12

Before darkness settled, Caru gathered a bunch of dry twigs and leaves and arranged them into a cone in the center of a circle of stones. He supposed that was how one went about lighting a campfire, but he had never started one without aether. Humans had a way of starting fire by rubbing sticks together, but there was no need for most ermen to know it. Unfortunately, Mieta also didn’t know how to start a campfire, having never been outside of Garenesh before. Caru thought he might be able to get a blaze going with flint and steel. Even so, there wasn’t much in the way of stone or metal in the copse, only a broad expanse of dirt.

Kimke sat with her legs folded before her, hands resting in her lap as she stared intently into the twigs. He knew she was being foolish, but he found himself wishing her well.

As the sun fell away from the sky, half of Rythellas reached its zenith, illuminating the western face. It wasn’t the darkest night, but Caru worried Kimke would damage her eyesight staring like that. Given another week, Rythellas would be bright enough to read by even without Cirellias’s assistance.

The poor woman really did believe she could get a flame going. Foolish, if noble. If he had been able to pull any amount of aether, he wouldn’t have let himself be starved and beaten for two weeks. Was Kimke crying? Caru shook his head, dismissing the thought. Leave her to her focus.

Mieta sat across from her, staring at Kimke as strongly as Kimke stared into the tinder. Her forehead wrinkled, and she made shapes with her mouth as though searching for words that wouldn’t come. Finally, she turned to Caru and found her words. “What does it feel like?” she asked.

Caru looked up toward the road to the south. Still no movement. It was good that Ferrak and his men weren’t approaching, but he worried after Martel. Surely the man should have arrived by now? Caru wondered if Martel could even see the pathetic flag he’d left at the intersection. The man had seemed observant. He was a Sentinel, after all. “What does what feel like?” Caru asked, turning back to Mieta.

She shrugged. “Aether.”

Caru nodded. “It’s hard to say. What do you think having a left arm is like?”

Mieta held her left hand out before her, extending the arm to its full length. She twisted it first at the wrist, then the elbow, and finally the shoulder. She studied her fingers as though seeing them for the first time, splaying them wide and then closing them into a fist. “Flexible,” she said after a moment. “Useful in its own way.”

“You’re right-handed?” Caru asked.

“Yes.”

“And you would miss your left if it was gone?”

“I guess so?”

“You guess so?” Caru asked, raising an eyebrow before smoothing his features. “That’s what I would have thought three weeks ago. I’d had aether my whole life, used it without a second thought. It was always there, so I never thought about not having it. You take your left arm for granted because it’s going to be there tomorrow, and it’s second nature to use it.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Kimke began. Caru and Mieta looked up at her, surprised that she would speak during her reverie. “What he’s trying to say,” she started again after a pause, “is that we don’t know what it feels like. You feel alive with your wings spread wide, but that’s not a description you’re looking for.”

“You miss your left arm because having it is all you know,” Caru said. “It’s hard to say what drawing aether feels like, but it’s much easier to say what it’s like to not have it.”

Kimke dabbed at her eyes but never took her focus from the twigs. “It’s like being half a person,” she whispered. “Caru doesn’t want you feeling bad for us, but it’s so much worse than losing a left arm. Maybe aether was like a left arm, but the wings, they were like legs. I feel like I’m crawling. You ask what it’s like to use aether, but I wonder if this is what humans feel like all the time. Where do you find the strength?”

Mieta shook her head. “We don’t feel the loss. This is all we know.”

Kimke stared, again losing herself to concentration. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to take away from who you are, but I hope you understand our frustration.”

“I don’t,” Mieta said. “I know I can’t. I’m sorry it was my people that did this to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kimke said.

Caru relaxed, pleased that Kimke finally understood that and was willing to admit it. He turned away from looking at empty fields and put a hand on Mieta’s shoulder. “You did the best you could do,” he said. “You still are.”

Mieta rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes. The hand didn’t come away wet, but there was a trail from a single tear. She wrapped an arm around Caru’s waist, leaning against him. He paused for a moment before reciprocating, wrapping his arms around her and appreciating her support, her attempt at understanding.

“I’m glad you escaped,” she whispered.

“Touching,” Kimke said, an odd look creeping across her face.

Then she collapsed, falling sideways into the soft grass.

Caru released his hold on Mieta and rushed across the campsite dropping to one knee, and sliding by Kimke’s side. She felt so light and fragile as he slipped a hand beneath her back and pressed her limp body to his chest before arranging her in a seated position. Her breathing was faint, but at least it was steady. A hand pressed against his back a moment before Mieta knelt beside him. With her other hand, she reached out and pushed a lock of pale blonde hair away from Kimke’s face. “What happened?” she asked.

Caru looked over his shoulder and saw a dim light flickering unsteadily against the encroaching darkness. He shifted away from Kimke, and Mieta leaned in to press her against her chest, whispering something unintelligible. Leaves fed the small flame, so he helped them by piling more material into it. It seemed so weak, barely a flame at all, but he wouldn’t let it go. “She spent herself,” he said.

Mieta turned and noticed the tiny flame. “She did that?”

“Yes,” Caru said. The fire grew stable, so he turned away to help Mieta shift Kimke into a more comfortable position. Kimke looked helpless, hands folded before her slender body, seated with her face bathed in the glow of the flame she had summoned. Her breathing held steady.

“She’ll be fine, right?” Mieta asked.

“She’ll be fine,” Caru said. “This happens when we burn too much aether at once.”

Mieta gazed into the hungry flame. “She pulled aether?”

The flame grew and swayed in the night breeze, a dance of fury and energy. “I thought she was crazy,” Caru said, smiling. “It looks like we still can use some aether. A pathetic amount, but at least there’s something. I guess they didn’t manage to strip all our filaments, after all. We were able to draw some aether the night we escaped, but I never thought we’d be able to use enough to be of any use after that.”

Mieta only nodded.

“Though I guess we shouldn’t consider this too useful,” he added. Minimal effects for a large amount of rest needed after. So little remained of their potential.

Light from Cirellias dominated the sky as the sun finally vanished. Endless stars filled the rest, spreading to such distant limits. Did people live among those stars, struggling against their own enemies, fighting their own battles? Disease, dragons of legend, the very gods themselves? Did they ever find their own wings?

Did they lose them?

Were they aware of this world’s own struggles?

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I wish I knew what using aether was like,” Mieta said, breaking the silence.

Caru turned and stared into the flames again, watching as they flickered among the tinder. Fire had always been there, but he’d spend so little time thinking about it. It was an unfamiliar source of energy, when compared against his lifetime of using aether. Ermen could light and heat themselves with simple orbs of light. That was one of the first abilities erman children learned when they were of age. Those simple orbs floated as an extension of self. An erman could feel the light and heat the orbs emitted on a deeper level as they maintained their link with the spell. Aether had done so much in his life that other natural forces seemed alien, primitive, and distant.

Aether always required that link. He could feel the spells as part of himself, controlling them as he might control a finger. If this simple flame was not restrained though, it would burn the cluster of trees where they made their camp. He could not stop the flame by willing it away or by severing his connection with it. It was a force unto itself now, free to live its life and die when it burned away.

“It’s hard to describe,” Caru said. “Kimke was right about it being more noticeable when it’s gone.” She looked peaceful, though he still worried over her. “It’s like breathing as deeply as you can. You feel the strain against your chest, but it feels good. You let it go, and you feel this tiny, euphoric moment. That’s the only way I can think to describe it.”

Mieta didn’t say anything, but Caru watched as she closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. She held it for a moment before pursing her lips and letting it spill slowly from her lungs.

Caru smiled when she opened her eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Something like that. It’s a shame we never think about it.”

“Pity.” The deep voice came from behind.

Caru spun and rolled, springing to his feet and lunging forward a few blind steps.

“Easy, friend,” Martel said. He planted a hand against Caru’s chest.

Caru took a step away, and then he smiled and grasped Martel’s outstretched hand.

Martel stood up straighter, looking over Caru’s shoulder to where Kimke rested. “She’s sleeping already?”

“Spent herself,” Caru said. “Managed to start that fire, but, well, you see how that turned out.”

The Sentinel nodded and took a seat near the campfire before Caru joined him. The three of them sat, talking quietly as Rythellas marched across the sky. It felt right, somehow. Sleep came easily.

—

Caru awakened hours later to the sizzle of cooking meat. He rolled over to one side before sitting and facing Martel. The man squatted beside the campfire, turning a flank of meat over a makeshift spit. Skewers stuck in the ground at his side—three of them, each with prepared meat. Grease ran down the length of the sticks, where it formed small pools in the dirt. The fire couldn’t be right, though; they had extinguished the flame before sleeping, afraid that it would break free from its stone ring in the middle of the night.

“Where did you get that?” Caru asked. He pressed a fist against his mouth to stifle a yawn.

Martel kept turning the meat for a moment. It charred slightly, just enough to make Caru’s mouth water. It wouldn’t make an especially large meal, but it smelled delicious. Martel glanced at him before turning his focus again to the spit. “Woke up early,” he said with a sniff. “Found a small rabbit warren nearby, so I nipped us a few.”

“Smells good,” Caru said.

“They teach us to make food at least edible in the military. I guess it’s not required, but the other men appreciate someone who can cook.”

Several furs sat in a small pile at the camp’s edge. “You saved the hides?” Caru asked.

Martel shrugged, pulling the meat away from the flame for a moment. “I thought we could make a few coins in the next town. I guess you three are as poor as I am now?”

Caru nodded.

“I thought so. Rabbit furs won’t sell for much, but copper is better than wishes.” He decided the meat could use more heat and stuck it back onto the spit.

Mieta still lay curled near the fire, sleeping peacefully. It was a shame they hadn’t found time to get blankets. The nights weren’t especially cold, but Caru still hated seeing the women sleeping without covering, exposed to the elements. Rain wouldn’t hold back forever.

Kimke had never stirred during the night, still lying in the same position in the same spot where they’d laid her down. Burning out like that was rare among ermen; it normally took an unreasonable amount of power to spend that much energy at once. Kimke had used her entire resource on a single tiny flame. That effort tempted him to try drawing aether again, but he knew Martel and Mieta couldn’t afford to have a second unconscious person with them. Maybe he’d try on a day when they had time to rest again.

He knew they had barely escaped Ferrak in Lieve. Did the man know they headed west? North would be the better option, bringing them closer to the border with Chasar. If they kept heading west, they would only find themselves at the edge of the Eternal Tempest.

“You made the fire yourself?” Caru asked.

Martel nodded. “I did, but more sensibly.” He looked to Kimke before turning back to the fire. When he pulled the meat away from the flame again, he said, “The military teaches survival skills, as well. They taught us to make fires with sticks and stones. Humans can do it that way, you know? Seemed like nonsense at the time, but now I’m glad I know it.” He planted one end of the spit in the ground, adding it as a fourth. “Won’t be much of a meal,” Martel said, “but it’ll keep us going for a while. Be sure to suck the marrow out of the bones, though.”

“What?”

“This will fill you up, but there’s not much to it,” Martel said. “I don’t know how long it takes to starve eating only rabbit, but I’d rather not find out.”

Caru raised an eyebrow.

Martel only shrugged. “I don’t make the rules,” he said. He pulled one of the cooler haunches from the ground and passed the skewer to Caru. It was cooked all the way through, at least. It tasted good—quite good, actually—and he had to pause to wipe grease from his chin several times.

“It’s good,” he said, muffled between bites.

“Thanks,” Martel said. He stared into the distance, toward Lieve. A few buildings were barely visible on the horizon. “Where should we go next?”

“Storms to the west and oceans to the south,” Caru said after a brief consideration. “East is out. We barely got away from the capital, and going back is a bad idea. That only leaves north.”

Martel nodded. “North sounds good, but I still want to be closer to Edaria.”

“You think it would do any good?” Caru asked. He cracked a leg bone and winced as he sucked the marrow. It wasn’t as bad as he’d expected, but the texture was strange.

“It might,” Martel said with a shrug. “Regardless, I’d like to see home again, if only from the bottom.”

“We would be very close to the Tempest.”

“We could be crazy,” Martel said. There was no humor in his voice.

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Where is the one place we know the Seranians won’t follow?”

Caru looked west. White clouds dotted nearby skies, but they were much darker in the distance. “You’re not talking about going into the Tempest?”

Another shrug from Martel. “I doubt cutting the whole way across would be a good idea. We’d end up in the ocean, anyway. All I want to do is go far enough in to shake the military from our trail, then cut north. We should be able to cross into Chasar easily, and then we exit the storm.”

Caru searched for a response, but Mieta turned and sat up, breaking his concentration.

“Good morning, princess,” Martel said.

She gave a lazy smile and pushed long black hair out of her eyes. “Enough of that talk,” she said, sitting up with a fake pout. “More of whatever smells so good.”

Martel plucked a rabbit skewer from the ground and held it out to her. She pulled a strip of meat away and ate it hungrily. Martel didn’t give her the line about the marrow, and Caru wondered if he’d been tricked. However, even as Mieta ate, Martel cracked a bone from the rabbit he’d been eating and slurped at it. If it was a prank, at least the man was committed to it.

Mieta looked horrified, but then Martel explained about the bones, and Mieta reluctantly followed suit, wincing the whole time.

“Kimke’s still out?” Mieta managed between bites.

“She might be out for a while,” Caru said.

Martel frowned at Kimke’s resting body. “We’ll have to leave soon. It’s going to be hard for us moving with her like that, but we can’t stay here much longer. I’ll carry her if I have to, but it’s going to draw attention. Even so, I think most of the foot traffic from Lieve goes back to the east; not much is left in the west past a few more farms and a small village or two.”

“You really want to carry her?” Caru asked.

“Why not? She doesn’t look too heavy.”

“You may not think that for long, but what if she sleeps like that until noon?”

Martel shrugged and looked at Caru across the dimming flame. “I’ll carry her until noon, then. I swore to protect ermen, and I still intend to. Wings or no wings, we are what we are.”