Read Online Kindred and Wings by Philippa Ballantine - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philippa Ballantine
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made it different. Like the one she had received after the ball, this one was sealed by a single silver letter of Vaerli script.
Kelanim knew what they looked like, she had studied all she could find on the subject, even though she had never learned what each of them meant. The swooping sigil was the same, and sigils were often used to lock items.
When she laid her finger on it, it opened underneath her touch. Her maids were certainly not responsible for this.
Inside, it was not written in Vaerli. She could read the one word clearly: Stables .
It appeared this day was not yet done with surprises.
Talyn let Syris have his head. She did not guide him in any particular direction and had no desire to. It felt good to let the chaos have its way with her for a time. She had not the Phage’s way of using the White Void, and she was glad of that.
The nykur carried her faster and faster until the world blurred into that halfway place where the landscape dropped away. Beyond the pull of reality, they could run as far and as quickly as they cared to.
The razor wire of Syris’ hair swirled around her face, cutting her cheeks and forehead. The pain was tiny—but better than the confusion that boiled inside her head. Finally, when it all had reached a level she could no longer endure, she called out to Syris until her voice was raw.
The nykur’s powerful legs ceased pounding the earth with such terrible vengeance, and instead slowed enough for him to take instruction from Talyn’s heels. Regretfully, she turned him deeper into the Chaoslands where primeval powers ruled and her new allies awaited.
The Phage were strangely solitary creatures. While they claimed to be the purest of the Vaerli, they were at odds with what Talyn remembered of her people before the Harrowing: they had been the most sociable of creatures. Her childhood memories, which she had picked out to be cherished and retained, were all raucous gatherings and laughter. Perhaps that was what niggled away at her—the worry that she had not chosen well in that mad moment after losing the Caisah. An even darker thought had begun to grow in the time since then: perhaps she had been manipulated in that darkness by the Phage themselves.
Luckily, before she was totally overrun by her thoughts, they reached water. Three days before, the lake had been much bigger, but this was the Chaoslands and nothing remained still or certain for long. The land, even as Talyn rode, was shifting upwards, thrusting into a mountain, and the lake draining away into a river. Soon there would be another environment. The Phage seemed to flourish in such wild places.
Talyn pulled the nykur to a halt. He stamped and clashed his long fangs together in protest, but obeyed. When she slid down from Syris he danced an angry circle around her. It would have been death for any other, but for her it was mere display. He finally came to a halt before her, not even breathing heavily after such exertion. “You won’t leave, will you, old friend?” Talyn asked, wrapping her hands around his muzzle and kissing the tip of the nykur’s nose. It was the only gentle part on his body—as soft and velvety as a horse’s.
The beast settled and hung his head, for all the world appearing resigned to remaining, and let out a long, very equine sigh. Everything around Talyn was wrong but this.
“I see you have found your beast.” The Phage emerged from the water as silent as a Kindred. The water had enveloped her, but she was not wet—another in a long line of curious things about her. Talyn wondered if it was because everything natural was repelled by them. Certainly, her own skin prickled and her stomach rolled when they were near.
Yet, she had not come alone as she had last time. At her side, with her small hand in the adult’s, was a child. Talyn was a poor judge of such things, but she thought that the girl looked to be about ten years old—if she had been mortal. Knowing the Phage even as little
Kelanim knew what they looked like, she had studied all she could find on the subject, even though she had never learned what each of them meant. The swooping sigil was the same, and sigils were often used to lock items.
When she laid her finger on it, it opened underneath her touch. Her maids were certainly not responsible for this.
Inside, it was not written in Vaerli. She could read the one word clearly: Stables .
It appeared this day was not yet done with surprises.
Talyn let Syris have his head. She did not guide him in any particular direction and had no desire to. It felt good to let the chaos have its way with her for a time. She had not the Phage’s way of using the White Void, and she was glad of that.
The nykur carried her faster and faster until the world blurred into that halfway place where the landscape dropped away. Beyond the pull of reality, they could run as far and as quickly as they cared to.
The razor wire of Syris’ hair swirled around her face, cutting her cheeks and forehead. The pain was tiny—but better than the confusion that boiled inside her head. Finally, when it all had reached a level she could no longer endure, she called out to Syris until her voice was raw.
The nykur’s powerful legs ceased pounding the earth with such terrible vengeance, and instead slowed enough for him to take instruction from Talyn’s heels. Regretfully, she turned him deeper into the Chaoslands where primeval powers ruled and her new allies awaited.
The Phage were strangely solitary creatures. While they claimed to be the purest of the Vaerli, they were at odds with what Talyn remembered of her people before the Harrowing: they had been the most sociable of creatures. Her childhood memories, which she had picked out to be cherished and retained, were all raucous gatherings and laughter. Perhaps that was what niggled away at her—the worry that she had not chosen well in that mad moment after losing the Caisah. An even darker thought had begun to grow in the time since then: perhaps she had been manipulated in that darkness by the Phage themselves.
Luckily, before she was totally overrun by her thoughts, they reached water. Three days before, the lake had been much bigger, but this was the Chaoslands and nothing remained still or certain for long. The land, even as Talyn rode, was shifting upwards, thrusting into a mountain, and the lake draining away into a river. Soon there would be another environment. The Phage seemed to flourish in such wild places.
Talyn pulled the nykur to a halt. He stamped and clashed his long fangs together in protest, but obeyed. When she slid down from Syris he danced an angry circle around her. It would have been death for any other, but for her it was mere display. He finally came to a halt before her, not even breathing heavily after such exertion. “You won’t leave, will you, old friend?” Talyn asked, wrapping her hands around his muzzle and kissing the tip of the nykur’s nose. It was the only gentle part on his body—as soft and velvety as a horse’s.
The beast settled and hung his head, for all the world appearing resigned to remaining, and let out a long, very equine sigh. Everything around Talyn was wrong but this.
“I see you have found your beast.” The Phage emerged from the water as silent as a Kindred. The water had enveloped her, but she was not wet—another in a long line of curious things about her. Talyn wondered if it was because everything natural was repelled by them. Certainly, her own skin prickled and her stomach rolled when they were near.
Yet, she had not come alone as she had last time. At her side, with her small hand in the adult’s, was a child. Talyn was a poor judge of such things, but she thought that the girl looked to be about ten years old—if she had been mortal. Knowing the Phage even as little
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