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Fare thee well, Kíríga. The new voice spoke into Killen’s mind.
He tilted his head in acknowledgement as a pair of stealthy figures rose into the air far behind him and vanished.
He and Kalani gazed at each other for a beat, his exhales forming small clouds that floated to join the fog hovering over the misty dale.
His companion did not breathe; they did not need to.
Killen turned away from them as his hawkstone flashed.
Between his silver-lined solid brows, on his forehead was a glowing jewel of such brilliance that it hurt to gaze into.
He sent a neural command, and his birthright, his very key to the throne, transmuted into a minor lode gem, dimming until it was barely visible.
His contoured rachís wings shimmered in the low light of the forest as he shook them out behind him, fanning them out to half size in part defensive measure.
He turned his gaze to the sinuous, lithe creature by his side. ‘You’ll have to return too. You did what you were tasked to, which was to bring me safely to Katáne. Now that I’m here, I must forge my path alone.’
‘Are you sure?’ Kalani asked, their energy thoughtful and reflective.
Their solemn nature had endeared them to Killen since they’d met, given he shared the same predilection for deep thinking.
‘As I’ll ever be. Go now,’ the silver-haired man told his sable-visaged companion. They won’t hurt me.’
‘If they do, your personal K’Chäwi will tear them apart from the shadows.’
Killen gave a wry laugh. ‘They have no clue you’re the ogre of their worst cursed nightmares.’
Kalani smiled. ‘Just because I’m a technological anomaly in this necromancy-infested Luddite world doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to attack anyone who comes for me or you. They’ve no idea what I can do.’
‘I’ve none either, and that terrifies me,’ Killen shot back with a smile. ‘If Riv worked with Mirage to produce you, I’m sure your secrets are beyond imagination. Now, please, get going.’
The creature inclined its head and shimmered into the ether. I’ll be on our ship if you need me. I’ll keep our neural link open.
Sante.
As Kalani’s presence ghosted away, Killen stood still in the tree-lined and shadowed glade, waiting.
His tongue pressed against the lump of klaw in his mouth, feeling its texture and weight as he rolled it around.
The slight grittiness of the leaves coated his lips, and he savoured the bitter tang that filled him with a sharp, earthy flavour.
Its potency hit his hawkstone, and he sighed, welcoming the kick of energy it delivered.
Moments later, Killen caught onto a rustle and flutter in the undergrowth.
With a whistle, a quiver of well-sized silver, serrated feathers sailed towards him, striking the ground at his feet in a perfect arc.
A voice snarled from the gloominess. ‘Hold it, stranger. Turn around and raise your arms. Or we’ll not hesitate to command our koya to slit your throat.’
He paused, then swivelled as commanded, sensing a presence behind him. It tagged his wrists and strapped them into an energised bond.
The creature tying him up shoved him forward, and Killen growled. ‘Oy! Gentle with my rachís.’
He sensed his captor’s eyes on him, sizing him, and jolted at Killen’s untapped power.
His detainer backed away, murmuring under his breath. ‘Face me, douche rider.’
Killen took an inhale and spun, hands behind his back.
