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My wings throb, feeling sore and powerful all at the same time. I had heard that scythkin could fly under extreme circumstances, but like most legends, I thought they were lies designed to amuse broodkin as they waited to molt.
But they are not the strangest thing I have encountered in the last few minutes. Betrayal and triumph are natural to my experience, even if flight is not. What is not usual is to hear the voice of my beloved, and for it to be of use in the heat of battle.
Tres was here with me. I heard her voice over the roaring of the bubbling lava. I felt her love, her care, and I heeded her warning as the treacherous Galactor scum made their ill-fated attack on me. The expression on their animal faces as I appeared over the lip of the volcano only to hurl them to their doom.
Now I crouch on the mountainside, knowing that my mission is over. The Galactor peons are dead, and that means Krave should be contacting me soon with a pick up. I get up, aching from the effort of self-preservation. I did not think I had wings, but they are part of every scythkin, vestigial and yet powerful.
There are legends around how the wings are found. Most scythkin will never experience the pain or the glory of spreading them. Krave, first born of our clan, does not have wings. Nor do any of the other ninety-eight. I have mine because they were loved into existence.
It was Tres. My wings are mine, but the strength to make them unfold was hers.
I think of her soft weakness, the obvious vulnerability of her soft little human form, and I wonder if she is not far more powerful than she seems. That song of hers, I heard it as if she were singing it right next to my ear. That is not possible. But she has made it possible.
I spread my wings again, prepare to fly, but then think better of it. The last thing we need is humans telling stories of leather winged creatures complete with claws and sharp ridged backblades flying from tall mountains.
Instead of flying to my love, I walk, every step accompanied by a flurry of thoughts and theories, partial explanations which sound more fantastical than the simple events of the evening themselves.
That, is a mistake.
The biggest mistake I will ever make.
One I will regret, literally until the end of time.
When I reach the cave, I call for Tres. She doesn't come to greet me.
“Tres?”
“TRES!”
She is lying next to the fire, blood seeping from the back of her head. Her face is pale and for several sickening moments, I am sure she is as dead as she looks. The softest flutter of a pulse in her wrist proves that there is some life left in her yet, but who knows for how long. If I know anything about human physiology, it is almost certain that she has swelling inside her skull. That will compress her brain and kill her.
“KRAVE!”
Through some miracle, the talking rock hears me.
“What is it?”
“Krave, you have to get us out of here. The girl, she’s dying.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, after a moment of hesitation. “But we can’t get a fix on you. We're not ready yet.”
“Krave. Please. She saved my life. She is the only reason I am here to talk to you. If it weren’t for her, the Galactor peons would be celebrating over the lava consuming my body this very second.
“I can’t get her out. I can’t get either of you out. Stand by.”
Something lands outside the cave. A medical kit.
“That’s all I can do,” he says. “I’m sorry. It’s proving much easier to get things onto the planet than off it, there’s a force, a vector of time pulling objects in and not letting them escape.”
“What am I supposed to do with this? She’s hit her head. She needs brain surgery.”
“Ancient humans practiced trepanning,” he says. “They were able to relieve pressure in the skull by cutting an opening. You will have to do the same.”
“Krave. I have killed the Galactor soldiers. Please, get us out of here. She needs proper medical treatment. I can’t do this.”
I felt so strong when I discovered my wings. For a moment, I was indestructible. Now I am whining and begging as pathetically as any other small beast of prey.
“I can’t, Vulcan. We’re working on the temporal mechanics, but they’re not ready yet.”
“If she dies, I will stay down here and create as much havoc as I can.”
“Don’t threaten me, Vulcan,” he growls.
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. I would do anything for this woman. I would destroy Earth for the rest of all time if it meant saving her tonight. So take this rinky dink piece of shit medical kit, and shove it up your…”
