Wings of Tavea

Chapter EIGHTEEN

Answers in Wings


ALCANDER BURST THOUGH THE door hauling a struggling Drustan. As soon as the door shut behind them, Alcander dropped his arm.

Drustan straightened, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “I think you enjoy making these spats convincing.”

“I was protecting you,” Alcander said, sitting next to Kiora. “You wouldn’t want to return home tonight if they think you are in here conspiring with us.”

“Well, if we want to make it really convincing, I should get to throw a punch or two. It would gain me some friends.”

“Drustan,” Kiora interrupted. “Dralazar took Emane.”

Drustan immediately focused on Lomay. “How did this happen? You assured me he was safe.”

“I don’t know. But we need to know what Dralazar’s next move will be if we are to get him back. I thought perhaps you could help.”

Drustan fingered his bracelet, twirling it around his wrist. Kiora was sure he was nervous to reveal exactly how much he knew Dralazar.

“Drustan, please,” she begged.

“Kiora is convinced that Dralazar will kill Emane,” Lomay said.

Drustan sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “No, he won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” Alcander demanded, leaning forward. “He is evil. Evil shows no mercy.”

Drustan swallowed nervously. “I know Dralazar better than I wish I did. You are right—he shows no mercy. He took Emane for a reason. If he wanted him dead, he was more than capable of striking him down where he stood.” Drustan shook his head. “I suspect he took Emane to lure Kiora out. Which means he has figured out who she is.”

Alcander looked between Kiora and Drustan. “How would he not have known?”

“In Kiora’s home, things were different. Soluses were called whenever there was a need.” Drustan began walking back and forth across the floor with his hands behind his back, tall and proud, the way Kiora remembered him from the colony when she had first met him. “They defeated evil a thousand years ago and lived in peace. Dralazar returned as prophesied, and Kiora was called as the Solus. Not your Solus,” he pointed, “but ours. It was after she went through the change that Eleana and I began to suspect her calling was bigger than we had thought.” Alcander’s eyes darted to Kiora, fixing on the white streak in her dark hair. “Dralazar would not have come after her unless he realized what she really was. With Kiora gone, he would have been free to overrun the land. It is what he always wanted.”

“Epona told me he would seek help from the outside,” Kiora said.

Drustan nodded. “Perhaps, but he didn’t need any help with you gone. And I suspect that Dralazar realized his mistake in opening the gate. Whatever is on this side of the mountain will filter through eventually. Either good will overrun him . . . or things more evil, stronger than he, will take Meros from him.”

“Why doesn’t he just put the gate back up?” Alcander asked.

“I have a suspicion.” Drustan looked at Kiora. “He needed Eleana’s help when he erected it the first time didn’t he?” Kiora nodded. “Even if Dralazar figured out a way to perform the magic himself, he would be too weak to enact the spell.”

Alcander pushed himself up. “I am sorry to interrupt this delightful history lesson, but what are we going to do about Emane?”

Lomay raised one eyebrow. “You seem awfully concerned with this Witow.”

“He saved my life twice.”

“Is that the only reason?” Lomay said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Or is it perhaps that you have realized you were wrong? That Witows are not so worthless after all?”

Alcander’s previous mask of indifference slammed down over the concern he had been showing. “Do you have any ideas, or should we engage in a philosophical conversation on the worth of others while Emane is mauled to death by a dragon?” His voice was cold and steely.

Kiora couldn’t help but feel gratitude for Alcander’s sudden concern.

“Calm yourself, Alcander, it was a simple question.” Lomay turned his attention to Drustan. “How sure are you that Dralazar won’t hurt Emane?”

Drustan looked at Kiora before dropping his gaze. “I did not say that. I said he wouldn’t kill him.”

“I see.” Lomay cleared his throat. “That is an important distinction.”

Kiora pulled at the leg of her pants, twisting the fabric. “Will he torture him?” she asked, swallowing hard.

“Yes.”

She flinched, a wave of nausea rolling over her. “At least he can heal himself,” she said, trying to comfort herself.

Drustan placed his hand on her shoulder. “I fear that will make it worse.” His voice was low and hoarse. “You can keep torturing when the victim heals.”

“It should have been me,” Kiora groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Dralazar would have finished you off before you knew he was there. He wouldn’t risk you escaping again.” Looking at the others, Drustan said, “We must be careful. Dralazar will keep Emane alive until Kiora is within range. He would love nothing more than to kill Emane in front of her.”

“How do you know that?” Alcander asked.

Drustan looked him straight in the eye. “We must get Emane out before he can torture Kiora with his death.”

Kiora jumped to her feet. “The Wings,” she said. “I didn’t see where Dralazar took Emane, but the Wings would have! They can show us where Emane is.”

Lomay shook his head. “No. I do not like to depend on the Wings for that which we can do ourselves.”

“What?” she said, flabbergasted.

“Here we go again,” moaned Alcander. “What if it takes her a month to figure out where Emane is? Are we going to let him be tortured until then?”

“Things need to take their course. Even if we knew where Emane was, Kiora is not ready to retrieve him.”

“No, she’s not,” Alcander agreed.

“Hey,” Kiora argued. “I have fought Dralazar once already. And I am stronger now.” She made it sound convincing, but she knew full well she had lucked out both times.

“I am not just worried about Dralazar,” Alcander said. “I am worried about

everything else we will run into between here and there. Lomay, I can’t prepare her any further without knowing what we are preparing for. Don’t you think it would be wise for us to know where Emane is so we can plan? Get reinforcements if necessary?”

“We have been over this before. I—”

“No, we haven’t,” Alcander interrupted. “You say the Wings prevent us from making our own choices. We have made this choice: we are rescuing Emane. We need information to prevent someone from killing the only hope we have left!” He surged to his feet. “We have waited for the Solus and the Protector for thousands of years. Watched our world wither and falter under evil. There is nothing left. Nothing! Save a few of us rebels hiding in caves and under rocks.” His voice reached a crescendo, his fists clenched at his side. “We cannot sit and wait for Dralazar to kill the Protector, nor should we allow Emane to suffer on principal. If the Wings can show us what we need, then we must use them.”

“Alcander—” Lomay began again.

“Just trust me,” he interrupted. “If you think I will jeopardize the only hope we have left, then you don’t know me very well.”

* * *

ALCANDER LED THE WAY back to the Wings.

“Thank you,” Kiora said from behind.

“Don’t thank me yet. I don’t know if it will work.” As they reached the top of the canyon, Alcander strode onto the bridge without a backward glance. Kiora stopped as the bridge swayed in the breeze. She closed her eyes, wrapping her hands around the rope and trying to focus on good memories. Emane and her, laughing at the Shifters’ celebration, where they honored Emane for receiving the magic from the mountain. She nearly grinned remembering the Shifter mouse that had danced right into her dinner plate.

“You know,” Alcander observed dryly from the other side, “the slower you go, the longer you are on that bridge.”

Her eyes fluttered open as the mouse faded away, leaving her with the ropes. “Yes, thank you.” Taking a deep breath, she hurried forward, her feet finally hitting stone. She scurried to catch up with Alcander, who had already moved on towards the watery door.

Walking through the dark Kiora asked, “Do you think we will be able to find him?” There was silence for a few minutes;, the only footsteps she heard were hers. She thought it was because he walked so silently, but within a few steps she ran into his back. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“We have to,” Alcander answered. “There is no other option.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I can’t lose him.”

“I know.” His voice hitched in a most unexpected way. “We are almost there,” he said, abruptly changing subjects.

The sound of roaring water was getting louder with every step, and Kiora’s stomach rolled in anticipation. Once again she ran smack into Alcander.

“I thought at some point you would get tired of walking in the dark. Apparently, I was wrong.” Kiora could hear the smile in his voice. Opening her hand, she called a ball of flame. “I have no desire to repeat the last accident I had here, especially without Emane.”

She eyed the rock overhang that had sliced Alcander’s head the last time.

“Normally I would say ladies first, but if you don’t mind . . .”

“Not at all,” she said, motioning to the roaring water. He leapt in and she followed, holding her breath.

The water was just as cold as she remembered. But the trip wasn’t as terrifying, having some idea of how long it would take before she could fill her lungs. It did not, however, lesson the burn. Bursting through the surface, she sucked in mouthfuls of stale air.

The inside of the cave was the kind of dark you forgot existed, where nothing was visible, not even your own hand in front of your face. Reaching up, Kiora shot a burst of light at where she thought one of the torches hung. She missed, but it did show her where she needed to aim. Soon the room was glowing.

Alcander was already to the side when Kiora started swimming. Offering his hand, he pulled her up.

“Are you ready?”

“I hope so.” Stepping over to the Wings, she jumped as they flared in response to her mental request.

A picture came into view of an elaborate looking home, far greater than the humble homes she was used to in Meros, though smaller than a castle.

Alcander drew a sharp breath. “The Manor?”

“What is the . . .?” Kiora trailed off as the picture in the Wings zoomed in on the window, allowing them to see inside. Emane was trapped within bars that moved and hissed with magic. He lay on the floor, barely recognizable through the blisters and burns that covered his body. His face oozed liquid beneath his closed eyes. Kiora gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Emane stirred, proving he was alive, but a moan of pain escaped his lips that nearly broke her heart.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no!” she shrieked, spinning away from the Wings and straight into Alcander’s chest. Sobbing, she buried her head as he slowly and cautiously wrapped his arms around her.

She heard Emane moan again behind her. “Make it stop,” she cried. Whirling on the Wings, she screamed, “Stop it!” before shoving her face back into Alcander’s chest.

The Wings immediately went black.

She took ragged, gasping breaths before pushing away from Alcander. Swiping the tears from her cheeks, she set her jaw. “Do you know where he is?”

Alcander’s face clouded. “Yes, but—”

“Come on.” Kiora grabbed his hand and pulled him to the exit. “We’re going now.”

He planted his feet, jerking his hand free. “Kiora, we need to prepare.”

“Did you see him?” she shouted. “We can’t just leave him. They’ll do it again, and again, and again.” Her knees wobbled and she dropped.

Alcander, moving faster than she would have thought possible, caught her before she slammed into the rock. She was shaking uncontrollably. “I can’t leave him there, I can’t, I can’t.” She repeated it over and over again, sinking deeper into despair. She was vaguely aware of Alcander running his hands over her hair, trying to soothe her. She moved from hysterics to complete numbness, releasing everything and retreating into nothingness. She stared blankly at the wall in front of her, allowing his touch to comfort her.

“Kiora,” Alcander finally said. She wouldn’t have responded, but his voice sounded so strained.

Blinking, she looked up at him. He was pale, even for him, his pupils small and constricted. Startled, she sat up. “What’s the matter?”

As she broke contact he relaxed a little, and then smiled grimly. “When you dump magic, you are a bit much to handle.”

She collapsed in on herself. “I’m sorry.”

“Kiora,” he said, his color returning to normal. “We will save Emane, but we have to prepare. You have no idea what we are up against.”

“And what is that?” she asked, struggling against her desire to retreat back into the numbness. It was so much easier there.

“I don’t even know myself,” he said. “There are rumors, stories. The Manor has some connection to the Shadow, so we can’t get much. Not through the Wings, and not from anyone who has been there . . . because no one ever comes back.”

She looked up slowly, her hair hanging in her face. “How can we prepare for something you don’t understand? If it will make no difference we should go now, before Dralazar has time—”

“No,” Alcander said sharply. “You can’t get so emotionally involved.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed quickly. Pushing herself to her feet, she stood over him. “I will always get emotionally involved, always. It is who I am, and that is what makes me different. If I didn’t get emotionally involved, I would have left this forsaken place as soon as I figured out how dire it was. I would have gone home, tried to put the gate back in place, and lived the rest of my life in peace. But I care, and I will always care, and it will always hurt.” Her eyes welled up again. “This,” she motioned to herself, “is your Solus, and you will not train the caring out of me.”

He stared at her for a long time before lowering his head. “You are right.”

“You are so calloused,” she said more gently. “I can’t become that.”

Pushing himself up, he said, “You won’t. If we are going to save Emane, we need to get started.” He turned and walked to the mouth of the river.

Feeling hope, she scrambled after him. “Are we going?”

He hesitated. “Not yet. We need to gather Intel first. Watch me,” he instructed before speaking the incantation for the air bubble clearly and slowly. The bubble formed around him. “Now you.”

She followed the instructions, repeating what he had said. A bubble formed around her as well, though it was larger than his.

She heard him saying something, but it was muffled. “What?” she shouted.

“You are a showoff,” he shouted back.

* * *

THE PAIN WAS INCREASING exponentially with every second as Emane began the ascent back to consciousness. He fought it, trying to return to the blackness where the pain had not followed. But it was no use—he was still burning from the inside out. His eyes fluttered open as a single sob escaped his lips, and that was enough. The jerk of his back and stomach taught him a quick lesson.

Gently moving his fingers, he began the healing process. Luckily he had been out long enough that his magic had returned. The relief of healing spread outward as he moved his fingers carefully to each new area. It took a few minutes, but he finally got the pain under control. Shaking, he relaxed flat, wiping the sweat from his face. He had to get out of here.

Rolling his head to the side, Emane stared into the plush room that surrounded his little cage. A glint of silver caught his eye and he pushed himself up. There, on a small table near the fireplace, lay his sword and dagger. Maybe if he could get them . . .

“Prince Emane, how are you feeling?”

His head jerked as a familiar face walked into the room. “Layla?”

“I am surprised you even remember my name,” Layla said tightly as she neared the cage. “Kiora had quite a hold on you.”

Emane eyed her warily. “And what use does Dralazar have for you? You’re just a Witow, like me.”

“Am I?” She opened her hand and flames flickered across her fingers.

He stumbled backwards. “You can do magic?”

“Yes, apparently I can. Thanks to Dralazar, I know how to use it.” Layla took a step forward. “Kiora wouldn’t tell me,” she said, raising her chin, “didn’t want me to know.”

“Layla, don’t be ridiculous. Kiora didn’t even know she had magic, let alone you.”

Layla took another step towards the cage, smiling at the flames in her hand. “That’s what she would like you to believe, but I know better.”

Emane took another step back. “Why, because Dralazar told you so? He’s lying, can’t you see?”

“Shut up!” she screamed, her eyes wide with a rage Emane had never seen in any of the villagers. “Don’t talk about him like that!”

His mouth snapped shut, his eyebrows pulling together. “Layla, what happened to you?” he nearly whispered.

“I had my eyes opened, and so will you. You will see Kiora for what she really is.”

He took two firm steps towards Layla, the bars between them crackling. “I have seen her more clearly than you ever will. There is nothing you can do to change my mind.”

“Where is she?” Layla asked through clenched teeth.

“I don’t know.”

Layla stepped so close to the cage, Emane could have reached out and grabbed her. Glancing over her shoulder, he tried to remember what Drem had told him. Feel the desire first, then call the magic. He would only get one shot at this.

“Where is she?” Layla shouted, fire flickering in both of her upturned palms.

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.” His hand flew out, calling the dagger. The dagger wiggled before jerking itself off the table and flying across the room. It worked! But then it stopped, frozen in mid air, twisting and turning as if struggling against another force. Emane frowned, trying to force the dagger onward.

Layla whirled around as Dralazar unbubbled, his hand also extended towards the dagger.

“Emane, how interesting. So many things about you I don’t know,” Dralazar said. The dagger continued to turn in the air, spinning away from Emane. He resisted, trying to turn it back around.

With a crooked smile, Dralazar quickly twisted his hand, jerking the dagger free of Emane’s control. The dagger completed its turn in the air before whizzing towards Emane’s outstretched hand, the point of the dagger catching him in the palm and going straight through.

Emane yelled as he dropped to his knees, grasping his hand. The dagger was buried up to the hilt, the bloody point sticking out the back of his hand.

Dralazar strode across the room, slapping Layla across the face so hard she tripped, falling to the floor as well. “I told you to be careful!” he yelled. “A few more seconds and he would have had that dagger through your heart.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I didn’t know.”

“Get up,” Dralazar growled. “Burn him. He needs more motivation to be cooperative.”

Layla pulled herself to her feet, her hand over her cheek. Dralazar grabbed both arms, looking into her eyes. “Don’t ruin this.”

She shook her head frantically. “I won’t.”

“That’s a good girl,” he said, leaning in and kissing her on the forehead. Smiling down at Emane, he laughed. “Is that dagger bothering you?” A flick of his fingers and Emane screamed as the dagger jerked free and flew through the bars into Dralazar’s waiting hand. “Goodnight, Emane,” he said, waving the bloody dagger. “If you won’t cooperate with Layla, you will have to deal with me in the morning.”

Layla’s arm dropped weakly to her side as Dralazar left the room. She had a red bruise on her cheek, and her eye was swelling shut.

“Layla,” Emane breathed, scooting closer to the bars, his wounded hand pinned against his chest. “I don’t have much left, but I can heal you.”

Her breath stuttered and her eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to do?”

“Nothing, I just . . . he can’t treat you like that.”

“What would you know about it?” she asked, squaring up to the bars. “Where is Kiora?”

Closing his eyes, Emane sat back. “I don’t know.”

He thought he heard a sob, and he opened his eyes just in time to see Layla put both hands out, tears running down her cheeks and flame spurting towards him.

* * *

“NO,” LOMAY SAID. “YOU cannot leave tonight.”

“You don’t understand,” Kiora shouted, near hysterics. “You didn’t see him. You didn’t see what they are doing to him.”

“I know you’re upset, but we cannot let emotions blind our logic. We will be ready for you to leave tomorrow. There are things that must be done first.”

“What things?” she demanded, swiping angrily at the hair in her face.

“I need to make some contacts before you leave. I will do what I can tonight.” He took her by the shoulders, his voice softening. “I need you to get some rest. Your dreams tonight may provide us with more information, something that could help us.”

“And what about Emane?” she asked, twisting away from him. “Am I supposed to forget he is being tortured?

Lomay paused. “His torture will go on for a very long time if you are dead before you reach him. ”

Her chest ached and throbbed as she stumbled to her bed. She didn’t

want to sleep. Her steps slowed as her eyes wandered up the path that led outside. She could leave right now. All she had to do was use a bubble and run.

Her heart grew heavier. No matter how badly she wanted to, she could not wander out there alone. She had only seen the smallest piece of this world, and it had already proven exceptionally deadly. Stomping up the steps she threw herself on her bed, exploding with the one emotion she had been trying so hard to hide. She cried and cried. She sobbed and pounded her fist into the bed until she had nothing left. Rolling over, she stared numbly at the ceiling.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when she felt a thread moving around, heading in her direction. It stopped right outside her bedroom window. Kiora waited, holding her breath, trying to figure out what he was doing. But Alcander did not move again. Finally she threw back the covers, wiped her eyes to make sure all the tears were gone, and padded over to the door. Poking her head out, she saw him sitting against the house with a pillow wedged behind his head.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

He seemed annoyed at having been caught. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

She cocked her head to the side at the ridiculousness of the question. “Why do you think? Why aren’t you?”

“I was waiting to see if you would be all right. With your dreams,” he amended.

She smiled softly, looking down at her feet. “Come in,” she said, holding the door open.

“No, I am fine.”

“Alcander,” she snapped. “This is your house, not mine. There are two extra bedrooms that—” she stopped, closing her eyes for a moment, “are not going to be filled tonight. And . . . it would be nice to not feel alone.”

He silently processed this before standing and walking into the house without a word. Rolling her eyes, Kiora closed the door behind them.

“Thank you,” she said.

“I will be in the back bedroom if you need anything.”

She watched Alcander go, still not sure what to make of him. He was usually so hard and calloused. He kept his gentleness and kindness carefully hidden, as if it were a bad thing. A weakness. Her eyes followed him, very aware of the grace with which he walked, the way his lightweight nightshirt flowed over his back and shoulder muscles. She immediately felt guilty for it. Crawling back into bed, she finally let her eyes close.

She was back in the palace of the Creators again. Nestor was running through the palace hallway, his skin lacking its immortal glow. “Jasmine!” he called over and over again, opening the door to a very large room. Sobs came from the back corner, and he ran to his daughter. She had wrapped herself into a ball and was sobbing into her knees.

“Jasmine, I am so sorry,” he said, pulling her into his chest. “I didn’t know, I didn’t think it would affect you.”

Kiora had to strain to understand what Jasmine was saying. Her voice was muffled as she leaned into her father. “I don’t want to die, Father, I want it back. I want my immortality back.”

Before Nestor could respond, the vision started to darken. A force pressed down on her, making it hard to breath. She could feel someone—something—coming. It was angry and dark.

“Kiora,” Alcander said, shaking her awake.

“What?” She struggled, clawing at the blankets and his hand as she took deep gasping breaths.

“What happened?” he asked, letting go of her. “You were fine, and then you were screaming and gasping and . . .” He scooted back on the bed, looking unsure. “It was like you couldn’t breathe.”

She swallowed, dropping her head back against the headboard. “I was dreaming about Jasmine and then a darkness came, and I couldn’t breathe.” She rubbed her throat. “I’ve never had that happen before.”

Kiora! Emane’s voice came screaming into her head without a vision. Stay away, Kiora. Please, stay away.

She scrambled out of bed. Emane? She turned in a circle. Emane, can you hear me? Emane! Her throat constricted painfully and her eyes burned at the pain he was suffering. We are coming for you. She waited another second, her fists clenching at her sides. Emane! There was no response.

“What is it?” Alcander finally asked, looking around the room.

She slowly turned towards him, fighting the desire to crawl into his arms and cry. “I heard Emane.”

“What did he say?” Alcander crossed the room, looking down into her eyes.

“He said to stay away.” She bit her lip, tears welling up and blurring Alcander’s face.

He frowned. “He wants to sacrifice himself for you.”

Kiora sniffled, nodding. “He was in pain.” Her chest jerked with a silent, empty

sob. “So much pain.”

“Drustan was right,” Alcander murmured. “It’s a trap.” He glanced towards the

window and grabbed her hand. “Come on, it is almost dawn. We need to check with Lomay and see if he made the contacts. We have to go.”