Wings of Tavea

Chapter SIXTEEN

Taken


EMANE HAD MADE ALMOST zero progress the day before and was exhausted. Both from attempted magic and lack of sleep. He found himself tossing and turning, worrying about Kiora. Not to mention the repeating nightmare where his weapons were ripped from him in the midst of battle. It always ended with him lying on the ground, reaching for his sword while a Tavean ripped his heart out. Grunting, he rolled his legs off the lumpy couch to find Drem watching him from the table.

“Rough night?”

Emane scrubbed his hands over his face before pushing his hair back. “Yes.”

“You love her?”

“Who?”

“Kiora. You mumbled her name throughout the night.”

Pushing to his feet Emane made his way to the table, grabbing another one of the strange fruits from yesterday. He turned it over in his hand, then admitted, “I do.”

“Hmmm,” Drem mused.

“What?” Emane demanded, sitting down and propping his feet on one of the extra chairs. “You don’t think I’m good enough for her either?”

“I don’t believe I know either of you well enough to make that judgment.”

“Then what?”

Drem leaned back, looking at him through curious eyes. “How old do I look to you?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Fifty, fifty-five?”

“Sixty-one. How old does Lomay look to you?”

Emane chewed thoughtfully. “Older. Eighty maybe?”

“So I look fifty-five and am sixty. Lomay looks eighty and is a few thousand years old.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you see the problem?”

Emane’s feet dropped to the floor with a bang. “You age normally because . . .” he trailed off, his tongue growing thick with an unwillingness to finish.

“Because I am a Witow. Yes. Kiora, on the other hand, is no doubt very powerful. In which case—”

Emane jerked himself out of the chair, sending it clattering to the floor behind him.

“I am sorry,” Drem said, averting his eyes. “I just—”

“No,” Emane said, leaning down with a grunt to pull his chair upright. “I just . . . I need some fresh air. How far does the magical enclosure extend past the front door?”

“A few feet. As long as you stay close to the door, you should be fine.”

Emane fought the urge to run down the hill and slam his fist into a tree. Instead he slipped outside and leaned against the grassy hill that surrounded the doorframe. Sliding down, he threw his arms over his knees.

Had Kiora realized? Is that why she hadn’t been able to tell him she loved him too? Or did she not want to hurt him? Or maybe she hadn’t realized it either. The thoughts and questions rolled through his mind, each unanswered. Emane ripped a handful of grass out, throwing it as hard as he could into the breeze. Despite his anger, the grass did nothing but flutter gently to the ground.

He was staring down at the group camped at the base of the hill when a flurry of activity exploded. Taveans and others began spilling out from their tents, roaring. Emane looked around, panicked that somehow his thread had slipped out of the enclosure.

Drem’s head poked out the door. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Emane said, scrambling to his feet. “I didn’t go any further than this.”

The shouts from the bottom of the hill were growing louder, and some of the creatures moved away from the group, shifting into dragons.

A shadow blacked out the sun. Emane looked up at the bottom of a dragon belly. The dragon stretched his neck and looked down at the army as he flew over, exposing a scarred and ruined eye. “Soolan,” he breathed.

Drem glanced at the dragon and back to Emane. “You know that Shifter?”

“It’s not a Shifter, it’s a dragon.”

“Not possible,” Drem said, gripping the doorframe.

“Oh, it is. My arrow hit him in the eye.”

Drem looked at him appraisingly. “You took on a dragon and lived?”

“What is he doing here?” Emane muttered to himself.

The Shifters took to the sky in dragon form to intercept Soolan. Soolan flapped gently, hovering in the same place as the others approached. The next moment a bubble dropped, revealing a man and a girl sitting on the dragon’s back. The man held out one hand, pushing magic clean through two of the dragon-Shifters’ wings. The two Shifters plummeted back to earth as Soolan blew fire towards the other two. Their dragon hides prevented Soolan’s attack from doing damage, but it gave the man on his back enough time to turn and take out both their wings as well.

When the man turned, Emane finally saw his face. “Dralazar!” Emane looked over to Drem, whose mouth was hanging wide open, his ears pressing themselves flat against his head.

Dralazar’s voice came booming out, magically amplified over the valley. “You are looking for some threads that appeared in your land a short time ago. I believe I can help.”

Emane looked frantically at Drem. “What is he saying?”

Drem’s eyes were still fixed on the dragon.

Emane stepped in front of him, grabbing his shirt. “Drem! What is he saying? Can he help them?”

Drem blinked before looking at him. “Does he know your names?”

Emane nodded.

“Then yes, that is all he would need to allow them to scrye for you. It will show them anywhere you have been where you were not concealed.”

Emane’s mouth went dry, and his hands slipped from Drem’s shirt. He remembered one very important time when he stepped out of the boundary. He remembered Alcander snarling, He might as well have drawn evil a map.

“Lower your hands,” Dralazar commanded the stunned crowd of Taveans below them.

One Tavean stepped forward. His hair was jet black, his eyes so red Emane could see them from the hill. He yelled back, “If your information is not worthwhile, we will kill you.”

Dralazar must have felt confident in his information, because as soon as the group lowered their hands Soolan began circling to land.

“No!” Emane shouted. Turning, he shoved Drem out of the way, grabbed his dagger and sword, and ran out of the enclosure.

A cry went up from the camp the second his thread emerged from Drem’s house. Soolan banked a moment later, turning his course. Emane skidded to a stop as magical volleys were launched his direction. He hadn’t thought past stopping Dralazar from revealing their names. Kneeling, he raised his sword, blocking the nearest two shots in danger of connecting with him. The others landed harmlessly in the grass next to him. He saw Soolan bearing down on him as another group of volleys went up. But the magic went high and to the right. Confused, Emane turned his head to see Drem running down the hill in the opposite direction.

“No!” Emane yelled. He had seen how fast Drem could move when he wanted to. Drem was not trying to run to safety—he was drawing fire.

Drem turned his head just long enough to mouth, “Run,” before two shots of green magic caught him in the chest. The old man’s thin arms flayed in the air as he spun backwards. One more volley of magic connected with his back, and he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

“Drem!” Emane ran towards him. He hadn’t taken more than two steps when he felt dragon talons wrap around his waist.

He twisted with a yell to see Dralazar standing on Soolan’s back, throwing a shield to protect them from the fire of camp. He saw Soolan’s other foot coming up a second before it slammed into the side of his head.