Whirlwind_Valos of Sonhadra Page 3

Executioner.

  With a cry, Thanasis fell to his knees, hands landing in a small metallic scented puddle. He shivered as the liquid touched his skin.

  “Thanasis.” A breath across his ear, then two strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him to his feet. “Brother.”

  The fog continued to clear from Thanasis’s mind. He recognized this voice, this face.

  “I killed them,” he said with a voice that hadn’t been used in—how long? “Brothers.” He was Zephyr’s executioner, dealing justice. It was a gift given to him by Sonhadra, and then exploited when his heartstone was stolen. He thought he’d killed them—meted out a death they hadn’t deserved.

  Like the rest of your people?

  “No.” Warmth filled him, and from the corner of his eye, his brother’s skin began to swirl with golden shades of healing. Ettan. Now Thanasis could give the face and voice a name.

  “Ettan. I killed them all. Our people.”

  “Not all of them,” came another voice, and Thanasis spun from his brother’s embrace.

  Thanasis clutched his chest. If he could have torn the heartstone from inside him, he would. Branesh, his older brother, stared at him. The colors on his brother’s skin spun, an outward sign of his emotional turmoil—brown, blue, pink.

  “We live, Thanasis. Look at us.” Branesh gripped his shoulders. His darkness lightened, dissipated until he was rose-hued, but then all at once darkened again.

  “Who is that?” Aaddhar asked, the first time his warrior brother had spoken, and now Thanasis startled. Three brothers. His family. They all lived.

  And this being to which Aaddhar pointed… was it a Ventos—one of their people, an air elemental of Sonhadra? Or was she a valos of another Creator?

  Thanasis approached the form lying in a heap upon the temple floor.

  “Careful,” Ettan said. “It could be ill. Let me.” He knelt and gently turned it to its back. The gold healing color began to drain from his skin and floated over the heap before being absorbed into it.

  Female and young. Her features were delicate, and she had breasts, like a Ventos female, but that was where the similarities ended. She was unlike anything Thanasis had ever encountered.

  “Is she a Creator?” Aaddhar asked, removing the blade he kept at his side. The metal glowed, silver banding and swirling. If he touched her with the weapon, it would steal her breath before reabsorbing into the blade. Should he slice her skin, it would take not only her breath, but her life. Shifting from side to side, Aaddhar held the blade ready. “Careful, Ettan.”

  “Look at her skin,” Ettan whispered. “It hasn’t changed despite my healing.”

  Thanasis knelt. Her skin wasn’t like his. Nor was it like their Creators’; their skin had been scaled, though it had shimmered like a Ventos’s.

  The female sighed, and Thanasis canted his head to the side, considering whether she might be a threat to his brothers. The female’s skin was many colors, but Ettan was right. It did not change. Her hands and wrists, neck, and face were all an unvarying brown.

  How could he know what she felt if her color did not change?

  “She’s scarred,” Ettan said, pointing his hand to her face. He traced red lines down her cheek. Four distinct wounds were in various stages of healing. Initially, they must have been deep and painful. There were others, and Ettan drew his finger over them. They ran down her chin, swirled along her jaw, and toward her ear before trailing back down her throat.

  Dotted along her skin were darker brown spots. “What are those?” Branesh asked. “Her colors speak to confusion, but why do they not change? Deepen or lighten?” The spots decorated her entire face but trailed off down her neck. Thanasis had an impulse to move aside the heavy material that covered the rest of her body to see if the spots were everywhere.

  “Perhaps her species is from a desert planet and this is camouflage.” Aaddhar sheathed his sword and crept closer. “See how they mimic the play of shadow? I am sure it is a defense mechanism.”

  The girl sucked in a breath, and her cheeks flushed deep red.

  “Get away!” Ettan cried, jumping backward. But a moment later, the color drained away, leaving her brown skin sallow.

  Out came Aaddhar’s sword, poised at the female’s throat when her eyes shot open. Ettan and Branesh sucked in horrified gasps, and even Thanasis, who had seen and meted out death, was shocked.

  The female’s eyes—he’d never seen anything like them. One was the color of Zephyr’s lower strata where the city touched the surface of Sonhadra. At least, it was the lush green of Sonhadra before the Creators had killed that part of the planet and taken from it what they wanted.

  But her other eye—it was a depthless white.

  “It is damaged, unnatural.” Ettan answered Thanasis’s unspoken question.

  Eyes open now, the female’s gaze skipped from Thanasis to each of his brothers, and then back to Thanasis. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her breath panted from her body. She shivered, as if cold, and even her lips trembled. Thanasis’s gaze halted there, and she bit down as if to hide the quiver.

  Where were her colors? The ones to warn off other beings? The red hues that signified attack?

  Nothing.

  Thanasis studied her closer, but the only thing he could sense from the female was fear. He moved closer; he didn’t know why. But Aaddhar stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Don’t, Brother. If she is Creator sent, or one of them, this could be a trick to steal your heartstone. Don’t get any closer.”

  “I don’t believe she is a Creator,” Ettan said and sat back on his heels. As a healer, his essence would leave his body, draining him of the breath of life all Ventos had until Sonhadra replenished what he’d freely given.

  But he was as golden and healthy as if he hadn’t expended any breath on her. “I thought you said you healed her?” Thanasis asked.

  “Yes,” Ettan answered. “As well as I could. She had internal damage, as if she’d been struck or hit, but it was minimal. It did not drain me at all…” Eyebrows drawn low, the healer examined his hands and their golden color.

  It was difficult for Thanasis to focus on his brother’s condition when he was imagining the female being hurt. The idea of someone striking the slight being who teetered on the edge of panic changed something inside him, made him want to mete out justice to whomever would do such a thing.

  “But there is damage here I cannot undo,” Ettan went on. “I will try again.” He reached toward the girl, gold traveling from his fingertips, but the female jerked away.

  Aaddhar reacted immediately. He thrust the sword to her throat. The female gasped, and the sword glowed. Her hands went to her neck, fingers wrapping around her throat as if to protect herself. She choked for air.

  “Aaddhar! No!” Branesh yelled and slapped the sword aside. His skin, black and blue and pink, turned a horrible gray, and he hit the ground, sucking in air.

  “No!” Aaddhar threw the sword aside and knelt by their brother, but the female was already there. She placed her hand on his brother’s chest and spoke. Thanasis had never heard anything like the music that left her lips. Her voice was lyrical, lifting and lowering in pitch. She trained her eyes on Branesh, green eye intense.

  “Make way,” Ettan said, reaching out toward Branesh.

  But the female sucked in a breath, and then released it through her nose. Gaze fixed on Branesh, she spoke again, and inhaled.

  In an instant, Thanasis understood what she wanted his brother to do. Breathe. She took his brother's hand and placed it on her chest, spoke again, and inhaled, then exhaled.

  The pink and blue swirled on Branesh’s cheeks before pink overshadowed the blue. He drew in a breath, and another. Ettan rolled onto his heels, glancing at Thanasis briefly before back at the female.

  Branesh’s hands were held in hers, both placed above where her heartstone, if she had one, would be. They stared at each other, breathing deeply.

  Branesh drew air easily now, though his col
or remained rosy. Hands still on the female, he studied her face. “Amazing,” he whispered. “I can feel her heartstone. It throbs in her chest.”

  “Feel it?” Ettan asked and held out a hand. Branesh took it to place it upon the female’s body, but she drew back in a flash. Backside skidding across the floor, she held up her hands.

  Her head shook from side-to-side, dark hair flying around her face.

  “Why is she leaving?” Ettan asked, hands dropping.

  Thanasis stood. Leaving was unacceptable. The sword should have stolen Branesh’s air, but somehow the female thwarted it. If this was her power, and she chose to use it to help his brothers, than she must stay. Perhaps she was a healer like Ettan.

  Or perhaps she is more.

  Never before had breath been returned so quickly to a Ventos once touched by the sword.

  Thanasis drew himself to his full height and allowed his color to appear. Obsidian, a black so deep it seemed to contain every color, covered him from head to foot. Only an executioner wore armor like his. When a Ventos was judged, the obsidian would shine. And like the temple they stood in, it would reflect the Ventos.

  An innocent creature had nothing to fear from their reflection, but evil would hide, run, and tremble, when faced with Thanasis’s armor.

  The female’s back hit the wall, and she turned, fists slamming against the temple. Was she trying to escape?

  “Stay with us,” he said, his voice booming through the interior.

  She didn’t understand him. He could tell by the way her eyes raked the temple, searching for an exit.

  “Do I stop her?” Aaddhar asked, annoyed. “I can stop her.”

  “I mean her no harm,” Thanasis answered. “But she cannot leave.”

  “Why not?” Aaddhar argued. “She’s not Ventos. Open the temple, Thanasis.”

  “I will not,” Thanasis replied. His voice seemed to reverberate through the structure. The female hunched into herself, sliding to a stop in front of a crack Thanasis hadn't noticed before. As he watched in disbelief, she backed up and threw her body into the wall. The crack grew, racing in both directions along the perimeter.

  Thanasis glanced at the ceiling, narrowing his eyes when he realized it was gone. What had happened in here? The temple was indestructible, made of a material that could reflect the Ventos who wished to enter, but endure for time immeasurable.

  Why then, was the temple cracking and groaning as if it would shatter? A piece of wall broke off. He tracked its descent with his eyes, stepping back just as it smashed where he’d stood.

  The entire temple shook, and Aaddhar cursed. “Get out!” he yelled and rushed to the female, wrapping her in his arms. In a flash, he became purely Ventos and burst through the wall. It shattered, and above them, the temple began to splinter.

  “Go!” Thanasis cried to his younger brothers. At once, they took on their Ventos forms and blew out of the hole Aaddhar had widened.

  Aaddhar hadn’t waited for them. He’d carried the female away from the danger the disintegrated structure promised, deeper into the heart of Zephyr.

  Thanasis and his brothers were Ventos, beings of air. And like the air, they were changeable. They had the ability to take form, to walk and talk, or they could ride the winds of Sonhadra. Ventos were made in Sonhadra’s elemental image; they were a species meant to protect and guard their planet. Until the Creator’s enslaved them and made them valos.

  In taking on his Ventos form, Aaddhar had created a whirlwind around the girl to protect her when he rocketed out of the temple.

  Interesting.

  For all his brother’s complaining, he had shielded her from injury.

  Aaddhar placed her on the ground, and immediately, the mists that formed on the highest strata of Zephyr began to gather around her.

  A huge crash sounded from behind them. Thanasis remained Ventos and whirled around. Even though he expected to see the temple in ruins, it still made his heartstone ache.

  The temple that had stood longer than Ventos had recorded history was no more. Thanasis lost his form, solidifying, and then became purely Ventos again. Each piece of temple that fell resonated inside him. Would the Ventos lose every piece of Zephyr?

  “Did you do this?” Aaddhar’s voice was accusing. The girl knelt, eyes wide and gaze fixed on the temple. She shook her head, though she couldn’t possibly understand his brother.

  “She did not,” Thanasis said, warningly. Whatever occurred in the temple wasn't her fault, he was certain of it.

  When he spoke, the girl turned her attention to him and began to tremble. He’d remained obsidian, but now he let the shade drift away like smoke. He liked the tan of her skin, and wondered if he could cover himself in it.

  Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the pigments. A golden brown like ripe fields. The color came over him, almost like it was heat from Sonhadra’s sun.

  “What do we do now?” Ettan asked.

  Thanasis opened his eyes to find his brothers staring at the girl.

  “We figure out who she is,” Thanasis answered. “And then we decide what to do with the rest of our lives.”

  “Oh,” Ettan answered and chuckled mirthlessly. “Sounds simple enough.”

  Chapter Four

  Ettan

  Figure out what to do with the rest of our lives?

  Ettan placed his hand over his heartstone. His life was meant to be spent healing. It was what he'd done before the Creators had arrived.

  And it was what he’d been forced to do to prolong the alien beings’ unnaturally long lives.

  As much healing as he’d done, it had taken nothing from him to help her. Yet something—something he couldn’t yet name—had changed inside him when he healed the girl.

  The very frightened, injured girl, who continued to stare at him and his brothers like she’d never seen anything like them before. And she probably hadn’t.

  Ettan knew little of what other species existed in the universe, but he was sure this girl was not of Sonhadra. Perhaps somewhere in the very beginnings of time, whatever had sown the Ventos’s beginnings had sown hers as well.

  The girl’s green eye seemed trained on his hand, as if she could see through his skin into his chest. Ettan ducked his head, glancing at his skin. He had taken solid form, hadn’t he? The way she studied him, she seemed to be peering inside him.

  “Did you give us our heartstones?” he asked the girl. Her head cocked to the side, and she narrowed her eyes before shrugging in a helpless gesture. She couldn't understand him.

  Ettan touched his chest, and then pointed to her. “Our heartstones? Did you find them?” He opened his arms in a move meant to encompass all of Zephyr. “Our heartstones?”

  Sensing his brothers watching him, Ettan quickly explained, “The Creators took them and hid them away. How long have we been drifting mindlessly through Zephyr? Surely, it is no coincidence that this girl appeared at the same time we became self-aware.”

  Thanasis made a sound of agreement. Never the most talkative of them, today he’d spoken in the girl’s defense. If he had not refused to leave her in the temple, perhaps Aaddhar would have left her to die there.

  The girl made a sound. Ettan walked to her quickly. She mimed his movement, placing her hand over her heart.

  “Heartstones,” Ettan repeated. “Where did you find them?”

  The girl bit her lip. Her green eye studied their surroundings, and she turned her head to the side. Ah.

  Ettan recognized the purpose of the movement now. Not only was the eye damaged, but she had no sight in it. The repetitive side-to-side motion she made was her attempt to compensate for a blind spot.

  Creeping closer, Ettan focused on her face and the scars he noticed earlier. A small white scar in her temple supported his earlier hypothesis. Someone had inflicted these injuries on her.

  “Who did this?” he asked, and circled his finger around his eye before pointing to her.

  The girl’s face flushed, red suffusing h
er cheeks, and Ettan jumped back. But like earlier, the attack he expected from the warning did not come. In fact, she didn’t appear angry or enraged, but ashamed.

  Why would that be?

  She dipped her chin to stare at the ground and let her hands settle in her lap.

  “I think you shamed her,” Branesh whispered. “Perhaps where she comes from, she is made to feel less than when injured.” He knelt near her.

  Branesh’s form, though as familiar to Ettan as his own, had changed since he’d woken up.

  Ettan liked the sound of the words in his mind—awoken. He’d existed in a type of nightmare, floating and drifting through Zephyr. Now he was alert, his mind humming.

  And Branesh was different.

  For one thing, he remained rose-tinted. At times in their past, when Branesh was absorbed in his studies of the gods of Ventos or delving into some obscure piece of their history, his skin would take on a glow of contentment.

  Now his entire body was covered in the hue. With his dark hair and eyes, he emitted a sort of inner radiance that Ettan had never seen.

  “Are you ill?” he suddenly asked Branesh. “Your color. It hints at contentment, but there is something about it that is unfamiliar to me. May I attempt to heal you?”

  Branesh sliced his hand through the air. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Ettan prodded. “The connection between your heartstone and emotions may be… Please, let me examine you.”

  “I am fine, Ettan,” Branesh answered.

  “Leave him,” Thanasis interjected at the same time Aaddhar commanded, “Ask her again.”

  “Ask her what?” Ettan glared at his older brother. His attention had been split when he’d seen Branesh’s skin, and he’d forgotten what he’d asked the girl.

  “Did she return our heartstones?” Aaddhar ground out. “Where did she find them? Did she steal them from the Creators? Did the Creators give them to her? Is she one of them?” With each question, Aaddhar strode to the girl until he loomed over her and Branesh.

  “You’re frightening her,” Thanasis warned.

  Aaddhar disintegrated into Ventos. Like a storm, he spun around them before he disappeared into the city. His elder brother’s light-eyed gaze followed Aaddhar’s retreating form.