Chapter 27
Do you even understand what thepraevolois?
Did she?
She understood what she’d heard, but was aware she hadn’t heard all of it. Even if she had, she probably couldn’t reconcile it with the Moran that she’d known for years. She knew the title had significance for the Aerians. Clint had convinced her of that, not in words, but in actions. The way he treated Moran right now was almost embarrassing for the sergeant.
Kaylin had sympathy. She would have found it excruciating, herself. When you worshipped someone, you placed a burden on them. You expected them to live up to your ideals, expected them to be worthy of your worship. And who could do that?
Not Kaylin. She was uncomfortable when people recognized her marks and called her Chosen, because she knew they had expectations of her, even if she had no idea what they were. She meant something to them—but actually, no. Hermarksmeant something. Hermarksdefined her.
And Moran was defined by her wings.
Kaylin could see her take flight. She shouldn’t have been able to see any such thing. There were oddly colored walls between her and the Aerian—but those walls were like windows where Moran, and only Moran, was concerned. Kaylin could see her. She could see her wings.
And her wings were fire, her wings were air, her wings were gold and silver and platinum. They were larger than any natural Aerian wings; they reminded Kaylin, in span, of the wings of the pretender, the outcaste. But only in span. In no other way were they alike.
And she was suddenly certain that the Aerians could see Moran take flight. That they could feel the thrill of it, the joy of it, and the desperate need for it. But Moran didn’t tell them to flee, didn’t tell them to evacuate their homes.
“I don’t think Moran is evacuating the Aerie,” she told Mandoran.
“Then what is she doing?”
“...Flying. Now shut up and get me to Bellusdeo.”
* * *
Getting close to Bellusdeo was almost impossible. Mandoran hadn’t exaggerated: the Emperor and the golden Dragon had cornered the outcaste. Gold and indigo surged forward and back against a scaled, black background. The outcaste was enormous. Kaylin had never seen him so large. His wings had grown, and grew again as he raised them; the halls were the color of night.
And she realized that she was seeing him as Mandoran saw him; she wasn’t certain why.
“You’re with me,” he told her. “And it isreally difficultto keep you here. I need to let you off.”
She nodded, and felt stone slam into her feet, as if she’d been dropped from a moderate height. She was already bending into the drop, trying to control it.
Tain appeared almost instantly.
“I need to get to Bellusdeo,” she shouted. She had to shout. If he’d been mortal, he wouldn’t have heard, regardless.
He looked even more dubious than Mandoran had.
“She’s been injured.”
“She’s given better than she’s received.”
“She’s been injured by Shadow—I think the outcaste is deliberately fighting a delaying action. He wants it totake effect.”
Tain paled. He didn’t ask if she was certain. He didn’t have time. The familiar swooped down and landed to one side of her. He had to—he was the size of a Dragon.
She didn’t try to mount him. She couldn’t reach Bellusdeo on his back. He seemed to understand this; he didn’t speak. Nor did he attempt to place a wing over her eyes—at this size, he’d probably break her cheekbones. Instead, he took to the air, and when he’d gained enough height, he reached down for her with very large claws.
* * *
She dangled above the floor of the cavern, which now looked like normal rock. The odd glow of light that Mandoran appeared to have followed had vanished. She could no longer see the Barrani; she couldn’t see Annarion, either. She half wished large and majestic was his normal small and squawky size.
I cannot be, he replied.There is too much here to contain.
He was talking about the darkness that Kaylin could no longer see.
