Warbirds | Rebecca Thorne #4
Korvi cawed softly, black eyes scanning the ground below as soldiers thundered back to their homeland and horses whinnied in terror, fleeing the predator overhead.
After a few minutes of flying, when the horses were far away and the mountains shifted to foothills, a huge red-tailed hawk circled overhead.
It had no rider, but the warning was clear. Retreat. Now.
Korvi stopped his pursuit, flapping his wings in an attempt to remain stationary. Cera held on for dear life as the raven pivoted, angling back towards Dalet and the snowy owl cresting the horizon.
She watched the hawk analyze them, then fly further into Welk.
It didn’t move as a hawk normally would. It turned too abruptly, ignoring how the wind shifted its feathers. Rigid grace, puppeted by the same magic that controlled Pinske.
Cera set her jaw and rejoined Raiden in the skies.
* * *
They returned to the palace hours later, their bellies full from a feast provided by the Earl of Yal and his grateful militia.
The earl knew how to cook potatoes, which was both a comfort and a curiosity.
When they landed, Pinske ruffled her feathers and yet again tried to bend down to say hello to Cera.
Korvi watched, and this time, Raiden didn’t intervene.
She petted the snowy owl’s hard beak. Pinske truly was a marvel, with sharp yellow eyes that stared into her soul. Cera smiled back, moving her hand to the bird’s soft facial feathers. The owl cooed, pivoting to give her better access.
“Remarkable,” Raiden said. They were standing at the entrance to the massive aviary, a huge platform with gates that overlooked the space’s interior. Below them, the palace gleamed with snow, and a pair of servants stood on fenced platforms at either side, waiting to close the gates behind Pinske.
Waiting to cage the beast, yet again.
Cera was done waiting. This escapade had been fun, but she had a new obligation now.
Her life’s work must continue.
She patted Pinske’s beak again and stepped back, watching as the owl straightened.
For a moment, she thought the snowy bird would seize freedom, fly into the dark sky and vanish, but Raiden was too fast. He blew a few notes, almost a melody, and the owl slipped through the doorway and into the aviary instead.
Korvi jumped off the platform as the servants moved to close the gates. Cera didn’t stop him, and he wasted no time fleeing. Unlike a white owl, he truly did vanish against the inky sky, only visible by his wing flaps and the stars he blotted out.
Raiden signaled for the servants who’d locked Pinske in her aviary to give them some privacy. They descended from their platforms, bowing respectfully to the pair as they returned to the palace below.
For the second time, they were truly alone.
Cera faced Raiden, rubbing her arm. “I have a question.” It was a dark night with no moon, so she could barely see the angles of his face, his sharp cheekbones, his soft smile.
He stepped closer, his fingers tracing her cheek. “Anything, Cera.”
Anything.
“Have you ever tried communicating with Pinske instead of controlling her?”
Heat spread between them, and in the dim light, she could see his cheeks flushing. He pulled away, embarrassed. “It won’t work. I don’t have that level of skill.”
It wasn’t skill. It wasn’t a magical gene. It was trust.
Cera needed a better answer. Craved it, the way she desired a heavy cloak on a cold winter’s day. Something to cut the chill. Something to fight their icy reality.
Maybe this was why she’d taken so long to act.
Don’t fall for him, Tasi had said on the first day.
She didn’t have love to spare – but Raiden had somehow made her wish she did. He wasn’t a partner to her, but over time, she’d wanted him to be a friend. An ally in this fight. Except he was staring at her with remorse, which meant he still didn’t understand.
“Will you try?” Cera asked.
Begged.
Raiden frowned, but he didn’t shy from the conversation or make up lies.
“My grandfather tried. Pinske’s ancestor mauled him.
He almost died.” Raiden drew a slow breath, putting a hand on the big metal doors of the aviary, peering through the wide gate to watch Pinske settle into a huge tree.
“They won’t obey without the ocarina. With it, we’re safe. ”
“And she’s trapped.”
Raiden didn’t offer any excuses.
He knew what he was doing.
Cera swallowed hard, pressing against him. “What if I teach you? Our children can do better than this.” That sentence seemed to soften his defenses. He stepped closer, and she continued encouragingly, “I’m proof—”
“Korvi is a raven, not a raptor,” Raiden inserted.
“And my ancestors flew on eagles,” Cera replied.
The weight of that settled over them.
Cera’s fingers feathered along his face, his neck.
He leaned into her touch, his eyelids closing.
She pressed her lips to his cheek, his nose…
his lips. “Raiden,” she whispered against him.
He met her touch, hungrily, his arms winding around her waist. Her fingers threaded between the leather string along his neck, her other hand reaching into the folds of her cloak.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
She cut the ocarina from his neck and smashed it to the ground.
It was anticlimactic – but then again, shattering magic older than both of them combined usually was.
The spell simply dissipated, and the clay shards lay as penance for the possibilities lost. Raiden inhaled sharply, wheeling away from her, speechless.
She stepped back a few paces, readying her knife.
It was always a bit of a question how they’d react, after all this.
“Y-You—” Raiden said, rage tingeing his tone. “You destroyed it.”
“You don’t need it,” she replied simply. “No one does.”
In the aviary, Pinske had perked up, spreading her wings. Her shriek was earth-shattering, a victory cry as the spell was lifted, as she was truly freed from her ancestral curse. Raiden watched it with horror, but the aviary was closed, so he had some time.