Wings of Tavea

Chapter TWELVE

The Domat


EMANE TRIED TO WAIT up for Kiora, but the battle had left him exhausted. As the hours passed he finally surrendered to sleep. It felt like he had barely closed his eyes before something was shaking him awake. Emane rolled over with a groan to see Lomay standing by the edge of his bed with his fingers to his lips.

“What is it?” Emane muttered, scrubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“I need to show you something,” the old man whispered. “But I don’t want to wake Kiora. She has not been asleep very long.”

Emane sat up. “Kiora’s back?”

“Yes. Arturo dropped her off an hour or so ago.”

“Is she all right?” he whispered, swinging his legs to the floor.

“I am sure she is fine,” Lomay assured him. “But we are running out of time. Are you coming?”

Emane hesitated before sliding his feet into his boots. “Why don’t we need Kiora?”

“She is exhausted, my boy,” Lomay said, clapping Emane on the back as he got to his feet. “And this is something I think you will appreciate. Come.”

Emane followed silently behind him, marveling at how soft Lomay’s footfalls were, hobble and all. He glanced at Kiora’s dark hair spread across her pillow, the white stripe of hair shinning in the light that slipped around the curtains. He wished he could stop and run his fingers through her hair without fear of being snapped with magic.

Once they were outside Lomay held out his hand, summoning a white stone. It was fairly large, filling the palm of his hand, and very smooth.

“A rock?” Emane asked wearily, looking down at the old man’s bright eyes. “You woke me up and dragged me out of bed to show me a rock?”

“Not really, no.” Lomay grinned. “But I do need you to hold it.”

Emane took a deep, calming breath to keep from saying something he’d regret. Lomay grabbed his hand and placed the rock in his palm. Emane jolted; he had expected the stone to be cool, but it wasn’t. It was warm, almost uncomfortably so.

“I have been saving this for a rainy day,” Lomay said, wrapping Emane’s fingers around it. “I had two at one point, but I am down to just the one. Now listen carefully, Emane, I need you to hold on tight. Do not, under any circumstances, let go of that rock. Do you understand?”

A nervous energy blossomed in his chest, and Emane glanced back at the house. “I think maybe we should get Kiora.”

The old man squeezed his hand. “Kiora is fine where she is. Do you understand what I told you?”

Something was nagging at Emane, perhaps Lomay’s insistence that Kiora not be involved. “Yes,” he said, “I understand, but—”

“And don’t let go of me.” He winked as he moved to Emane’s side, grabbing his other hand.

The next thing Emane knew his body was an inferno. It burned from the top of his head to his toes. The world blurred before him, white and hot. He closed his eyes and arched his back against the pain. He could feel the pressure of Lomay’s hand in his left hand and the rock in his right. But that pressure was pleasant compared to the other pressure building against him. It felt like bricks were being stacked on his chest, one by one. It was getting hard to breath and then—it was gone.

Gasping, Emane dropped to his knees, not realizing he had pulled Lomay with him.

“It’s all right, my boy, you can let go now.” Lomay chuckled, extracting his hand and pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. The old man stumbled forward a few steps before regaining his balance.

“What was that?” Emane breathed, staring at the wooden-planked floor. He blinked and leaped to his feet. They had been outside just a moment ago but now they were in a house. “Where am I?” he asked, spinning in a circle. There was a couch, a chair, and a rug on the floor. The embers in the fireplace glowed red.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” Lomay said, lowering himself into the rocking chair near the fireplace.

“How did we get here?” Emane opened his hands to look at the rock, but there was nothing left but a pile of ash that sifted through his fingers and onto the floor.

“With that.” Lomay nodded to the ash. “A very special rock. It allowed you to materialize with me. We are almost back where you began, west of where you came through the pass,” Lomay explained.

Emane looked around, searching for anything of significance. “Why are we here?”

“There is someone I would like you to meet,” he said. “Drem, could you please join us?” Lomay called out.

Emane turned to the only doorway leading into the main room. A small dark-skinned man walked through. He was maybe three feet tall, and so thin his arms and legs looked like twigs on a sapling. His head was larger than it should have been, his ears sticking out from his head like saucers. His skin was wrinkled, his black hair turning white around the ears. The man stopped a few steps into the room, evaluating Emane before crossing his arms.

“Well, well, Lomay,” Drem said, his voice deep and gravely. “You finally found what you were looking for after all these years. I didn’t know if my lifespan would be long enough for your little plan.”

Emane could not help a quick glance at his amulet—it was amber.

Lomay ignored him completely. “Drem, this is Emane. Emane, this is Drem. I know you can’t feel tell by his thread, but you and Drem have quite a lot in common,” he said as Drem walked past Emane to sit on the couch. “You both lack magic.”

“A Witow. You are a Witow?” Emane asked.

Drem grinned at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

Lomay stood, smoothing out his robes. “Well, I am sure you two have a lot to talk about. I will see you shortly.” He nodded to Emane before vanishing.

Emane looked to Drem, and back to where Lomay had been standing a minute earlier. “Where did he go?”

“You didn’t actually think he was bringing you back with him, did you?”

* * *

KIORA AWOKE TO LOMAY sitting at the foot of her bed.

“Lomay,” she said, sitting up. “What is the matter?”

Lomay sighed deeply. As he exhaled he drooped forward, his back bowing. “I have done something, and I do not think you will like it.”

“What have you done?” Kiora asked suspiciously.

“I cannot properly teach Emane how to use the magic Eleana has given him.”

“Why not? Eleana was teaching him before we left.”

“Eleana was doing her best,” he nodded, his hair bobbing up and down. “But it was insufficient. That kind of magic does not react the way yours or mine does. His healing works because it is so closely connected to his emotions. But the other abilities Emane has are hampered by our inability to describe how to use them.” Lomay sat straighter but still would not look at her. “Sixty years ago a Witow was born. I had a vision of his birth and was waiting as his mother realized what he was. I took the child and hid it away for his own safety.” Lomay stopped before amending. “And for my own purposes.” He rolled his walking stick in a small circle on the floor as Kiora’s apprehension grew. His demeanor was so different than usual, and she bit her tongue to prevent herself from demanding what he had done.

“I knew Emane would be a Witow,” Lomay finally continued. “I had seen it. And I had seen his armband. I suspected what it was. I fashioned this Witow something of a similar idea, although nothing as secure as what Eleana managed to come up with. This Witow, Drem, has spent his life learning how to harness the gift I gave him. I gave him only one condition when I bestowed him with magic—that he teach the Protector.” Lomay finally turned to look at her. “I dropped Emane off there a few hours ago.”

“You what?” Kiora’s eyes darted around the room. She reached out for Emane’s thread, trying to understand what was happening. He wasn’t in the camp. Emane was gone; he had left her. “Emane agreed to leave?” she asked.

“No.” Lomay cleared his throat. “I tricked him. And then I left him there.”

Kiora jumped out of bed. “Lomay!” Lomay’s eyes were still on the ground, refusing to look at her. “How could you?” Kiora’s hands were shaking, and she knotted them in the sides of her shirt. “He is my Protector . . . he . . . oh, no,” she groaned grabbing the sides of her head. “He will be furious. We have to get him.”

“No,” Lomay said firmly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “He has to stay.” Lomay stood, leaning his walking stick against the bed. He placed one hand on each of Kiora’s shoulders. “I knew neither of you would agree to this. Our timetable has been moved up—the Shadow knows you are here. I do not know how much longer we have before the battle. If you and Emane are to survive, you must have the training you need. Your training lies here. Emane’s does not.”

Kiora hesitated and Lomay saw it. “Listen to your feelings, Kiora,” Lomay said, patting her shoulders before stepping back. “You know I am right.”

Kiora turned away, crossing her arms. Emane did need to know how to use his gifts. He had his healing, and he was getting better at using magic to enhance his abilities with weapons. But if someone could teach him how to use his magic, really use it . . . Kiora wavered. She had tried to ignore how vulnerable Emane was here because there was nothing she could do about it. Although she was still fuming about Lomay’s methods, he was right. “How long?” she asked.

“A week, maybe more. Just long enough for him to understand the basics. Then we should be able to bring him here to practice.”

“Why couldn’t you just bring the other Witow here?” Kiora demanded, turning back to face him.

“As I said, Drem’s magical piece is not nearly as secure as Emane’s. I do not want the Shifters to get their hands on it. Especially after yesterday.”

Kiora sank back to the bed. “I am still not clear on what happened yesterday. Alcander let me know I almost got them killed,” she said, trying to ignore the stab of guilt she felt. “But that was all.”

Lomay relayed the Shifter’s attack and Emane’s heroics. “The Shifter should never have made it out of the cave with his intentions.” Lomay cleared his throat again, his eyes moving back to the floor.

“What?” she asked. “What else is there?”

“I have asked Drustan to live with the Shifters for now, under the guise of being a

slave, to see what he can discover.”

“Guise?” Kiora bristled.

“You have so little faith in me? I gave Drustan my word.”

“I do not know you very well, and you just stole Emane away in the middle of the night without a word to any of us.”

“Ahh,” Lomay nodded. “But you have your feelings, your instincts. You, after all, are the one who told Drustan to trust me in the first place.”

“And if I was wrong?” Kiora asked weakly.

“Never question your instincts. It is in the questioning where you get lost.” He raised an eyebrow, making sure she understood before continuing. “Now to put your mind at ease, Drustan has agreed to do some work for me. I was very concerned with what happened yesterday. The Shifter should never have been able to make it that far, his intentions being what they were.”

“And Drustan agreed? Or did you trick him too?”

Lomay smiled grimly. “I deserved that. Surprisingly enough, Drustan agreed. His task will not be easy. They are bound to be suspicious of him, but he was worried about both you and Emane’s safety if the Shifters learn how to bypass the terms of their contract.”

Kiora stared at him for a long while before dropping her head into her hands. “Fine,” she agreed. She could almost hear Emane’s protests in her head. “What training did you have mind for me?” she asked. “I have the book Epona sent with me.”

“Although useful, you need help in other areas which need to be addressed. Alcander has agreed to train you in battle techniques, amongst other things.”

Kiora groaned inwardly. After last night she didn’t want to see Alcander for a while.

“When do we start?”

“Alcander was probably ready yesterday, so as soon as you can would be my guess. He can be quite impatient.” Lomay smiled at her before turning to go.

“Lomay?”

“Yes?”

“I want to be able to trust you. I need to be able to trust you. No more lies, no more tricks.”

Lomay evaluated her. “Perhaps I underestimated you.” He dipped his head. “You have my apologies, and my word.”

“Thank you.”

Lomay summoned a pile of strange black clothes to the bed. “You will need these for your training.”

Kiora sat there, worry picking her apart as Lomay closed the door behind him. She was worried about Emane—his state of mind more than anything—and worried about Drustan.

Emane? She called to him, without much hope he would answer. Emane? She waited, but heard nothing. Wherever Lomay took him, he was out of range for calling.

It wasn’t long before she felt Alcander’s thread approaching the house. She forced herself to take a deep breath. She would have to push it all away. She could not spend this time worrying about the others. There was so much to learn and she needed to focus. Emane will be fine, she told herself. He’ll be mad, but fine. And Drustan is right here. If there was any trouble she could help him.

Taking another deep breath she stood, neatly tucking her worries away. She picked up the pants from the pile on the bed. These pants were a material she was not familiar with. They were thick, black, shiny, and slippery to the touch. She had to jump and wiggle to get herself into them. They were the tightest things she had ever worn in her life, the fabric hugging her legs and hips like a second skin. “You have got to be kidding me,” she murmured, looking down at herself. She felt half naked. Picking up her shirt she groaned. It was made out of the same material and was just as snug as the pants. Sliding her feet into a soft, lightweight pair of shoes, she slowly peeked out the door, too embarrassed to walk out.

Alcander was outside leaning against a tree. “You’re late,” he said.

“I didn’t know there was a time.” Kiora noticed Alcander wore a matching outfit. Just as tight. She could see the ridges of his stomach and the swells of his biceps. Blushing, she quickly looked away. “Why are we wearing these ridiculous clothes?”

“They are not ridiculous, they are practical. Now let’s go.”

Kiora opened the door and stepped out. Alcander’s eyes lazily flicked down, then slowly returned to her face. Kiora no longer felt half naked—she felt completely exposed.

“Those fit nicely.”

“They’re tight.” Kiora squirmed, pulling at her shirt.

“Of course they are. Loose clothing is dangerous.”

“You didn’t wear this when we fought the Trackers,” she objected.

“This is for training. Stop whining and let’s go.”

Kiora grumbled but followed Alcander back up the path to the wooden bridge. As they approached her nerves kicked in.

Alcander turned abruptly. “First lesson. You will learn to cross this bridge without crying like a girl.”

Kiora’s temper flared. This much anger was new to her, and she had trouble controlling it. “A bridge? You are worried about me crossing a bridge?” she yelled.

“Yes, you need to conquer your fear.”

“My fear! My fear is that—”

“What?” Alcander demanded.

Kiora clenched her teeth. She was supposed to be training, learning how to defeat something the entire world had not been able to defeat for thousands of years. And here they stood at the bridge. “Nothing.” She was not about to pour her soul out to him. “How would you like me to cross this bridge?”

“I want you to cross this bridge like it doesn’t scare you.” Kiora took one shaky step forward before Alcander yanked her back by her collar. “No,” he barked. “I said, like you’re not afraid.”

Kiora bit her lip to keep from yelling again and took another step forward. This one was firm and steady. The next one shook uncontrollably. Alcander reached to grab her again and Kiora whirled on him, swatting his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped. “I can try again without you yanking me back like I was a dog.” She took two steps back and tried again. I am not afraid, I am not afraid, I am not afraid. Kiora repeated the mantra over and over again in her head. She almost believed it.

Her steps were strong and sure until she took the first step onto the wooden plank. It swayed and she had to grasp onto the rope sides to keep from losing her balance. Straightening, Kiora went back to her mental encouragement. I am not afraid, I am not going to get hurt, I am not afraid. Each statement was accompanied by a step; each step brought her closer to the other side. I am not afraid, I am not afraid. I crossed a bridge just like this once for Emane. Kiora remembered running across the bridge at the colony, following Emane up to his room after he had received his armband. All she had thought of was him and how much he needed her.

In her mind’s eye she pictured Emane on the opposite side of the canyon waiting for her. Putting all her concentration on that image she pushed herself forward. Before she knew it, her feet had landed again on solid rock and the breath she had been holding rushed out.

Alcander was right behind. “You did that faster than I expected.”

“I get that a lot,” Kiora said before turning to look Alcander in the eye. “And it had nothing to do with you or your superb method of tutoring.”

“Noted. Follow me.”

Alcander walked them back into the cave and took a sharp right into a tunnel so black and narrow that Kiora had not noticed it on any of her trips coming or going. She squeezed herself through, forced to shimmy sideways in places. They stumbled through the dark for a few minutes before she felt the cavern widen.

“Light, please,” Alcander commanded.

“Can’t you do it?”

“I am not in training here, Kiora.”

Alcander was even colder than usual, his tone clipped and harsh. Much like the first time she had met him. And he had every right to be, she thought. She had left them on the field and they had nearly been killed. “I am sorry about yesterday,” she said, opening her hand and willing light. A moment later a blue fire twinkled blue in her palm, lighting but not burning. “I should have stayed, or asked if you would be all right or . . .”

His shoulders tightened for a second, but then he moved on as if she hadn’t said anything. “If you wouldn’t mind lighting the torches, we will begin.”