Wings of Tavea

Chapter SEVEN

Wings of Tavea


LAYLA CONCENTRATED ON THE rocks, trying to make them move. She had been at it for hours with no luck. Yesterday she had been trying to make water move. Nothing had happened. Layla’s frustration was growing and Dralazar could feel it.

“What do you feel?” Dralazar asked.

“Nothing,” Layla practically shouted. “You keep asking me that and I don’t feel anything. I don’t know what you want me to do. I don’t know what you want me to feel.”

“I want you to feel the magic responding to your desire.” Dralazar spoke far too evenly, a forced patience he had to employ quite frequently since Layla had arrived. In all these years he had never taken the time to train anybody. Then again, he had never been handed the sister of the Solus on a silver platter. “I want you to find that magic in the pit of your stomach, a reservoir to pull from, to transfer your will into reality. Kiora learned how to do it.”

Layla’s head jerked at the mention of her sister’s name. “She already knew how.”

“No! She didn’t. She had visions, dreams. It is a gift, but it is not magic. Would you like to know how I know?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his eyes tightening. “I had been looking for the Solus, watching for any magical threads. Had I sensed one, even the tiniest amount of potential in the village—” He wrapped his finger around a lock of Layla’s hair before letting it slide free. “I would have come through your front door in the middle of the night and killed her in her bed.”

Layla’s eyes grew round. “This is not working,” she whispered. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Dralazar could tell by the slump of her shoulders that she had given up. His patience finally snapped. Perhaps survival would be enough motivation. He took three large steps back. Flinging out his good hand, he spewed forth fire. The flames landed to the side of Layla before flaring higher and racing around her, quickly enclosing her within a circle of fire.

“What are you doing?” Layla screamed, turning in a panicked circle.

Dralazar looked calmly over the flames to her beautiful, terrified face. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Control the fire, Layla. If you don’t, it will kill you.”

“Dralazar, help me.” Layla backed up, screaming as the flames licked at her legs and back. There was nowhere to go.

“Help yourself,” Dralazar said, tilting his head to the side. “How can we expect to beat Kiora without you discovering your magic?”

Layla started to whimper, sweat poured down her face. “It hurts.”

Dralazar took a step towards the death trap. “No!” he said. “No fear! Anger. Feel the anger. Anger will feed your magic.” Dralazar made his way around the circle, Layla’s fearful eyes following him. “I think you have forgotten why you are here in the first place. This is Kiora’s fault.” Dralazar pushed at her, searching for the rage he knew was in there. “The war, the training. Your home is gone because of her, your friends are dead because of her. Push back the fire, Layla.”

Layla screamed in pain as the flames grew higher. Then he saw a flicker in her eyes that he thrived on. There it is, Dralazar thought. The anger.

With a yell Layla pushed her magic out. The fire flickered and shrunk before her. Layla’s eyes widened, her chest heaving with a chocked sound of relief, but Dralazar had no mercy. He called the fire back to its full size.

“More,” he shouted. “Feel the hate, use it, push back the fire.”

Layla opened up the reservoir of feelings he knew lay within her, screaming as she pushed the fire back further and further.

“It’s not enough,” he yelled. “Extinguish it.”

Layla threw her head back, yelling to the sky as she shoved her hands out and down, forcing the fire into the ground. The only thing left was a smoldering black ring.

“Very good,” Dralazar said, crossing his arms in front of him.

Layla’s eyes scanned the charred ring before slowly meeting Dralazar’s gaze. Black streaks ran down her reddened face. “You were going to let it kill me, weren’t you?”

Dralazar walked smoothly over to his prey. “Layla, my Queen, why would I hurt you?”

“I could see it in your eyes.” Her voice trembled, a mix of fear and anger. “If I couldn’t control this, you were going to let me burn.”

Dralazar reached out a finger, running it down the side of her face. “I knew you could do it, my pet. I had faith in you. You did marvelously.”

“No.” Layla shook her head.

Dralazar slid his hand behind Layla’s neck and pulled her into him. “ Focus your anger where it belongs,” he whispered before jerking her forward. He roughly pressed his lips against hers, his fingers tightening around the back of her neck. Dralazar felt Layla’s tension melting beneath him. “Come,” he said. “There is still much to do.”

Layla trailed behind him like a puppy following an abusive master. Dralazar smiled inwardly. He had a large list of skills; breaking people down and building them back up was one of them. And the beautiful part—they never realized what was happening until they became completely dependent. It was a slower process than he would have liked, but once it started it never failed.

Later that evening after putting his newest pet to bed, Dralazar paced around his throne room. It had been nearly two weeks since the battle. Since then there had been no sign of Kiora or the villagers. He had allowed the Hounds to wander freely, and the Dragons were searching for her too. The Fallen Ones had also been looking for holes, trying to find where they were hiding. So far everyone had come up empty handed. He didn’t like the feeling . . . like he had forgotten something.

Dralazar sat down, turning his wounded hand in front of him, questioning Eleana’s motives. Opening the old magic? How could she be so stupid? He glanced down grimly at the oozing puncture wounds. Performing magic with only one hand weakened his attacks. He tried again to summon fire with his wounded hand, but the best he could do was a sputter of flame before it died out.

Granted, Eleana’s tactics had been effective. Her little magic trick with Emane’s armband hindered his ability to take the valley. But still, effective or not—why would she risk it? Eleana knew what he would do. Dralazar knew the prophecy as well as Eleana. If he were defeated this time, he would be destroyed. Opening the gate would give him access to more powerful magic, more warriors. It might even be enough change to alter the course of fate itself, create a new ending to his otherwise cursed battle against good.

He wanted to give in to the hope fluttering in the back of his mind. The hope that whispered: perhaps Eleana did not realize what he would do if she opened the old magic. But he couldn’t listen—he knew better. Eleana had always removed herself from the fighting out of sheer guilt. But this time she had stepped in. Something had changed. Dralazar sat twirling the large silver ring around and around his finger before standing and marching to his basin.

“Show me the opening of the gate,” he commanded.

He watched himself pulling back the old magic and dissolving the gate. The storm raged around him, screaming at him, but he was alone. The picture started to fade. “No, continue,” Dralazar said. The picture refocused itself on the gate until he had vanished from view. A minute later Eleana dropped her bubble. She had been there the whole time, watching him. In his weakened state she could have stopped him easily. But she didn’t; she had just stood there and watched. Like she wanted him to open it.

Anger and unease twisted his stomach. She had wanted the gate open. Leaning over the basin, his hands braced on the table, he yelled at the images. “Why? Why does she want the gate open?”

The water in the basin tried to answer the question. It turned to a scene in the castle. Eleana was talking to Drustan while Kiora bustled around the room. Dralazar bristled at the sight of Drustan. That traitor had switched sides just when he needed him most.

“She is remarkable, Eleana. I have never seen a Solus like her,” said Drustan.

“Nor have I. It begs a few questions.” Eleana sighed.

Drustan’s head snapped back to look at Eleana, an old hope springing forward. “You don’t think that she is . . .…”

Eleana searched his eyes. “Time will tell. Although, as you know, things will be changing one way or the other.”

He nodded gravely, but a spark of excitement ran through him. “The old magic.”

“Yes.”

Drustan’s eyes found Kiora again. “I didn’t think I would see it in my lifetime. That would be remarkable if it were true.” His eyes sparkled with possibility. “If the gate could be opened, it would mean . . .…”

“Yes. IF.” Eleana floated away to take her place at the front of the room.

The pictures faded from view and the basin fell silent and black. Dralazar continued to stare at the blank water, hoping for a clearer answer. She was already the Solus, what else could she possibly—he gripped the table, his knuckles turning white. Magic spewed across the table from his good hand and sputtered out of the other.

“No!”

One bolt of red magic slammed into the ceiling threatening to bring the roof down.

* * *

KIROA AND EMANE HAD moved to the cold stone floor to wait for Lomay’s return. They lay on their backs, holding hands and staring upwards. They had been there some time, talking about this land, their old land, and just thinking about the monumental task that lay before them. Kiora became increasingly aware of her magic as it built up underneath her skin, itching for a release. She felt Emane shift next to her.

“Having a hard time?” he asked.

“Why?”

“My hand feels like it’s holding a lighting storm.” Emane rolled his head to look at her with a forced smile.

She jerked her hand back. “I’m sorry!”

“I’m getting used to it. Sometimes it’s just a little more uncomfortable than others.” Emane smiled at her while rubbing his hand. “Does it hurt you?”

“No, not really. It’s uncomfortable, like a itch I have to scratch.” Kiora leaned up on one elbow and gently brushed his blonde hair to the side, letting her finger slide across his forehead. “But it hurts not being able to kiss you whenever I want.”

Emane lay flat, putting both arms behind his head and grinning up at her before puckering his lips. “I’m ready,” he said through the pucker. “I told you, it’s worth it.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I am not knocking you unconscious again.”

“Why don’t you just dump some of it? Your magic, I mean.”

Kiora sighed. “It helps a little, but whenever I touch you . . .” She shook her head. “I still don’t understand. It’s like the magic wants to go to you. I have to pull it back. No matter how much I have.”

Emane pouted. “We have to figure something out.”

“You shouldn’t pout, it’s not very becoming,” Kiora teased.

“What?” He feigned shock before grabbing her and pulling her down, swiftly kissing her on the lips. He released her just as fast with a grunt, rubbing at his lips with the back of his hand.

She smacked him on the arm. “Serves you right.”

“Ouch.”

“What did you expect? I told you I couldn’t hold it.”

“Again,” he smiled mischievously, “worth it.”

Lomay was suddenly standing next to them at the exact moment his thread arrived, making both Kiora and Emane jump. Lomay looked at them and then at the Wings, his face dropping. “It didn’t show you?”

“It started to,” Kiora said as Emane got to his feet, helping her up.

“But there was a scream,” Emane said. “It went black and wouldn’t show us anymore.”

Lomay’s face darkened. “What did you see?”

“It hid a jewel in a desert—a real desert,” Kiora clarified. “Not the illusion blocking our valley.” She stopped, looking at Lomay. “Did you know about the illusion?”

“No, but Alcander explained after we left. Continue.” He waved at her impatiently.

“The Shadow buried it in one of the dunes. It seemed to be drawing on the jewel’s power.”

Lomay’s knees wobbled as he leaned forward on his walking stick. “I should have known. That is how it is keeping itself alive,” he said more to himself than to either of them. “The Shadow is using the power of the lights to make itself immortal.” After a moment Lomay’s demeanor again drastically shifted as he put on a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Let’s get you out of here. It is late and you need your rest. Luckily the air bubble spell worked nicely for Alcander, so it will be no problem getting you out.”

“You really didn’t know if the spell would work?” Emane asked, his mouth dropping.

“I was fairly confident. Now, let’s get you two on your way, shall we?”

Lomay wrapped Kiora and Emane in the same air bubbles they had seen Alcander use. Turning to face the exit, Emane jumped in first and vanished beneath the rock. Taking a jittery breath, Kiora jumped behind him. The same powerful current she had experienced earlier sucked her back underneath the rock and out of the cave.

Kiora held her breath instinctively and had to force herself to breath as she zipped along. The bubble provided not only air but also a generous cushion against the rock that she was quite grateful for. There were a couple sharp turns that would have been most unpleasant without it, and she would never have been able to hold her breath this long. She had almost relaxed when she felt herself free falling through the darkness of night, flowing with the waterfall to the river below. She screamed the entire way down.

As she hit the water, she was once again grateful for the cushioning abilities of the air bubble. The waterfall pounded on top of her, forcing her under and catching her in the spinning undertow. Kiora tried to kick her way out, but it was useless. As long as she was encased in this bubble she couldn’t affect the water around her. Instead she was swirling and flipping over and over for a few minutes before the current finally spit her out, shooting her to the surface. She bobbed down the river until Lomay appeared on the bank. He popped her bubble by mumbling something Kiora could not understand. The bubble released her into the water and she swam to shore.

“How was it?” Lomay inquired as Kiora crawled onto dry land.

Panting, Kiora pushed her wet hair out of her face. “Useful,” she admitted with a grin. “I need to learn it.”

Emane crawled up the bank behind her looking a little green. “I could have gone my whole life without doing that.”

* * *

ALCANDER PACED STIFFLY AROUND Lomay’s front room, waiting for him to return, waiting to see if Kiora was indeed the Solus. Alcander could feel Lomay’s thread slowly approaching. The second the old man opened the front door, Alcander whirled on him, white hair flying.

“Well?” he demanded. “Is she the Solus?”

Lomay nodded silently, easing himself into a chair.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “This is what we have been waiting for.”

“She saw where the first jewel is hidden.”

Alcander came alive. “That is perfect, we can leave tomorrow—”

“No,” Lomay interrupted, shaking his head as he slumped further. “No.”

“What do you mean, no? This is what we have been waiting for.”

“The Shadow took the lights.”

Alcander paused for a second before waving the statement off. “That was what we suspected. It changes nothing.”

“It changes everything. As I explained to Kiora, if the Shadow took the jewels the wards will be impenetrable. Even if we could go, it is hidden in the Dunes of Arcaya. Any who seek them will be dead before they lay eyes on them. We must reevaluate.”

Alcander hesitated.

“The Shadow knows the Solus is here.”

Alcander’s face darkened, his blue eyes narrowing. “How?”

“I don’t know. The Wings started to show Kiora where the lights were.” Lomay looked up at Alcander, his face older than before he had gone to retrieve the Solus and her Protector. “Midway through the vision Emane said something screamed, and the Wings went black.” Lomay shook his head. “It knew. The Shadow knew someone could see what it had tried to hide, and it stopped them.” Coming to the realization as he talked, Lomay continued. “That’s why the Wings waited for Kiora. It knew what the Shadow would do.” He dropped his head into his hands.

“You’re telling me this is hopeless?” Alcander’s voice rose. “After how long we have waited?”

Lifting his head from his hands, Lomay said, “We will just have to wait for her to figure it out without the Wings’ help.”

“You have been looking for the lights for thousands of years, what makes you think this girl—” He flung his hand towards a window, “will be able to find them? She knows nothing.”

Lomay stood, craning his neck to search Alcander’s eyes. “She is not just a girl, she is the Solus. And she will have help even this old man doesn’t understand.”

Alcander turned his head away.

“Exceptions, Alcander.”

“I am so tired of hearing about exceptions. They never seem to be there when needed but always fall in our enemies’ favor.”

“Perhaps that ‘girl’ is our exception.”

Alcander sighed, leaning into a wall.

“Alcander,” Lomay said, his tone tentative. “I know we haven’t talked about this in a while but . . .”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Just don’t.” Shaking his head he stomped out the door and down the steps.

* * *

KIORA WAS EXHAUSTED. SHE’D gotten almost no sleep the night before under the falls, and today had been another long and tiresome day. Adding to the exhaustion was the incessant hum of magic running through her that had only increased once she left Meros. It was making her crazy. She rolled onto her back, flopping her hands out from beneath her blankets.

She, Emane, and Drustan had all collapsed in their rooms still wearing the dirty clothes they had worn for two days. Seeing it as a needed release, Kiora summoned all the things they had brought with them. All Emane’s armor, the books, the clothes, the bedrolls, and anything else she could remember from the cave under the falls. It all piled up at the foot of her bed. She then summoned a comfortable pair of pants from her pack and a loose cotton shirt to sleep in. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed to change. She pulled the clean shirt over her head before pulling the pendant and the dragon scale out. Sighing, she ran her thumb and finger across Morcant’s scale. It responded to her touch, light and dark browns rippling across it, almost feeling alive. A tear slid down her cheek. Almost alive. He was gone, and a scale couldn’t make her laugh, or bring her back from the depths of despair, or talk sense into her when nothing else could. With a quick movement she dropped the pendant and scale back under her shirt, swiping at a tear before jerking her grimy pants off and shoving her legs into the new ones.

Flopping back onto the bed she groaned, running her hands through her hair. Still too much magic. She began flicking fire from her fingertips, on and off, on and off. After a bit of that she decided to try shaping it into a ball, as Lomay had done. The first few times the fire sputtered and died under the attempt. But on the fifth try it responded, rolling under her fingertips into a ball of light. Smiling, Kiora poured as much magic as she could into it.

Kiora could feel Drustan’s thread getting closer until his frame filled the doorway.

“Can’t sleep?” He scrubbed his hands through his hair.

“No. You?”

“I am sure I could,” he smiled, “if I wasn’t distracted by the flashing lights in the next room.”

She looked sheepishly at the ball of light still resting above her fingertips. “Sorry.”

“Is this what you normally do when you can’t sleep?”

“No,” she said, extinguishing the ball. “I have never tried this before. I just needed to release some magic.”

Emane stuck his head in the doorway. “I thought we were going to bed.” He took one look at Kiora before shoving past Drustan, “Clean clothes, where did you get clean clothes?”

Grinning, Kiora summoned his drawstring cotton pants and the blue shirt he preferred to sleep in out of the bags and into his hands. “I brought everything here.”

Emane pulled the clothes up to his face, breathing them in like a long lost friend. “Thank you!” He practically ran out of the room, pulling his dirty shirt over his head as he left.

Drustan shook his head. “It is getting that bad?” he asked Kiora.

Emane was already hopping back into the room as he straightened out the legs of his pants. “Is what getting that bad?”

“My magic. Yes,” Kiora answered Drustan. “I don’t know what to do with all of it, and I can feel it buzzing under my skin.”

“Hmm,” Drustan mused. “Hopefully it will get better as you get used to it.”

Emane’s head popped up. “Is that likely? That she will get to used to it?”

Drustan looked to Emane with a devious look in his eyes, “Yes,” he drawled. “I think she will. It will not, however, stop it from hurting the next time she blows you into a wall.”

Emane’s hope deflated, as did Kiora’s. She didn’t like the situation any better than he did. Creating another small ball of light, about the strength of a candle, Kiora set it on the windowsill. “I don’t know how to get used to anything when everything is always changing. A new vision, more magic, a new set of Wings.” She sighed. “I can’t keep up. Like the Creators—I’ve never heard of them until today.”

“I can’t help you with your magic problem, but I can help you with history lessons,” Drustan said.

“I was never very good at listening to history lessons,” Emane mumbled.

Ignoring Emane, Drustan began. “There were six Creators,” he said, leaning against the doorway as Emane made his way to the bed to sit next to Kiora. “As Lomay said, after they had created everything they noticed that the people, being so far separated from the light that had created them, were living in a darkened state. Nestor, the eldest of the Creators, suggested they give the people light and power. The other five agreed, but there was only one way to do that: give up their immortality. Despite the cost, they gave us the greatest gift, the gift of life—”

“How did they do that?” Emane interrupted.

With some exaggeration, Drustan swiveled his head to look Emane in the eye. “Again with the impatience, Prince. I am getting there.” Grinning at Emane’s tight-lipped glare, Drustan looked back to Kiora. “As I was saying, they put their immortality into the jewels, one for each of them, and placed them in secret locations. When they did, it is said the earth came alive. People became lighter, more full of good. It was a time when the world was made almost entirely of good, whilst evil lurked in shadows.”

“So the Creators, they all died?” Kiora asked.

“Yes. One by one they all died, although we don’t know where or when. With the exception of Nestor.”

“What, you mean they vanished?” Emane asked.

“They took their families and settled around the world. They had children and lived out their lives until they died.”

“They had children?” Emane asked skeptically.

“Of course they did. In fact, you know more than one of their descendants.”

“We do?” Kiora asked.

“Yes. The Ancient Ones, Epona and Lomay. They are great-great-grandchildren of the Creators.”

Kiora stared. “What about Eleana?”

Drustan shook his head. “No one is for sure. The few creatures like Eleana and Dralazar were so powerful it was assumed they had some of the Creator blood. But since many of their lines were lost over time, we don’t know.”

“Wait a minute,” Emane protested, holding up his hands. “What about the Wings? I thought they were supposed to show everything. You’re telling me no one really knows where these Creators went or who their children were?”

“After Nestor was murdered, the others cast protection and concealment spells. They were more than capable of it, and they needed it to protect them and their children.”

“Nestor was murdered?” Kiora asked, leaning forward. “After what he had done? How could someone do that?”

“No one knows.” Drustan shrugged. “He was found dead shortly after he gave up his immortality. After that, the others fled and hid.”

Emane frowned, tapping the bed. “Where does the Shadow come into this story?”

“All I know is that some of the lights had been stolen before the gate was shut. I was young and stupid and felt like it didn’t affect me. I know as little about the Shadow as you do, I am afraid.”