Wings of Tavea

Chapter ELEVEN

Exceptions


DRALAZAR THREW THE LATEST book he had been searching through across the room. It slammed into the wall with a thud before sliding down to the pile of books below it. Growling, he summoned another from the bookshelves. They were all covered with dust, some of the pages faded almost beyond recognition. Eleana had blocked the old magic thousands of years ago. There had been no need for them until now.

There had to be a way to undo the magic Eleana had infused Emane’s snake with. There is always an exception, always. But he had been looking for weeks and had yet to find it. Grimly, he looked back to his hand, eyeing the damage. Setting the book on his lap he reached with one finger, pulling his sleeve up. His mouth tightened. The track marks were red and angry and nearly to his shoulder. It was spreading, this curse of Eleana’s, destroying his magic one inch at a time. He didn’t know how much longer he had before it took it all. He shoved his sleeve back down with a hiss, grabbing the book off his lap.

The loud snick of each page as he flipped through the book kept him focused on the task at hand, so he didn’t give into his anger and light the useless pile of material on fire. He flipped past a page, paused, slowly turned back to it. Carefully he read over the text. Infusing objects with magical protection. He jerked up, scooting to the edge of his seat as he read. This was it, the spell Eleana had used.

The spell was complex. Not the incantation, but the amount of magic it required. Eleana would have been in a weakened state for a day or so afterward. That would have been useful had he known. Reaching the end of the page he read, and then reread it, before throwing the book across the room.

He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, listening to the repeated clink of his metal ring against the wood. Faster and faster he drummed, as the anger bubbled up inside him. Raynor! He mentally shouted. He could feel the Pegasus making his way down the hall into the library.

Yes, my Lord? the black Pegasus thought as he entered the room.

Dralazar flung his arm to the side, sending the pile of discarded texts flying into the air. “Do you know what I have been looking for?” Dralazar bellowed over the sound of ripping pages and the slamming of books into walls and floors. “A cure for this,” he said, holding up his hand. “Apparently, I need the magic to be reversed by the owner of the magical piece. Which is a problem, because the owner of the magical piece has no magic.” The pages of the books tore themselves from their bindings, sending white and beige parchment fluttering to the ground. “I need to find Eleana now!”

My Lord, the old magic is specific in its instructions. If it says—

“I know what it says,” Dralazar snapped. Turning, he flipped his cloak behind him as he strode across the room. “Do you know who Kiora is, Raynor?”

My Lord?

“She is the Solus, Raynor. The Solus.”

Raynor’s head turned to the side. The Solus? For . . . The Pegasus trailed off as he looked towards the cave’s exit, the exit that opened to the mountain pass.

“Yes! She is the reason I blocked us off from the rest of the world in the first place. To keep the Solus from interrupting my plans in Meros, to keep it under my control, to keep evil here.” He whirled on Raynor. “And then, and then—” he yelled, “she is born inside the gate. Away from the world she was supposed to save, raised in a world free of evil. Which happened to be the perfect breeding ground. And Eleana—” He breathed through his nose. “She knew, she knew Kiora was the Solus and she tricked me into opening the damn gate.”

We have to stop her, Raynor thought.

Dralazar chuckled, twirling his ring on his finger. “We have to stop her.” Dralazar crossed the room in a few steps, staring down the Pegasus. “I know we have to stop her. But how?” he hissed, spreading his arms wide in sarcastic questioning. “How exactly? She is already through the gates. The prophecy has already begun to unfold. And I am losing more magic everyday. I can not do anything until I am healed of this.” He shoved his hand under the Pegasus’ nose. “We are running out of time.”

The Pegasus eyed the injury, looking slowly up to meet his master’s gaze.

You need to be healed, Raynor thought deliberately.

“Yes, I need . . .” Dralazar trailed off, his arm dropping back to his side. “He can heal,” he murmured, his eyes darting around the room. “The bloody Witow can heal.”

* * *

IT WAS DARK BEFORE Arturo dropped Kiora off. He landed a ways from the entrance, and Kiora watched from underneath her bubble as he flew higher and higher, his thread growing weaker until she finally lost it. She had tried to convince Arturo to stay, but he said being underground was unnatural. She missed him already. Trudging back, she slowly made her way through the cave. Alcander was at the bottom of the canyon, waiting for her.

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“I just needed some time,” she said.

“You needed some time,” Alcander repeated while nodding. “I see. Thanks to you, Emane and I were nearly killed.”

“Thanks to me?” Kiora bristled under his accusatory tone. “What are you talking about?”

“You left us standing on the battlefield with no way to get home,” he said coldly, pointing at Kiora. “While you went off to cry.”

She swiped at his pointed finger. “You had your fox, and you can bubble.”

“Not as long as you. I barely made it home. The only reason I am standing here arguing with you is because that Witow of yours threw himself in front of an Aktoowa to save my life.”

Kiora softened. “He what?”

The tips of Alcander’s ears were flaming red. “You heard me, “ he snapped. “Emane saved my life.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, surprised he would admit a debt to Emane.

Alcander stared at her for a long moment before leaning in just inches from her face. “Because if you ever leave me on the battlefield again, you can find someone else to help you.”

Kiora blinked, stepping back. “Alcander . . .”

He interrupted, waving an impatient hand in front of her face. “Get some sleep,” he snapped. “It’s late.” He shouldered past her and headed up the path towards the bridge.