Wings of Tavea

Chapter TWO

Illusions


THROUGH HIS BUBBLE, DRALAZAR watched Layla pick her way through the rocky land that surrounded his cave. Interesting. He was sure Layla was aware that she shared the gift of magic with her sister, Kiora. But Dralazar would bet she unwittingly found her way here by following threads. Doing so had caused Layla’s thread to hum with her own magic.

She is angry, My Lord, Raynor thought, stretching his wings out before laying them flat across his back.

Dralazar glanced over to the telepathic, black Pegasus. Angry that I lied to her?

No, My Lord. She is angry at her sister.

A grin spread across Dralazar’s face. After the battle for Meros, Layla had surely known that Dralazar lied. Not only lied to her, but used her. Yet Layla’s anger was not directed at him, but at Kiora.

Layla tripped out of sheer exhaustion, crashing into a boulder three times her size. Leaning her forehead onto the rock she screamed, pounding her fists against it.

As he watched the pitiful display, a plan began forming in Dralazar’s mind. He detested taking on pupils; it’s why he didn’t teach Layla before the first battle. But now, given his need to cut Kiora as deeply as possible, training this one might be worth it.

Dralazar looked to his left. Soolan’s thread was closing in. The thickheaded dragon had finally picked up on Layla’s thread. Either that or the screaming caught his attention.

Shall we stop him? Raynor asked.

“No.” Dralazar folded his arms. “Not yet.”

Soolan flew overhead, casting a large shadow over Layla. She froze. Dralazar could nearly taste her fear. Slowly Layla turned her head to see what she already knew was there. The dragon swooped in behind her, slamming into the earth and sending the small rocks that lay scattered between the boulders hopping across the ground. Layla stumbled to the side, trying to keep her feet beneath her as she frantically looked for something that did not exist—a place to run.

The giant dragon pulled its head down until it was eye-level with Layla. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t hear you?” Soolan bellowed.

Layla’s mouth gaped like a fish on land. She took a trembling step backwards.

Soolan’s eye was bloodied and swollen shut from Emane’s arrows. It only added to his hatred of anything human. He peered at Layla with his good eye. “I should incinerate you right now. You and your kind, worthless slime.”

Layla clenched her fists before shouting, “What are you waiting for, you big ugly lout? If you’re going to kill me, get it over with already.”

Dralazar laughed out loud.

“Stupid, too,” Soolan remarked.

Scowling, Layla glared at him. “If you don’t want to ‘incinerate’ me, then what do you want?”

“What do I want?” Soolan grinned, exposing rows of sharp teeth. “Incinerating you is on the list, make no mistake. But it’s so much more fun when I am close enough to see the fear in your eyes.” Leaning in further he demanded, “Why are you here?”

Layla took another step back, her ankle rolling on a rock. She sidestepped to keep on her feet. “I-I don’t know,” she stammered.

A horrible laugh bellowed out, reverberating off the rocks. “You don’t know? You march into Dralazar’s land and you don’t even know why?”

“This is Dralazar’s land?”

Dralazar couldn’t help but notice the hope in her voice.

The dragon raised an eyebrow. “You seem glad. That is . . . curious.”

“Can you show me how to find him?”

The dragon took a step to Layla’s right, walking around her in a slow, purposeful circle. “You are an interesting human, that is true, but still a human. My answer is—” Soolan lunged at her. Darting his neck out he snapped his teeth inches from her face. “No.”

He reared his giant head and puffed up his chest. Layla turned away, covering her head in what she had to know was a useless defense.

“Now, Raynor,” Dralazar said.

Raynor obediently flew out of the bubble and landed between Layla and Soolan, flaring his wings behind him. Soolan’s mouth was already open—but seeing Raynor, the dragon jerked his head to the side, spraying fire across the rocks and boulders.

Layla blinked, slowly lowering a quivering arm. The rocks to her right glowed red from the inside out.

“Raynor,” Soolan roared. “Move.”

Raynor took a step back, spreading his wings to further shield Layla from view.

“She mine, Raynor. She’s a human, a filthy human. I will not let another human live, not on my land.”

Although this was terribly entertaining, intervention was necessary. Dragons were so blasted unpredictable. Dralazar dropped his bubble. “I am afraid you will, Soolan.”

Layla whirled around and her eyes lit with excitement. “Dralazar!”

Dralazar ignored her. “This human is with me, and you will not harm her. Are we clear?”

Soolan’s eyes narrowed. Refusing to answer, he spread his wings and pushed himself into the sky.

Dralazar watched him fly away, trying to determine whether he should punish his insolence or not. Instead he turned his attention to Layla and said, “Dragons have terrible tempers, especially where humans are concerned.” Walking nearer he asked, “Tell me, Layla, why have you come?”

“I—I was lost,” she murmured.

Dralazar’s mouth turned up into a half smile. Stepping closer he put his finger under Layla’s chin, pulling her eyes up to meet his. “Let’s drop our pretenses shall we?” He lowered his hand but kept the smile. “You didn’t wander into this barren wasteland on accident. You know I lied to you and yet here you are, happy to see me. And since you must know that Kiora is indeed the Solus—” Layla flinched at the phrase, “that makes me . . .” Dralazar’s voice trailed off, waiting for Layla to audibly put together the pieces. He wanted to hear her say it.

“Evil,” Layla murmured, dropping her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“Yes. And if you choose to side with me—” He stuck his fingers back under her chin, pulling her eyes up to meet his more forcefully this time. “Everything will change.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she whispered, swallowing hard.

“Because,” he said, wrapping his thumb and finger around her chin, dragging her face closer to his until their lips nearly touched. “You already knew what I was and . . . you came anyway.” He pronounced the last words purposefully. Layla shivered as his breath came in short bursts across her lips.

“What if—what if I don’t want to side with evil?” Layla’s voice halted, her eyes looking down. “What if I just want . . .”

Dralazar abruptly dropped his hand, taking a step back. His voice changed from the soft coo he had been using to a clipped one. “Then you should go back to your charred village and find whatever survivors you can. After that you should crawl to your sister and beg her forgiveness.”

Layla’s anger flared. “Never.”

Leaning forward, Dralazar dropped his voice into a more seductive cadence. “Then work with me, let me teach you what you are capable of. Together, we can teach Kiora a lesson.”

“Why would you want me?”

“You have power, Layla. Can’t you feel it? How do you think you got yourself here?” Dralazar’s eyebrows rose in question. “You followed my thread. I can train you, teach you how to use your magic.”

“Magic?” Layla took a startled step backwards.

“Yes, magic. You can finally be on equal footing with Kiora.” That was a lie. Leaning forward, Dralazar laid his cheek against hers and whispered in her ear. “You are a beautiful girl, Layla.”

Layla let out a tiny gasp.

“I noticed it the first time I saw you,” he murmured, running his finger down her cheek. “Beautiful . . . smart.”

Layla blushed furiously, her eyes darting to the ground before looking back at his face. “Really?” she said weakly.

“So much prettier than Kiora,” Dralazar said, turning his head to the side as he brushed Layla’s hair back over her shoulder.

Her lips parted before breaking into a shy smile.

“So, my lovely Layla, are you with me?”

* * *

EMANE WOKE TO SOMETHING tugging at his neck. Groaning, he swatted—and hit something fuzzy. Shoving himself backwards with a grunt, Emane blinked furiously. A ball of grey fur was tugging and growling at the amulet hanging from his neck.

When Aleric gifted Emane with the amulet, he said it would glow amber for a friend but red for an enemy. It was amber, which meant this little guy wasn’t trying to eat him. “What are you?” he mumbled, rubbing his burning eyes.

The creature was the size of a cantaloupe. A small nose protruded from its face, surrounded by whiskers and large blue eyes. Its ears were enormous and hung nearly to the ground.

Emane sat up on his elbow. “Hey,” he whispered, trying not to wake the others as he reached for his amulet. The creature jerked again and the cord snapped. With the amulet clenched in its teeth the creature scampered off, giving a happy squawk as it left the magical barrier and headed into the forest.

“No, no, no!” Emane jumped up, leaping over a sleeping Drustan before stopping at the edge of the barrier. He growled, leaping back over Drustan to grab his sword before taking off after the creature. He could not lose the amulet. It was the closest he would ever get to feeling threads, and he was already at a disadvantage in this world.

The fur ball scampered just ahead of him, the amber light bobbing up and down, the leather cord dragging behind it. Further and further into the forest Emane chased it, until the furry thief stopped suddenly in front of a wide pine and turned to regard him with large eyes.

Emane skidded to a stop, not wanting to spook the little guy into running again. Cautiously he crouched down, laying his sword beside him before stretching out his hand. “Come on,” he cooed. “Just—hold still.” He inched closer, his hand out in front of him. “Just a little closer,” he murmured, carefully placing his foot to avoid snapping any fallen twigs. The creature just blinked, its nose wiggling. After taking one more step, Emane sprang forward. The fur ball nimbly scooted out of the way at the last second, and Emane found himself with a face full of dirt and pine needles. Turning his head to the side he spat, eyeing the animal that sat just out of reach—happily nibbling on his amulet.

“No,” Emane groaned. “You’re going to break it.” He pushed up to his hands and knees and launched himself forward. Just as before, the animal moved out of his way, leaving Emane with another face full of dirt. Spitting out what he could, he tried again.

The two played this game for several minutes before Emane leaned back on his knees and stared at the furball. As usual, it sat just out of reach, rolling the amulet around in its paws.

“I don’t suppose it would work if I just said please?” Emane sighed, wiping his arm across his mouth. The animal gave one large blink before turning his attention, and his teeth, back to the amulet. Emane had an idea. He slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, trying not to startle his prey. The blue eyes looked up from the amulet to evaluate, then went back to nibbling. Pulling his arms out of the sleeves, Emane held his shirt out in front of him like a net.

“Does that taste good little guy?” Emane murmured. “That’s right, you little thief, just keep on nibbling . . .” Emane threw the shirt over the animal and jumped on top of it. The glittering magical snake wrapped around his arm shone in the moonlight.

The animal twisted and turned, grunting as Emane gingerly placed his knees on either side of it. Using one hand to pin it down, Emane’s free hand peeled back the top corner of the shirt. The furball’s eyes were wide as it tossed its head back and forth, the amulet still firmly clasped between its teeth.

Emane reached down, but jerked his fingers back when the animal growled. Carefully, Emane reached down again, grabbing the end of the leather cord and tugging on it to avoid being bitten. It didn’t budge.

Wrapping the leather around his hand, he gave it one more good pull and the amulet popped out with a squeak of protest. Emane’s head dropped forward in relief. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Standing up slowly he released the animal, pulling his shirt back on as the little grey furball turned and chirped at him indignantly. “Hey, I’m sorry, little guy, but this is mine,” Emane said, holding the amulet up. In the dark, red light spilled down his arm. “What the . . . ” The amulet was no longer amber.

The furball chided him with a few more squeaks and chirps before turning tail and running. Emane looked warily around the area before tying a knot in the broken cord and sliding the blood red amulet around his neck. The forest was quiet and eerie. Emane didn’t need threads or an amulet to know something was wrong.

Grabbing his sword, Emane held it out in front of him as he moved slowly back in the direction of the magical barrier, turning circles as he went.

A snap from behind sent him whirling around, sword at the ready.

A dark looming shape materialized and rushed him. Something hard connected with his wrist, sending his sword clattering to the ground. The shape slammed into his head. Emane hit the ground, spots swimming before his eyes.

He didn’t even have time to groan before something jumped on him, clawing. Emane struggled, fighting something he could not see. He felt legs—only too many to be human—wrap around his waist. Two hands grabbed his face, digging into his skin with sharp, thin nails. He twisted and pulled but the hands pried open his mouth, while a third hand poured something bitter down his throat. Emane sputtered and spat as much out as he could.

The thing on top of him hissed its displeasure before prying his mouth back open and pouring more liquid in. This time the hands forced Emane’s mouth closed, plugging his nose. Thrashing, Emane tried to free himself of the thing’s grasp, but it was no use. He had to swallow.

The liquid burned all the way down. The creature released its grip, crawling off him. Free, Emane tried to get back to his feet, but something was wrong. His legs felt heavy and weighted. Emane looked down to his feet, grunting as he tried once more to jerk them forward. Nothing. The weight spread quickly to the rest of his body, his limbs refusing to obey his commands. Against his will his eyes closed, and his body collapsed to the forest floor. Emane could not move or make a sound. The only thing on his body still working were his ears, allowing him to hear whatever had just drugged him cackle in delight. Icy, cold fingers explored the snake wrapped around his arm.

“Nice, very nice,” it chattered. “Very interesting. They will like it, they will like it very much. I will take it. Yes.” It nodded. “Yes, I will take it. Mmmmm, nice-very nice.” Having come to its conclusion it picked Emane up, throwing him like a sack of potatoes over its shoulder.

“No magic, you,” it told him, poking Emane harshly in the side with the same sharp, pointy finger. “My potion make it so you no work!” It cackled again. “No work. Don’t try.”

Emane’s captor hauled him through the forest, muttering incessantly about “No magic,” and “They would like it.”

Emane hung there helplessly. He had left the barrier without telling Kiora or Drustan where he was going. How could he have been so stupid?

* * *

“KIORA, WAKE UP!” WHERE’S Emane?”

She woke to find Drustan shaking her. “What are you talking about?” she muttered groggily, running the back of her arm across her eyes. The sun was just poking through the trees, sending harsh rays of light through the camp.

“Where’s Emane?” Drustan repeated.

She pushed up onto her elbows and looked around. Emane was nowhere in sight, his thread conspicuously absent. She jerked all the way up. “How long has he been gone?”

“I don’t know. I woke up and he wasn’t here. I can’t feel his thread—you need to try. You can feel farther than I can.”

Kiora nodded, ignoring the rising panic as she reached out for Emane’s thread. Nothing. Trying again, she pushed out as far as she could, searching for any sign of him. “I can’t feel him.” She huffed in frustration. Emane? she mentally called to him. Emane!

Rolling to her feet, she searched the camp. “His sword is gone.” Dread tightened her throat.

Drustan strode up next to her. “What was he thinking?” he spat, scanning the forest. “We have no idea what’s out there.”

They had to find him. What if he was hurt or—Kiora jolted. “A vision,” she said. “I can ask for a vision.” Providing Emane hadn’t been bubbled, it should work. Kiora settled down on her bedroll, asking for a vision of the moment Emane left camp. It came quickly as requested, and Kiora pushed it outwards to watch.

A furry, grey animal bumbled its way into camp. Finding Emane’s amulet it chirped happily, biting down and pulling at the cord before running off, dragging along the amulet. Emane chased after it. Kiora followed him through the forest, desperately trying to watch the surroundings. He wrestled the amulet free and then gasped at the blood-red amulet swinging in his hands.

“Oh no!” Kiora whispered.

“What is it?” Drustan asked.

Waving him off, she kept watching.

Emane turned his head, scanning the area. Then the vision changed. It went fuzzy and dark, beginning to falter. She held tight to it, refusing to let go. Emane spun around, fighting with something she couldn’t see. He fell face first into the dirt, attacked by something— Kiora couldn’t tell what it was. Emane struggled and thrashed before going limp. And then, even stranger, he was lifted off the ground and moved through the forest. He looked like a rag doll floating through the air, moving farther and farther away. The vision darkened with each second before finally fading into nothing.

Relaying the vision to Drustan, Kiora said, “I don’t understand.”

Drustan ran his hand through his black hair, the red streak fanning backwards. “It sounds like something didn’t want you to see what happened.”

“How would it know I was looking?” Kiora objected.

“Not necessarily you—anyone.” Drustan paced back and forth now, as agitated as Kiora had ever seen him.” There is magic that can block visions.”

Kiora stilled, dread creeping in again. “Like the story Epona told me,” she recalled, “about the one who stole the lights.”

“Yes, though I doubt anything that powerful would be interested in Emane,” he answered, still marching back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. “The only other thing I know of with that ability is an Illusionist.”

“A what?”

Drustan waved her off. “I can explain what I know on the way. Do you think you could get me close to where Emane disappeared in the vision?”

Kiora pushed herself to her feet. “I can try.” She went from worried to angry as she glanced over at Emane’s empty bedroll. “I cannot believe he just left.”

“You and I both.” Drustan gritted his teeth. “We can yell at him when we find him.”

Choosing to leave the horses behind, they headed out to retrace as much of Emane’s journey as they could. Not sensing any dangerous threads they decided against the use of a bubble. If Kiora used up all her magic trying to find Emane, she wouldn’t have anything left to defend herself with.

“Illusionists are dangerous and terrifying if you don’t know what you’re dealing with. At first glance you’ll think it’s a Shapeshifter.”

“They can change their shapes?” Kiora asked while seeking the small clearing she’d seen in her vision.

“No, it only looks that way.” Drustan pushed an overhanging tree branch out of the way. “Hence the name, Illusionists. They can make you see whatever they want you to.” Drustan waited until Kiora was ahead of him before letting the branch snap back. “But,” he said over his shoulder, “if they can get you to believe what you are seeing, the illusion becomes solid enough to affect you. That’s where the danger comes in.”

Finding something that looked familiar, Kiora sighed in relief. “This way,” she said, turning right. “So if you don’t believe what you’re seeing they’re harmless. But if you do believe it, then they can hurt you?”

“Yes. Let’s say, for example, it turned into a dragon. If you listen only to the thread, and know that what you’re seeing is nothing but an illusion, you could walk right though it. But if the Illusionist can make you ignore the thread and believe what you’re seeing, the illusion becomes solid.”

Kiora turned next at a broken-down pine whose trunk poked up at an odd angle. She asked, “If it turned into a dragon, could it blow fire?”

“If you were convinced enough, I think so. Even after you get past the illusion, you must be careful. They are masters of potions.” Drustan shook his head. “They have a potion for anything you can imagine.”

“Potions . . . ” Kiora trailed off, her pace slowing. “In my vision it looked like Emane’s mouth was forced open. He struggled, like he didn’t want to swallow.”

Drustan growled. “Not good. It could’ve given him any number of things.”

“I don’t understand. Why would an Illusionist want Emane?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Drustan said, grabbing her arm to remind her they needed to keep moving. “They are an interesting species and have worked for a number of different magical groups through the years. I have been gone for so long. They could be working for anyone right now.”

Kiora jumped over a fallen log, breathing hard from the pace. “They work for others?” she asked. This new world was not treating them favorably thus far. First the Aktoowa, now the Illusionist, and they hadn’t even been here twenty-four hours.

“Of course,” Drustan said. “This world functions just as yours did. Your village had bakers and metal smiths, butchers and wood workers. We have our jobs here as well. Shapeshifters, for example, are craftsmen. The Illusionists are usually hired, by those who can afford it, for any number of jobs.”

Kiora jerked to a stop as she entered the area she’d seen Emane chase the furry animal into. “This is it.”

Drustan looked around and knelt next to a tree. “He was here,” he said, holding up Emane’s sword. “Can you feel anything?”

“What am I looking for?”

“Any threads or magical residue. Illusionists’ threads are too faint for me to feel unless they are very close. But you might be able to.”

Kiora walked around the area, trying to feel anything that would help. She stopped where the Illusionist had picked up Emane. There was something . . . faint. Very faint. And it seemed to be fading as she stood there. “I can feel it.”

“Good,” Drustan said, setting Emane’s sword down. “You can summon the sword later. For now, follow what you’re feeling,”

Kiora focused all her energy into tracking the Illusionist. “Why can’t I feel Emane’s thread?” she asked, moving as quickly as she dared.

“Illusionists can mask the threads of others.”

“But not their own? That seems—” Kiora stopped abruptly. “I lost it.” She ran forward, whirling around. “I lost it!”

“Kiora,” Drustan said firmly, “calm down. Getting upset will not help find Emane. Relax. Search.”

She took a deep breath. “If I lose him …”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her gaze back to his eyes. “I know. We will not lose him. Calm down and find it.”

“All right.” She closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose, her fingers anxiously pulling at the hem of her shirt. She reached out again in all directions. There was nothing. “Drustan—” A tear dripped down Kiora’s cheek. She hastily brushed it away. “I can’t find it. He’s gone.”

Drustan’s eyes darted around, his eyebrows pulled together in thought. “It must have realized we were following it.”

“Can it bubble?”

“Not exactly, but as I said, they are a master of potions.” Drustan began to morph without warning. Hair grew all over his body, his nose elongating. His body bent forward until he stood on all fours.

Kiora’s heart rose in her throat despite knowing full well it was Drustan. “Was that really necessary?”

“I’m sorry. The Hounds have the best sense of smell of any creature I’ve found.”

The Shifter-Hound sniffed the ground, following the scent trail back the way they had just been. “Bubble us, please,” Drustan said. “We need the Illusionist to think it has thrown us off the trail.”

Kiora bubbled herself and the Shifter-Hound as they tracked the Illusionist’s scent through the forest. Nearly an hour later Drustan stopped in front of a large, gnarly pine tree, his nose moving up and down its bark. Stepping back, he morphed into the human form with the pointed ears. Why did he always revert to that form? Kiora kept forgetting to ask him.

“Why are we stopping?” Kiora asked.

“Because we have found them,” he announced, looking rather pleased with himself. “Rather clever potion.” Motioning in front of them, Drustan said, “This tree is not a tree.” Turning back to Kiora, Drustan grew serious. “Before you drop this bubble, I need to know you’re ready.”

She nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Don’t forget,” he stressed. “No matter what you see, it is not real. An Illusionist quite literally feeds off your belief. You are the only one with the power to make what it shows you real.”

“I understand.”

“All right then, drop the bubble.”

Kiora dropped the bubble, expecting something dramatic to occur. Nothing happened. The tree was still a tree.

Kiora looked from the tree to Drustan and back again. “Are you sure this is it?” she asked.

“I’m sure,” Drustan said. “You have to tell it that you know what it is. Then we will have to take Emane. It will not release him freely.”

Kiora felt ridiculous as she stepped towards the tree. “I know what you are, and I know you have Emane. Let him go.”

The tree shuddered and began to change. For a second she thought she saw Emane’s face in there. Then he was gone. The tree didn’t shift as Drustan did. She would have been prepared for that. Instead the branches popped into a black swirling cloud, whipping and whirling around her. Kiora took a startled step backwards. The cloud collapsed in on itself, smaller and smaller. Suddenly it exploded into an Aktoowa, three times the size of the one they had already met. Kiora screamed, stumbling back. The bird screeched, drowning out whatever it was that Drustan shouted. Taking advantage of Kiora’s fear, the bird quickly nipped her arm, its sharp beak drawing blood.

She looked down at her arm in shock. Maybe Drustan was wrong. Maybe this really was a Shapeshifter. The Aktoowa moved towards her again and Kiora reacted, throwing a bolt of magic. She sent the bird flying into a tree.

“Kiora! It has Emane,” Drustan shouted. “Stop. It’s not real, Kiora, it’s not real.” Drustan tried to run to her, but the Aktoowa had already gained its footing and was coming at her again.

Kiora couldn’t hit it with magic or she would hit Emane. She had to convince herself to stop believing what she was seeing. The bird lunged at her again. Despite her best effort not to, she jumped back in fear, and again the bird drew blood. Kiora gasped in pain, her hand flying to her new injury.

Drustan cursed loudly before morphing into an Aktoowa of matching size. He jumped between Kiora and the Illusionist, biting at it.

“I can not defeat this by myself,” Drustan yelled between attacks. “As long as you believe what you are seeing it will get stronger.”

Easier said than done. She dropped her face into her hands. Nothing about this animal seemed like an illusion. When Drustan clipped the Aktoowa with the back of his wing she heard the collision. And her arm was still bleeding in two places. She held her head, trying to force her brain to ignore the throbbing in her arm. “It’s not real, it’s not real.” Kiora repeated the mantra over and over to herself. But she could still hear the battle raging, undoing any progress she thought she had made.

“Kiora, you had better figure this out,” Drustan yelled at her. “Or I am gong to accidentally kill Emane.”

“It’s not real. It’s not real,” Kiora repeated even louder, wrapping her arms around her head.

“Oh, that is enough,” Drustan bellowed.

Kiora peeked out to watch Drustan morphing into a very large, very thick man. The Giant grabbed the Aktoowa and pulled it down to the ground with a thud that shook the dirt beneath her feet. Wrapping his arms and legs around the bird, Drustan secured it. The Aktoowa kicked and flayed its legs, sharp claws flashing dangerously in Kiora’s direction.

“Come on, Kiora,” Drustan yelled at her as he struggled against the Aktoowa. “The only way it is going to give Emane back is if you take him.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Kiora yelled in frustration, dropping her arms to her sides. “I don’t even know where he is.”

“Kiora—” Drustan grunted. “Listen to me carefully. You need to reach in and take Emane’s hand. He is in here somewhere.”

“Reach in?” she squeaked. “You mean, in its mouth?”

“No!” The bird thrashed and Drustan almost lost his grip. He wrapped his arms back around it, clasping his hands together over its chest. “In the middle.”

Kiora walked hesitantly over to the Aktoowa. She could hear the rustle of the feathers under Drustan’s grasp and its ragged breathing through the sharp beak. Kiora could still feel where that beak had opened her skin. Closing her eyes, Kiora shoved her fist into its chest. It thudded as it connected with the bird, who shrieked in response.

Drustan was livid. “Damn it, Kiora,” he yelled over the Aktoowa’s shoulder. “There is no faking this! This is not real—the only thing making it real is you. Save your Protector or we might as well go home. If you can’t handle an Illusionist, there is nothing in this land you can handle.”

His words stung and Kiora blinked back tears, swallowing the lump in her throat. She had to do this. Gritting her teeth she held out her hand to the bird. “This is not real, this is not real,” she muttered again hoping this time she would believe it. Kiora’s eyes fluttered open to see the Aktoowa’s beak around her arm preparing to bite. Her eyes narrowed. She had to get Emane back. “This is not—”

The bird clamped down, its beak sliding harmlessly through her arm, just like an illusion. “Real!” she exclaimed, shoving her hand through its stomach. There was nothing but open air behind it. The creature screamed as Kiora groped around for something solid. She felt a hand and then an arm. Grabbing it, she jerked with all her might, pulling Emane out of the creature’s grasp. Dead weight slammed into Kiora. She fell to the ground, an unconscious Emane on top of her. Grunting, she rolled him to the side.

“Emane, wake up.” She patted his cheek. No response. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted as if he were fast asleep. Kiora looked over to Drustan who was holding one of the ugliest things she had ever seen. “He won’t wake up,” she yelled.

Drustan held a small black being that had multiple legs and arms, a short torso, and a head much too big for its body. Its skin was shiny black like eel’s skin. It had long, stringy black hair and beady black eyes that flitted nervously between its captors.

“What is it trying to be?” Kiora asked, curling up her nose.

“Nothing. This is what it really looks like. Now,” Drustan said, shaking the ugly thing roughly. “What do we need to wake our friend?”

“Don’t know, don’t know,” it cackled.

Drustan squeezed his Giant’s arms tighter and the Illusionist began to choke. “I know you drugged him,” Drustan growled. “Now tell me how to fix him and I will let you live.”

Kiora wanted to free the creature from Drustan’s grasp, but Emane’s life depended on it talking.

“But he’s so pretty, so pretty,” the Illusionist said through short breaths. “Green snake-magic . . . they like. They liiiiiike,” it mourned.

Drustan’s brow furrowed and he released some of the pressure. “Who’s they?”

“The market, the market,” it said excitedly, trying to twist its body around to look at its captor. Drustan tightened his grip to keep the creature still. “They like new things—new things—good things. Good things is rare,” the creature rambled. “Very, very rare.”

“What do you mean, good things are rare?” Drustan asked.

“You stupid!” The hideous thing cackled “You know—you know—no more good—all gone. Stupid Shifter.” It shook its head, stringy black hair flying from side to side.

“How long has it been gone?” Drustan pushed.

“Stupid Shifter, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.” Drustan tightened his grip again, locking his fist under the Illusionist’s chin. It gasped before croaking, “Long time—good went bye bye, hard to find.” It looked longingly at Emane before its eyes flitted to Kiora. It breathed in deeply, and its eyes looked like they might pop out of its head. “Snake nice but she’s nicer, ohhhhh, want her—want her!” The Illusionist’s arms reached desperately for Kiora.

“Stop,” Drustan commanded. “You don’t get either one. Where were you taking him?”

“To market—to market—stupid—stupid Shifter. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Are they all this pleasant?” Kiora asked.

“Yes, unfortunately. Not the brightest.”

The Illusionist squeaked indignantly. “I bright—you stupid Shifter. Stupid, stupid.”

“Listen to me very carefully.” Drustan spoke through clenched teeth, putting his face against what Kiora assumed was its ear. “You will tell me what I need to wake him or I will shift into something very nasty. And unlike you, no matter how hard you hope they won’t, my teeth really will hurt.”

The Illusionist gulped and stretched one of its many arms toward the utility belt it wore. Drustan loosened his grip just enough for it to reach a pocket, his eyes watching every move carefully. The Illusionist pulled out a vile of purple liquid. “Drink this, he wake up.”

“Thank you,” Drustan said, growing an extra arm to take the potion and toss the vile to Kiora.

The Illusionist twisted, trying to free itself. “You let go, I gave you potion.”

“You really do think I am stupid,” Drustan said. “I am not letting you go until I am sure it works.”

Kiora looked nervously to Drustan, who nodded for her to continue. Biting her lip, Kiora pulled open Emane’s mouth and poured the potion down his throat. A second later Emane sputtered and opened his eyes. Kiora sighed in relief, leaning back on her heels.

“See!” The Illusionist cackled. “Worked, worked—all better!”

“Not so fast,” Drustan growled. “Emane, can you move your arms?”

Frowning, Emane opened his mouth and croaked, “No.”

The Illusionist screamed in protest, thrashing under Drustan’s restraint. “Stupid Shifter. Want it—I want it, want it—” It tried to stomp its feet, kicking Drustan instead. “You steal it. It’s mine.”

“Give me the potion,” Drustan demanded as long teeth started to grow out of his mouth, his eyes growing more oblong.

“Here, here,” the poor thing screamed in panic, pulling another vile out of its pocket. Drustan tossed the red potion to Kiora.

“A warning, Illusionist,” Drustan said. “If that potion causes him any harm I will eat you.”

The Illusionist squealed. “Wrong one, wrong one. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” It pulled another vile out, darker purple than the first, and handed it to Drustan.

Kiora looked in horror at the red vile in her hand, dropping it to the forest floor. Taking the purple vile, she prayed the Illusionist valued its life. She poured the vile down Emane’s throat and watched him anxiously. A couple of seconds later his legs and arms twitched a few times. Emane sighed in relief. Pushing himself up to sitting, Emane wiggled his fingers and rolled his wrists, smiling.

“Everything working?” Drustan asked.

Emane stood and tested his appendages. “I think so.”

“You listen to me,” Drustan hissed at the Illusionist. “If you ever come within so much as a mile of us, I will hunt you down and kill you. Do you understand?” The black creature nodded emphatically. “We know what you feel like. We know what you smell like. And we know that whatever you show us is not real. You have no more power over us.” He threw the creature free of his grasp. The Illusionists glared at the three of them before it scuttled off, mumbling to itself.

“Thank you,” Emane said humbly, his blond hair falling into his eyes. “Thank you, both of you.”

Kiora pushed herself to her feet. “Don’t thank me. I would have gotten us both killed if not for Drustan.”

Drustan morphed back into his standard form. “I am so disgusted with you two I don’t even know where to start,” he snapped.

“It’s my fault.” Emane lowered his head.

“Oh, you started this,” Drustan said, pointing his finger angrily in Emane’s direction. “Never, ever, leave without telling one of us. This place is not home. It will eat you alive. And you—” he stabbed at Kiora. “You are lucky we encountered a young Illusionist. The adults are capable of so much more.”

He stopped, breathing loudly through his nose. “Come.” He turned and stomped back toward camp. Kiora and Emane scrambled, like children, to fall in behind him.

When they reached the camp, Drustan instructed them to stay inside.

“Where are you going?” Kiora asked.

“I am going to see if we have attracted unwanted attention.” He morphed into a barely visible bug and flew off.

Kiora and Emane trudged inside the barrier.

“I’m sorry, Kiora,” Emane said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Kiora turned, throwing her arms around him. “I thought I might lose you.”

He pulled back enough to look into her eyes. “I love you.”

Kiora opened her mouth slightly, wanting to say it back—that she loved him. But she still harbored a fear of hurting him. Fear that she hurt everyone she loved.

She reached up on her toes, kissing him instead. He’d told her to take as long as she needed, but it didn’t kill the twinge of guilt when she failed to repeat the sentiment. A magical current tingled from her lips to his. Kiora felt Emane jump before she could rein her magic in.

Emane smiled ruefully. “That’s going to be a problem, isn’t it?”