Flying Without Wings

Kent didn’t just frequent the Woodeared Inn Bear has seen him at, he lived above it. His apartment was dark and full of books on alchemy and vials filled with pungent smokes. He was the pseudo-scientist that created the smoke that twisted and twirled into people’s eyes, noses and mouths, to the achievement of many affects. His father had taught him at a very young age how to create potions that would affect the Angha, but Kent had taught himself how to create potions that would control people and most importantly, what smoke he had to inhale to control himself.

Today was the day he had been born and raised to live. He was told since he could remember of a prophecy, of a prophecy that his father and all the Zimrugh Saviors he had met had feared, but he had always anticipated. That prophecy was a tale of love and freedom, feelings Kent new nothing about. It was foretold that the day the grandson of the Chao fell in love with a blonde westerner an Angha would come to them. This Angha would be half back, half white, half his, half hers and would bring peace and freedom to the Angha Soldiers that had lost their way and lost their soles. This Angha would protect his two humans and they would protect him. As long as one of the 3 survived the other two would as well, they would form a bond never seen before by Angha Soldiers of Zimrugh Saviors. If one of the two humans strayed from the righteous path then their bond would be broken. Only then will they die, only then will the Angha Soldiers truly fall.

Dr Salem never believed a bond could be broken between an Angha and his human, but Kent, never having experienced the power of Angha himself, believed it could, especially with the aid or his concoctions. He had known the moment that he first laid eyes on Bea, Bastian and Marvillo that they were the trio from the prophecy. Bastian with his tan skin and smooth face, Beatrice with her long blonde her and big brown eyes that were always watching Bastian and Marvillo, and the black and white Schnauzer that hovered over them both. He knew, just as Audrey had when she saw them on the tram, just like Zenasia had when she heard news of a trio and of course - before anyone else had known - just as Humphrey had known when he first saw Beatrice sneaking out the front door of Bastian’s house after their first night together. Humphrey had known Bastian’s grandfather and always knew Bastian could be the boy in the prophecy. He was half Chinese and had the soul any Angha would want to bond too. He had watched Bastian and Bea fall in love over the course of a year. When they had moved in together, he waited just one more month before delivering Marvillo to their door. He had found Marvillo in the drains one night near the street of Bastian and Bea. When the black and white fuzz ball cried out in those drains and flew into Humphreys arms there was not a shadow of doubt left in his mind. The sleek black leathery wings had been the stamp that sealed their fate. Bastian had acted naïve when Marvillo arrived at their doorstep just a few months before, and acted surprised at all the adventures that followed, he never let Bea know he was part of the Angha world and always had been. He too had been taught by his father and his father’s father about Angha and was told that someone in their bloodline was to free all the Angha’s. He was an Angha Soldier from birth just as Kent was a Zimrugh Savior from birth. It was in Bastian’s blood but he didn’t know it was he that would be the Soldier to save them all. He had wanted to tell Bea some many times but couldn’t risk her pretending to love him for glory or worse, leaving him in case she thought he was mad. But when she first saw Marvillo her eyes lit up, she too was bound for this moment. Every second since then was proof that she was the blonde that would save the Angha and be Bastian’s forever.

Bastian thought of Bea as he lay chained to the roof of the pub. His eyes were swollen shut and he could barely breathe. Each short sharp breathe he took painfully expanded his cracked ribs, but he wasn’t wincing for himself, he knew each breath he took would be hurting Marvillo as well and he could only hope that it wasn’t affecting Bea too, no one really knew how close their bond was and if he was now bonded to Bea as he was bonded to Marvillo the pain could be shared by three. He had always been prepared to bond with an Angha, but not to be bound to another person with such an intense love, he didn’t know he had enough in him to bond to both. It was unheard of, impossible even, for an Angha to truly choose two humans. Part of him hoped that Marvillo had chosen Bea and he was only along for the ride, if only to spare them from the pain. But he knew this wasn’t true. Marvillo was his, an extension of himself and would be feeling each cracked rib and each rasping breathe.

Bastian struggled to move his hands but they were fastened to his sides. Kent had blown an intense, royal blue smoke into his face and dragged his limp body down the steps of number 36 Hyacinth Street. The smoke had almost been beautiful in the few seconds he saw it coming towards him before his eyes swelled shut. Within seconds he had felt paralysis coming on and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. There was no fight in him, but Kent had given him a good beating on the rooftop anyway. He slowly moved each of his limbs to make sure they worked. His ribs seemed to be the only bones that were broken – every other part was just aching and bruised. Rain started to fall heavily on Bastian. Big fat drops fell onto his face and clothes, he tried to turn his face away from the wet droplets but there was no escaping them. This day could not get any worse, but then the sting in his eyes started to ease, each cool globule that hit his tanned eyelids brought a little bit of relief. The rain was affecting the intoxicating blue smoke. He dared to try and open his eyes again. His eyelids slowly slid apart and he blinked a few times. The rooftop of the pub swam into view and he carefully sat up. Large dark stone bricks surrounded him, the roof top was circular and no bigger than 5 meters across. He looked down to his bloodied hands and smiled, knowing he must have fought back even in his hazy state. He tried to twist his hands free from the silver shackles but there was no way he could wrench his hands free, well not without breaking every finger as he did. He looked around him for an implement to free himself with but there was nothing within grasp. The rooftop was bare and there was only one entry to the tower. An old black rusted door that was warped and barely shut. Bastian could hear chatter and clinking oozing through the door from the pub below. He thought of shouting for help but was sure Kent would be sitting near the door ready to pounce.

Downstairs Kent drained his ale and glared out the grimy windows of the pub. His blood boiled as he saw the rain starting to belt down, he knew that the rain would be undoing the power or his smoke, he was sure it was healing Bastian’s body right now. It was one part of his poisons that he could never alter, no matter how many times he changed the formula or how strong it was, the power was always undone by the falling rain, not water just rain. He knew he should have locked Bastian in his room but he just couldn’t resist making him suffer just a bit longer on the roof top. Kent looked to the door, he was sure Bear would have come by now, even if alone. Maybe he had judged Bear wrong, like everyone else had. Maybe Bear wasn’t the loyal soldier he had always portrayed to be and had grabbed Ruby and ran the moment he discovered her in the caves. He could feel rage building up inside him, he hadn’t take taken his own daily dose of smoke today and was having trouble keeping his cool. His father had make him inhale a shimmering smoke daily, it was his medicine, to help him think straight, he had learnt how to prepare it himself before Dr Salem was locked up, but he didn’t always take it, sometimes he forgot, and sometimes it was just for fun. Today however he did wish he had taken it, maybe he would have locked Bastian in his own room, it would have been the smarter choice. Regardless it didn’t matter now, he didn’t have time to waste waiting for lazy men who didn’t know which side they were on. Kent ordered and downed a shot of rum and rose quickly. “I’ll be right back Freddy,” he shouted to the skinny bar keep who nodded in response. Kent gripped the dagger he always had in the back of his trousers and started to climb the steps to the tower. His anger grew with each creaky step he took. He was tired of waiting; he had waited for 37 years for the chosen trio to come to house number 36. He had put up with being a henchmen, with working for Zenasia, with following orders when he knew he was above all of them. He had to hide who he was and sacrifice years to play the game his father had begun. Every day was all part of a plan, but now he didn’t want to wait any longer, he was desperate to speed up the release of his father, mainly so he could take his own life back. Killing Bastian would speed things up, his father had ordered him not too, and said he wouldn’t be able too, but why wouldn’t one man be able to kill another? It happened every day, murder, and he had certainly murdered before. He climbed the last steps and feeling slightly drunk started to fumble with the chain to the door. That last shot of rum had gone straight to his head and he struggled with the padlock. He dropped the key several times, his head started to swim and each time he bent down for the brass key he felt like he was going to be sick. His fat fingers gripped the key again and he hung limp upside down for a few seconds trying to catch his breathe. Bastian could hear him struggling with the door and tried again in vain to free himself from the cuffs. The metal cut into his hands and he cried out in pain then gave up. He looked up to the sky and hoped someone, something would come to him. Just on the other side of the door Kent hunched over, sick to his stomach – he hadn’t drunk that much had he? He slowly opened his eyes and looked between his legs, Freddy’s red hair came swimming up to view, he was coming up the stairs and then it clicked, he never trusted the guy, of course he must be an Angha Soldier. Freddy was always watching him and seemed only too pleased when had asked for the apartment above. Kent just assumed no one else wanted a room above a pub, but the sickness in his stomach could only be that of poison, and he knew poisons. Kent crouched down in the shadow of the hall and kicked at Freddy as soon as he was in reach. Freddy fell back down the stairs with a crunch. The wave of realisation that Freddy must be an Angha Soldier was sobering and Kent unlocked the door and burst onto the roof top. There was nothing Bastian could do but watch as Kent ran across the roof and threw his big body onto him, Bastian felt a sharp pain as Kent plunged his blade into his torte torso and he cried out, it was the most incredible pain he had ever felt and Kent’s entire body weight forced the blade deeper into his gut. Bastian only thought of Marvillo as the blood started to flow over his stomach. He looked Kent in the eye, determined not to be weak. Kent had a crazed look about him, he sat up puffing and wrenched the knife from Bastian’s stomach. He lifted the bloodied blade high in the sky ready to drive it into Bastian again, this time he would aim for the heart. Dazed Bastian looked past Kent, determined for Kent’s ugly face not to be the last thing he saw before death. Behind Kent’s head Bastian saw a flash of red hair and for a second thought Audrey had come to the rescue, then he saw a paling smash into the side of Kent’s weathered face. A loud crack sounded and Kent’s jaw unhinged as he feel sideways unconscious, Freddy wrenched the knife out of Kent’s hands and looked into Bastian’s eyes.

“For the Angha Soldiers mate.” He said in a thick English accent and drove Kent’s own knife deep into his chest.