Wyverns of Mass Destruction

Nighteyes I, Part 4

The Wing assembled on the terrace for the announcement: a crowd of pilots with their grey shirts and white pants, wyverns lined up along the slope of the mountain, lifting their long neck to see. Payaa stood beside her. Faint sunlight illuminated the fine red scars down one side of the wyvern's face. Below, Borghild was forcing the seccies through an obstacle course. Seamus looked ready to scream. Too late, Dr. Harper. You won't give my Wing to your flunky.

Night's heart lifted as she counted attendance. From Bladestayer, an Ivy League student, to Coldwater, who'd spent half his life in solitary, she'd forged a group of soldiers unlike any other. As an agent, and later as a lawyer, she'd been used to the respect of others. She was going to miss being respected out of love.

A whisper ran through the crowd. All order dissolved as they turned to watch something in the north.

"Pilots of the Wing!" Night shouted. "Pay attention!"

Payaa looked, too. A grey shape with strong, powerful wings dipped out of the clouds. Veick. He's come home.

Wow. Give him the Husband of the Year award. Night clapped her hands. A good quarter of the Wing turned back towards her. "Today, we appoint the fourth pilot of the Wing's officer corps."

Veick drew closer. White burns and shrapnel scars dotted the patterned membranes of his wings. The air whistled as he cut through it. The horizontal plane of his mace was spread wide, giving him pinpoint control of his altitude. Up and down he bobbed, circling leisurely. Show-off.

"One of you has proven particularly worthy," Night continued. Now that the sun was out, she regretted wearing her armor. It was a balmy thirty degrees, getting hotter, and the straps chafed against her thighs. Should have worn my dress uniform. More and more pilots were turning back to watch Veick. "A pilot with skill and conviction."

Steelweaver stepped forward. Presumptuous, but she'd let it slide.

Behind her, Payaa shifted her weight forward, aroused by the display. Veick, my love, she called in the mind-link. Are you—

He's calling for Dr. Harper! Veick screamed. For her! He wants her! He trusts her!

"Shit," Night muttered. If there was one person at HQ that liked Dr. Harper less than she did, it was Veick.

Veick folded his wings and dove towards a small black building sticking out of the lower slope: the hospital.

"Shit!" Night shouted. She swung herself into the saddle and jammed on her helmet. Payaa rose to her full height and flipped backwards off the terrace's edge.

Her sense of gravity spun. Payaa twisted mid-flip, aiming them away from the mountain. Night's trained fingers locked the carabineer that linked her belt to the harness. She bent low over Payaa's neck, and their minds slid tgether. A purpose arose from the windy blur of thoughts: protect our people.

Through two pairs of telescopic eyes, they saw Veick hovering before a hospital window. Glass shattered as he shoved his talons though a window. Blood dripped on the snow as he plucked out a figure in thermals, shaking him like an unfortunate caribou he'd brought up alive.

No! Payaa screamed. Veick only lifted the screaming man to his mouth.

They struck from above, wrapping their talons around his shoulders and wrenching him backwards. The leathery beats of two sets of wings rang discordantly in their ears. What's wrong with you? they shouted.

That bitch crossed the line! They die for this! They both die! He folded his wings and let gravity rip him free of Payaa's grasp. His wings snapped open a second before he'd hit the ground. Snow billowed beneath him.