Azriel hated the Spring court. He always had. The sickly aroma of flowers and constant humidity grated on his nerves. He always teased Cassian about his constant complaining; the way that the general couldn't go give minutes in this court without sneezing up a storm. Az had to silently agree though. He felt like his eyeballs were itching.
Those physical discomforts, however, were secondary to the thoughts racing through his head. I'm not alone. I'm not alone. Not. Alone.
He kept telling himself not to hope for anything. That hope was simply a weapon someone could use against him. But he couldn't stop the slight buzz of anticipation and excitement that had his wings flapping a little faster. His eyes straining a little further, searching for any hint of shadow or wings as he and two of his recruits soared along the boarder between Spring and Summer. They couldn't winnow directly into either court. Tarquin had set up security borders and wards due to the influx of humans and fae, and Tamlin... well, he'd had clumsy barriers around his court since the war ended. Rhys could probably break through them if he tried, but they didn't want to risk alerting Tamlin to their investigations.
"Where should we set down Azriel?" Conroy, the younger of the two recruits he'd brought for the mission flew up beside him, never missing a wing beat. The lad was barely a century old, but he wasn't as impulsive and arrogant as many of his age mates. Conroy was also a wiz when it came to traps and snares, and he had serious skill with a bow. Plus, he had a dry sense of humour that always lightened the mood on long missions.
"See that grove of willows?" Azriel asked, pointing to a spot further along their flight path.
"Yeah."
"Aim for that, but spiral in slowly. We don't want any surprises and it'll be equally good cover for an ambush as it will be for us."
"Yes sir. I'll let Fav know." Conroy dropped back to relay the instructions to Favian. The other male was one of Azriel's older recruits, and had trained under the spymaster for more than fifty years. Favian's loyalty and skill had earned him Azriel's respect, despite the Illyrian's reckless behaviour.
The three of them made it to the trees without incident, congregating in the small clearing beneath the trailing willow branches.
"Alright," Az said, looking each of them in the eyes, "we don't know what we might run into out here, so keep your wits about you. The main objective is to gather as much information as possible. Anything we can learn about these whispers or the power we've been informed about could be useful."
"And, um..." Conroy cleared his throat nervously, "what about the, ah, the Illyrian we were told about."
Azriel quickly erected a wall against the feelings that tried to overwhelm him.
"If either of you see anything to that effect, come find me immediately." He said calmly. Azriel knew that he couldn't let his own emotions interfere in this mission. The Night court needed to know what was going on.
"Yes sir!" Conroy and Favian said in unison.
"Okay. Spiral outwards from this point along the border. Don't even think about going too far into Spring," Az fought a shudder at the memory of Sax's family. He wouldn't lose anyone else here. "Meet back here by midnight to regroup." He finished.
His recruits both nodded before spreading their wings and shooting into the evening sky. Azriel cast another glance around the clearing before following suit.
It was several hours later, once the moon had fully risen and the land was cool and dark, that Azriel finally spotted something. He'd crossed paths with his recruits a few times since they parted, but they'd given him frustrated shakes of the head each time. This glow though. Even from the distance, Az could feel that there was something off about it. At first he'd thought it was a campfire, but on closer inspection, he realised it glowed an eerie green, rather than the customary gold and red.
Azriel glided toward it on silent wings, his hand resting on Truth-Teller's pommel. As the green glow drew closer, it seemed to pulse, as if beckoning him toward it. Azriel was flying low over the trees now, the world strangely silent around him. He tried to listen to his shadows, to hear what they could tell him about all this, but they were quiet too. An uneasy feeling was building in Azriel's gut. Something about this wasn't right at all.
Az contemplated finding the others so they could approach whatever this was together, but then he felt it. Azriel's ears grew muffled, as if he had ducked his head underwater. He felt a slight throbbing in his temples and shook his head to try and clear it. It just kept getting stronger. Shit. Azriel tried to pull out of his glide toward the clearing, but his wings wouldn't respond. Shit, shit, shit. He had completely lost control of his body. Azriel tried not to panic, keeping his breathing even, but his mind was screaming at him that this was wrong. Screaming at the loss of control.
As he finally cleared the trees, Azriel flinched at the blinding light that greeted him. He realised that the source of the green glow was a writhing, flaming serpentine creature. It hovered at about head-height in the centre of the clearing, twisting and slithering through he air in a cocoon of green fire. Its scales were the same sickly green as its flames, and as it turned toward him, Azriel caught a glimpse of its eyes. They were blood red, with a slitted black pupil. He landed silently in the grass.
He couldn't move. He couldn't look away from those eyes. The throbbing had reached the point of agony, as if someone was banging on the inside of his skull with a hammer. The pressure in his head was growing unbearable, blocking out all other sensations but the pain. Those red eyes. The green fire.
A tendril of that flame snaked toward him, and Azriel had enough sense left to know he shouldn't let it touch him. With a massive effort of will, he summoned his shadows, which had fled from the light of the flames. They crawled toward him from the tree line, so painfully slowly, even as that tendril of fire slunk forward from the other direction. Then the voices started. He didn't know what the others had meant by whispers. The sounds that filled his head were deafening.
"Are you scared Az? Are you scared of us?" His stepbrother's mocking laughter echoed around his mind followed by a chorus of insults from his father and stepmother. He tried to push them out, to will his shadows closer. Then it was Gwyn's sobs before he'd rescued her from Sangravah. The sounds of his friend's pain and terror tore at Azriel's heart. Elain came next, her voice full of cold venom. Her words speared above the chorus of screams and insults in his mind, and he heard those words over and over and over again. Az yanked on his shadows, trying to wrap them around himself like a cloak. Shield himself from the fire and the voices, even though he knew they wouldn't reach him before that repulsive fire did. He wasn't strong enough. Wasn't-
A bolt of darkness cleaved through that tendril of green. Those red eyes broke Azriel's gaze to his left. They narrowed, then widened in what could only be called shock.
That shadow. It wasn't his. It had a slightly different quality, a different shade of black maybe. Another deadly bolt of darkness shot for the serpent just before its owner barrelled into the clearing.
With the flaming serpent's gaze averted, he knew he could move, but Azriel just stood there, staring. The male was... he was stunning. There was no other word for it. And, Azriel realised with fear or joy or shock or something he couldn't quite place, that the male was a Shadowsinger.
He had short, black hair scattered with streaks of brown. The male was slightly shorter than Azriel and had a lean, slender build. A tattered, black and grey cloak was slung across his shoulders, pulled back to reveal Illyrian leathers that appeared old and far too large. It was his eyes, though, that had Azriel frozen in place. Ice blue, flecked with cobalt. He'd never seen such beautiful eyes, despite the sick green glow that reflected off them. The other Shadowsinger was sending spear after spear of darkness into the heart of that green flame, the blood-eyed serpent twisting and shrinking from the power. The male's teeth were bared in a grimace and veins were popping out on his neck as he held his ground against the serpent. He turned those stunning eyes of his to Azriel, who wanted to shrink from the intensity of that stare.
"Move you idiot! Move!"
Az was snapped from his trance at the male's sharp voice. He sprinted in the direction that the male had come from, noting the almost silent footsteps that kept pace with him as he ran. Azriel tucked his wings in tight, although he still felt the sting and bite of twigs and brambles as the forest tried to ensnare him. Tamlin really had let his hands go if the forests had grown this wild.
Az hurtled in the general direction of the willow grove, not knowing where else to go. He would have flown, but the other male didn't appear to have wings, despite what the reports had suggested, and Azriel wouldn't leave him. So, they ran. Two Shadowsingers fleeing the tendrils of sickly green flame.
***Guess who! Haha. I'm so excited to start writing this new charaacter!
Thanks for getting this far. I hope you enjoy the next chapter. You could say it's something a little... different. Comments and votes appreciated as always. :)***