Chapter 28: Like a Brick in the clouds

The high-pitched buzz in her ears tuned out almost all noise and she needed a few moments to come to her senses. A shallow burn slithered all the way down her tail and pulsed with itchy pain. The vile coating had turned to scalding steam instantaneously as the current passed through it. The surge of electricity left her back sore, and a stiffness akin to hangover muscles after a workout spread along the electrical channels through her body. In panic, she had severely overcharged and underestimated the stored energy of her weapon.

She had little time to feel sore. The guards would have heard the noise and- she swallowed hard as her gaze turned to Tanno. His body had collapsed against the wall between the locker and the pile of books on the chair. Narrow tendrils of smoke billowed from his arm and blood spilled out of his nose and ears. His head rested sideways on his shoulders in a way no healthy spine would allow, and Sylph battled the urge to throw up. She killed him. The realization fought for space in her head, but she was not ready for it.

Sylph focused on the scattered glass and, somehow, intact bottle in front of her. The glass should be sharp enough to cut the ropes. She started moving by pulling with her front digits and pushing with her hips. Inching forward, she got close to the first shard. The carpet helped to hold it in position while she continually rubbed the rope over it until it thinned enough to tear apart. Her front legs snapped free and a hot sting followed the sudden motion as she cut herself on the sharp glass. Cursing, she grabbed the shard and started cutting through the ropes holding her head in place.

No guard came to check. Which was both worrying and relieving. Who knew what Tanno usually did to his prisoner guests if these sounds were normal.

The slow and deliberate dripping of the wine bottle called to her as the stench of alcohol hit her nose. She grabbed it, held it upside down onto her pfod. The water absorbed into her; the rest spilled all over the carpet in a clear puddle.

It should give them plenty of chaos to worry about as she escaped. With her pfod held together above the puddle, she called upon her weapon to produce one last spark. Her dragonheart burned a little brighter, but only a dull, throbbing pain answered back from her organs. She clenched her teeth and forced them to charge.

Discharging once more felt akin to walking on an open wound to her already sore channels. She grunted as a bright flame lashed back at her and nearly singed her front legs.

She caught her breath for a second and admired her flickering handiwork. Her handiwork had already spread over the carpet and licked at the wooden legs of the table. The room heated up like an oven and a thick black smoke gathered under the ceiling, a clear sign she should leave immediately.

Sylph hopped up onto the large window sill, balancing on all fours like a wyvern on a perch. She swallowed hard and gripped the wood tighter as she peered downwards. Tanno’s office was not on the first floor. She had grossly misjudged the height. A two-story drop straight onto a hard street, no convenient pile of trash or tarp to slow her fall even further. Her sorry wings had to work overtime today and then her legs could take the landing.

She sucked up a bunch of air, and the first tendrils of smoke grated through her lungs. Scalding heat lapped at her tail-fins as the inferno crept closer. In retrospect, she should have checked the height before setting fire to the room. The sound of heavy iron boots pounding a wooden staircase echoed through the crackle.

She drew a deep breath and coughed as she inhaled a little too much smoke. People gathered and pointed upwards. The longer she looked, the further away the ground appeared to be. She adjusted her paws in tiny increments to get the jump just right. She had done this before, using her wings to slow her fall was not flying, but it worked. Albeit, back then it was barely a drop of half a story. If she was wrong, this fall could break her bones. If she stayed, she would die of smoke inhalation. If she hurried to the door, she would get caught between guards and the inferno. The only way out, was down.

Sylph closed her eyes. If you had to do something stupid, better to do it fast and hope you were a lucky idiot. That piece of wisdom had not been imparted by any mentor, but came from experience.

She pushed herself out of the window. For a second, she was weightless. The next second, the air caught in her wings and blew them wide open. She screeched as the soft membrane stretched to a near breaking point in her deformed wings. Agony flooded her mind as the roof of a building soared past her. She angled her wings to ease some of the pain, but as soon as she adjusted her locked up wings, the flow of air ripped them out of her control. A hollow but extremely sharp pain struck her shoulder. The world tumbled sideways, and she feared the wind might have ripped her wing clean off.

She relied on dusted instincts to turn her body around and with a thud that sent her teeth clattering and legs shaking, she miraculously landed on all fours. Waves of pain radiated from her right wing and blocked most sensations, but she took in the chaos that her sudden arrival had caused. Screams and curses aimed at her brushed past her ears as she stumbled forward. Her legs still worked, nothing broke. She had flown like a brick, but landed as a dragon.

“Sylph!” A faint but familiar voice echoed through the streets and above the commotion. Brandon’s voice stood out like a singing bowl in a silent room, and her ears swiveled in the sound’s direction.

After taking three shaky first steps, somebody called her out. “Hey, you can’t leave. Stop them!” The gravely voice belonged to a man with a pointing finger. No guard, just a man who thought this was somehow his problem. Sylph bared her teeth and even raised her chaps all the way while looking upward. “You are free to try,” she growled. His arm and finger went as limp as his cloak and he decided this was not actually his problem.

“Sylph!” Brandon’s voice echoed through the streets again, and she followed. Every step felt worse than the one before, dulled only by the fire in her chest. It burned hotter and felt colder. She ran on smoldering fumes, minutes before burning out, at most. Her breaths grew ragged as she darted around corners, always following the direction of Brandon’s voice.

The narrow, long street was perfect for a trap and the ominous shadow of a spear caught her attention as she rushed another corner. Her leg slipped on the soft sand and her right wing brushed against the edge of a wooden beam. The searing hot pain that followed robbed her breath. For the first time since landing, she dared to look at it more closely. It was askew, pulled out of its socket. A wonder the pain was not worse. A dragonheart was one hell of a drug. She turned to inspect the shadow, a wooden box, and a piece of scrap metal.

“Sylph!” He was close, barely a street or two. She hissed in anger and pain and powered through the blurry outlines of the alley. An arm shot out from behind a fence to stop her. She snapped at it, stopped herself from biting down just in time, and came to a full stop.

Brandon went pale at the sight. “In here,” he gestured with the other and carefully pulled his arm out of her mouth, wiping away the spit on his tunic.

“Next time, just stand in the alley.” Sylph followed him through the small gate into the backyard of a shop and through a wooden hatch into a smaller cellar. A single pointlight illuminated the cramped, square space in a dim white. Thin wooden pillars propped up the sandstone ceiling, and the back was filled with barrels. Brandon could barely stand upright.

“Your wing!” He gestured something with his finger, tried to reach for his nonexistent bag, and then looked around.

“Dis- dislocated,” she hissed through clenched teeth and fought back a wave of nausea. “Help me set it back,” she begged, and stepped up to the pillar.

“What? I- How do I put it back?” Brandon stammered and whipped around her. “I can’t touch you.”

“You can’t hurt me more than this wing already does.” She approached the small pillar, turned her head to fit the wood between her teeth, and bit down. Brandon’s finger moved around her shoulder blade and the place where her wing should be. The sting of his touch was barely noticeable beneath the general level of pain her body was in at the moment. She only felt it because she expected it, not that she could focus much. How she remained upright was a mystery. Her body simply did things.

He placed his other hand right under the joint of her wing. “Ready?” She bit down harder and tried to nod. He grunted and pushed, and her side flashed in blazing pain. The wood splintered under the force of her bite, and the entire pillar creaked as she screamed into it.

Brandon dropped her wing. “I am sorry!”

The pain ebbed away, but her wing remained askew. Sylph huffed in labored breaths. Her chest glimmered out as her dragonheart slowly gave in, but her body grew hotter still. “Don’t mind me yelling. Not righting it will be worse, so please, do it.”

“It’s very hard to move, and I don’t want to hurt you.” He felt around the socket of her wing some more and re-positioned himself for better leverage with his shoulder. “Alright.”

Another flash of pain enveloped her mind, and the wooden beam cracked between her teeth. A cacophony of flashing heat and stings overwhelmed her from tail-tip to snout and set everything ablaze. Brandon pushed upward with his entire body, strong enough that she had to work against him and the excruciating pain of staying in position. Then, with a tiny plop, it was over as suddenly as it had started. The all-encompassing pain faded and a wave of bliss washed away the remnants, if only for a second.

She twisted and turned her wing. It hurt to move, but it moved as normal as her crippled wings would ever do. Her tongue pushed out small pieces of wood stuck between her teeth and she wiped the tears of torment from her face before turning to Brandon. He had to know that he was the one thing she could depend on him in this town. “Thank you, for everything, for-” she muttered before slumping sideways as her legs gave out.

She was too tired to move, no muscle obeyed her any longer and an icy cold spread out from her dragonheart. It wobbled right on the cliff of burnout and threatened to send her into a spiral of weakness once again. She could not afford that. But she could also not afford to sleep in some cellar right in town. A guard could come knocking any second, and she had to be ready.

“It’s alright, I’ll keep watch,” Brandon offered and her body took no time to let her answer.

“I sleep now.” She pulled her legs closer and rested her head on her own tail like a pillow. Sylph had to admit the truth to herself. Their journey, her quest, had failed spectacularly. She would not get another chance. In half a day, their game of disguise and stealth had turned into sheer survival, and there was no way she could find any more clues about her mother now. Only one option left: they needed to return home, in one piece.

Darkness overcame her as her tired body won the struggle with her mind.

End of Book 1.