Wings of Tavea

Chapter TWENTY-TWO

Mermaids and Shadow


THE FEW HOURS IN the air had crawled by. Although the two had appeared on the beach looking strangely like friends, Drustan was now silent and Alcander was withdrawn.

Kiora leaned forward, trying to keep from touching Alcander. She could not, no matter how hard she tried, deny that she had feelings for him. And every time she brushed against him, the magic reminded her. Her love for Emane had grown bit by bit, day by day. She learned more about him with each experience. But with Alcander, though she didn’t always understand him, there was a comfortable feeling: as if she had known him forever. Had she met Alcander before Emane, that sense of familiarity would have been good. But now it chaffed and hurt her head. Not to mention the guilt. What would she tell Emane? He would kill Alcander. No, she corrected herself. Emane would try to kill Alcander, and then she would have to step in to prevent Alcander from killing Emane. He was really no match for Alcander when magic was involved.

She scowled as her back began to ache. She sat up, trying to stretch it out. But the aching rapidly changed to burning. Shifting, she moaned.

“What’s the matter?” Alcander asked.

“I don’t know. My back, something is . . .” She shook her head. “It hurts but I don’t think it’s me.”

Drustan turned his dragon head to look at her. “Emane?”

“Maybe.” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “It’s faint but—”

“You can feel his pain?” Alcander asked swiftly.

She reached around to her back, rubbing. “I could feel his emotions before. But never physical pain.”

“This is bad,” Alcander murmured.

Drustan didn’t say anything, but turned his attention back to the front.

“Why is it bad?” she asked as the pain faded. “It means we are getting closer, right?” A roar rang through her ears, drowning Alcander’s reply. “I love you, Kiora,” the whisper repeated over and over again. Those words brought pain and guilt for so many reasons. One of the reasons—Emane could not initiate calling. She would only be hearing his thoughts through his pain.

“Kiora!” Alcander’s voice came sharply from behind.

She jerked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I know. That is why it’s bad.”

Drustan managed to fly for six more hours before he finally circled lower to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Alcander asked, breaking the silence they had fallen into.

“We are resting, eating, and drinking,” Drustan said dryly. “And before you say anything else, I do not need, nor am I going to, ask for permission before I land.”

“You have no idea where we are,” Alcander pointed out.

“Do you?”

“Not anymore. It used to be neutral ground before the war started. I don’t know what lives here now.” Alcander pointed over Kiora’s shoulder to the ground. She shivered as he brushed against her. “That’s the problem.”

Below them the trees thinned to reveal a clearing with a small lake in the center.

“That will be a problem no matter where we land.” Drustan turned his head just enough to see Alcander’s jaw set. “We need water, plus shelter for Kiora to build a concealment. This seems to fit our needs.”

A few minutes later, Drustan thudded to the ground next to the lake. The trees here were the same kind Kiora had admired on their way to the island—brilliantly colored. Their leaves had begun to fall, painting the ground as well.

Kiora slid off Drustan, stretching her legs and back. Her legs protested, determined to remain in the same position they had been in for the last nine hours or so. Despite alternating bubbles with Alcander, her magic was building up underneath her skin. She looked forward to releasing some of it.

“I can build the concealment farther within the tree line,” she said, pointing to a place where the foliage thickened, naturally concealing what lay behind it.

Alcander scowled. “No. Anyone looking for us would expect us to be hidden farther in. Build it here, right on the edge of the trees. It will be the last place they look.”

“Yes, there is a good reason for that,” Drustan said, shifting back to human form. “Camping on the edge of the trees increases the likelihood that someone not looking will walk through the enchantment.”

Alcander’s eyes slid over to Drustan. “When I want your opinion, I will ask for it.”

“Alcander—” Kiora began.

“Is it too much to ask for the two of you to defer to someone who has more knowledge of this land than you do?” Alcander snapped.

She blinked, crossing her arms. “I trust you. I was only asking if you could take over the bubble so I could make the concealment.”

Alcander shifted on the balls of his feet. “Of course.”

After Kiora had set up the enclosure for the night, Drustan grabbed one of the packs Alcander had insisted they take. “Any water in here?”

“No, we will have to collect it. I assumed that’s why you landed here.” Alcander grabbed the pack from Drustan and pulled out a clay jug. “Here you are,” he said smugly. “Watch out for mermaids.”

“Mermaids!” Kiora and Drustan both said at the same time.

“Why didn’t you tell me there were mermaids?” Drustan shouted.

Alcander, looking supremely amused, shoved the jug into Drustan’s hand. “I would have, had you asked my permission to land. But since you didn’t, I didn’t have the opportunity.”

“I have never seen mermaids,” Kiora said.

“Trust me,” Alcander said, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the enclosure. “You don’t want to.”

Kiora attempted to lock down as much magic as she could. Regardless, it still flowed between the two of them. She slipped her hand free. “What’s wrong with mermaids? Drustan had a alliance with them at home.”

Alcander chuckled. “You’ll see. He certainly doesn’t have an alliance with these. Go on, Drustan,” Alcander said, waving towards the lake. “You can bubble long enough to take care of it.” His eyes twinkled with laughter. “We will watch from here.”

Drustan’s mouth twisted before vanishing into a bubble.

Alcander settled down onto the grass. “Sit,” he said patting the ground beside him. “Watch.”

Kiora frowned but sat anyway, looking towards the lake. She couldn’t see Drustan since he was bubbled. But the second the jug broke the water’s surface, the middle of the lake began churning. Rising up from it came three of the most beautiful ladies Kiora had ever seen. One a shimmering redhead, another with hair as white as Alcander’s, and another with hair the color of chestnuts. Their features were pert and perfect. Glistening scales of red, green, and yellow were laid artistically over their chest and shoulders.

“They are beautiful,” Kiora whispered, leaning forward.

Then they started to sing, a haunting melody that slithered into her ears. Everything around her disappeared under the song, and Kiora rose to her feet.

Alcander laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her back down.

“What are you doing?” she grunted, struggling against his grasp. “I want to go.”

He pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “They want you to go so they can drown you and eat you.”

She jerked, trying to free herself from his grasp. She needed to go to them.

“And they won’t make it fast,” he added. “They like to play with their food.”

“They . . . what?”

“They will eat you,” he repeated. She turned her head to look at him with wide eyes. He gave a soft smile, pushing her hair out of her face. “I am glad I didn’t send you with Drustan. I had no idea you would be so susceptible.”

The music still haunted her, pulling her towards the water. But knowing what it was gave her more control. “What about Drustan?” she realized, jerking forward.

“Relax, he knows how to ignore them. And if he doesn’t, he can just shift so he doesn’t have ears.” Alcander nodded towards the water. “Watch, this is the best part.” She looked back at the mermaids, whose song was now fading. “They haven’t caught any prey,” he explained. “So there is no need for a glamour anymore.”

“Glamour?”

The mermaids’ faces started shifting—or more appropriately—blurring. Soon she could see them for what they truly were: hideous, scaly figures rising from the water. Their eyes were sunken and black, cheekbones sticking out like daggers, sallow cheeks beneath. Their teeth were thin and pointed, and black-forked tongues flicked in and out between them. The only thing that remained beautiful and unaltered was their flowing hair.

Kiora sucked in her breath.

“Awful, aren’t they?” he whispered, his lips near her ear again. The magical transfer increased tenfold and she closed her eyes, swallowing.

“Alcander,” she began weakly. He didn’t have time to answer before the sensation of a thousand fiery fingernails burned and ripped through her back. She screamed, arching against Alcander. His arms tightened around her in alarm. Her back felt like it was being flayed open, and the pain was spreading. First her back, then her arms, hands and legs. She thrashed in Alcander’s arms.

“Kiora!” he yelled.

“Make it stop!” she screamed, rolling herself into a ball before thrashing backwards again.

Drustan walked into the bubble as she thrashed backwards again. Her fingernails cut bloody lines into her palms.

“What is wrong with her?” he shouted over her screams.

“I think she is feeling Emane’s pain again,” Alcander shouted back, pulling Kiora as tight to his chest as he could.

“How far to the Manor? We have to get Emane out now!”

“No,” Alcander snapped, staring up at him with determination.

“What do you mean, no?”

“We can’t take her in there, not like this. How long do you think it will take for Dralazar to figure this out? All he has to do is hurt Emane to incapacitate her. No shield she throws will be strong enough to protect her.”

“Alcander,” Kiora whimpered. A sheen of sweat lay over her body. Her face was ashen. “Please.” She twisted in his arms.

The pain in her voice broke his heart. He couldn’t do anything to protect her. Smoothing back her hair, he placed his lips against her forehead. “It’s all right, Kiora, it will be okay. Emane will heal soon, hold on.”

* * *

EMANE CAME TO AND wished he hadn’t. He had been wise to avoid the bars that held him captive. Dralazar had lost his patience and thrown him into them. The pain that had ripped through his skin was something he wanted to forget. Unfortunately, he woke to it.

“Emane?” a small voice asked.

He cringed but said nothing as a burst of anger flared behind his closed eyes. How dare she sound so concerned, after everything, over and over again.

“Please,” Layla pleaded from the other side of the bars. “Heal yourself, I can’t stand to see you like this.”

He wanted to laugh. She couldn’t stand to see him like this? It was funny in a sick kind of way. He would love to heal himself. But to heal himself he would have to move. Not only move, but somehow reach his arm around to his back. Taking a deep breath, he moved his arm a fraction to the side. The charred skin where one of the bars had bit immediately split open at the movement. He yelled in pain before biting down on his wrist.

“Emane!” Layla jumped up, running to the bars.

“Layla,” he half screamed. “Not now.” He shuddered, his insides withering at the thought of another movement. Deciding fast was better than slow, he flung his arm behind him. He screamed in agony as his back exploded in a firestorm of pain. His vision swam with black spots. His fingers were just inches from his back when his pain doubled. Half the pain was his—the other was not.

“No,” he gasped. “No!”

Kiora could feel it, all of it. And he was feeling her feeling it. She must be getting closer. He had to heal himself now—for Kiora. Biting down on his wrist again, Emane swung his arm around, determined to reach his back. The pain was horrendous. His head swam, threatening the usually welcome escape to unconsciousness. But this time he struggled against it, refusing to surrender. He could taste blood in his mouth as his fingers brushed against his charred and split skin, dumping every bit of magic he could muster into the wounds. The pain mercifully faded under his magic, and he let his arm drop to the floor, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Emane, are you okay?”

“How do you think I am?” he said, his voice wavering. Layla surely attributed the waver to pain and exhaustion. It was partly that, but more from a raging anger that she and Dralazar, in hurting him, had also hurt Kiora. But that was something Layla could never know. If Dralazar realized . . . Emane shuddered. It would be horrible for both of them.

“Is the pain gone?”

Emane finally looked over. Layla was kneeling at the bars, her face looking genuinely concerned. She had been different lately, at least when Dralazar was absent.

His insides were shaking and shuddering at the trauma of being burned and healed, over and over again. “Yes,” he lied. “It’s gone.”

Layla jerked up suddenly, scrambling to her feet. Emane didn’t need to feel threads to know what was happening. Dralazar. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back onto his bloodied wrist.

Dralazar came and sat in one of the armchairs. Layla moved to the other, shifting nervously from side to side while Dralazar kept his eyes locked on Emane, spinning the large silver ring on his finger.

“You have seen what happens when I lose my temper,” Dralazar finally said. “I would hate for it to happen again.”

Emane didn’t bother to uncurl from his ball.

“Dralazar, please,” Layla said, so quietly Emane had to strain to hear. “You are going to kill him.”

Dralazar turned his head to the side. “I think he would like that, wouldn’t you, Emane?”

“It seems like a viable option,” he muttered between clenched teeth.

“One you will not get, I am afraid.” He stood, stalking towards the crackling bars. “Do you have any idea how long a person can live under torture?”

Emane stared at Dralazar’s shoes.

“As long as I pace myself, you’ll live a very long time. Eventually, you will be so incoherent with pain and exhaustion, you will give in.”

“I won’t help you.”

“You will.” Dralazar crouched down, trying to force Emane to look at him. “Because I am going to let you in on a little secret. When Kiora comes for you, which I am sure she will, I will kill her. But not you. You will continue to live a long and torturous existence because you have something I need. There is no escaping me, Emane. Not until you give me what I want.”

Emane snorted. “And then what will you do after I heal you? Will you kill me then?”

Dralazar’s mouth formed a long, lazy smile as he stood. Waving his hand, a small section of bars flickered out, and he strode in.

Emane scrambled halfway up, pushing himself backwards across the floor. “What are you doing?”

Another flick of Dralazar’s hand and the bars returned behind him. “I am tired of waiting. I will have your cooperation, and I will have it today.” He rubbed his hands together. “Because today there will be no blacking out. If you do, I will heal you. Not enough to stop the pain, mind you, just enough to keep you conscious for as long as it takes for you to give me what I want.”

Emane tried to stand, but Dralazar knocked his feet out from under him with a burst of magic, slamming him to the ground. The fire came next, licking new areas across his legs and back.

Again, as he writhed on the floor, his pain returned doubled. He would have gladly endured it had it been taking away Kiora’s pain. But it wasn’t. Wherever she was, he knew she was feeling every bit of the attack.

Emane! Kiora’s thoughts were strained, both a cry for help and a cry for his pain.

Dralazar focused his attack around Emane’s armband, super-heating the metal. Throwing his head back he screamed, feeling Kiora’s simultaneous scream rattle through his bones.

Even as Dralazar’s fire ceased, the armband continued to sear and burn into his flesh. His hand automatically moved to claw at it, burning the tips of his fingers before he jerked his hand back.

“Please,” Emane gasped. “Stop.” He looked over at the armchair, expecting to see Layla ready to help Dralazar with the torture. But she was gone.

Dralazar’s eyes followed Emane’s. “It’s just you and me, Emane. Layla seems to have had an attack of conscience. I will deal with her later.” Dralazar’s hands flew out again, the magic burning as it pushed him backwards.

He clawed at the floor, trying to prevent himself from slamming into the bars again. He slowed himself down, but the back of one leg slid across three of the bars. Yelling, he pulled himself forward, panting and gasping while trying not to vomit from the smell of his own charred flesh. The blackness came rushing in from all sides, and Emane tried to surrender quickly to allow Kiora a rest. But Dralazar was at his side a moment later, healing his wounds just enough to pull him back to reality.

“What did I tell you?” Dralazar said, his fingers digging painfully into Emane’s shoulder. “There will be no escape this time. Are you ready to heal me?”

He shuddered. “I—I can’t,” he wheezed, slumping forward.

Dralazar squeezed his shoulder again, sending currents of magic jolting through him. He couldn’t hear Kiora’s scream, but he could feel it, running through his body just as the current was. His teeth ground together as his back arched, his muscles contracting with the pulsing magic.

He was supposed to protect Kiora, to keep her from harm. There was only one way. “All right!” he screamed. “I’ll do it!”

Dralazar released Emane’s shoulder as he stood. Emane collapsed to the floor.

“That didn’t take as long as I anticipated,” Dralazar said, sounding pleased. “I must say, I am disappointed in your stamina, Prince Emane.”

“Heal me first,” he gasped.

Dralazar’s face darkened. “What?” he barked.

“Heal me first, or I won’t heal you. That is the deal.”

“You are in no position to negotiate.”

Emane looked up at him from beneath lanky sections of sweat-soaked hair, trembling from the raw pain he was still passing onto Kiora. “Yes, I am. I have what you want, and I have agreed. I can heal it now, or we can see how many more days I can take this.”

Dralazar’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m done!” Emane shouted. “I can’t do this anymore! Heal me, or get out!” He hoped the lie was not apparent in his eyes.

Dralazar took two quick steps towards him. Kneeling down, he gripped his shoulder again. “Healed or not, you are no match for me.”

Emane looked Dralazar in the eye. “I know.”

The healing spread out from Dralazar’s hand, soothing every inch of his body. Emane sighed, not with his own relief, but with Kiora’s.

“Now,” Dralazar said. “Heal it.” He extended his hand.

I’m sorry, Kiora, Emane thought as a hopelessness spread through him. It was the only way.

* * *

ALCANDER HAD CARRIED KIORA to the enclosure so he could release the bubble concealing them. He sat against a tree, holding her tightly. The last scream had been worse than the first, and he stared at the setting sun. He couldn’t look at her, not like this. Not when there was nothing he could do. She went limp suddenly, like a rag doll, collapsing in his arms. He looked down, squeezing her tighter to his chest with relief.

“Is it over?” Drustan asked.

“Kiora?” Alcander shook her lightly. “Are you okay?” Her dark hair was caught beneath his arm; only her white streak had escaped and was blowing in the wind.

She moved, burying her face in his chest. He rested his chin against the top of her head. “Does it still hurt?”

“Alcander,” she whimpered, “it was horrible. They are going to kill him. ”

Kiora’s body returned to normal as soon as Emane healed himself—at least she assumed that was what happened. The pain stopped too abruptly for it to be anything else. Pushing herself off Alcander’s lap, she looked to Drustan. “We have to get Emane out,” she whispered.

Drustan’s eyes flicked to Alcander.

“What?” she asked, looking between the two.

“We have to sever your attachment first,” Alcander replied.

Her eyes narrowed. “Sever my . . . no!”

“Kiora—”

“No!” she cut him off, pushing herself to her feet. “How am I supposed to know what’s happening with him when it’s gone? He is my protector, we need that connection.”

“You’re being foolish,” Alcander snapped, rising to his feet. “You can’t fight a battle when you suffer from each other’s wounds.”

“He’s right,” Drustan said.

Kiora shot Drustan a murderous glare.

“This connection will get you both killed.” Alcander gripped her hand, reminding her of their connection as magic coursed through her, leaving her weak in the knees. “Kiora, please. You cannot allow yourself to be this susceptible to attacks. It is a weakness you are choosing.”

She bit her lip, neatly extracting her hands from his grasp.

“Kiora.” Drustan walked over, his voice soft and understanding as he took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “You are not betraying Emane.”

It was like he had heard her thoughts. After everything that had happened on the island, after everything Emane had been through, how would she tell him she had severed their connection as well?

“Alcander is right,” Drustan continued. “If you don’t do this, you will both die. Think of what Dralazar could do—torturing both of you by laying hands on just one. What would you both do to save the other from the pain?”

“I saw a spell in the book Epona sent with me,” she admitted. “Will it sever all connections?” She glanced at Alcander. Her hope was all too apparent in her eyes, and he read it like a book.

His face hardened, and he stepped back as if she had slapped him across the face. “No. It severs connections like yours and Emane’s. There is, unfortunately for you, no spell to undo the transfer of magic between you and I. Unless you can manage to change your feelings.” Kiora was used to seeing anger under those furrowed brows of his, but now there was only poorly disguised pain.

“Where is the book, Kiora?” Drustan asked gently.

She hesitated. “Buried in the canyon with everything else.”

He looked to Alcander. “Can she summon it?”

She could see Alcander locking down his emotions before he answered. “I see no problem with it. They will not be looking underneath the rock. Even if they did, they wouldn’t know what had gone missing.”

Kiora wasn’t sure if she was angry at the situation or just devastated. But either way, it was as she said: she hurt everyone she loved. Closing her eyes for a moment, she summoned Eleana’s book.

Alcander leapt back, looking at the book like it was about to bite. “Where did you get that?”

“I told you, from the canyon.”

He took a step towards Kiora, as if he wanted to grab her and shake her. “Are you sure?” he demanded.

“Alcander,” Drustan asked. “What is the problem?”

He was breathing heavily. “If it came from the canyon, then that . . . ” he moved over to her, falling to his knees in one fluid movement and holding out his hands reverently. “May I?” She handed the book to him. Quickly he opened to the back, running his finger down the spine. “This one is missing the same page.”

“Alcander, what is it?” she asked.

He closed his eyes. “Each of the Creators passed down a book. All of them had been lost, except one.” Reverently shutting the book, he handed it to Kiora. “This is one of the lost copies, I am sure of it.”

“This book is from the Creators?” she asked incredulously, running her fingers over the nondescript leather cover.

“It has some of the most powerful magic we know of within its pages. We have long suspected the missing page may hold the secret to dealing with the Shadow. We have been looking for the lost copies in hopes they would contain the missing page.”

Alcander’s shoulders slumped, his blond hair hanging forward as he knelt before her. He looked so . . . lost. Hesitantly, she placed her hand on his shoulder, allowing magic to flow between them. “It’s all right,” she said. “One step at a time.” He pushed into her hand ever so slightly, increasing their connection. She shuddered as she slid her fingers down, her hand falling back to her side. Blinking back a tear, she looked to the sky before thumbing through the book. “Is this what we need?” she asked.

Alcander stood, gently taking the book from her and scanning the page. “It is.”

“Is this going to hurt?”

“You act as if you have had bad experiences with magic,” Drustan said, glancing at her white hair. When she didn’t smile, he cleared his throat. “I have no idea. I have never known anyone who has done it.”

“It shouldn’t,” Alcander said.

She sighed. “Somehow that isn’t very comforting.”

“Are you ready?”

Closing her eyes, she steeled herself. “I’m ready.”

Holding the book out, Alcander began repeating the incantation to the spell. It was different than anything she had heard or used. The incantation repeated itself over and over again, like a chant. She worried it wasn’t working until her skin began to glow an eerie green, intensifying with each pass of the incantation until she was glowing a bright emerald green. Every bit of her emanated light, casting green shadows over their enclosure.

His chanting stopped.

Spreading her fingers, she studied the green glow. “What is it?”

“The manifestation of your connection. Your feelings and Emane’s,” Alcander answered.

“But . . . ” She frowned. “Is that it? Is it done?”

“Almost.” He turned his attention back to the book, starting another chant only slightly different from the first. The green light shimmered, undulating around her. She sucked in her breath as a horrible tearing separated the green into yellow and blue. The blue layer rolled and twisted over her skin, the yellow sitting on top of it. As Alcander said the final word, the colors stopped undulating for a brief second before the yellow peeled itself off with a squealing sound that sent her hands flying to her ears. The yellow detached itself, floating in front of her before dissipating into nothingness. Holding her hands out, she watched with wide eyes as the blue sank back into her skin.

Alcander shut the book, handing it to Kiora. Closing her eyes, she sent the book back to the rubble in the canyon. It was probably the safest place for it now.