Ebodar gasped. “You didn’t go out there alone, did you, verl?”
He had a name, though none had used it since his mark
appeared shortly after he was born. He remembered it, though he’d only heard it
said in a whisper his mother had shared in his ear when she’d see him
struggling. It had been too many years since she passed, and it was hard not to
resent the way even that had been taken from him. Sudal wouldn’t forget the
name she’d given him although all those important gave up their identities to
the clan. Sudal’s father, as the leader of their clan, was addressed only as
Lord.
“I did.”
“But you haven’t had the ceremony yet. Your wings aren’t
mature enough for true flight.” Ebodar’s wings were smaller than Sudal’s, and
his sails were still translucent. Just a few days ago, Sudal’s wings were just
as pale. But now….
Sudal stepped into the light and flexed the muscles in his
back to flare his wings, showing off the bright red sails between the black
spines. “They are now.” He’d woken earlier, the tingles as they solidified sending
shivers up and down his back. His fangs had dropped, but he wouldn’t mention
that, not even to Ebodar.
There were some things a verl just didn’t talk about. He’d
never have a chance to use them anyway.
Ever since he’d woken, Sudal had been drawn to the cliffs. He
knew he wasn’t supposed to go out there, much less alone. Standing at the
precipice, he’d leapt like a foolhardy youth, as if a catch net was held by
waiting guards to ensure he didn’t die as he got his first taste of the god’s
breath that supported them in the sky. His wings had caught the wind, and he’d
sailed away from the black stone ledges, aloft for the very first time.
The ceremony for a verl to take his first flight was a
public ordeal he’d been determined to avoid, even if it went against all
tradition. He’d dreamed of the moment he’d gain the freedom of the skies for
decades, and he would not do so under the watchful eyes of the clan—even if no
one else knew. If he failed, if death was his fate, he would face it alone.
His first flight was all too short, but his wings were newly
hardened. The wind slammed against the cliffs and blasted upward, creating huge
drafts Sudal had to fight on his way back in order to land, but land he did. He
hadn’t fallen, and no one knew what he’d done until Ebodar caught him sneaking
into the back halls. He was fortunate his best friend was the guard on the
stairs that led to his family’s wing instead of one of his father’s men.
“I can’t believe you risked your status to sneak out. Do you
always have to push boundaries?”
“That’s easy for you to say. You wanted to be a guard your
whole life, but it wasn’t your destiny. You had a choice.”
“You have a choice too.”
Sudal snorted. Ebodar had been his closest friend, but not
even he understood. How could he explain that the so-called honor of his
position felt like nothing more than a yoke around his neck, chaining him to a
duty… to his supposed destiny?
“Your hair is a mess, and you’re bleeding.” Ebodar shook his
head. “You better hope your father doesn’t find out.”
“I’m not going to tell him, and you’re not either, right?”
Sudal held his breath.
Ebodar raised an eyebrow. “You know me better than that, but
you need to clean up before someone besides me catches you.”
“Thanks, Ebodar.” Sudal skirted the guard and hurried up the
rest of the stairs. He peeked into the corridor, but it appeared empty. He
strolled casually—if quickly—down to his room. He let out a deep sigh of relief
once his door was firmly shut behind him. Hopefully none of the servants saw
him.
His father expected Sudal to take his training seriously,
and he did for the most part. But so many of the rules of their clan were
outdated and stifling in the modern era. Humans knew about paranormals, and had
since before Sudal was born, yet he was kept away from them for his own purity.
He was forbidden to leave the safety of the cliffs, even
with the other youths who’d been allowed to descend to the valley floor after
they reached maturity. His destiny as a verl was vital to the clan; no one else
could enter the Temple of the Winds, so the security around him was for his own
good.
Or so his father said. Sudal was nearly fifty, and he’d lost
patience with the isolation long ago. He wanted to experience things, to spread
his wings. Now his wings had matured, which usually meant an adult was
full-fledged in the clan and free to declare their chosen path. Most people,
like Ebodar, knew what they wanted and trained in their fields beforehand, but
until they had their ceremony, they had the freedom to try many things and
change their mind.
They could be intimate with others, touch and be touched,
until their fangs hardened and mates locked together, injecting the fluids
through the deep bite only a true partner could receive.
All Sudal knew were temple studies. A mate was not his to
have; his body must remain pure and his mind focused. He could recite records
dating back to the time they used scrolls, his studies as well as his only form
of entertainment, but human technology was far more interesting. Tradition
deemed it had no place in the clan halls, but one time he’d seen a guard using
one of their communication devices. He’d spied on him from afar, captivated by
the bright colors and the moving pictures on the screen.
It’d taken two years to gather enough blackmail to hold over
the guard in order to get his own. It was Sudal’s most precious possession, and
he had it carefully hidden, only daring to use it when he knew he was completely
alone.
Sudal was tempted to check it for messages, but the moon was
rising. With his wings mature, he would be expected to appear before the clan
and announce his status change. Hurrying into his bathing chamber, he pulled
the stopper up on the tub and let it fill. He shrugged out of his dark clothes,
leaving them in a crumpled mess on the floor.
The fragrant waters were soothing, easing the ache in his
unused muscles. He washed his hair, wringing out his pale tresses and then
bundling them on top of his head and out of the way while he dried off and
dressed.
“Where the hell did they put them?” His white robes were
ceremonial, encrusted with sky gems and embroidered with clouds done in
midnight blue. They were gaudy and made him stand out since no one other than a
verl could wear white, and he was the only verl in their clan for generations.
Of course, it took him nearly fifteen minutes to realize the
staff had put them away in his closet instead of leaving them crumpled in the
chest at the foot of his bed where he’d hidden them. They were perfectly
pressed and hung on the rod, just waiting for this moment. The servants were
always unseen, but knowing they were always rifling through the things in his
room upset him. Hiding his phone had taken ingenious plotting.
Pushing it from his mind, Sudal focused on getting dressed.
He was running out of time. He had nothing against the plain white pants; they
were at least comfortable even if they were so tight they clung to him like a
second skin.
He sighed as he eased the panels of the tunic around his
wings, then crossed the sides over his front, creating a deep vee that exposed
most of his chest, including his birthmark. He used a belt to close the slits
in the back and hold the front shut. The tunic weighed a ton with all the
jewels around the edges, the twinkling stones highlighting the shining skin on
his chest. It was like wearing a big sign that said, “Look at me! I’m
different!”
Sudal hated it.
Everyone stopped and stared when he walked down the halls,
then broke into whispers as soon as he passed them. Sudal ignored them, holding
his wings tight to his back. He didn’t stop until he was in front of the double
doors leading to the clan’s ceremonial chamber.
Two guards opened the doors, and Sudal stepped inside.
Clearly someone had alerted his father to Sudal’s
metamorphosis. He was standing behind the moon well, the shutters thrown back
from the floor to ceiling windows and flooding the chamber with the night’s
silvery light. The floor was filling up as more and more clan members flooded
the main floor and the upper galleries.
“Verl of Prasuza clan, come forward!” His father’s voice
rang through the room, and it fell silent, not even a rustle of fabric or the
cry or whimper of a child to break the solemn rite.
Knowing he’d already experienced his first flight solo gave
him the patience to endure the ceremony that had been drilled into him since
before his memories began. Sudal took a step forward and extended his arms and
his newly-hardened wings. In contrast to the pure white of his formal garments,
his sails were dark red in the moonlight and the shiny black ribs gleamed.
Already sore from his secret flight, Sudal’s muscles protested
as he worked to keep his wings open, the outer edges sweeping past his
fingertips, but he would not hurry. He might resent his role as a verl, but he
would not shame his father or himself by any public deficit in his expected
duties.
His rebellion was internalized, and all the more bitter for
being unvoiced.
Once Sudal reached the well he stopped and bowed low. The
moon’s reflection shone inside the great stone bowl, and the wind from the open
windows ruffled the surface. Sudal dipped the tips of his ribs, painting the
hooked claws with the holy fluid blessed by the light of their protectors. He
curled his wings until the droplets fell onto the exposed mark on his chest.
The mark shone with reflected light, a mirror of the moon glowing just below
his collarbones. “I come before the assembled clan newly changed, prepared to
take my place among the ranks of the hallowed verls who have come before me.”
He turned and faced the throng, locking his gaze on the
chamber doors. From behind him, his father addressed the assembled clan.
“This verl has come to be counted. What say you?”
It was a foregone conclusion, but he held his breath until
their throats swelled with a single shout that echoed off the high ceiling. “Worthy.”
He slowly sank into a low bow, held the pose for the count
of three, and then rose.
“The ceremony will take place tomorrow upon the peak of the
full moon.”
Sudal rose as the clan let loose, cheering. It had been so
long since a verl had been born; an advocate to the Temple of the Winds could
bring untold good fortune to the clan. They were excited because his flight
would be the first step in gaining entrance to the hallowed halls and the ears
of their gods. He was buffeted about, hearty congratulations as the solemn
ceremony ended in a celebration anticipated since his birth.
When the dawn was heralded by a streak of midnight blue on
the horizon, just the faintest relief of the pitch black of night, Sudal tried
to sneak away from the throng still toasting him. That’s when he learned he had
two new shadows.
“Lord,” Sudal hissed, getting his attention. His father nodded
and clapped the shoulder of the counselor he was speaking with before he turned
and acknowledged Sudal.
“Yes, verl?” The cold tone meant his father wanted to remind
him they were in public, and Sudal had a position to uphold in a manner that
would not shame him. Or else.
Sudal turned his head, glancing at the guard to his left. “I
have shadows now?”
“Does not the moon cast a shadow?”
“Two?”
“One to the earth and one to the heavens.”
Lowering his voice to ensure no one could hear him, Sudal
asked, “Is this really necessary?” What did his dad think he was going to do? Sneak
away like a coward and ruin the ceremony? Did he know him so little?
“Yes,” he said simply. “Rest well this day, verl.”
Sudal clenched his teeth, wincing as his newly hardened
fangs shifted in their channels. “You too, Lord.” He turned on his heel and
stalked away, ignoring the men following him. Or, at least, trying to ignore
them. It was more than the servants who hovered just out of sight, this was
constant open watchers who stood within inches, invading his space, invading
his room—even his bathing chamber.
The shutters on the windows rattled as they closed, shutting
out the sun and trapping him inside. Sudal wanted to enjoy what could very well
be the last night in his room, but he couldn’t under the watchful gaze of the
guards. His secrets had to remain hidden.
Preparations for the ceremony that would begin when the moon
hit its peak in the night sky were underway before twilight really fell. Sudal
was exhausted; he hadn’t slept well, feeling the invading gazes on him even in
his dreams. The gods would just have to put up with an emissary with dark
shadows under his eyes.
He was bathed and dressed in new silk garments his father
had delivered, his feet encased in snow white leather slippers. His hair hung
loose to his shoulders. Eating was out; Sudal’s stomach was clenched tight and
not even the glass of wine a servant brought him helped ease his nerves.
Training was over. Sudal was an adult; it was his destiny to
ascend to the Temple and serve the gods. The guards opened the doors to his
chambers when it was time to go, but Sudal paused and took one last look around
the rooms that had been his for fifty years. His gaze stopped on the place he’d
hidden his phone, his one link to the human world that fascinated him so much.
Dreaming was for children. Duty was for adults. Sudal took a
deep breath, straightened his spine and smoothed his tunic.
He would make his father proud today.
Instead of heading to the meeting chamber, Sudal was led out
to the cliffs, one guard in front of him and one behind. As processions went,
it was unimpressive. The hall out of the grand residence built directly into
the cliffs was empty, but his guards had their hands on their weapons the whole
time, heads swiveling as they approached each intersection.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Sudal asked, since there
was no one to hear him speak out of turn.
“Anything,” the guard in front said.
“Everything.” The guard behind him answered as well. Sudal
frowned. They weren’t acting like they were there to make sure he didn’t make a
run for it, not unless they thought he had bribed some poor souls into helping
him escape, though they would be punished with exile.
He would never ask anyone to do that for him; to be cut off
from the clan was to lose their connection to all that made them who they are.
Isolation was terrifying. He knew it so well, having anticipated the separation
and loneliness to come for decades since he’d first been told what would happen
to him when he came of age.
Now that the time had come, a fatalistic acceptance washed
over Sudal. His footsteps echoed heavily, and each step closer to the cliffs
took greater and greater effort.
Outside, ringing the widest ledge on the cliffs, the clan
was waiting for him. Everything he did was for them. From the smallest child to
the oldest men and women leaning on their families so they could see this
historic moment. To see if he’d fly or fall.
Sudal already knew he could fly. The shiny black ribs in his
wings were strong, the sails thick with blood. He was ready, and nerves were a
thing of the past.
Or so he thought.
Once he reached the edge and stopped, his guards moving to
flank him so he could face his father directly, Sudal’s heart began to pound.
His father’s eyes shone. Sadness he was leaving? Pride that his son was
performing his duties as a verl honorably? Pleasure that good fortune was his
clan’s boon in exchange for Sudal’s sacrifice?
“Fly high, verl,” his father intoned.
Sudal bowed and then rose. Turning, his father held out his
hands for a heavy white gold chain with their clan’s emblem on a wide crescent,
the hammered gold embedded with more sky stones. He stepped close and joined
the ends behind Sudal’s neck, settling the metal crescent just below his mark.
Its weight was like the final piece, pushing down all that made Sudal an
individual instead of a verl.
His father stepped aside, joining the ranks of the clan.
Sudal bowed one final time to the assembly of his people, then turned to face
the vastness of the sky. He blinked as tears filled his eyes, surely just from
the wind whipping up the cliffs, teasing at his wings, daring him to fly. His
new life was high above, in the heavens, and it would take strong wings to get him
there.
A verl’s first flight was the proof of his worthiness to the
gods. A strong verl who would serve with honor would ascend with approval to
enter their realm; a weak verl would fall, unworthy in the eyes of the gods.
He was not weak; his secret flight had proven that. Sudal
had to shake off the doubts that weighted him down and focus on the distant
clouds. He spread his wings slowly, the sensitive sails exposed to the hint of
ice on the breeze. It cooled the sweat on his brow, dried his tears, and blew
away his heavy thoughts.
Sudal leapt for the horizon, not looking down, sure his
sails would catch the wind and send him higher and higher until he was lost
from sight forever. He flapped his wings once, hard, and rose above the crowd.
The wind buffeted him wildly, and he fell below the level of the cliff, only
barely missing the stony outcrop. The crowd gasped, and some shouted in
disbelief, but Sudal steadied himself with a monumental effort, stretching the
ribs out to their farthest reach, and he soared away from the cliff.
He pushed for the heavens, the line of clouds so high that
ordinary beings could not survive beyond them, drawn to the moon’s majesty as
it shone down in benediction. Though he should not, he risked a single look
back at the clan, their upturned faces not more than pale ovals smaller than
his fingertips.
A single cramp heralded a spike of pain that drove upward
from his stomach.
Crying out, Sudal clutched his chest. His muscles seized,
his wings stopped beating, and he fell.
The wind whipped at him as he gained momentum. It tore through
his wings, shredding the sails, and his fall became inevitable. Not one of the
clan flew out to help him as he passed what had been his home for so many years
and hurtled toward the earth far below.
He’d failed.
TBC...? What do you think?
