him to create this entire city.

“The female stays with us.”

Sway’s arms dropped in time with his smile. “Excuse me?”

“She is human,” Veesway said. “And you have lain with her. Which means she now possibly carries a hatchling in her belly.”

Sway’s eyes narrowed. “And so what if she does? You’ve just declared that you are no father of mine. What does a monster’s young have to do with you?”

“A youngling is not at fault for the crimes of a monster. All the blood staining you has not yet touched the innocent.”

Sway’s belly dropped, even as his gaze hardened. He knew what Veesway was about to say, even before he declared-

“The female and the youngling stay with us. If she has not conceived, then she will be tossed into the jungle to let nature deal with her. Since you and her apparently followed the laws of beasts, you might as well live like them.”

“You-”

“But if she has conceived, she will stay,” Veesway continued, speaking to the gathered crowd who were muttering again, but this time, horribly, in agreement.

“She will be allowed to carry the youngling to term. But when she is delivered of the egg, we will save the hatchling. I will raise them myself. And then she will be tossed to the beasts!”

“You will not-”

Sway tried to rush forward, but he didn’t get more than a single step before he was converged upon from all sides. The domini that had formed a half ring behind him had just been waiting for the moment he stepped out of line.

They grabbed him. Kicking his knees out, forcing him to the ground. Someone put their weight on his back as his face was shoved against the stone, all four of his limbs caught and pinned. He struggled, but he couldn’t do more than jerk in their grasp.

“As for you, Eefwan the Pacifist ,” Veesway sang with derision, looking down at him with hatred dripping from his honeyed voice. “You have stained your feathers with blood.”

The crowd began humming. Almost chanting. Singing their approval of his condemnation.

“You have proven yourself to be mindless and violent and irredeemable!”

The humming was increasing in pitch, in speed. They weren’t calling out for his blood. No. It was worse than that. They desired nothing less than his destruction.

Sway was fighting. Hurting himself, scraping his feathers against the stony ground, as he struggled in vein to get even a single limb free. If he could just get enough leverage to get one of them off of him, then…

“You are not a farasie! You are not one of us! For you, a beast, there is only one place you deserve to go! Only one place you belong!”

They were going to throw him into the forest. Without supplies. Without shelter. Exile.

Murder in all but name. A way to kill him without getting their own hands dirty.

They were all humming now. Thrumming like the beat of a massive heart. United. Joined in their hatred and disgust and condemnation of him.

“Take him-”

A loud, melodious scream of horror ripped through the air. Slicing harshly through the humming of his coming demise. Sway’s eyes roamed, trying to track the sudden change in sound. But from where he was, he couldn’t see anything.

More screams. Running. Movement. Loud commotion.

What…?

“Monster!” Someone shrieked.

A roaring rumble. Unfamiliar, but he knew that sound.

The weight on one of his legs was suddenly gone.

Sway didn’t pause to wonder why or try to figure out what happened.

He jerked the now freed leg back, kicking to the side, aiming for whoever was sitting on his other leg.

It was an awkward angle, but he had powerful kicks.

Enough to upset the seat of whoever was on him.

They fell to the side with a grunt, freeing both of his legs at the same time that one of the weights on his back was ripped away.

There were still two weights on his arms, but he could finally get one of his feet under him. And that was all he needed.

With a powerful lunge, he shoved himself forward, ripping his arms out from under his attackers. The stone ripped at his feathers, yanking a few out of his skin, but he got free.

The lunge was messy, desperate. But as his arms were freed, he could bring them forward and at least prevent his face from slamming into the stone.

He caught himself right on the edge of the first step of the dais and, as his legs came around, carried by the momentum, he twisted them in the air so that when they landed, he was facing back around towards the crowd.

The two domini that had still been holding him down – a male and female – were already rushing his way. Bringing up their weapons.

He leapt forward. And now, without the weight on top of him, with the slight height from the steps, there was a great deal more power and finesse.

It was easy. Too easy. He flipped in the air, the back of his heel coming down onto the head of the domini male.

It hit with a crack, followed by a crunch as he was slammed face first into the ground.

Sway’s other foot finished the flip and he landed on his toes.

He twisted, spinning and driving his knee into the female’s side. He kicked her away with a grunt.

The crowd was screaming. Panicking. And it wasn’t just about him.

There, at the front, dark red blood dripping from his sharp teeth, Loyalty was standing, surrounded by the bleeding bodies of the domini he had pulled off Sway. Even as he watched, Loyalty dropped the last one to the ground – a particularly large male that hit with a grunt.

Loyalty stepped over him, running for Sway.

“Let’s go!” The reptilian male yelled, grabbing him by the wrist.

Sway yanked back. “I can’t! Grace-!”

He turned, looking back at the dais.

His father was still there. Looking at him.

Hatred. That was what was burning in his gaze. Cold disgust, distrust, the barest shades of fear, all of it covered by a righteousness that burned the back of Sway’s neck.

Neither Vweet nor Grace were in sight. Which, Sway was sure, was the point. Veesway had separated them for exactly this reason.

“Get them!” Veesway ordered.

Not to the crowd of pacifistic farasie who were all attempting to get away.

But to the domini mercenaries that were pushing past, weapons in hand, trying to get the situation back under control.

“Sway!” Loyalty barked, teeth snapping together as his muzzle slammed shut. A punctuation to the demand for his attention.

But Sway was still staring at his father. The male who sired him. The one who had come this far, done all this, to try to save him. Chasing his ghost. Chasing the barest hope that maybe, somehow, his son would be out there somewhere.

Eefwan, the youngling. Still fluffy with his baby feathers, no crest having grown in yet, singing to his parents as he chased after them, laughing and whistling. Happy. Innocent. Whole.

And yet, now he stood, looking down at his son Eefwan the Pacifist, the murderer, the torturer. A male who had just proved, without hesitation, beyond a doubt, that he was more than capable and willing to harm others.

The domini female he kicked had hit the ground hard and was groaning, trying to stand, while the male was unmoving. He very well could be dead. Sway didn’t know.

He didn’t care.

Because Grace wasn’t here, and he couldn’t leave without her.

But even as he took a step towards Veesway, Loyalty was there, grabbing his arm, gripping him tight this time, and yanked him back.

“We have to go! ” He yelled again.

“I can’t leave her!” Sway snapped back, angry that Loyalty would interfere when his female was here, somewhere, in a city that had condemned her for no other crime than being his.

But to the farasie people, that was enough.

Loyalty snarled, shaking his head, flinging blood that splattered against Sway’s feathers. It was an annoyance, and not even one of disgust. “They’re not going to hurt her. But they very well will hurt us. Now come on! ”