Let Me Fly Free (8 page)

Either way, I need
answers
now
.
“Think harder.”

The man cries out, pain visible on his face.
The spell must be causing him some kind of headache, and I suppose
I should feel sympathy, but I only wish he’d stop being so feeble
and give me what I need.

“
I overheard someone say it
could shrink or grow at will.” Ronym’s voice is strained. “At the
local tavern… It was crowded and noisy, and I was not paying
attention, but those are the words I heard.”

No
wonder
. The monster’s ability to shrink
would explain why it can hide so well, yet still be powerful enough
to swallow a family of sprites.

If Ronym learned this vital piece of
knowledge by accident, barely knowing he’d heard of it, then his
mind could hold further information that he’s not aware of. And I
will not rest until I’ve uncovered all there is.

I give those mental strings yet another
yank, pulling his mind into my own.

An agonized scream escapes his lips, and he
clutches his head with both hands. A hint of guilt creeps into my
heart, but I push it down with a reminder of all that’s at
stake.

I don’t need to speak the command aloud this
time; he knows what I want.

“
There was talk of fighting
back.” He speaks between gritted teeth. “I was not listening, for I
planned to be gone before it could strike again.”

“
Your ears might still have
picked up something.” I bear down toward him, drawing him into me.
“Search your memories.”

Yanking, yanking, yanking…
I’m sure he’ll break soon if I’m not careful, and I find I don’t
care. The life of a lowly criminal is hardly worth risking all of
Kristakai for. The heat enveloping me is no longer the comforting
touch of flames, but rather the unwelcome sensation of weariness. I
worry that
I
will
break before he does, that I’ll collapse from the effort or from my
life force being drained. Perhaps I should be satisfied with what
I’ve already learned and return to my homeland now.

But when he once again says that this is all
he knows, that nagging sense of untruth scratches at my instincts.
It tells me that if I keep digging, there’s more treasure to be
uncovered. I’ve come so far; it would be a shame to give up
now.

Just a little longer…

When I tug this time, he collapses to his
knees, clutching his head. Tears of pain stream down his face, and
I shake my head in disgust. I’d hoped my first encounter with a
human would show me an inspiring example of that fascinating,
curious race I’ve read about for so long, and instead, I’m greeted
by this coward.

“
Someone … spoke … of a
weakness!” he cries, as if every word is being forced past
unwilling lips. “The thlakeen have not been seen for generations,
but their skeletons have lingered—in the workshops of magicians or
the palaces of kings or the museums of universities. Someone
theorized that, because each skull discovered had its base missing,
that this part of its body was weaker than the rest.”

A satisfied smile curves my
lips.
A weakness… So I can defeat it.
Assuming it can burn.
Needing one more
answer, I give the strings another yank. “Did they mention whether
this creature is vulnerable to fire? Answer!”

“
Yes!” he exclaims, and
this time, his mind does not resist. This memory must be closer to
the surface than the last one. “It is a water creature… There was
talk of using flaming arrows against it.”

Excellent.
I can fight it after all. I have no way of
knowing if what Ronym says is true, but he seems to believe it
is.

“
Please,” he gasps. “I know
nothing else, I swear.”

The sense of untruth
lingers, but this time I choose not to press on. If I do, his
mental strings will surely snap from my grip, and whether that
costs him his life or only his sanity, I do not care to find out.
Besides, I’m not sure how much longer
I
will last out here. I feel as if
my limbs have turned to stone while my head has filled with
bubbles. My body wants to collapse, and I cannot let it, especially
in front of this human.

Though I do not have all the information I
need, I have enough: a name for the monster, a description, and a
possible weakness. The only reasonable course of action is to
return to Kristakai.

So I release my mental grip, feeling his
will slide from my grasp. The man exhales sharply, as if he hasn’t
breathed this entire time. Letting him go does nothing to restore
my strength, however; being away from my homeland must be taking
its toll.

But I’ll return soon enough. Now that I have
what I need, I embrace the flames from the man’s campfire and meld
into them, then reach out in search of another fire, one within the
borders of Kristakai.

Any trace of the
weakness I felt while outside Kristakai is gone
now. It lingered for a few minutes after I transported myself back,
emerging from a torch burning near a gathering of nymphs, all of
whom were cowering in a cave and waiting for the unicorns to tell
them what to do. If I hadn’t been so tired, I would have chastised
them for their cowardice. Instead, I simply left in
silence.

Thankfully, it only took a few minutes for
the weariness to vanish. I suppose I wasn’t outside of the borders
for very long.

And then I came here, traveling by fire to
the heart of Kristakai’s vast library. The lantern’s flames are
caged by twisting gold metal, and though it must look elegant
ordinarily, being inside it is unnerving. I move to escape, passing
through the bars as flames, then transform back into my usual self
once I’m outside.

Though I’m fairly certain the information I
extracted from the human was correct, I have to make sure. After
all, that was my first time using my powers, and, strong and
certain as I felt, I was still guessing. The last thing I want is
to confront the monster, only to discover too late that the human
was wrong about its identity or weakness. But I must be quick;
every moment that passes is another chance for it to strike
again.

The silver moonlight barely trickles through
the library’s ceiling of full-bodied leaves, and most of the light
comes from lanterns like the one I traveled through. The rough
trunks of thick, towering trees surround me, their branches weaving
into natural shelves for the multitudes of tomes. Spines of brown
and red and black and green greet me from every direction, adorned
with glittering metallic titles.

Most of the library stands haphazardly, with
shelves facing every which way—a consequence of letting the trees
decide for themselves which branches to lend to storing books.
Sometimes, one finds oneself squeezing between shelves so close
together, a fairy would find the space claustrophobic. Other times,
one finds oneself searching for a title down a particular row, only
to end up at a dead end, with the continuation of the alphabet in
an altogether random location. Only the trees know precisely where
each tome lies, and they’ll only tell you if they’re in the
mood—and if you’re attuned enough to hear what they’re saying.

They never speak to me, though. Wood fears
fire, and no matter how many times I’ve tried to tell them that I
only burn what I wish to—and that I’d never wish to burn them—they
remain silent. But they love Kiri; they adore the whispering wind
that plays subtly with their softest blossoms. So if there is a
book in here that talks about the thlakeen, I need her to ask them
to find it. I only hope she’s still here, that she hasn’t gone into
hiding … or been attacked while I was away.

Sudden alarm grips me. I hadn’t thought too
much about the monster finding her, but now…

“
Kiri!
” I rush between random shelves, which zig and zag before me.
“Where are you?” To help her spot me, I change my hair to its flame
form, letting it blaze behind my head. I can sense the trees
recoiling, turning their branches away from me best they can
without disturbing the shelves. The movements are slight, but I
feel it in my bones, and scowl. “Kiri!”

Before I can call a third time, she appears
from behind a bookshelf ahead. The lanterns, lit with enchanted
fire and suspended in the air by the unicorns’ spells, flood her
pale skin and hair with their yellow light, making her look like a
golden statue clothed in an odd shade of blue. The book she
clutches with both hands looks heavy enough to break her slender
arms.

“
I’m here!” She approaches,
her steps awkward from lugging the large tome.

I exhale, both relieved that she’s all right
and glad that I found her so fast.

“
Did you learn anything?”
she asks.

“
Yes.” I rush toward her,
breathless with excitement. “The creature is called a thlakeen—have
you read anything about that?”

Kiri frowns. “I haven’t, but then again,
I’ve barely begun looking.” She nods down at her book. “This
bestiary supposedly lists every Infernal beast ever encountered by
a Terrestrial being up until the end of the Age of Unicorns. I’d
only read the first ten pages when I heard you calling me.”

“
Let’s have a look, then.
The thlakeen must be in there.” The sooner I can confirm that what
the human told me was correct, the sooner I can search for the
creature and end it.

Kiri knits her brows. “Elaia, where did you
hear of this … thlakeen?”

I hesitate, but the excitement bubbling
through my veins demands that I tell someone of my triumph.
Besides, I don’t have time to come up with a plausible lie—or think
of ways to uphold it if she starts questioning me. Sometimes, the
truth is simply faster.

After glancing around to make sure we’re
alone, I lean toward her. “I ventured outside Kristakai.” My
whisper is so soft, I can barely hear it myself.

Kiri eyes become blue
saucers as she stares at me. “You did
what
?”

“
Sh!
” I cast my gaze about the shelves, but see only trees and
books. Gripping her shoulder, I pull her close. “You can’t tell
anyone what I did. Cyim would never understand… This has to be
between you and me. Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

She tries to look away, but I follow her
gaze with mine, making sure she’ll feel my glare. She purses her
lips, then nods. “Of course.”

I smile. One of the best parts about her
being in love with me is that she’ll do anything I say. Perhaps
this is why I remain by her side, even when I know that this
romance will ultimately lead nowhere.

And it’s why I’m not afraid to tell her what
happened. “I did something incredible tonight,” I say.

As I recount my brief adventure, Kiri’s
expression flickers between fascination and horror. I can tell she
disapproves of the way I commanded that man, which I find odd,
since Ronym Kah was an inconsequential bandit and my actions
yielded the information that could save our home. It frustrates me
that she doesn’t seem to understand, and I briefly wonder if I
should have lied after all. Will she turn against me because of
this? Refuse to help me … or tell the unicorns what I did?

But she says nothing, and even after I
finish, she remains silent for several moments.

Slouching over the heavy book, which must be
taking its toll, she crinkles her brow. “No wonder the humans fear
us so.”

“
I thought the same thing,”
I reply.

She straightens abruptly, as if struck by
the sudden need to run. “We should tell the unicorns what you
discovered about the monster.”

“
Not yet! I want to be sure
first.” Also, I don’t want to tell them
how
I found this information.
They’re not nearly as impressionable as Kiri, and while I do not
fear their punishment, I have no desire to face it,
either.

And if the thlakeen is mentioned in the
book—and not just a human imagining—then it means Cyim and the
other unicorns are already aware of its existence. Because they
know everything the library contains. And that means they could
have figured out that it was a thlakeen that invaded Kristakai
based on the same clues I did—and probably other signs they gleaned
through their magic. And simply refused to tell me.

Whatever the case, I need to know if this is
truly the creature we seek before I go any further. I gesture at
the book. “Check the bestiary.”

Kiri gives me a skeptical look, then sets
the book on the grassy floor, which is enchanted to be devoid of
moisture, yet still lush to the touch. I crouch beside her and look
over her shoulder as she leafs through the pages, which lists
creatures in alphabetical order. She moves so quickly, both her
fingers and the words blur before my eyes, and I wonder how she’s
able to read them so rapidly. Still, even though I know she’s
moving as fast as she can—faster than I probably could—each second
feels like one moment too long.