Wings of Tavea

Chapter SEVENTEEN

Save Him


KIORA TRIED TO WALK normally as they headed down the hill. But after another day of training, everything hurt. Alcander had insisted she be healed before tomorrow, and she hadn’t argued. They found Lomay outside his house pulling weeds. Alcander sighed audibly. The old man straightened with a groan. Kiora looked curiously between the two.

“Alcander finds it silly that I weed my garden by hand,” Lomay grunted, stretching backwards. Alcander raised his hand before Lomay scolded him. “Gah! Leave them alone. It’s how I stay young. One needs to work.”

Alcander rolled his eyes and strode into the house.

“He gets rather huffy, doesn’t he?” Kiora asked.

“Noticed that already?” Lomay asked, grinning. “You look to be injured again. Come along.” He waved her inside.

She hopped up the stairs and dropped onto the couch.

“Just the ankle?”

She glanced towards the kitchen where Alcander was rummaging for something to eat. “And my back, elbow, neck, and finger,” she whispered, holding up her right hand. Her little finger was swollen to nearly double its size.

“Goodness,” he said, taking her hand in his. “He really is merciless, isn’t he?”

She sighed with relief as the healing began. “He says it is for my own good. I would argue with him if he wasn’t right.”

Alcander returned with a hunk of bread in one hand and an apple in the other. He raised his eyebrows as Lomay moved his hands to the back of Kiora’s neck and then her elbow. “You said it was just your ankle.”

She shrugged. “I lied.”

Alcander shook his head in disgust and tossed her the apple. Kiora caught it, gratefully taking a bite as Lomay healed her ankle. She was starving.

Lomay patted the top of her leg before moving to his own chair. “Now, Kiora. Alcander told me you had a dream last night about a daughter of Nestor?”

Kiora sat up excitedly. “Yes, but Alcander said she didn’t exist. I knew I was right!”

Lomay held up his hands. “I know of no such daughter either, but it is a curious dream. How many times did you have it?”

Her mouth twisted in frustration. “All night.”

“What did she look like?”

“Olive skinned, dark hair, green eyes. She was very beautiful.”

“Curious,” Lomay muttered.

“What’s curious?” Kiora asked around her apple.

“Oh, nothing.” Lomay smiled. “I would like you to keep me updated on your dreams though. You never know when the tiniest detail may . . .”

Lomay’s voice faded as a vision rushed in. Nooooooo! Emane’s scream was all she heard at first. There was terror in his cry, and it echoed in her ears. A second later she saw Emane appear out of nowhere, running down the hill. Then she saw the Taveans and the dragon. She cried out as Soolan swooped down, wrapping his claws around Emane’s waist, lifting him into the air. Dralazar stood atop the dragon, throwing a shield as Layla sat behind him. A moment later and Emane was gone. The vision turned to a dark-skinned man running in the opposite direction of Emane. It only took three shots for the Taveans to bring him down. He crumpled to the ground.

Kiora frantically reached for the vision as if she could somehow grab Emane from Soolan’s grasp.

“Emane is gone—Dralazar took him!” she yelled at Lomay, surging to her feet. Her apple slid from her lap and rolled across the floor.

Lomay leaned forward, his jovial expression gone and his voice deathly quiet as he whispered, “What?”

“He’s gone.” Kiora was shaking, needing to go somewhere but not knowing where.

Alcander stepped swiftly in front of her, gripping her hands. “Kiora, calm down. What did you see?”

“I saw, I saw . . .” she was breathing so hard she could barely get a word out.

“Kiora.” He squeezed her fingers harder, looking into her eyes. “We can’t save him unless you tell us everything you saw.”

Taking a shaky breath, she focused on his eyes, trying to ground herself before relaying everything.

“You didn’t see where Dralazar took him?” Alcander asked, letting his hands slip free of hers.

“No. He just bubbled.” She collapsed back onto the couch. “He will kill him,” she said weakly. “Dralazar hates us both. Me for being the Solus, and Emane for taking away some of his magic.”

Lomay straightened as Alcander whispered, “What did you say?”

“Emane’s armband,” she said as numbness spread through her body. “Dralazar tried to remove it, and it bit him. It started destroying his magic.”

“That is a rather ingenious piece of magic,” Lomay said, rubbing his chin. “Eleana’s idea, I assume. I always liked her.”

“I have to go,” Kiora murmured. “I have to find him.”

“No,” Lomay said sternly. “We need a plan.” “I can’t just sit here!”

“You can’t just leave,” Alcander said. “You have no idea what is out there. You wouldn’t last two days.”

“Alcander, go get Drustan,” Lomay said.

. He objected, “But Lomay, his cover.”

“Start another fight with him, and then bring him here. Kiora, I assume you can warn him?” She nodded. “We need someone who has known Dralazar for longer, someone who can help us figure out his next move. Drustan is our only option.”

* * *

EMANE WOKE WITH A pounding headache. Groaning, he placed his hand to his head. It felt as if someone had cleaved his skull open with an ax. Struggling, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. The room spun violently.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he clenched his jaw and took deep breaths in through his nose. As soon as the vertigo lessened, he forced one eye open to look around. He was in a cage—a magical cage. Glowing red bars ran all the way around him, crackling and fizzing. Peering between the bars he saw stone walls and thick carpets—he moaned again. His headache was nearly unbearable. Flopping onto his side, his armband cracked loudly against the floor, reminding him he needn’t suffer.

He grabbed his head and willed the magic to flow. The headache immediately dissipated, as did the vertigo. Which unfortunately made him aware of the throbbing pain wrapped around his ribcage.

Dragon! Emane remembered. The dragon had swooped down on him, picking him up before everything went black. He moved his hand to his ribs, healing them as well. One by one he touched every bruise and sore area on his body. When he was done he felt empty. He had used a good majority of his magic, but at least he felt better.

Sitting up, he looked back through the bars again, trying to understand where he was. The room was nicely furnished, not unlike some of the rooms in the castle he had grown up in. A round, thick red rug sat in the center. There was a large fireplace accented with a stone mantel, and two armchairs sat on either side of it. Several other chairs and love seats were scattered around the enormous room. It looked rather cozy, except for the cage.

“Good to see you awake.”

Emane rolled to his feet, his hand going for his sword but finding nothing there. “Dralazar?”

Dralazar sat comfortably in one of the armchairs Emane had thought was empty just a moment before. He really hated bubbles. “What are you—why—”

“I see you have healed yourself,” Dralazar said, cocking his head to the side. “That is so . . . convenient.”

The way he said “convenient” made Emane’s skin crawl.

Dralazar’s eyes glinted as he pushed himself fluidly to his feet. “Oh, you will be of great service to me. In many, many ways.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “What do you want with me?”

“There is more than one answer to that question,” Dralazar said, strolling closer to the bars. “First, you are bait.”

“Kiora,” Emane whispered.

“And second, you have something I need.” Dralazar pushed back the long sleeve that had been covering his wounded hand. Two angry red fang marks remained where Emane’s snake had bitten him. “Your magic has proven to be destructive, thanks to Eleana.” Dralazar stepped closer to the bars that separated the two of them. “I need healing.”

“You can heal.”

“Not this.” Dralazar said, running his fingers over the bite marks. “But you can.”

Emane frowned. “I can’t heal that.”

“Oh, but you can. That is the beauty of it. There are always exceptions in magic—surely you have learned that. The exception to this masterful piece of work,” he wiggled his fingers, “is that you can heal it.”

Emane’s eyes flitted between Dralazar’s eyes and his hand. He took two shaky steps back. “I won’t do it.”

“I figured that would be your answer,” Dralazar said, dropping his hand to his side. “Unfortunately for you, old magic is powerful, even if I can only get it out of one hand.”

He casually raised his good hand. Emane braced for the hit, fully expecting to be thrown against the back wall of his prison. Instead, white snake-like smoke emerged, weaving and slithering through the air.

“What is that?” he asked, backing up further.

“Nothing you won’t be able to heal yourself of.” Emane’s eyes flicked to Dralazar’s grinning face. “But it may hurt a bit.”

The smoke suddenly jerked forward, whipping around Emane’s torso, burning him as if his skin had been laid open by a hot poker. Emane fell to his knees and screamed, clawing at the force. But the touch only brought more burns to his hands and arms. The smoke continued to writhe around him, burning with an intensity Emane had not thought possible. He fell to his side and curled into a ball, helpless against the attack. Vaguely, as if from a dream, Emane could hear Dralazar laughing over the sound of his screams.