Hidden Truth by Dawn Cook
How high could she go, she wondered, and could he follow her there? With a single-minded purpose, she climbed. Muscle and sinew, bone and membrane, all focused together. Uncaring of the old one’s limits, she rose until the air was so cold it burned. Her lungs heaved, and her wings grew heavy with the furious beats needed to keep her position in the thin air. The sky was almost purple and bitterly chill. It sank into her uncomfortably. The sun, she thought in confusion, looked no closer, and this was puzzling for she had clearly come a great distance.
Pulse pounding, she turned her attention from the riddle and looked down. Beneath her spread the earth, the hint of a curve on the misty horizon. Her rival was gone. Perhaps her day would lack amusement after all. Regretfully, she angled to begin a slow spiral downward. Her muscles were tiring, and she wanted a warm patch of rock on which to bask.
There was a small snort of mirth above her, and she started in surprise. The old one had gone higher than she! Could he do this? she thought, her eyes smoldering.
Once more she angled into a steep drop, her wings clenched tightly to her body. If they opened now, they would shiver like thin ice. It was a dangerous game that would become deadlier the longer it continued. The speed of her passage warmed her as the very air itself protested at her sudden arrival and departure. And still the old one followed, his task made easier by riding in her wake.
The air grew thick again, and her pulse slowed. Irate that he was still with her, she adjusted her fall and consumed her speed in a huge, elegant turn. The old one matched her, always a wing’s length away, always above her. Vexed now, she wished him to be gone. Slowly, she angled away, signaling her desire to be alone. But he refused to leave, dropping lower to force her to the ground.
He didn’t want to play, she thought fiercely. He wanted to ground her! Slipping into a level glide, she allowed the old one to drift within reach. She wouldn’t be grounded, she thought vehemently, by him or anyone else.
Simultaneously, she broke into a dive and lashed out. Her tail met his wing where tendon joined bone just above the shoulder with a resounding crack. The old one grunted in pain as he fell away, his wing temporally paralyzed. She had struck carefully. He would recover before the earth met him.
She left without a backwards glance, streaking to the setting sun, to the sea, unaware and uncaring of what she left behind.
33
Talo-Toecan fell. Preoccupied with the task of survival, it wasn’t until his wing responded again that he was able to ascertain what had happened. He cast wildly about for Alissa’s golden form, angrily berating himself. How, he fumed, could he have been so ignorant? It was a game to her. Once she was finished, he was expected to leave. That blow could have easily been fatal. It was a warning, one he wouldn’t—couldn’t—heed.
He climbed in search of her, ignoring the dull pain that came with each wing stroke. He had fallen for only a moment, but she was so small and quick, it was hard to know where to look. His eyes narrowed at a faint glimmer on the horizon. It was farther than she could have possibly gotten, but he knew it was her, heading west over the mountains to the coast.
A quiet resolve grew within him. This one, he vowed with thoughts of Connen-Neute swirling through his mind, he would not lose, even if he need mortally wound her. But of course he couldn’t. He was at a great disadvantage. He had to hold. She was free to rend.
He rapidly closed the distance between them. Even so, they were over the open sea by the time she flew beneath him, completely unaware that he was there. A shudder shook him at the sight of so much water, and with a last thought of the foolishness of old rakus, he dropped.
There was a flurry of wings and claws as he slammed into her, knocking her into an uncontrolled fall. Down they plunged as she struggled to regain control and strike him at the same time. Hissing wildly, she swung her tail in what would have been a deathblow had it landed.
He darted away, the sting from her talons cutting deep in the salty air. She caught the wind beneath her before hitting the sea. Redoubling her speed, she headed for the distant horizon.
Talo-Toecan knew his endurance was less than hers; he was over eight hundred years old. He was stronger, though, especially in the short term, and his breath came fast and in time with his wing strokes as he strove to overtake her and turn her back to the coast. There he had at least a hope of grounding her. If she continued out to sea, he would lose her and probably himself, too.
Slowly he pulled ahead in a great arc, swinging her to the east. She howled her frustration but had little choice. Soon the ground was again beneath them. Back to the Hold they sped. She dropped lower to hug the ground, darting over rocks and around treetops in a bid for freedom. Talo-Toecan followed, becoming angry. This, he seethed, had gone far enough.
Taking a higher path, he waited for the chance to reach out and physically catch her. He had more mass, he reasoned. He could drag her back if necessary. They shot over a clearing, and free from encumbrances, he put on a burst of speed and lunged. She must have sensed him, for she shifted, leaving him to grasp only air.
Her wing tip smacked into the ground as she overcompensated. Calling out at the sudden pain, she darted ahead. Talo-Toecan followed like a wraith intent on prey. The next mistake might be his last, but he would catch her. His games with Talon, he realized, were paying off handsomely. If not for them, he would have been outmaneuvered long ago.
Swerving through a narrow pass, they unexpectedly sped over a long coastal lake, its far shore growing close frighteningly fast. Talo-Toecan couldn’t help a wicked smile as he reached out a clawed foot. She dropped, and in sudden horror, he realized she was going under!
His tail cracked the surface smartly as he pulled up at the last moment. The raku that was once Alissa, didn’t. With hardly a splash, she dove cleanly into the cold waters.
Talo-Toecan braked in a huge clap of noise, back winging to hover over the spot. He enjoyed water only in tame amounts he could easily consume and had never heard of such a thing. The disturbed water settled until even the ripples disappeared, showing only his image circling in worry. She wouldn’t kill herself to escape him, he asserted firmly, but as the moments accumulated, he began to wonder.
Dropping lower, he skimmed over the spot she went down, peering into the blackness. There was nothing to see, especially when small waves began to disturb his vision. Ripples, he mused, his eyes narrowing. She couldn’t have swum under the water, could she? He raised his gaze in disbelief and caught sight of the tip of her tail, vanishing between the far shore and scrub.
With a roar of frustration, he was after her, her squeal of protest as she took flight only adding to his fervor. She almost tricked him again. Enraged, he sped after her, determined to bring her down.
At the sight of the Hold, the beast surged ahead. Talo-Toecan dropped back, thinking she might be seeking refuge, then cursed himself as she flew over it and beyond. She was not running to it. She was running from it. Snarling, he reached out a clawed foot and grabbed the first thing he could get. It was her impossibly long tail and probably the worst thing he could have done.
She pivoted on a wing tip with a short cry of outrage, slamming her feet into him with enough force to knock them both from the sky. His breath hissed out in pain and surprise, and he found himself tumbling end over end as, in her rage, she refused to let go.
Talo-Toecan struggled to halt their fall and fend off her attack. He, too, refused to let go, and he suffered hard blows. “Cease!” he ordered, forgetting she wouldn’t understand. It only made matters worse. Her kicking shifted to slashing, and her claws raked him painfully as they slowly lost altitude. He thought he was finally beginning to get the upper hand when she changed tactics and went limp.
Her sudden deadweight caused his grip to slip, and she fell away. She was too close to the ground to recover and smashed into it with enough force to shiver the nearby trees. Clearly dazed, she staggered to a stand in the clearing she had fallen into.
Talo-Toecan was
“Play, Piper. Play!” he heard distantly, and then the gentle notes of a lullaby. The beast heard it as well, and pausing, she cocked her head to listen to the slow rise and fall of the music as Strell and Lodesh appeared from under the trees.
34
She watched, totally unconcerned, as the two small figures came into view. The noise of their rustling approach had been obvious, and despite her earlier state of confusion, she was prepared to leave. But now there was music. She couldn’t help but pause.
“Easy,” the first advised. “I’ll stay here. You move to the other side so she is surrounded. I suggest you not cease your playing until we’re all in position.” His green eyes never left her as he spoke. He seemed overly confident.
This pale one—as she named him—couldn’t keep her grounded. Neither could the old one. He had brought her down, though it cost him several long scores that oozed a bright red. She could slip from him easily, and the last one that made the lovely music was no threat at all. She would allow them to circle her like wolves.
Fascinated by the music, she watched the maker of music move between her and the old one. She could smell the fear in him as he stepped carefully between the old one’s feet, too frightened to come any closer to her. It was pleasing, and she showed him her teeth. The music faltered as he balked at the sight. Annoyed at the lapse, the tip of her tail twitched. She would fly the instant the wonderful sounds ceased.
“Strell?” the pale one called. “Perhaps if you tried stopping for a moment?”
The player of music went ashen at the foolish suggestion.
“You can’t play forever,” the pale one complained. “Music won’t bring her back. You must talk to her.”
Never ceasing his playing, the musician fervently shook his head, and she agreed, her tail moving back and forth in agitation.
“What if you slipped out of it gently?” the pale one pressed. “Try slowing down.”
She liked this not at all, but despite her warning look and low growl, the pace of the enrapturing sounds began to ease. As the last note drifted away and died, she extended her wings and looked longingly at the open sky.
The old one rose up to thunder a challenge that echoed off the nearby peaks. She reacted instinctively, having forgotten he was even there. Lowering her head, she hissed, thrashing her tail at the two small figures behind her. It was time to go. But first she had to back away from the old one to find the room to clear the trees.
The two men nimbly dodged her, but they didn’t move enough to allow her escape. Aiming for the music maker, she whipped her tail in a sharp arc to knock him out cold. At the last moment, she changed her mind, and it went hissing harmlessly over his head. She didn’t need to kill him, she rationalized, only scare him away. Sending her weapon in another direction, she struck it against a nearby rock buried half into the wet earth. It fractured into uncountable fragments. That, she thought, should be enough to frighten him.
But the musician stood firm. He was playing again, but it made no difference. She wanted out. She couldn’t force her way past the old one. One of the men would die. She had warned them. It was their fault if they ignored her. With a savage growl, she raised her foot to crush the maker of music. He was clearly the weakest.
“Alissa! No!” he cried, taking a faltering step back as his instincts finally overpowered his sensibilities. It was the first time he had spoken, and she halted in confusion. She knew that voice. It was from her dreams. He stood beneath her upraised foot, trembling from his fear, but he wouldn’t move. “Please, Alissa. Come back to me,” he whispered.
She drew away with a start. His words had started an uncomfortable feeling of disconnection. Avoiding it, she turned to the pale one instead. This, she reasoned, was a better choice. If she spared the musician, someday she might hear those wonderful sounds again.
Snarling fiercely now that her confusion was gone, she prepared to dispatch the pale one. The longer she remained on the ground, the more uncertain she became. But as she turned to him, he changed. His clear eyes grew thick and dusky, and he extruded a threatening stillness that sent a shock through her. This was not just a man. This one carried death!
“Come,” the pale one invited sweetly, “I dare you.”
She backed away, snorting in fear. The old one, too, could see the change and was staring in surprise. He wasn’t afraid though, and that gave her courage. Frustrated, she howled and swung her tail in an arc to smash him like the rock.
“That’s right,” the pale one murmured seductively. “Strike me. I’ve become as Death’s brother; she has loaned her talents to me. Pass me or strike me down, and I’ll take you to her. Death has marked you. She’ll allow me to claim you in her name. Come. . . . I dare you.” The man who was Death’s brother beckoned gently, his eyes glinting with a black sheen.
Rearing awkwardly, she backed up. Somewhere inside her, his invitation struck a response, and she knew his words were true. She was marked for death. Almost, she could remember how. In an absolute panic, she smacked her tail to the ground between them as a firm refusal. She wouldn’t touch or try to pass him.
The man who carried her death ceased his advance to stand patiently. Death could afford to be generous; she always won.
She turned to the other man. No, she thought wildly, she couldn’t hurt him, but why she couldn’t was beyond her. Desperate to be away she looked at the old one again. He growled fiercely, thrashing his tail in quick thumps against the ground to make it tremble. She needed more room to slip past him. The maker of music would die for her freedom.
Must fly, she thought. Must be free. Head weaving, she lunged at the insignificant figure. He gasped, wide-eyed as she landed a hand’s breath away, hissing her anger. His pipe slipped from his fingers, and trembling, he reached out to touch her.
“Please, Alissa,” he pleaded. “I want this to end.”
At his gentle caress, she drew back as if stung.
“That’s it, Piper,” Death’s brother encouraged. He was standing casually, as if confident she wouldn’t try his strength again. “Remind her of her past,” he advised. “She knows you better than anyone.”
“I have known her for six months,” the man said raggedly.
“She has known me for two days,” the pale one answered.
The musician took a shaky breath. “Alissa, please. You must come back. Do you—do you remember your swim? When we were traveling through the mountains?”
She paused, drawing her head back. Her impetus to flee was postponed by the strange visions his words invoked. Dreams of cold water and gliding forms, and a strange fascination with the warmth of a fire. Her whirling eyes slowed as she considered what it might mean.
Seeing her reaction, the man straightened. “The water was so cold,” he said softly. “Your lips were blue when you came back. I put extra wood on the fire, knowing you would like it.”
She had never been cold, she thought. Her swim was to escape. There was no fire. But another part of her was puzzled. She had once dreamed of a still lake, purple with the setting sun. Snorting, she shook her head to free herself from the conflict.
“And the gully where we met,” he continued, his voice soft with emotion. “You were cold then, too. Your feet were like ice when I felt to see if your ankle was broken. You passed out, so you wouldn’t know how I hoisted you from the
Freedom, she breathed, looking to the sky. Yes. Free to fly from the cold prison. Her wings trembled with her desire to flee from his confusion.
His face went white with her reaction, and the man rushed to capture her attention again. “And Talon?” he cried. “She tore my hat to shreds that night.”
Talon, she mused, her vision distant. Talon flies. She remembered now. . . . Talon flies, too! Finally finding common ground between her conflicting thoughts, she stretched her wings.
The old one growled softly, and Death’s brother stood ready to make good his promise. “Piper,” he warned nervously, “your choice of topics is getting dangerous.”
“Alissa! Listen to me,” the musician shouted. “She attacked me because we were arguing over whose homeland had the better crafting skills!”
She paused. She cared for nothing beyond an open sky, warm sun, and moonless nights with star-filled skies. This man was spouting absurdities, but slowly her wings drooped.
“You were right, Alissa,” he said, his eyes turning from anxious to relieved. “Your people possess talents plainsmen can only envy.”
That’s right, she thought suddenly. Those ignorant dirt eaters were so impressed with status and show, they continually missed what was under their stuck-up noses. Shifting uneasily, she wondered where her strange thoughts came from. If only, she lamented, she could fly. She knew she could outdistance the discomforting visions forever if she could lose herself to the sky.
“You even managed to fix my old hat,” the man continued, shaking his head in disbelief. “I was so angry at the time, I could have tossed you back into that ravine. Remember? You laughed and gave me yours. It took weeks for you to mend my old one. I knew you wanted to trade back but were afraid to ask.” The musician took on a tender look, frightening her. “I wouldn’t trade your hat for the most precious object in all the world,” he whispered.