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his proud neck bowed, waiting for the kiss of the sword.
Tanyan dismounted, drawing his blade, eyes alight with fervor.
It was then they heard the faint cry. Recognizing that young voice, both Vanyae and
Tanyan turned, watching in confusion and concern as a figure flew from the fortress, black wings
rising into the morning sky.
Anyar came before them, stumbling at his landing, incredulous eyes taking in the scene
before him, the obvious implications.
 How could you? he breathed, staring at Tanyan disbelievingly.  I thought you a leader,
not a murderer. Is this all there is? We kill them; they kill us? His eyes swept all the men before
him, landed on Vanyae's kneeling figure.  Can there be no more than this?
The prince and he stared at each other for long moments, and tears rose up in the younger
man's eyes before he turned back to his mentor.
 There will never be peace until someone has the courage to step forward and make it so.
This man offers himself to stop the bloodshed, yet you will perpetuate it.
Tanyan took a step toward him, pain in his expression as the young guard backed away.  I
do this for you, Anyar.
 I will not be the cause of a death! Any death! This will not be in my name! Anyar's voice
broke.  You do not do any of this for me; you do it for yourself.
He backed away another step, wild pain in his eyes.  I will not be a part of this. You will
not use me; no one will ever use me again!
His wings spread, and he leapt&
Anyar kept flying straight up, massive wings swift and determined& and suddenly Vanyae
knew.
82 J. C. Owens
Vanyae gave a sharp sound, almost a cry of denial, then stood and flung open his own
wings, launching into the air in pursuit.
Tanyan could only stand there, shocked. Once again the look on his enemy's face had said
it all. Whether the prince knew it or not, he loved the boy with all he was.
Tanyan knew then, as he remembered Anyar's behavior since their escape, that the boy felt
the same.
And now&
He motioned to his men to follow as he took to the air. He now knew what Anyar was
doing but could not stop it. He could only watch and await what could only be a tragic
outcome.
Anyar felt his breath becoming harsh with effort as he went higher. This was farther than
he had ever been, and he knew now why the instructors gave them such stringent warnings. The
air grew thin, his senses beginning to swim. Still, he strove, eyes on the clouds above, so very
close that it seemed he could touch
He faltered a little, thought he heard a faint shout from below, but kept his attention on his
destination, his purpose. It was quiet here; there was only his breath, the rush of air past his ears,
and the rhythmic beat of his mighty wings. His heart pounded in his chest, harder and harder as
his lungs sought air that was increasingly scarce.
This was the answer. This was the way out of everything. If he took his own life, then he
could not be used. Not by Vanyae, not by Tanyan. No one could say that he was the cause of a
war. He did not have to make a choice between his people and the man he loved
A tear streaked across his cheek as the thought took form, a thought he could no longer
deny.
He loved Vanyae. Stupidly, unbelievably, completely. It made no sense, and yet it simply
was. There was no future in it, no hope. He could not go home; he could not go back to where his
heart wished. There was nothing.
He gasped as his lungs spasmed; his senses whirled, so that his wing beats faltered then
simply stopped.
Wings 83
He felt himself fall, felt the wind and the sense of utter freedom.
As his mind fell into darkness, he smiled&
84 J. C. Owens
Chapter Nine
Vanyae sat on the windowsill and stared out at the rain with unseeing eyes. The weather
suited his mood perfectly, and he leaned his forehead against the glass, relishing its cold comfort,
closing his eyes in weary resignation.
The door opened and closed softly, but he did not bother to open his eyes. He knew those
footsteps well, and he did not flinch or startle as his father laid a powerful hand on his shoulder.
 You need to rest, my son. You do not eat nor sleep. You cannot go on this way.
The prince leaned back, letting his father take his weight for long moments, wanting for
that time to feel like a child again, like everything would be all right if his father said so.
The king stroked his hair gently, feeling the need in his son for something simple and
clear, easy to understand.
They stayed just so for some time, taking comfort from each other's presence.
 Your men ask after you, the king finally murmured.  They are concerned.
Vanyae nodded vaguely, too weary to answer the unspoken question of when he could
return to his life.
He took his father's hand and kissed the back of it, drawing a deep breath.
 Soon, Father. Tell them 'soon.' Not just yet. It takes time.
The king nodded sympathetically, not pushing. He tugged his son up to his feet.
 You will sleep. You cannot continue this way, and it does no good to be so weary. You
cannot function, Vanyae. Do this for me, if not for yourself.
The prince nodded numbly and allowed his father to guide him across the room to the vast
bed.
He stripped off his clothes with the king's help, his movements slow and worn, like one
without life. At last he lay back, slowly and stiffly. Carefully.
Wings 85
Veslan covered his son with the thick covers and tucked him in. Ensuring that there was
water by the bed and that the fire was stoked for the night, he laid a last kiss on Vanyae's
forehead, then quietly left the room with hope that the morning might bring better things for
them all.
Vanyae lay unmoving, but tired though he was, he could not seem to shut off his mind, and
he sighed with weary resignation. Sleep would not come to him yet again.
A faint sound from beside him made him freeze, his eyes flying open. He turned
cautiously, almost holding his breath.
It came again, a faint murmur, a whisper of sound from parted lips.
He leaned over, trembling fingers rising to trace beloved features, hope flaming in his
heart.
Golden eyes slowly fluttered open, dazed and confused. They finally focused on Vanyae,
and he held his breath, hoping& fearing that they would hold hate or disgust or
Instead tears rose to make the gold shimmer, and Vanyae moved closer, his hands framing
the younger man's face, gentle lips kissing away the wetness as it began to trail down pale
cheeks.
 Vanyae&  The voice was faint and hoarse.  Master&  [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]