Chapter Fifteen

Active Omission

Give her a moment, Rhydian, Tanuzet said gently as she rose from her post at the entrance hall.

Why? Has something happened? He asked, drawn from his thoughts.

She needs a moment to compose herself. Your argument can wait, she said, halting his advance as she brought her head low before him.

Compose herself? He asked.

Ayduin had been angry, sure, and he had come prepared for a fight, but did she truly need a moment to rally her nerve before she punched him in the nose? He was surprised she hadn’t done so already, if he were honest. He’d rather have it over and done with. However, Tanuzet’s withering glare and accompanying mental nudge gave him the distinct impression he was being an idiot.

What? He asked, indignant.

Her yellow eyes narrowed. I’ve finally come to the conclusion that males are inherently dense regardless of species.

He sighed, having had enough of just about everything today. I’m not in the mood, Tanuzet. Just tell me what’s wrong.

Her nostrils flared and she flashed her teeth. The poor girl watched one of those creatures tear her friend to pieces, what do you think is wrong?

Rhydian flinched and brought a hand to the sudden sting in his chest. Her composure had slipped, anger lashing his Soul like the end of a whip. He sucked in a quick, short breath. Her words had cut as deep as her outburst, snapping him back into focus.

“I . . .”

Guilt slithered in around his heart and began to squeeze.

He really had been a fool, hadn’t he?

Keishara was dead.

Somehow the reality hadn’t struck him until now. His friend and thirdrider . . . was gone. Murdered. How had he not seen that? The hollowness he’d felt these last few days gave way to a deep seated anguish he’d shoved away into some dark corner. It had always been there, he realized, yet he’d smothered it. Refused to feel, for if he did, he could not be the man Mistwatch needed him to be during the ensuing fallout. He was their firstrider.

He could grieve later.

Yet he hadn’t.

He had been so caught up in trying to manage the whole affair, he had failed to consider how the others had been affected. The flight had mourned, though theirs was a distant pain by comparison. Ayduin, Cydan, the wyverns - they’d all witnessed Keishara’s death. They’d fought the woman responsible having never seen combat prior to the slaughter. How had he allowed those facts to become cursory concerns?

His shoulders fell.

Forgive me, he said, I was too blind to see.

Tanuzet pushed her snout into his side. You have had your share of troubles, all I ask is that you do not lose sight of those closest to you. You are not in this alone.

He pressed his hand to her warm scales, sighing as he leaned into her. A soft whistle escaped her nostrils, her head angling ever so gently toward him. She was right; he wasn’t in this alone, in grief or in ability. He should have recognized it sooner.

I’ve come to the conclusion women are infuriatingly wise regardless of species, he teased.

The wyvern gave an amused snort. You are not half as funny as you think you are.

He chuckled and she nudged him upright.

Vaelor says she’s ready for you.

Rhydian nodded, Is he with Ephaxus?

She blinked deeply in confirmation.

Gathering himself, he patted her snout and started toward the lift.

“Ayduin?” He asked, tone gentle.

Her skin was damp beneath her eyes and short tracks of darker pigment spoke to the tears she’d banished upon his approach. She’d twisted the delicate chain of a necklace around several of her fingers, an old habit of hers he had not seen since their youth. It gave him pause, for the woman rarely wore jewelry of any sort, especially while in uniform. It was Keishara’s, he realized. Ayduin’s lip wobbled, though he silently drew her into his embrace before she could speak.

A choked sob escaped her and she sagged against him. He held her for a long moment, his own eyes wet. He should have been here for her from the start.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding her close.

“Why are we keeping that thing alive, Rhydian?” She asked.

There were a number of reasons, several of which he still grappled with, yet he settled for, “Necessity.”

She wiped her eyes before she drew back, refusing to let him see her tears.

“Necessity?”

He released her, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands.

“We need information. There are too many unanswered questions and right now she’s the only one who might be able to offer any sort of explanation or insight.”

“What about command? Haven’t they reached out to you?” She asked, “Surely they’ll have an explanation for all this?”

“They’ve been notably quiet,” he said, “I haven’t heard so much as a whisper since that first night.”

Retrieving his personal wyndstone, he offered it to her. It lay dormant and cold, the script dull, as it had been for days. No one had so much as left a message.

Her brow knit. “That can’t be right.”

“I wish it were otherwise, but we’re alone. For now, at least. I had planned to reach out again after our patrol this morning but–”

“Things escalated,” she said, closing the stone in her fist.

“Things escalated,” he sighed.

“Maybe there’s been some sort of miscommunication? Command can’t honestly ignore our report. First Wing Talhavar are dead,” she said.

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“Whatever the case, it’s odd,” he agreed.

“Is questioning that girl worth the risk?” She asked, “I mean– What if we have a repeat of our training exercise?”

“It won’t come to that,” he promised.

“How can you be so certain? You saw what one of those things is capable of. Now we have another one on our hands. Inside Mistwatch. It could tear its way through the entire flight.”

“I left her bound in silver,” he assured, “until we know more about her, she’ll have eyes on her at all times. I’m not entirely convinced she’s connected to the woman, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take precautions. She has more than enough mystery all on her own.”

Ayduin’s jaw clenched, considering. “I suppose that’s something. Is Cydan with her, then? I saw him stalk by earlier.”

He nodded, “He’s looking after Sorisanna as well. She insisted on evaluating the girl, since Vesryn wants nothing to do with her. The man’s more spooked than we are.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No,” he admitted, his lips setting in a thin line.

The man was right to be wary. He had been the one to study their monster in the morgue, after all, but Rhydian had expected more, on some level. The man struck him as a coward, though he supposed everyone had their limits.

Ayduin studied him and slowly crossed her arms. “Why do I have the feeling there’s more to this than you’ve let on?”

Hesitant, Rhydian glanced down the surrounding corridors. His paranoia felt eyes where there likely were none, save Tanuzet’s. He hadn’t seen a single sages’ assistant all morning. However, such was likely by design. The level had been under loose lockdown for days. Vesryn and Sorisanna did not need nosey, inquisitive eyes lurking about their halls attempting to sneak peeks at the wounded. For that, he was thankful.

He slid the second wyndstone from a hidden slit in his brigandine.

“I found this on one of the First Wing riders,” he said quietly, handing it to her.

Her eyes widened. “You searched them?”

“I only did so to see if I might learn something of value. Instead, I found this,” he said, having not been proud of the act, “Take a closer look and tell me what you see.”

She cast him a skeptical look, but did so, turning it over in her hand.

“I don’t see anything. It’s just a wyndstone.”

He nodded, “Now look at mine.”

Her brow furrowed. “Yours has the Mistwatch firstrider signet etched into the back.”

“Exactly,” he said, “this one isn’t marked. Neither were the silver arrows Thylas gave me.”

“But that’s illegal,” she said, “If the silver isn’t marked–”

“It isn’t traceable,” he said grimly, “much like this wyndstone. If I use it, who knows who I might contact.”

Ayduin took a few steps back, one of her hands half held in his direction. “Rhydian, I don’t like this. Please tell me you’re not planning on using that stone?”

“I’ve considered it,” he admitted.

“Why? You just said yourself: who knows who you might find on the other end.”

“I have a hunch and if I reach out to command and they stonewall me again, going around them may be my only option.”

“Around them? I’m not sure I like where this is going,” she said, beginning to twist the chain of Keishara’s necklace once more.

“You and I both,” he said lowly, “Think about it, though. Outside of command, who else has the power to call upon members of the Talhavar First Wing and supply them with offensive silver?”

“It would be a short list,” she admitted, “Are you suggesting the Council is behind this?”

“I can’t think of a single organization on the continent that still has access to silver weaponry. It has to be stamped even for mundane uses,” he said, “And that includes command.”

“If . . . if that’s true, they’ll want those arrows back.”

He nodded, “As well as the body of the monster they were meant to slay.”

Ayduin pressed her fingers to her brow and leaned back against the frame of the lift. Perhaps he should have shared his suspicions sooner. Speaking them aloud, he felt ridiculous, though with the pieces he was given, it made sense. In his mind, at least. He wondered if she’d agree or think him crazy. He wasn’t certain he could handle her dismissal.

“This is a lot to take in,” she said at length, eyes flitting up to his, “Do we even know what that woman was?”

He shifted his weight, bringing a hand to the back of his neck, “Vesryn and I had a theory,” he said, “It might sound ludicrous, but do you remember those old stories we used to read when we’d sneak into the library as kids? The ones about the cannibals who lived across the sea?”

“We used to read plenty of things we shouldn’t have,” she said, handing back the stones, “I’m sure tales of cannibals were among them. What makes you think she was one of them?”

“The blood, mainly. And her teeth. The way she attacked that girl in the woods– she was feeding on her. I’m certain of it,” he said, shuddering at the memory, “You don’t have fangs like those for no reason. Vesryn insists they were called vampires. I doubt we’d find anything in our dusty old library about them here, but at least it's a start.”

She shivered, “So you two think we have one of those cannibal vampires here and you still want to keep it alive?”

Rhydian grimaced. “For now, yes. I don’t think she was one from the start, though. When that woman bit her, I believe she may have transferred some sort of disease. Maybe some form of corrupted rysk. It might be reversible.”

“That’s all the more reason to put an end to ours while we have the chance. What if she bites someone? Skies, what if she bites you? We could have an entire outbreak on our hands.”

She had a point, one he hadn’t failed to consider himself.

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” he said, “But she hasn’t made a move against anyone and even if she did, she’s contained. I’m not executing an innocent girl without due cause.”

“You won’t have to,” Ayduin said, nostrils flaring, “Push her off the overhang and the mountain will do it for you. What happens when she gets hungry? Can she even eat normal food?”

He pursed his lips, having asked himself those very questions. “I’m not sure. We have livestock, though, and if worse comes to worst, Tanuzet and I can hunt. Raw meat isn’t hard to come by.”

“You’re granting that thing too many allowances,” she said, “Kill it and be done with it.”

“That thing is a young woman, Ayduin,” he said, perhaps more for his benefit than her own, “Her name is Inerys and I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt until I can get this all sorted. She could very well be another victim. We made an oath to keep the people of this continent safe. Like it or not, she’s one of those people. If we can help, I’d like to. If she becomes a risk. . . I’ll give her a quick death.”

Saying it aloud hit him in a way he hadn’t expected. Monstrous as the girl had become, she was still a person. Not a thing. He had to repeat the revelation in his mind until he believed it and overcame his fear. It may take days to do so, if not longer, but he would.

Ayduin watched him, silent as she searched his face.

“Our flight are among those people too,” she said, stepping close, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“You have my word,” he promised, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll take first watch after Cydan. Can I count on you taking over later?”

“Of course you can,” she said quietly, perturbed he’d even asked.

He smiled to himself and gave her shoulder a squeeze before he stepped into the lift.

The overhang beyond the lairs lay quiet, save for the soft hiss of the afternoon mists as they scraped across the crags. Rhydian stood along the edge, fiddling with his wyndstone. He was stalling and he knew it. If command did not have answers, he would be forced to turn to his alternative. Both had the potential to end poorly. He could either pull the splinter now or wait for it to fester for fear of a momentary pain.

Behind him, Tanuzet and Ephaxus laid together in a lone patch of sunlight. While the latter had fallen asleep, Rhydian sensed Tanuzet’s attention upon him still. Waiting. She peeked one eye open and he did not need to tap into their bond to know her thoughts.

Get on with it, that stare said.

Bracing himself, he rallied his intent and activated the stone.

Warmth surged through the stone within the span of a few breaths, announcing the connection.

“This is Rhydian ne’Tanuzet, firstrider of Mistwatch.”

Silence.

His jaw ticked, “Command, this is Mistwatch’s firstrider. Acknowledge?”

Another heartbeat passed and a man spoke.

“This is command, proceed.”

He did his best to shove down his frustration. At least someone had answered.

“I reported in a few days ago, regarding a pair of First Wing riders,” he said, “I was told an investigation would be launched and to stand by. Has there been any update? I was under the impression someone would reach out.”

“I’m unaware of any active investigations in your area,” he said, “Give me a moment to search our logs. There may have been a miscommunication.”

Rhydian sighed, but said, “Thank you.”

This whole affair had been rotten from the start. No information. No reports. No trace. He had a difficult time believing command was in the dark. Perhaps the lower clearance levels were, but higher up? Someone knew something and he’d likely have to claw his way to any real answers. Such lines of thought were dangerous.

“Based on our records, the last communication we received from your outpost was three months ago to confirm a provisions delivery,” the man said abruptly, “is it possible you contacted someone else?”

Their last record was three months ago?

“No, that can’t be right. I spoke with a woman from command just the other night. The matter was in regard to Thylas ne’Kiraht and Oraena ne’Malys. I was under the impression they were members of the First Wing,” he said, his free hand curling into a fist.

“You must be mistaken, ser. Those names aren’t in any of our records.”

“You can’t be serious,” Rhydian said, baffled, “Who did you send?”

He may have imagined it, but he thought he caught a note of anxiety in the man’s tone when he said, “As I stated before, we have no active investigations or agents in your area beyond those currently stationed at Mistwatch. I’m sorry.”

The wyndstone went cold.

Tanuzet snarled behind him. Liars.

He stared down at the now dormant stone, wavering a moment where he stood. In truth, he was tempted to hurl the cursed thing into the mist. How could they dismiss him so easily? So blatantly? He wanted to scream, to do more than throw a simple stone from the side of a mountain.

Instead, he drew the unmarked stone from his pocket and threw his intent into it. It vibrated in his hand, a sign the connection had been made, but not acknowledged by the other side. He had anticipated as much, though knew his words would reach their target. Somewhere, someone had to be monitoring the stone.

“My name is Rhydian ne’Tanuzet, acting firstrider of the outpost Mistwatch. I have information I suspect you might find intriguing about a mutual interest. At dawn tomorrow, my wyndgate will be open.”