Cita was sore. His bruises had bruises, his ankle hurt, and he was tired of walking. He paid it all no mind.
"So the sacred glaive is sealed to Staryu, the goddess of air and storm, and this allows your people to fly?" Cita's mind was filled with thoughts of people flying. His eyes glowed.
"The Lady Staryu," Bilal corrected. "It's not quite that simple. As I said, the first thing we are taught as children is how to glide. Our homes are in high, rocky mountains, and it is all too easy to misstep and fall right off the mountain. By the time they can walk unaided, most children can glide at least long enough for an attentive guardian to reach them. Then, once the child reaches the age of majority, they are sealed to the Lady Staryu." Bilal flexed his scarred right bicep with a faraway expression.
"And that would look like a tattoo to someone who didn't know better?" Anticipating the blank look this time, Cita continued, "Like an image, etched under the skin?"
"Yes." Bilal nodded. "It would not seem significant to the uninitiated. It helps the one who is sealed to sense the currents in the air and aids in gliding longer and higher. Some have a stronger connection than others." Bilal drew a deep breath before continuing. "Those who would become warriors are trained with unsealed sacred glaives, like this one." He gestured with the weapon.
"These glaives are still consecrated to the goddess and are blessed with the power to direct the air. But they allow only limited flight independent of existing air currents. When trained warriors choose to be set aside for the goddess, they and their glaive are consecrated to the Lady Staryu. They are dedicated to the defense of our land and people, but also have sacred duties to the goddess ..." Bilal trailed off.
"You … sound pretty familiar with the process," Cita hazarded.
Bilal didn't answer.
Cita took a moment to gaze over the grassy plains. The rolling land seemed to go on forever, with a desolate beauty he admired. 'But still …'
"I miss city," Cita sighed.
Golden eyes turned on him.
"There's tall buildings and hidden alleys and lots of people and no one … no one looks at you. Not really."
Bilal's lips twisted in a crooked smile and he turned away. Cita flushed, looking down.
**Way to go, genius.** The youth strode next to Cita. **How about instead of insulting the guy covering your butt, you try to do something productive? Remember who you are and all that jazz.**
Cita ground his teeth and focused on the grass they walked through. They followed the slightest bent grass stems; Bilal said the Infected had left those traces. A sudden cold wind gusted from the north and cut through Cita's shirt. He shivered and looked to his left.
"Uh … guys?" Cita's mouth fell open as he stared at the dark, swirling clouds sweeping down from the north. Lightning flashed from cloud to cloud, and dark sheets of rain pelted the grasslands. "I've never seen a storm blow in that fast!"
"Jas povtorno nema da uspeam," Bilal whispered.
'I will not fail again.'
Cita rolled his eyes. 'All right. Fine, I get it. Jas povtorno nema da uspeam. I will not fail again. Knock it off already!'
A sleepy, bass chuckle rattled his ears. Cita stared around wide-eyed.
Bilal continued louder, "We must hurry. There is no shelter here, but there is a steading ahead. They may be willing to provide a haven."
Spinning, Bilal threw Rashida on top of her horse's packs.
"Hey!" she squawked, grabbing the horse's mane to stay atop the awkward seat.
"There is no time, Healer. Autumn storms can be lethal on these plains." He grabbed the packhorse's leadline and urged her along, veering south.
Cita followed with his own protest. "What about the swarm? We'll lose the trail ..." He tightened his bow's sling and adjusted his quiver.
"Better the trail is lost than our lives. There is no safety here, Cita. Now move!"
Cita moved.
Bilal pushed them to a jog with the horse trotting alongside. Rashida clung to the packs, trying to stay balanced.
Their haste was not enough to keep ahead of the storm. It broke over them like a wave, dousing them in frigid water. Their pace slowed as they struggled to see and travel through the sheeting rain. The lightning moved on, leaving them to press on in the early darkness.
"This is an autumn storm?" Cita asked through chattering teeth.
"Yes." Bilal's answer was short. Pausing, he pulled a shirt from his pack. He wrapped the garment around Cita. Rain soaked it, but the wool provided warmth.
Rashida also fumbled in her pack to pull out a knitted, badly shaped sweater. She pulled it on and huddled closer to the horse's neck.
"What about you?" Cita asked Bilal through chattering teeth. Bilal shook his head and urged the horse forward.
Stumbling onward, Cita's mind was increasingly mazed. Fat raindrops pummelled his flesh. Icy water streamed from his head and down his body.
The youth muttered through chattering teeth, **Follow Bilal. That dark patch — that's him. One step. Then another. Keep going.**
The youth matched Cita, stride for stride. His braids unraveled in the punishing torrent.
Cita could not have said how long they fought through the storm before Bilal slowed and turned. Soon he turned again, and the rain's buffeting lessened.
Cita blinked, trying to clear his eyes. A rough wooden stockade blocked some of the deluge.
Bilal stopped and pounded on a gate. He paused and then pounded again. He repeated the pattern until a small window opened.
Bilal spoke into the window.
Cita clenched his teeth, stilling their chatter, but still couldn't hear over the storm. Then the window closed. Cita held his breath. Finally, the gate creaked open.
The travelers squeezed through, and the gate was hastily shut and barred behind them.
Bilal assisted Rashida down from the packhorse.
Cita saw an open yard and several buildings enclosed by the stockade. Two dark, cloaked figures with businesslike staves stood blocking their path.
Cita shuddered and brushed ineffectually at the rain pouring down his face.
One of the cloaked figures gestured for Bilal to lead the horse to a building with a large door. The other led Cita and Rashida to another building with a smaller, person-sized door.
Cita stumbled on the steps leading to the door. The figure paused but continued without turning back. Cita dragged himself back to his feet and summited the stairs.
The figure opened the door, letting out a wash of warmth. Cita gasped. He stumbled inside behind Rashida and leaned hard against the wall by the door. Contrarily, his body shivered harder now that he was inside.
'What … what's wrong with me?'
The youth slumped to the floor. **Too … cold …** He inched across the floor.
Cita's eyes followed the youth's path to a cheery hearth fire.
Rashida removed her outer layers, hanging them by the door. She felt her way across the room and found a low stool near the fire.
Their guide left, still cloaked and dripping.
Cita stared at the flames.
"Pretty …" He fumbled with his own gear, dripping on the floors.
Bilal and his guide entered. The stranger hung his cloak on an empty peg, revealing a teen with shoulder-length dark hair. An easy smile graced his face.
Bilal set his pack down and untangled Cita from the wrapped shirt.
Cita tugged ineffectually at his bow's sling and quiver, fingers uncoordinated.
Bilal frowned and hesitated. He murmured his familiar saying, "Jas povtorno nema da uspeam."
'I will not fail again.'
"You keep using that phrase. I do not think it means what you think it means," Cita muttered.
Golden eyes inspected Cita before Bilal extricated the weapons. He hung them on pegs.
The teen reached toward the bow before jerking his hand back.
"You've half-killed your flame sorcerer," a warm voice came from the doorway the first guard had left through. A tall, thin young woman quickly entered, her long brown braid sweeping behind her.
'Wait — what??' Cita gawked at their hostess. He opened his clenched teeth, but couldn't coax a word through his chattering teeth.
A still-hooded figure threw its hands in the air and turned to beat its head gently against the wall. The teen hurried over for a hushed conference.
Their hostess continued, "Come, bring him closer to the fire. You should know better than to let him get caught in the storm."
"Flame sorcerer?" Bilal asked, golden eyes narrowed as he assessed the woman. "Not flame summoner?"
"Ah," the woman's smile dimmed. "A family distinction, I suppose." She held out her hand, open-palmed, and a small red flame danced there. "Flame sorcerers retain their humanity and strive to exist in balance with the world. Flame summoners are driven mad by their power and seek destruction."
Their hostess paused with a slight smirk on her round face; dark brows arched over chocolate eyes that twinkled in the light from the tongue of flame. She closed her hand around the fire, and it shrank and snuffed obediently.
'She's a flame summon — I mean a flame sorcerer? Bilal said there weren't any!' Red eyes glanced at Bilal's stony visage.
Bilal was the first to speak.
"You give hope and terrify with the same breath."
Rashida snorted.
Their hostess laughed.
"Surely not so bad as all that."
"You can't tell them that!" a tenor voice shouted. Angry hands pushed the hood back, revealing a red-haired teen. Fiery brows graced his round face.
Narrowed green eyes met narrowed chocolate eyes in a spray of sparks.
The dark-haired teen's smile twisted, and he patted the red-head on the shoulder.
"Bro, you won't win against her. Remember last time?"
"That's right," she scoffed. "Anyway, he's a flame sorcerer the same as us, and they travel with him. He can't betray us without betraying himself. Neither can they. Cousins," she snarled, eyes rolling.
She tossed her braid over her shoulder and addressed her guests, "Come — warm yourselves by the fire."
She pulled two more stools out and placed them by the fire.
Cita pushed off the wall and his knees buckled. Bilal caught his elbow and guided him to a stool.
'So … cold …' Cita chafed his arms with numb fingers. The youth huddled on the hearth, nearly in the fire.
"Bilal, I need my pack. Did you leave it with Aspen?" Rashida asked before Bilal could sit.
"Aspen?" Bilal's golden eyes closed, and he rubbed his eyelids.
"My packhorse," Rashida clarified.
"Yes, the packs are in the stables."
"Go get the big one. I need to make a tea to warm Cita," she ordered. "You may as well bring the others while you're at it."
Their hostess opened her mouth, but Rashida held up a regal hand to silence her.
"... So it will be," Bilal ground out.
Cita's eyes widened and he hunched lower on the stool. He clenched his teeth tighter to still their chatter.
'The last time he said that …'
**Noooooo,** the youth moaned and crawled toward Cita. **Get … get out of here!**
Bilal turned away from the fire and headed for the door.
"My cousins can show you through the tunnels. J—," the woman began.
"No names!" the red-head interrupted.
"They're our guests! They have to call us something!" She threw her hands up in the air.
"They can call me Cetan." The dark-haired teen grinned. "He can be Blue Jay." He gestured to the red-head.
Blue Jay punched him in the arm.
"Oww!"
"You think pretty highly of yourself," their hostess snarled. She turned to the travelers with a forced smile. "You can call me Je—"
"Unhcegila," Cetan cut her off.
Unhcegila scowled at him.
Blue Jay grinned wickedly. "Unhcegila."
Unhcegila hissed like an angry teakettle. She snatched a thick leather mitt from beside the fireplace and threw it at them.
They dodged easily.
"You shouldn't have told them about the tunnels," Cetan added.
"Do as I say or when Grauntie gets back ...!" Unhcegila shouted. Her hands fisted at her sides, and she stomped her foot.
Blue Jay sauntered off into the house. "Do it yourself. Grauntie didn't leave you in charge."
"… This way." Cetan shook his head and waved at Bilal. "Grauntie's gonna be pissed enough already."
Bilal scowled, looking from Rashida to Cita, before following.
Once they were out of earshot, their hostess turned to Rashida.
"Why did you want him out of here? We have plenty of herbs and hot water already in the kettle." She pointed toward the fire.
"Good." Rashida ignored the question. "We need a mug, and add two scoops of this."
"These herbs will relax the boy." Rashida handed Unhcegila a wrapped bundle.
'What? Relax …?' Cita fought against the blanketing fog that enclosed his mind.
The youth struggled to push himself off the floor.
**Run, you idiot!**
Unhcegila considered Rashida. Then she pulled a mug from a shelf and prepared the tea. She handed the cup to Rashida.
"Now, drink this," Rashida prompted Cita. She held the mug to Cita's lips.
He opened his mouth to protest and choked as she poured it in. Dazed, he swallowed until the mug was drained.
The effects were fast; within moments, Cita felt as if he floated three feet above his body. An electric blue haze enveloped him. Below, he saw the youth curled into a moaning fetal ball. A dark shadow wrapped tight around them both.
"Now, isn't that better?" Rashida asked.
Cita saw his body nod.
"I need you to answer some questions. You said you lost your pills. What pills?"
Like a video clip, Cita saw a hand holding a baggie with round blue pills. Its mate pulled two free. Cita squinted his eyes and could almost make out the imprinted text.
'This isn't like before. Why is this different?'
Unhcegila studied Rashida, frowning.
"My … pills? The … the ones Mr. Smith gave me? Or …" Cita trailed off.
The shadow deepened, choking the room.
Another clip — this time, the hands held a baggie with clear capsules. They shook as they spilled several into a palm. The palm rose quickly and lowered without the pills.
'It's like this happening to someone else.'
Cita swallowed hard. His fingers, far below, twitched forward.
"—anges and lemons," his voice sang. "Say the bells …"
'Stop it! Don't!' Cita watched his hands grab his elbows, clamping them tight to his torso.
"Start with the ones Mr. Smith gave you," Rashida commanded.
The shadow swirled around Rashida as if encouraging her.
"Dunno … said … X … A … N … A … X … X … A … N … A …"
**
Blue pills chased by blue sports-drink flooded Cita's throat. He choked.
**
'No-no-no-no-no—' Cita's body hunched over on the stool.
"That doesn't help," Rashida broke in. "What did they do? Why did you take them?"
"Take one when you're… fr-fr-freaking … out. When you … don't fit in." He crooned, "Don't stand so … don't stand so …"
"I don't think this is a good idea," Unhcegila interrupted.
"Hmm." Rashida pressed a finger to her lips. "What were the other pills?"
**
A dagger slashed through the baggie, spilling pills on filthy cobblestones. Dirty, graceful fingers pushed ragged brown hair out of an elfin face, revealing angry hazel eyes.
**
'Tobias.' Cita fought to block the flood of memories the name conjured.
**
Dirty buildings, jammed cheek to jowl. Shattered glass and broken asphalt. Sewage-coated cobbles and piss-slicked brick. A smirking man in a ragged tuxedo flanked by a leering henchman.
**
"Other … pills? No … don't take … the pills … Promised … no … nonononono—"
Cita's head lolled to the side like a puppet with its strings cut. His lips pulled back, baring his teeth. They gleamed in the firelight, but the light didn't penetrate their barrier. Laughter poured from the gaping darkness within.
The hearth fire flared blue.
"Aah! No!" Unhcegila threw the remaining water from the kettle onto the hearth fire. It sputtered but didn't die. She held out her open palm, glaring at the flames. "That's enough!"
They flared red, and then blue, then red again. The roiling flames shifted colors faster and faster.
Red-orange eyes caught the light of the fire and glowed blue.
"Heya, missy. Gotta candle for us?"
"What?" Unhcegila asked, jerking away from Cita. Her chocolate eyes were wide and dark.
Rashida turned as if to study the fire.
"Clever Dracaenaekin. You didn't tell me he could call the flames already." She turned back to Cita and sneered. "A baby flame summoner. So cute!"
An enraged growl echoed through the room. The fire's blue deepened, drowning all hints of red.
"Stop taunting him!" Unhcegila staggered away from the blaze.
Rashida rolled her eyes but fell silent. She grabbed the mug with the dregs of herbs and dumped a fresh spoonful in. "We need more water."
"There's a bucket by the door. What are you …? You're not giving him more?!?"
"I'm a healer," Rashida asserted. "He'll be fine." Unerringly, she navigated to the bucket, scooped water into the mug, and brought it back.
Cita watched helplessly as his head was forced up and the mug's contents poured down his throat. Darkness gathered at the edges of his vision.
'Fine. But this time, could I just not wake up? Please?' He threw himself into the abyss, drowning willingly.