The Sorrow Anthology by Helen Allan

Author:Helen Allan [Allan, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780648303879
Publisher: Hell West Press
Published: 2019-09-18T06:00:00+00:00

7

Sorrow struggled in the net as the creature above her laughed. She was acutely aware that she was naked as the mesh dug into her skin and the cool cloud-filled air chilled her body.

Her captor laughed again.

“Don’t wriggle so, beautiful worm, I might crash, and then you will be screaming again, but for all the wrong reasons.”

Anger surged through Sorrow at the mention of screaming; anger and embarrassment. How long had he been flying above, watching what she and Judgement were doing on the riverbank?

“Who are you?” She shouted, “let me out.”

“All in good time,” he said, wheeling to the right and heading higher, towards the mountain tops.

She gripped the net and peered down, they must be several hundred feet in the air now. She held her breath, heights were not her forte. Looking up she realised the net was being held in claw-like feet, and above her, while he looked to have the body of a man, the creature had wings, huge, tawny-coloured wings.

“Are you a Winged One?” she shouted, hoping her voice could be heard above the wind, now rushing through her ears as he flew at great speed.

“Obviously.”

“An Angel?”

“No,” he laughed, “now shut up - I need to concentrate, ahead the eddies are strong.”

As he climbed, another flyer joined them and urged him to hurry. Sorrow could tell from its slighter build and higher pitched voice that it was a female. Her wings appeared black silhouetted against the sky, but her body looked distinctly human, apart from the feet.

“We must return before nightfall for the babe,” she screeched.

“We will, don’t panic,” he replied, “this one must go to the city first.”

“The wind will turn if we take too long.”

“Three hours tops, Krysta, stop panicking, just fly.”

The woman said nothing, and Sorrow felt the net rock violently as the wind battered her body. She gulped. If her life depended on this man/thing needing to concentrate on flying in wind, she was certainly not going to argue with that. She tried to sit still but squirmed as the net dug into her thighs and back, her teeth beginning to chatter as they neared the icy mountain top. She had no idea where the Winged lived, despite having ranged across much of the lower pasture land and forested reaches around the township over the past few months. She had surmised earlier that if indeed they existed, they must live some distance away. If it was, as the creature holding her suggested, three hours as the crow flies, then this would be at least two days walk from the town, perhaps more if they flew over mountains.

As she lay shivering, her captor continued to climb until they were soaring in the clouds over the mountains. Her chest began to constrict tightly, and her mind felt cloudy as the oxygen thinned to dangerous levels.

“I can’t breathe,” she tried to shout to him, her voice strained, weak.

“Nearly there,” he shouted back, his voice carried beyond them on the wind.

“If you mean to freeze

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