Final Flight, Page 3

sea. To the left, the land flattens into settled curves of pasture and tilled farmland. Ahead to the north, the land ascends into steep slopes and rocky tors, while father still looms the mountain passes dividing the borders.

  That rugged, silhouetted range will be my salvation. Cloud-claws will take the steep angles and jagged outcrops with ease, while the Varscodians and their steel-hoofed beasts will be left panting and scrambling far behind. We can cross the border then, into Bervinia, and lose them for good. The picture rises clearly in my mind, and it rekindles my smothered hopes.

  We bound down a valley and over the next rise. I survey the moon-bathed landscape, and my blood runs cold. A garrison of mounted figures wait on the crest of the next hill, the pearl-red sheen of their armour glinting with an eerie light.

  They’ve been waiting for me outside the city this whole time.

  A flash comes from the midst of their numbers, accompanied by a hollow boom that carries all the way across the distance. A fiery sphere soars into an arc and comes screaming toward me. An involuntary cry bursts from my throat as I yank Cloud-claws hard to the right. Less than thirty paces away the ground erupts into a pillar of soil and flame. Cloud-claws screeches and then stumbles. I pull up on his reins and urge him onward.

  More flashes prickle at the corner of my vision. Explosions light up the slopes to my left, puncturing the ground with flaming holes deep enough to swallow a man. I fight to keep a panicked Cloud-claws under my control. The Varscodian Enforcers have dropped back and spread out in order to flank me from the south should I try to turn back toward the city. I’m being coerced according to their pre-emptive desires; herded like a wretched animal, until I’m either cornered and forced to surrender, or incapacitated by a hit from their missiles. Cloud-claws sprints toward the coastal cliffs, too terrified to properly obey my commands. My knuckles whiten from the strain on the reins. If I don’t get him under control, he’ll take us over the edge.

  My mind spins. It can’t end like this—plummeting to my death to sink beneath the ocean waves forevermore, all my memory and struggles washed away like meaningless sea foam. No. Not after all these years of running and fighting for my right to live. My right to be free.

  It can’t end like this.

  Unexpectedly, a song drifts into my head, the song from the patrons at the inn. But it’s not their voices singing. It’s the voice of a girl, a young, seventeen-year-old, singing in a tone free of fear and hurt and spite. She sings as though she has never known suffering at the hands of the Varscodians. She sings as though the Remenon Estate Incident never happened.

  For freedom sing,

  For freedom fight,

  For freedom give all sword and soul.

  Never shall we bend our knee,

  Come days of terror or nights of woe.

  Nay, never shall we bend our knee,

  Or yield to our offending foe.

  A missile whistles overhead and lands between Cloud-claws and the cliff. The explosion of earth and fire creates a temporary wall and sends Cloud-claws leaping sideways, allowing me to regain some control and force him from his suicidal path.

  Mechanical shrieking fills my ears as a violent force engulfs me. Screeching, Cloud-claws lurches and trips forward. I fly from the saddle like a ragdoll and hit the ground hard. The world reels around me. My ears throb with a deafening ringing. A sharp pain stabs up my right leg and through my ribcage. Smoke and dust blur my vision. Dazed, I roll over. A large, feathery clump is heaped on the ground just out of reach. My stomach gives a sickening heave and fills my throat with bile.

  ‘Cloud-claws!’

  Ignoring the shooting pain, I scramble to my charred and bloodied friend and spread my fingers through the feathers on his head. His quicksilver eyes are clouded ... empty. My body begins to spasm, wracked by a grief I can’t suppress. Cloud-claws has been by my side since the beginning. My faithful, ungrudging carrier and unshakably loyal friend. Through all the dangers and hardships, he’s been there, bearing them alongside me—my beautiful, brave Cloud-claws. ‘I’m s-so sorry, Cloud,’ I sob. ‘You didn’t deserve this. F-Forgive me.’

  Something on my insides turns hollow and cold, and an awful taste builds in my mouth—a taste of bitterness, anger and regret.

  My thoughts flash to Felix. Had he managed to escape, or ... I choke on my breath, unable to consider the alternative. I never asked for his help, dammit! But he willingly—even enthusiastically—put his neck on the line for my sake anyway. That’s what true friends do for each other. And here I am, having never realised our spirit of kinship until now. It’s a revelation that comes like a cold and haunting echo, too late to reciprocate. Maybe I’ve lost him, too.

  I stagger to my feet, and slowly back away as hoof beats thunder toward me. Through the thinning veil of dust, the large silhouettes of mounted riders close in. The Varscodian Enforcers gather in a wide semi-circle, cutting off all escape routes.

  One of them slides from his saddle and approaches in slow but fluid strides. I step back and rest my hand on the leather holder containing my throwing knives, despite the blades having no hope of piercing reinforced armour. The Enforcer ceases his approach and waits a moment before removing his helmet. Long, blonde hair unfolds from a loose head knot and tumbles around his angled face. His eyes are like semi-transparent emeralds, otherworldly in their gaze. His look is that of a heartless beauty, conceited and cruel; the facade of every Varscodian.

  ‘Adeline Ve’duer Remenon, you are hereby under arrest by right of the imperial Varscodian Enforcers. You are to come with us without further resistance, or you will be forced into submission by whatever means required. So enough running. Let us end this without further strife.’

  So, this is it. I am to surrender to these beautiful demons and give them the triumph they have long pursued. They will have the last of the Remenon bloodline to do with as they please, and my freedom will be gone forever. The thought makes my blood boil. All I wanted was to be free. Was my life, all these years, simply a vain striving after a wind that was never really there? I don’t want to believe that ... I can’t believe that.

  Again, that song sung by the Elkshaans echoes like a long forgotten memory.

  For freedom sing,

  For freedom fight,

  For freedom put your faith in whole.

  Nay, never shall we bend our knee,

  Or yield to our offending foe.

  And then, understanding. The years of running, of hiding, of fighting, it was all for the sake of freedom. And not just for my own, but for everyone who has ever suffered at the hands of the warmongering Varscodians. Surrendering now would not only ensure my own personal defeat, it would, symbolically, declare the defeat of freedom itself. Surrendering was not an option.

  ‘I will never yield.’ I breathe the words in a sharp, quivering whisper.

  ‘Did you say something, Remenon?’ The Varscodian watches me with a repulsed interest.

  Clenching my fists, I stab him with a glare. ‘I will never yield to you!’ I turn on my heel and run in the only direction open.

  ‘Stop her!’ The Varscodian shouts, his tone frantic. ‘Don’t let her jump!’

  The air vibrates as pulse guns fire. Funnelled wind rips past me, tossing my hair and whipping at my clothes. The ocean spans out before me like an eternal horizon, and the ground comes to a sudden end. A burning sensation slams into by back, turning my body numb. But my feet have already kicked from the edge.

  Felix, please stay safe.

  The wind enfolds me in a cold melody. The dark and foamy ocean reaches up to catch me in its sweeping embrace.

  Finally, after so long ... I feel free.

 
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