Wings of Tavea

Chapter NINETEEN

Discovered


LOMAY LEANED FORWARD IN his chair. “You say you heard Emane? It was not a vision?”

“Lomay,” Alcander snapped. He set a bowl down on the small table, scooting it over to where they were seated. “She already told you. You do not need to ask her again.”

Lomay leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed appraisingly. “You are very protective of her, Alcander.”

A smirk spread across Lomay’s face as Alcander growled under his breath and stomped out. Kiora looked between the two, thoroughly confused.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, eyeing the bowl in front of them.

Before Lomay could answer, Alcander came back in holding a sphere of water between his hands. Without a word he released it into the basin.

Lomay looked like he was about to laugh, but only said, “Thank you, Alcander.”

Kiora gave up trying to figure out what was going on.

“We are here to plan,” Alcander said coldly, sitting on the stump. “Let’s plan. Everyday we leave Emane there, the worse her dreams will get.”

“You are very concerned,” Lomay noted.

“I will not listen to her scream anymore.” Leaning back he added, “The moral of the people is low due to Emane’s loss, and we can not gather the people to fight until we have the Solus and the Protector together.”

“Hmmm.” Lomay nodded. “Very pragmatic of you. Ever the leader.”

The tension in the room was thick as the two stared each other down. Alcander’s eyes were dangerous, while Lomay’s twinkled at a joke she clearly did not know. She couldn’t take it anymore, they needed to go. “I think Eleana used something like this,” Kiora said, running her finger over the bowl in front of her. “It acts similar to the Wings, right? Only less powerful.”

“Exactly,” Lomay said, dragging his gaze away from Alcander. He waved his hand over the top, and the water reflected a view of trees and deserts and seas far below them. “We are here.” The basin zoomed in closer to the dry and cracked ground that hid their camp. “The Manor is over here.” The picture then slid in the direction Lomay was pointing, until they were looking down over the roof of the Manor. A small lake sat between it and the edge of the forest that surrounded it. “It is a few days flight from where we are now.”

Kiora’s heart sunk at the distance. A few days!

“Rumors have swirled around the Manor for some time,” Lomay said. “Although I do not put much stock in rumors, something very dark has that place. Last night I visited the Wings to try to get a better understanding of the Manor. Anytime I became too specific with my questions, the picture would darken, or I would lose it.” His eyes met hers. “It takes some very powerful, very dark magic to hide something from the Wings. Whatever secrets that Manor holds, someone doesn’t want them discovered.”

“But Dralazar—” she began.

“I don’t think Dralazar has any idea what he is sitting on,” Lomay interrupted. “He needed a place, and he used the first thing he could find. The holder of the Manor’s secrets has power Dralazar can only dream of.”

“Alcander said it was connected with the Shadow,” Kiora said.

“That is most likely,” Lomay conceded. “But it is the how and the why that I am not sure of. And those are the most dangerous questions when left unanswered.”

“Then what can we do?”

“We need to talk to someone who has experience with the Manor,” Lomay said.

“No one who goes in there comes out alive,” Alcander objected weakly as he stared into the basin.

“There was one.”

Alcander thought for a moment before his head jerked up. “Niall?”

“Yes. I thought it foolishness at first. But after the Wings, I think it is our best approach to find out what we are dealing with.” Lomay groaned, his back popping as he rose. “The camp where Niall resides is here,” he said, pointing to the basin. “A day’s flight.”

“What about Drustan?” Kiora asked.

Lomay hesitated. “I had hoped he could gather more information for us, but I suppose you need him.”

“When are we leaving?” she asked, anxious to be on their way.

“As soon as I get word to them you are coming.”

* * *

KIORA HAD GIVEN UP trying to eat. The food tasted like cotton in her mouth, and her stomach was knotted so tight she didn’t think she would be able to keep anything down anyway. All she could think about was Emane and the days it would take to reach him. She had excused herself from the table, despite the disapproving glance from Alcander, and had come back to her room to wait for Lomay to finish the last minute details.

She picked up Epona’s book and sat on the bed, trying to find anything that would allow her to communicate with Emane over a great distance. She had heard Emane’s thoughts, but despite her attempts at calling him, nothing ever went though. The page on calling was nearly identical to what the Book of Arian had said. She flipped through the book but could find no more on calling than she already knew.

She slammed the book shut and dropped her head onto the back cover. So much magic, but never enough to do what she wanted. She pulled open the back cover, running her finger along the frayed remainder of the missing page.

A familiar, raspy whisper caused her head to jerk up. “Tell no one. Don’t forget.” It stirred around the room as if blown by winter winds. She could almost feel dry leaves and beetle feet scraping against her skin. She looked around, wanting to ask what was so important about that place, the place in Meros where magic didn’t exist. But the voices faded, still whispering, “Don’t forget . . . don’t forget.”

Frowning, Kiora looked back to the missing page. She reached her finger out to brush the fraying paper again—then another vision rushed in with full force. The book smacked the floor as she gripped the quilt on the bed.

Kiora was standing outside when the dry ground above her head crumbled inward, sending rocks the size of houses down into the camp. Taveans with black hair and red eyes poured in through the hole in the canyon, flying on foxes and many other winged creatures, courtesy of the Shifters that fought with them. Trackers scaled down the walls, howling in anticipation as deadly magic flew from the Taveans’ fingertips, killing those in the camp who were attempting to flee. Shifter-dragons ignited homes and blocked the only exit with a wall of fire.

The vision abated abruptly, and Kiora scrambled out of the cabin screaming, “Alcander!” She nearly fell down the stairs. Grabbing onto the rail, she screamed again. “Alcander!” Frantically, she reached for his thread. He was back at Lomay’s. She ran in that direction, tripping on stray rocks.

He came sprinting around the corner. “What is the matter?” he said, sliding into her and grabbing her by the arms.

“We have to go, everybody has to go. Now!”

“Kiora, calm down.”

“No!” she yelled, jerking her arms out of his grasp. “I had a vision—they are coming. Evil is coming and they are breaking right through the ceiling.” She pointed to the crack running overhead.

Lomay came around the side of his house, moving as fast as Kiora had ever seen him go. “She is right, I just had the same vision. I will take the people safely out of here. You take Kiora and Drustan to the next camp.” He placed his hand on Alcander’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “She is in your hands now. Listen to her, trust her. Go!” Lomay shoved him before hurrying towards the village.

Turning to Kiora, Alcander asked, “Where’s Drustan?”

“Hold on.” Drustan, she called. Where are you?

Hauling water to the kitchens, Drustan thought back.

How fast can you be at Alcander’s house?

Soon.

Come, now. There is no time to waste.

“Drustan is meeting us at your house,” she told Alcander, her eyes flickering upwards to the foreseen entry point.

Nodding, Alcander grabbed her hand and pulled her back the way she had come. Whatever Lomay had done, the word had already spread. People were running and screaming, gathering up what they could before heading towards the main exit.

They skidded around the corner just as Drustan unbubbled. “What is happening?” he asked, his eyes darting around.

“Evil is coming, right now.”

“But how?” Drustan frowned. “You don’t think the Shifters somehow alerted—”

“It doesn’t matter now, we have to go,” Alcander snapped. “We need something fast and not too big.”

Drustan looked like he was about to demand a proper request. Instead he shut his mouth and changed before their eyes. He became longer, growing scales and wings. By the time he finished he was a very long, very thin dragon.

“That will do.” Alcander grabbed Kiora and tossed her onto Drustan’s back.

“How are we getting out?” Drustan asked.

Alcander and Kiora both followed Drustan’s gaze to the only exit. It was buried beneath a mass of people struggling to squeeze through. The bridge sank dangerously low under the weight of so many.

“No way we’re getting through there,” Kiora said.

Another vision came, as clear as the last one, fierce in its intensity. Kiora dropped back into Alcander as she watched. The hoard was approaching, coming across the dry landscape. They were closer than she had thought.

Jerking up, Kiora yelled, “The army is almost here. There isn’t time to get them out.” She looked again at the mass of evacuees still walking, running, or flying to the exit. She knew most of them would still be in the cave as well, funneled through by the thin bridge running over the river. “We need a distraction,” she said, pointing to the spot in the ceiling that had crashed down in her vision. “Drustan, fly straight up there.”

“What are you doing?” Alcander yelled as Drustan pushed himself off the ground.

“Trust me,” she said. “Please.”

Reaching the top, Drustan fluttered in place, his ascent cut off by dirt and rock. “Now what?” he asked.

“This is where they come in at,” she said. “This whole section is coming down.” She looked below; a few stragglers were still making their way up the canyon.

“What are you waiting for?” Alcander asked, nervousness finally entering his voice. “Do you have a plan or not?”

“Hold on.” She watched the people, mentally urging them through the exit, until she couldn’t hold off anymore. Making sure the ground beneath them had been completely evacuated, she told Drustan to take them as close to the side as he could. His wings nearly scraped the rock face as he maneuvered them into place. Kiora reached out her hand, shooting a massive bolt of magic at the ceiling. It clattered down in a shower of rocks and dust. “Go through the hole,” she instructed.

“A bubble?” Drustan asked.

“No,” she coughed, waving at the cloud of dirt around them. “Not yet.”

“Kiora,” Alcander began, but stopped as the three rose through the hole like ghosts rising from the dead. The dust billowed around them, shrouding them from sight. But it didn’t mask their threads. A battle cry rose from the Taveans.

“Fly, Drustan,” Kiora instructed. “That way.” She pointed him away from the exit Lomay would be taking the camp through. At least half of the oncoming forces veered off in pursuit.

“Wise,” Alcander conceded, looking over his shoulder. “Your thread has caught their interest.”

“And yours,” Drustan said. “The Shifters told me there is quite a price on your head amongst the Taveans.”

“Can you concentrate on flying?” Alcander snapped, putting up a shield for a shot that had been thrown out of range. It dropped a few feet behind them.

“Am I going anywhere in particular?” Drustan asked, his eyes flitting around at the endless expanse of brown as his wings pumped.

“Draw them off, then do exactly as I say.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Kiora, a little help?” Alcander shouted.

Whirling around, Kiora saw a cloud of magical volleys moving within range. The army sent after them was much larger than the force they had battled last time. Shifters and Taveans poured towards them. The Trackers’ feet pounded up dusty walls alongside them.

Kiora added her shield to Alcander’s, leaving Drustan on course until their shields were a blur of color underneath sizzling magical attacks. “All right, Drustan,” she said. “Fly straight up.” Drustan immediately tilted his wings, taking them nearly ninety degrees upward. The line of attack followed behind them. She eyed the formation. “All right, Alcander, hold on,” she said, clenching her knees tight to Drustan’s side.

“Drustan, the only way this will work is if we do it fast. Otherwise, Alcander and I are dead. When I say go—” She glanced behind her again—the Shifters were sprouting wings and gaining fast. “I will put up a bubble. You are going to flip upside down before dropping as fast as you can. Take us right underneath them.”

“This is crazy—” Alcander began.

“Go!” She threw up the bubble, dropping all shields that kept them from being killed. Drustan flipped himself upside down and dropped into a dive. The attacking force focused their attention up and to the side, as Kiora had hoped they would, firing off random shots into the sky, hoping for a lucky hit. By the time the army began firing downwards, Drustan was already flying beneath their feet, back the way they’d come.

Kiora laughed out loud, flipping around on Drustan to watch the shower of magic exploding throughout the sky. Grinning, she looked at Alcander, whose white hair flew behind him like a banner.

“That was . . . impressive,” he said.

“Wasn’t it though?” Drustan laughed. “She is amazing.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” Kiora said. “Arturo did something similar in the battle for Meros.”

Alcander didn’t say anything, but he gazed at her with a fierceness that she finally had to look away from. She scanned for any other sign of people. Suddenly a sphere of light, half the size of a mountain, exploded ahead of them.

“What was that?” Kiora yelled, covering her eyes with her arm.

“Lomay. If that went off, it means he got the people out.” Alcander breathed a sigh of relief. “He would have left it to detonate when the enemy entered camp.”

“Then it’s all gone?” she asked sadly.

“I’m sure it was mostly destroyed, yes.”

“What about the Wings?”

He paused. “I know Lomay would do about anything to keep them safe, so I imagine they are fine.”

Knowing the people were safe allowed her to relax. “All right, tell us where to go.”

* * *

EMANE WOKE TO A familiar pain. Familiarity did not make it easier. The last time Dralazar had coached Layla, through demonstration, on how to inflict as much pain as she could without actually killing him. Truth be told, Emane preferred her attacks. They weren’t as painful as Dralazar’s. Whether for lack of magic or lack of desire, he wasn’t sure.

Trying to avoid any sudden movements, Emane curled his fingers, healing his palm and arm first. He continued, managing to heal most of himself before he ran out of magic. His back remained raw and blistered. There was nothing else he could do; it would have to wait.

Groaning, he peeled off his shirt as gently as he could, gritting his teeth as the fabric pulled from the open sores. The rub of the fabric against his wounds was far too uncomfortable, so he dealt with the added pain.

Tossing the shirt to the side, he lay on his stomach and tried to relax. He dozed, feeling the magic trickle in. The constant pain was mind-warping, and he struggled to push through the fog.

He tensed at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, the sudden jerk of his muscles sent pain screaming through his back.

Clenching his eyes shut and exhaling, he wondered how they always knew when he was awake. Determined not to move, he lay as still as possible. The footsteps were lighter. Layla’s. Emane heard her come up to the bars and stand watching him for what felt like forever. Then she walked over to the fireplace and sat in one of the two chairs.

He should have stayed silent—after all, he had lain there simply to convince her he was asleep. “What?” he asked. “You only burn your victims if they are awake?” He turned to look at her. She sat in the armchair, her head down. Her eye was red, shiny, and nearly swollen shut. Her cheek was black and blue. Grunting, Emane tried to push himself up, but the pain forced him flat. “He hit you again.”

She shrugged. “Why would you care?”

“He has no right to hit you.”

She laughed, the laughter quickly turning into a sob.

“Layla, let me heal you.”

She stood slowly, confusion etched on her face. “You haven’t finished healing yourself.”

Emane gritted his teeth as he moved himself to sitting, trying not to groan. “I ran out before I could get to my back. I was waiting for it to replenish.” He took a deep shuddering breath. “But I have enough to fix your face.”

“If you do, you will have to wait longer to heal yourself.”

“Yes.”

She took another step forwards. “Why would you do that?”

“No one deserves to be treated that way.”

Her chin rose, looking down her nose at him. “You are trying to trick me so I won’t hurt you.”

“No,” he said softly. He gingerly pushed himself up, grunting. “I know you’re still going to hurt me.” Her eyes furtively moved to the floor. She stood there, trembling, as he took slow, painful steps towards the bars of the cage. “Please, Layla.”

Emane could see a tear glistening in her other eye as she inched her way towards the cage. When she stood face to face with him, she whispered, “You can’t touch the bars, they will hurt you.”

He nodded. Turning his hand to the side, he cautiously slid it between two of the snapping bars. He couldn’t feel the magic they were made of, but he could feel the heat off them. He winced as the movement of his arm stretched the burnt skin along his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he grunted. “I can’t reach any further.”

Eyes wide and trembling, Layla inched closer until his fingers touched her cheek. Closing his eyes, he allowed the healing to flow. As soon as he was done, she took a quick step back, her fingers running over her face.

Emane slowly withdrew his hand before sinking to the ground. He painstakingly laid himself flat again.

Layla looked nervously over her shoulder before sitting down on the floor in front

of him. “Why do you love her so much?” she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open for a second. “Why don’t you?”

She sputtered, “You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand. You have never understood. You saw a little sister that scared you. Instead of loving her despite of it, you hated her for it.”

Layla scrambled to her feet, whirling towards the door. “Dralazar!”

Dralazar grinned, striding across the room. Grabbing her chin, he turned her face to the side. “Look at that.” Pulling her chin down, he looked into her eyes. “Didn’t I tell you our soft-hearted Protector would heal you?”

Emane clenched his fists.

“Very good, Emane. Now that we know you can heal those you despise, you will heal me.”

“No.”

“Emane.” His voice was too calm. Emane had learned to fear the calm more than he feared the anger. “This can be as hard or easy as you want. But in the end, you will heal me.”

Emane didn’t feel the fire coming, but he heard it crackling forward a second before it seared his already burnt skin. He writhed on the floor but didn’t lose consciousness this time. The fire stopped before the welcoming blackness could obliviate the pain.

He heard Dralazar instruct Layla to continue before the sound of his footsteps leaving the room echoed though his haze of pain. A second later, Layla sunk to a pile on the floor, crying, before she had finished the job. Emane wasn’t grateful.

But under all the pain, an unwelcome ball of pity for Layla was forming in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

ALCANDER AND KIORA HAD taken turns bubbling for the remainder of the day. Because of the failed attack on their camp, Alcander insisted the bubble be kept up, no matter how much of their magic it drained. The army would be actively hunting both them and those who had fled with Lomay.

The sun was setting, and Drustan’s speed had been steadily dropping the longer they flew. Below them the landscape changed—from the barren, dried up land they had fled from—to a new type of scenery Kiora wasn’t used to. It was lush and green like Meros, but the pines she was familiar with were nearly gone. In their place stood giant trees of all different shapes and sizes. The large, flat leaves were not green, but red and orange and yellow. So different from the evergreen pine needles she was used to.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes glued to the pallet of colors.

“Yes, I have missed this,” Drustan wheezed between heavy wing flaps.

“You don’t have trees?” Alcander asked.

“We only have pines.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Why do the Taveans have a price on your head?”

“Because I have the only legitimate claim to the throne.”

She chewed on that for a while before blurting, “That doesn’t make any sense. If you tried to claim the throne, they would just kill you. Why does it matter?”

“My claim to the privileges of the throne would be more accurate,” he explained tightly. “There is a staff with great powers, and it is loyal to the reigning King. Until my bloodline is extinguished, a new King cannot be named, and thus it cannot be used.”

“Why don’t you just summon it?” she asked.

He laughed humorlessly. “The Taveans have placed so many tracking spells on it, they would have me the minute I did.”

They flew silently for a while.

“Alcander,” Drustan said. “How much longer were you hoping I could fly today?” His words were clipped from lack of breath.

“Just there,” Alcander said, pointing to a sparkling blue lake that had just come

into view.

The closer they got to it, the more Kiora realized the size of it. “That is the biggest

lake I have ever seen.”

“It’s called Lake Everleen, which means never-ending waters.”

“Never-ending.” Drustan groaned, dipping closer to the ground. “That sounds promising.”

“Can’t you make your muscles larger?” Alcander questioned.

“My abilities are impressive, Tavean,” Drustan grunted, struggling to regain his altitude. “But a muscle is a muscle. No matter the size of it, I can only work it so much.”

“That’s a shame.”

“No, it’s a shame you can’t fly.”

Kiora looked at the trees surrounding the lake. “Where is the camp?”

“Straight out.”

Drustan whipped around his long dragonhead. “I am not flying to the other side of the never-ending lake. Not without stopping for the night.”

“We aren’t going to the other side,” Alcander said, looking past Drustan’s scowling face to the waters.

“Then where?” he demanded.

“Just fly. I have to watch for it or we will miss it.”

Drustan turned his head back, grumbling. They flew out over the water until they could barely see the shore. A thin line of brown behind them marked their distance.

“There!” Alcander said. “Look.”

All she saw were miles of small waves lapping under the wind. “I don’t see anything.”

He leaned over her shoulder, pressing against her back. Wrapping his arm around her, he pointed in front of them. “Look, right there, at the waves.”

Then she saw it—the waves were breaking against something she couldn’t see. It was only for a second, and then the normal pattern of waves resumed.

She frowned. “What is it?”

“The shore. Drustan, come in low and skim the water.”

He obeyed, dropping lower until his belly was just above the waves. One second there was water in front of them, and the next they had passed through a magical barrier and were flying over a sandy beach. Looking up, Kiora gulped. Maybe a foot above her head, wicked looking trees had been shaved into long thin points. They were buried in the sand around the island at different intervals and angles. Anyone accidently passing through the boundary would be impaled before they could tell anyone what they had discovered.

No sooner had they landed than Alcander hissed in her ear, “Put your arms up, slowly. It appears Lomay didn’t have time to contact them before we left.”

Several creatures had appeared out of nowhere and were facing them, hands up and ready to attack. There were three dark-skinned men, as well as two winged men.

Someone pushed through the patrol. Kiora could see the physical characteristics that marked him as a Tavean—fair hair, blue eyes, pointed ears. But Alcander was so much more striking. This new Tavean had short hair and ears that pointed nearly straight out. The sharpness of his features did not blend well with the rounder shape of his face.

“Prince Alcander,” the Tavean said in relief. “We did not know you were coming.” Turning around, he yelled at the patrol, “Stand down!”

“Einar.” Alcander bowed his head slightly in recognition.

Einar dropped into a full bow at the waist. “What brings you here, Your Majesty?” His eyes flicked repeatedly to Kiora, like a moth to a flame.

“Our camp was discovered.” Alcander halted and amended his statement. “Destroyed.”

“Lomay?” Einar asked, raising an eyebrow

“Safe, I believe. He led the others out.”

Einar bowed again. “What may we assist you with?”

“We will need accommodations for three.”

“The Shifter can stay with the rest of his kind. As for you and your guest—”

“No,” Alcander interrupted. “The Shifter stays with us for now.”

Einar looked thoroughly confused, but swallowed before neatly wiping the expression off his face. “Of course. Anything else?”

“I need to speak with Niall.”

If Einar was confused before, he was now flabbergasted and did a poor job of hiding it. “You came to speak to Niall?” he sputtered.

“He is still here, I assume?” Alcander asked dryly.

“Yes, of course.” Einar shook his head. “Crazy old bat is too unstable for us to release.”

“Please have him summoned.”

“Yes, my Prince.” Einar’s eyes again flitted to Kiora.

Alcander scowled. “This is Kiora,” he said, motioning towards her. “If you cannot recall your manners, I will have someone else show us our accommodations.”

Kiora’s checks flushed red.

Einar snapped to attention, his back straight. “Of course.” Turning on his heels, he said tightly, “Come with me, please.”