As We Fly

"The Antaam will rule Antiva. And Treviso will learn to kneel."

The voice was controlled, not calm. A baritone backed by gravel, practiced at shouting down subordinates. Now it echoed across tiled rooftops via magical projection, devices left by long-retreated empires. A daily, omnipresent drone of occupation. There was disappointment at the ease of it, from both oppressed and oppressor.

"My foot is raised, Treviso. I need not lower it. Obey."

"He's getting ahead of himself!" Neri de Acutis, silver-haired and wiry, raced the voice across the rooftop tiles. He leapt across the gap of an alleyway and made a swift turn as he landed, catching his ebony walking stick between the clay bricks of a chimney. A demonstration telegraphed by the embroidered heraldry on his leathers. He was an old Antivan Crow, descended from very nearly the oldest. "The Butcher taunts the nation, but here we are, greasing his foothold!"

"Watch your own steps, Neri," smirked Noa, his sister, as she caught up to him. She was equally wiry, just as silvered, and, by her tone, unimpressed. "We're not greasing anything if you fall into their arms." Her warning was punctuated by a clatter below as a half dozen shoulders muscled through a barricaded alley. "Fast for their size."

"Not fast enough," smiled Neri. "That's why there's time for flair."

"Kithtaam!" an Antaam, ashen-skinned and large even by their standards, bellowed into the narrow alley. His horns were nearly as wide as the passage and tipped in white and red paint, poisonous to the touch. He was no stranger to the two Crows: Kaathrata the Lash, well-known for his brutality since the taking of the city. Halted by his call, the rest of the Antaam cowered as he passed, clearly afraid of more than his rank. "They are running above, fools! Keep pace, or I flog the skin from your backs!"

Neri clicked his tongue. "No surprise the Butcher is cruel, if this is how his lieutenants treat their own."

"Warlords rule by fear," Noa said. "We know how to answer. Move!" As she leapt to the next roof, she tossed a loose clay tile over the roof, and it shattered deliberately at the feet of the Antaam.

"There!" sneered Kaathrata, his eyes on the shadows now flitting toward the city center. As he gave chase, he barked orders. "Gather a battalion behind me! You will watch as I run down my prey!"

Another half-hearted command filled the air. "Obedience will be rewarded, Treviso. We can lead, or we can crush."

"At least Kaathrata sounds like he enjoys it," Neri said, disappointed. "A villain who acts the part is more useful."

"We're out of rooftop," said Noa, not playing along. They had reached the end of the tightly packed mansions of central Treviso, with no more convenient tiles to leap across. Ahead was the steep drop to the canals and bridges that bordered the main market, a large communal square normally filled with merchants from across Antiva. Less so during the Antaam occupation and completely empty at this hour.

"Our friend is on our heels," said Neri. "Time to fly."

At the edge of the roof was a sturdy wooden post marked in black ink: the silhouette of a crow, wings spread. Hard to see if you didn't know to look for it, but very useful if you did. Anchored to the top of the post was a thin cable that continued into the twilight, angled down toward one of the bridges below.

Neri pulled a leather strap from his arm and wrapped it around the line. "Ready?"

"Always," Noa said, grasping his waist.

They kicked against the post and out into open air, sliding down the cable. Their combined weight made for a fast descent. They crossed the gap between mansion and stone bridge well ahead of the Antaam, but landed hard. Noa rolled into a ready crouch, while Neri struggled to find his feet, propping his cane beneath him.

"My knees are not what they once were," he grimaced.

"It's pronounced 'old.'"

"I am two years your junior."

"I was not remarking on the number."

"Behave, Treviso, and rewards will follow. You want me to remain generous."

"Well," said Noa, pulling her brother up, "shall we show them how we behave?" Neri nodded, and they rushed across the bridge.

But as they passed the large ornate portcullis at the market end, he appeared to stumble and dropped to one knee. Noa grabbed at his arm, but she couldn't seem to find purchase. They looked suddenly helpless, as though not just the Antaam but every one of their years had caught up to them.

Kaathrata reached the open end of the bridge and stared daggers at the two Crows. He smiled and signaled for his men to halt, making a show of raising his war hammer to his shoulder, emphasizing its weight. "Out of breath?" he called. "Or out of time, like your city. And soon, the world." He looked back, as though making sure his subordinates were watching, and then began to charge across the bridge. He laughed and raised his hammer high.

Neri and Noa watched from their side of the portcullis. A portcullis marked in black ink, with the small silhouette of a crow, wings spread. Hard to see if you didn't know to look, but very useful if you did. Equally hard to see were the two looped cables on the ground in front of them, the same sort of strong line that had just held their weight. But the ends of these cables were not anchored to a convenient rooftop. They trailed up to the top of the portcullis and wound in among the gears.

Noa counted Kaathrata's steps, measured his speed, and the instant the Antaam crossed below the portcullis, she kicked at the lever that held it aloft. Just a hair shy of perfect. As the iron gate dropped, the cables were pulled with it, whipping up from the ground. One caught Kaathrata's right arm, forcing his hammer back. The second snapped up and across his lower torso. There was a surprisingly quiet moment as Kaathrata's charge was halted. A silent instant before he could cry out, allowing the hollow sound of yielding bone to snap across the canals. The Lash was lashed.

Kaathrata gasped, the air forced from his lungs as he slammed back against the falling gate. His men ran up on the other side, their path blocked by the closing portcullis and their own swearing leader. "Lift it!" he yelled. "Hold it—"

The cables strained, cutting him off, digging into his ribs and threatening to raise him off his feet by a backward-twisting arm. Several hands grasped at the gate and managed to stop it from dropping completely. With a heave the Lash's men brought it to chest height, and their leader had his footing, though he was still bound.

Neri stood and casually straightened the leather on the arm that Noa had so dramatically grabbed.

Kaathrata glared. "A lie," he sneered. "The Crows are liars."

"Performers," corrected Noa. "There is a difference."

"So I am caught," said the Lash. "What do you think this will accomplish? Butcher Daathrata holds your city. And every kithtaam is headed by another as strong as me. And soon, stronger." He was chuckling, as if defiance could only be a joke. More of his men gathered on the other side of the bridge, several dozen nearing the gate, ready to fully raise it. "Whoever signed my name to your assassins' contract, they sent you on a fool's errand."

"You?" said Neri, cocking his head. "You're not the contract."

An explosion echoed through the city. Not within sight, not even close. It was at the gate where the Antaam were garrisoned. Where Kaathrata the Lash was garrisoned.

"You're the distraction," Noa finished.

The distant voice returned to the air, but now it seemed invested. Perhaps even excited. "Antaam! The Crows show their talons! Return to expel them! On my order!"

The Antaam rushing the bridge stopped, confused. They appeared worried about who to obey: their distant warlord or their bound lieutenant.

                "Go on, then," said Neri, waving them away dismissively. "You heard the Butcher!"

                "And you heard Kaathrata," added Noa. "There are others just as strong as him. And they are not the Lash!"

Her words caused a ripple among the Antaam. A release. He'd commanded through fear, and now it was gone. The Antaam next in rank, presumably next to take command, signaled for the rest to turn and follow. The ones holding the portcullis were the last to go. They looked at the Crows, at their bound leader, and they released their grip to join their fellows.

                "Cowards! Traitors!" bellowed Kaathrata. "I will see you flayed al—"

Heavy iron dropped, followed by Kaathrata's hammer, his arm no longer capable of holding it. He was dragged up until tight against the opening that allowed the cables to enter the workings of the portcullis. He strained against the gears, but every breath let the cables pull tighter. Gradually, inevitably, the gate met the ground. And Kaathrata the Lash was left raised where Crows could peck at his eyes.

Come the morning, so would the birds.

***

The day was bright, the market busy, and the café buzzing about the events of the night before.

"Did you hear—?"

"Did you see—?"

"They're still out there!"

"They're fighting for us!"

Neri and Noa de Acutis sipped amazzacaffe and let the excitement of the assembled Trevisans wash over them.

"Do you know who picked up the contract?" Noa asked.

"No," said Neri. "Another Crow, or a friend. Someone better at scaling walls." He patted his cane and took a drink. "A game for the young."

"The Butcher continues his daily droning," said Noa, stirring an alarming amount of sugar into her drink. "But we gave him pause. Half his strange weapons up in flames."

"He'll replace them, but not without effort." Neri sat back thoughtfully. "If we weaken the occupation, back the whole thing into a corner, when the Butcher's name is finally on the contract, there will be no pretenders to take his place."

"Pity,” said Noa, smiling across her drink. “I'd enjoy killing a few pretenders.”

Neri smiled back. "Noted. But until then, we craft our message to answer theirs." He raised his cup. "The Crows rule Antiva."

Noa answered with her own. "And Treviso will be free."