Sorrow's Flight Read online

He was still laughing as he turned and walked out without a backward glance.

  Sorrow, shocked and confused at his response, walked over and sat down heavily in the chair by Etienne’s bed. He was unconscious, twitching in his dreams as the disease roiled over his body.

  “Stay strong, my friend,” she whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead, “I will be back shortly with a cure.

  Clicking on her battle suit, she left the infirmary at a run.

  13

  Raphael was waiting on the rooftop when she reached it.

  “Finally,” he said, seeing her rush up the stairs, panting in exertion and excitement, “I was beginning to think they had imprisoned you and I was going to have to mount a rescue.”

  “No,” Sorrow shook her head, “I haven’t spoken to the Chosen about the portal yet. But Raphael I have wonderful news. The cure, I’ve found a cure for the miasma. I need you to come to the infirmary with me.”

  “Wait,” he pulled back against her insistent hand, “a cure?”

  “Yes,” Sorrow frowned impatiently, “but we have to work fast, Etienne will die if we don’t hurry.”

  “When you say ‘we’…,” he frowned, “are you suggesting I may in some way assist with this cure?”

  “Yes,” Sorrow said, leading him gently towards the stairs, “your dander, the dust from your feathers, I believe it will kill the fungus. I think the reason those with feathers don’t suffer is because the dust protects them.”

  “I see,” he stopped again, “and why exactly do you need me now?”

  “Raphael,” she rolled her eyes in frustration, “I want to brush off as much of your dust as I can, to put it all over Etienne and cure him. I think the flight in Gabriel’s arms helped keep him alive this long, it halted the spread of the fungus for a time, but now it has started again – I’m hopeful coating him with dust will completely cure him.”

  “I’m sorry for your friend,” Raphael said suddenly, pulling to a halt at the top of the stairs, “Sorrow you know I like you, but if what you say is true, I can in no way aid you.”

  “What?”

  “Gorgeous, the only thing that has stopped my people and the Angels being wiped off the face of this planet by the invading Gods and the Chosen is the miasma. If what you say is true this could change the whole world – war will once again ensue, my people will be massacred.”

  “No,” Sorrow shook her head, “I saw one of the Gods, the leader, Lokan, I told him I would only share the cure with them if they promised to live in harmony with your people, to end the hunts indefinitely.”

  “And what did he say?”

  Sorrow bit her lip.

  “Sorrow?”

  “He laughed.”

  Raphael stared at her for a full ten seconds, his silence deafening.

  “You need to come with me,” he said, finally.

  “What? No. I need to cure Etienne.”

  “Sorrow, my government needs to discuss this, you can’t reveal this cure until we know what it will mean for all of us.”

  “Raphael,” Sorrow drew her weapon and began to back away, “I’m sorry you feel that way. Because I have no fucking intention of going anywhere with you. I’m a doctor, and if I have to kill you in order to save the lives of thousands, I will.”

  “What’s going on?” a soft voice asked from behind her.

  Spinning, Sorrow saw that Gabriel had landed on the roof silently behind her, and now advanced, her gun also drawn.

  “In a nutshell,” Sorrow said, taking another step backwards, ever so slowly, as Raphael also pulled out his weapon, “I was explaining to your brother that the cure for the miasma is within my reach. He was telling me I needed to let my friend die and keep my mouth shut.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Raphael said.

  “Raph,” Gabriel rolled her eyes and holstered her gun, “Etienne is her best friend, you ass.”

  “That has nothing to do with it; this is bigger than him, bigger than all of us.”

  “No,” Sorrow said quietly, “it isn’t. None of us is expendable. We are all important, just one of us could change this world for the better, you, me, Gabriel. It is within my power, I think, to stop all this suffering, to bring peace to this world if we all work together. I’m starting to think I was meant to come here, to do this.”

  “Wait, you think?” Gabriel frowned, “you don’t actually know if this cure works?”

  “No,” Sorrow sighed, also holstering her gun, “I need one of you, I need the dust from your feathers.”

  “I’ll do it,” Gabriel said.

  “What? Gabe, no,” Raphael shook his head, “what if one of these Gods sees you? You will be caught and killed – not to mention the fact this could be considered treason.”

  “Well,” Sorrow frowned, “It’s only treason if your government finds out – and I’m not planning on telling them,” she gave him a pointed look. “As for the Gods, the only one I have ever seen on this planet is Lokan, and he has only appeared twice in nine months. They all live,” she pointed to the white egg apartments that stretched as far as the eye could see across the city landscape, “up there.”

  “They never come down?” Raphael frowned.

  Sorrow shook her head.

  “How many are there?”

  “I have no idea. There were many thousands, perhaps as many as 100,000 when Amun left originally, but in the regeneration tanks I saw so many die, countless numbers…” she trailed off. “I’m surprised you don’t know this Raphael. You said you have spies and scouts.”

  “We don’t come into the city or township,” Gabriel said frowning, “we’ve never been permitted to do so. The mountain outskirts to pick up the babies is our permitted limit under our peace treaty – this is a no-go fly space. We are only here now because the government has sent Raphael to aid you in brokering an agreement over the portals. To my knowledge, this is the first time Winged have been this close to the Gods in centuries.”

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Raphael said suddenly. “Gabrielle can help Etienne, if and it is a big if, you fly with me to those apartments and I meet personally with this laughing prick Lokan. If he agrees to come to the city with me, to meet with the government and sign a peace treaty, then you can spread the word about the cure.”

  “I’ve got news for you, and it’s all bad,” Sorrow said, shaking her head, “I’ll take you to Lokan, but whether he comes with you or not, I will spread this cure.

  Gabriel held her breath as Raphael sighed and put his gun away.

  “We’ll cross that bridge as we come to it, feisty worm. First the God.”

  Sorrow shook her head.

  “First, my friend, then, the God,” she said, turning and hurrying down the stairs, leaving Raphael and Gabrielle rushing to catch up.

  They circled slowly from way up in the starry sky, down, down, closer and closer to the apartments, each glowing with warm yellow light from their numerous windows.

  “They used to belong to the Angels, you know,” he said, his wings flapping gently.

  “Really? I thought the Gods built them.”

  “No, the Angels had cities like this all over the planet. Most were destroyed by the Gods. The Angels fled to their mountain retreats, but this one remained as the Capital once the Gods realised they needed to stay off the ground to avoid the miasma. They kept the apartments, but cut down the trees that filled the landscape, fearing the shade bred the miasma, they replaced the trees with the parkland you see below.”

  “Huh,” Sorrow chewed her lip in thought as they spiralled lower.

  “No laser shield or any other defence mechanism from the sky,” Raphael said quietly to her as she lay in his arms, her eyes straining to see if there was movement in any of the homes.

  “No, and I don’t see any guards or anything that might indicate we can’t land on one.”

  “Which one then?” Raphael gritted as he spun low and began to fly just above the rounded rooftops.

  “Yo
u choose. We will eventually be taken to Lokan; he is the leader.”

  Raphael nodded and swung them low towards a small landing pad about the size of the average driveway back home on Earth. Dropping softly, they walked together towards the front door.

  “Sorrow,” he said suddenly, pulling her to a stop. “I’m sorry about what I said on the rooftop. I didn’t mean to imply your friend was expendable.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I’ve lost friends too,” he frowned, “that’s what happens in war.”

  “This is not my war,” Sorrow spat, “I’m trying to help you. I won’t lie, Raphael; I’m disappointed in you, honestly, I want to smack your head in, but that can wait – you want to try your luck with these fucking Gods – so be it.”

  He sighed and nodded, following as she stalked towards the door.

  “Here goes,” she whispered, knocking sharply.

  There was no answer.

  She knocked again, but as she did so the pressure of her knock swung the door inwards.

  “Oops,” she said, stepping back and expecting someone to either shout angrily or shoot at her.

  Raphael moved her aside and, pushing the door all the way open, peered into a well-lit, beautifully furnished but clearly long-empty apartment.

  “Anyone home?” he asked, loudly enough for Sorrow to flinch.

  Hearing no answer, he shrugged and stepped inside. Sorrow followed, weapon drawn, the hair on the back of her neck standing up and her stomach tight with the knowledge this could be a trap. She walked close to his back as he left the main living area and investigated the dining and bedrooms.

  “Completely empty,” he said, finally, holstering his weapon.

  “Maybe next door?” she shrugged.

  Closing the door tightly behind them they tried the next apartment, and the next, and the next. They flew for much of the night, entering apartment after apartment, before finally, exhausted, Raphael said they needed to land and take a rest. Returning to the infirmary, they found Etienne sitting up, supported and covered in bandages, smiling and being fed a bowl of soup. Calarnise sat on a stool at his knee and Gabriele behind him, her wings encircling his shoulders like a cape, her legs and arms wrapped around him like a spider monkey, ensuring her wing dust stayed in contact with his body.

  Sorrow walked over to where the three sat, chatting quietly and laughing, and stared down at him, arms crossed.

  “You look like a Sultan surrounded by his harem.”

  “And now my favourite arrives,” he quipped, giving her a warm look.

  “It works then,” she sighed, seeing Gabriel’s smile and Calarnise’s beam.

  “It works,” the acolyte agreed.

  “But too late for the Gods,” Raphael said, pulling up a stool near Calarnise and arranging his feathers tightly around his body.

  “Yes,” Sorrow said, looking at Etienne, “they are all gone. All dead I suspect. The apartments the length and breadth of this city are empty. I believe Lokan may very well be the last of his kind in this city, perhaps even on this planet.”

  Etienne frowned. Gabriel laughed a loud, joyful screech, Raphael grinned, and Calarnise fainted.

  Sorrow swore and unlocked the doors of the jail cell. She had been putting off seeing him while she worked to save Etienne’s life and meet Raphael’s demands, but now, she needed to find out who, or what, this man she had shared such intimacy with, really was. The sense of betrayal she had felt since Etienne had told her of the red suit had festered and eaten away at her since her arrival back at the township, but she could delay her visit no longer, she needed answers.

  Surprised to find no one guarding the prison, she wandered down the hallways until she found the one locked cell and peering in, gasped, pushing aside her anger as she realised her one-time partner was gravely ill.

  Judgement lay, naked and clearly dying; a small trundle bed against the wall, the room reeking of human excrement and decay.

  Pushing a cloth to her mouth to block the stench, Sorrow leaned over him and gently called his name.

  His eyes, alert, but full of pain, opened instantly.

  “Sorrow,” he whispered.

  “I can cure you,” she said firmly, sitting on the edge of the bed gingerly, “but I need to know why I would.”

  Judge groaned and tried to sit up, but she pushed him down again with a firm hand on his shoulder, one of the few parts of him not covered in fungus.

  “Talk,” she said, one hand rolling the small jar of life-saving dander she concealed in her pocket round and round in agitation.

  “I,” he swallowed, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “Hang on,” Sorrow frowned, looking around for a water jug, “has anyone given you food or drink, or even come to check on you?”

  “No,” he croaked, “not in days.”

  “Fuck.”

  Rising she walked out of the prison into the sunshine of the courtyard to where she could see several Chosen sweeping the bare sand.

  “I need help carrying the prisoner to the infirmary,” she said firmly, striding towards them.

  Incredulous, she watched as they dropped their brooms and ran.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

  Stalking back inside she laid a blanket on the ground and, curtly telling Judge what she planned to do, rolled him off the bed and onto the blanket. Grabbing the ends, she pulled the blanket along the ground like a travois out of the jail cell, across the courtyard, and into the bathhouse.

  Pushing back the memories of the first time she and Judge had met there, she helped him rise and, taking his full weight, lowered him into one of the wooden bathtubs, running the warm water until it reached his neck. Propping him up so he couldn’t slip down and drown, she scooted along the hall to the kitchens and found a jug of water and one of the bright orange mango-like fruit the locals enjoyed.

  Hurrying back to the bathhouse she knelt down and held his head while he greedily gulped the clean, cool water. As he sighed and closed his eyes, she sponged the dirt and filth from his body, ignoring the fungus which appeared even larger due to the magnification of the water. Peeling the fruit for him she cut it into slices and popped it piece by piece into his mouth.

  When he had eaten the fruit and could pass as clean, she helped him rise and wrapped a towel around his hips. Realising she couldn’t drag him all the way to the infirmary by herself, she sought an alternative for the dying man.

  “I need you to hop into this second bath; it’s empty, I’ve lined it with towels.”

  He didn’t argue, merely flopping into it as advised; his large legs bent at the knee to allow the tub to accommodate him.

  Sorrow withdrew the jar from her pocket and sprinkled the dander all over his body, before covering him with another towel and turning to leave. She would need help to move him to the infirmary. She told herself she was healing him to enable him to answer her questions about Seth and the Gharial, and because it was her responsibility as a doctor; ‘First, rule of the Hippocratic Oath – do no harm,’ but she knew Etienne would suggest she had other motives, and he would be right.

  “Why did you come to Avalona, Judge?” she asked, as he reclined on the infirmary bed, his eyes solemn, watching her every move as she sat just out of arms reach and cleaned her weapons with a small, oiled cloth.

  The dander was healing him. This was his third day of recovery, and already he could sit, move around a little and eat unassisted.

  “I was pushed,” he said quietly, “the force of the explosion when the pod was flown into the Gharial gate blew me through.”

  Sorrow looked up. “And why didn’t you join your fellow Gharial in attacking this planet, direct them as you had on Heaven?”

  “You landed virtually on top of me,” he said, frowning, “you and your slave. I,” he shook his head, “I had seen you fighting on the field, you were magnificent, I’d never seen someone of your sex before, I…but the people here, the Chosen, they gave me no time to decide to run, even if I
had known where to meet up with Gharial forces. They led me to the infirmary; other Earthborn also fled through the gate, it was chaotic, all of us were brought here.”

  “But you could have left in the ensuing chaos, or shortly after – it took 70 days for most of us to rejuvenate.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly, “but no one knew I was the enemy. They assumed I was Earthborn. I had many chances to leave, but I thought I would learn intelligence about the peoples of this planet that would be valuable to my forces.”

  “So, it was all subterfuge; you are a spy, nothing more.”

  “I am more, Sorrow. I became more, through knowing you.”

  “Wait,” Sorrow frowned, ignoring his last words, “did you say you had never seen a woman fight before?”

  “No,” he shook his head, “I had never seen a woman before.”

  “Aren’t there any women on the Gharial planet?”

  “No.”

  “But your mother?”

  “The red leaders of the Gharial units are raised by the army from babes. I don’t know where I came from, who my mother was, if I had one. I only know the army. We are raised as leaders, taught to see ourselves as indestructible; our one goal is to sweep the universe clean of the interspecies filth of the old Gods. Our Gods; Shu and Tefnut, are the true rulers and we are made in their image.”

  “That answers a lot,” Sorrow said, pausing her gun cleaning to lean forward and look him in the eye. It answered, as far as she was concerned, his inability to show feelings, his shock at feeling her body, seeing her naked. It also answered why he would never reveal anything about his past.

  “So, what now Judge? Do you jump back to your Gharial planet when the portal opens next month and tell them everything you know?”

  “I jump back,” he said.

  Sorrow drew in a sharp breath and leant away from him. She had hoped for a different answer.

  “I go back to warn them not to come here – to tell them of the miasma. If I can convince them that there is no point taking over the planet, that most of its peoples are dead, then they may not invade. I go back to help this planet.”