Wings of Tavea (17 page)

“The Creators.”

“Oh, I had Drustan explain that to me last night.”

“I see,” Alcander said, his eyes moving to the floor.

“You could tell me about the Shadow,” Kiora said, perking up a bit. “The gate was closed right after the first light was taken, so Drustan didn’t know much.”

“Very well.” Alcander somehow managed to relax against the wall and still look regal. “What would you like to know?”

Kiora chewed her bottom lip. “If we are supposed to fight against it, I need to know everything.”

Alcander took a deep breath, crossing his ankle over his other knee. “No one knows who the Shadow is or where it came from. The first time it appeared was when it stole the first of the lights. The people saw a great Shadow rising out of the ground, the light from the jewel shining weakly from within it. As it left, things dulled. Most people thought it was crazy, that no one could find the lights, that maybe the first one had been a fluke.” Alcander looked at her, his eyes intense. “But the Shadow came. And when it did, all magic failed. Every ward, every trap, every enchantment flickered and died within its presence.” His gaze slid away from hers.

Kiora, who was listening with rapt attention, finally whispered, “Why?”

“We don’t know.” Shifting on the stump, he looked back at her. “Wherever the Shadow is, magic ceases to exist.” He stopped, letting that little tidbit of information settle. Kiora felt her nerves flare at the thought of fighting something that could take away her only advantage. “It took all the lights, one by one. When it came for the last light, the people gathered around, pleading with the Shadow to leave it with them. A voice came forth, announcing that the lights were just the beginning, and next it would come for them. It would remove every source of good, every ounce of happiness from the world.” Alcander swallowed. “True to its word, the Shadow started the war between good and evil. It recruited followers and destroyed the rest. The only ones who survive the Shadow’s attacks are forced into slavery.”

“Slavery?”

“Yes, there is a pit where many of our people are held. They are forced to labor until they are so weak they are of no use, at which point they are murdered.

“Despite the threats, many resisted in the beginning. The Shadow would have failed without the Shifters.” In response to her look of confusion he continued, “Wherever the Shadow is, no magic can be used, remember?” She nodded. “That advantage is fairly useless when those on your side are also stripped of their magic. So it went after the Shifters. A group that could use their magic to pick whatever shape was needed yet not lose that shape when the magic stopped working.”

“They can’t shift into a new form, but they don’t lose the form they are in,” she clarified. It made sense. The Shifters had no shape, no true form. That also explained the scene in the Wings where the winged people were felled like trees. “That’s how they annihilated entire groups of people,” Kiora said.

“Yes.” Alcander dropped his foot back to the floor, leaning forward. “The people they went after were helpless, crippled by the Shadow’s influence. They were slaughtered.”

A tear slid down Kiora’s cheek.

“The Shadow’s following is large enough now that the Shadow itself hasn’t been seen in a very long time. The rebels’ numbers are so small. Evil has enough of an advantage in numbers alone.” Alcander’s head dropped, his hair covering his face in the first show of emotion Kiora had seen from him.

“And it won’t be enough, will it? Not until all the rebels are gone.”

“Those of us who haven’t converted live in camps. Hiding, training, and gathering Intel.”

Kiora glanced back out the window. “Why are there only women and children?”

Alcander sat up, any sign of grief gone. “This is a different camp,” he said. “It is the safest because of Lomay’s presence, so this is where the men send their wives and children when they are assigned to the other, more dangerous areas.”

“Do none of your women fight?” she asked, peeking behind the drapes.

“It depends on the species,” Alcander explained. “Some do, others do not.”

Dropping the curtains, Kiora asked, “What of the Taveans?”

“Some of our women fight. It depends where their strength lies. In other species, such as the Omelians, only the men fight.”

“Omelians?”

Alcander’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, you were just looking at them.” He pointed to the window. “They have ostrich bodies from the waist down.” He waited for recognition. When there was none, he clarified. “An ostrich is a flightless bird about as tall as you. Do you not have ostriches where you come from?”

Kiora shook her head. “No. We have birds, but nothing that looks like that. ”

Alcander seemed to think this over as he leaned back against the wall.

“Why are
you
here?”

His eyes fixed on her for a very long time, and Kiora resorted to picking at the blanket to escape the intensity of his gaze.

“Lomay requested that I be here,” he finally said. “He was sure the time of the Solus was approaching.” He gave Kiora a look that spoke of irritation and pent-up anger.

Clearing her throat, she asked quietly, “How long have you been here?”

“Ten years.”

“You were stuck here waiting for me for ten years. Is that what you are saying?” Kiora asked, meeting his eyes.

“Indeed.”

The next question bubbled out of her almost involuntarily. “So instead of taking out your aggression on me, you take it out on Emane.” She tried to hold his gaze but faltered, her eyes flickering back to the bed.

“I told you,” Alcander said tensely. “I do not like Emane because I find him inadequate for the job.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I remember. But it seems like you have been angry for a very long time.” Kiora glanced up at him. “I think you needed someone to take it out on.”

He stared at her, his jaw working. “You are a very strange girl.”

“Why do you say that?”

Alcander leaned forward again, his elbows on his knees. “Because you are extremely powerful, yet scared of bridges. You are nervous and proper one minute, but the next minute you say things as if you can see into my soul. And the strangest thing of all—you don’t even know you’re doing it.” He blinked, jerking straight up like he was surprised by his own words.

CHAPTER NINE

Tracking Trackers

LOMAY OPENED THE DOOR and poked his head in. Kiora jumped. She had been so caught up in the moment with Alcander she had stopped reading threads without realizing it.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but we have a problem,” Lomay announced. “Your run-in with the Illusionist has piqued somebody’s interest. They are on the hunt.” He motioned for them to follow him outside where Kiora could feel Emane and Drustan waiting.

“Who’s coming after us?” Emane asked as Kiora stepped down.

“I would expect the Illusionist and a horde of unpleasant creatures,” Lomay said as if he were planning a lovely stroll on the beach. “Alcander, you will need to get ready.”

Alcander strode across the camp as Drustan stepped forward. Bending at the waist, he clasped his hands together in front of him in a shallow bow. “I am at your service, my lady. What will we be flying on today?”

Kiora’s hands sweated profusely and her stomach rolled, remembering the last battle she had been in. Taking a breath, she wiped her hands on her pants. “Perhaps a dragon,” she said respectfully to Drustan, “if it’s not too taxing.”

“Of course not,” Drustan responded. “Does my lady have a request in color?”

Lomay looked back and forth between Kiora and Drustan.

“Please, Drustan, I am begging you.” Emane dragged his fingers though his hair. “Just a normal color.”

“My lady?” Drustan repeated.

“I think a subtle brown dragon will do nicely,” she said, winking at Drustan.

He sighed and shook his head. “Such a diplomat. Very well, brown it is.” Drustan moved off a ways to shift without crushing them.

As he was growing, Lomay hobbled closer to Kiora. “What color does he normally choose?”

Emane answered, “Anything he thinks might bother me. That usually means pink or purple.”

“A pink dragon,” Lomay said thoughtfully. “I think I would like to see that.”

“What was that?” the fully formed dragon asked.

“Nothing!” Emane said quickly.

“Dragons have excellent hearing, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Emane grumbled. “I know.”

Kiora had summoned Emane’s weapons, and both she and Emane had secured themselves to Drustan’s scaly back when Alcander came flying over on the most interesting creature she had ever seen. He rode on a saddle strapped to a long, furry body that looked liked someone had washed it and then stretched it out before it could dry. The face was that of a petite fox with oversized ears pointing straight up. It had four stubby legs, a long tail, and two large wings of bat-like skin lined with the same tan fur that covered the rest of him. The two white circles around his eyes made them look even larger.

“Ah, isn’t that just the cutest thing?” Emane mocked.

The cute little thing suddenly became a lot less cute. Opening its mouth it hissed, revealing needle sharp teeth. The teeth were stacked in three rows, all angling backwards just enough to allow the fox to close its mouth. Green drool slid down its lip and fell to the ground below. The drool was acidic, sizzling and burning where it dropped.

“Isn’t he though?” Alcander almost smiled, patting his ride.

“No. No, he’s not,” Emane retracted with a gulp. “Does it spit?” he asked warily.

“Only at people he doesn’t like.” Alcander tilted his head to the side. “I would be careful if I were you.”

“How many of us are going?” Kiora asked, trying to change the direction of the conversation.

“Us,” Alcander said shortly.

“Just us?” Emane repeated.

“If she is as powerful as she appears to be,” Alcander shoved a finger towards Kiora, “she should make up for you. Let’s go.” He turned the flying fox and shot up to the main cave entrance.

Drustan turned and followed.

“I really hate him,” Emane said. “How many times do I have to save his life before he treats me like a human?”

Drustan laughed. “He
is
treating you like a human. That’s the problem.”

Kiora laughed out loud. “He’s right, Emane. Maybe you should ask Alcander to treat you like a Tavean. That might be more what you’re looking for.”

The dragon barely fit through the cave’s exit. Drustan’s wings scraped against the sides with a horrible grating sound. Emane and Kiora had to pull their legs up to prevent them from getting pinned between rock and dragon. Kiora threw a bubble over the group before they left the magical barrier.

“We have to be careful,” Alcander shouted back to them, although Kiora was sure it was directed only at Emane. “They are sure to have trackers with them.”

“What’s a tracker?” Kiora asked Drustan.

“Dangerous,” Drustan said in his booming dragon voice. “Once they get a trail they will track it until they find you. Even if it takes a lifetime, they will not give up your scent.”

“And does it usually take a lifetime?” Emane asked.

“No.”

“We thought the hounds were bad,” Emane grumbled.

“The hounds are play toys compared to the trackers,” Drustan said. “The hounds have a better sense of smell, but bore easily. The trackers become obsessed.”

The flying fox and the dragon flew over the dry riverbeds and out into the country. This was the farthest Kiora had traveled into this new land, and it reminded her of her home. The pines were thick, covering the ground. She looked down, reminiscing about the happy times. Flying into the Hollow on Arturo. The trees snapping like toothpicks behind Morcant when she first met him. Unconsciously, her fingers moved to the dragon scale beneath her shirt.

The group flew on until the pines began to thin and they came to rolling hills peppered with a few lone trees. They were not as straight as the pines in the forest. Being unprotected from the wind had left them bent and twisted. Although not as twisted as the threads Kiora was receiving from the oncoming army. Alcander motioned them down, landing on top of the largest hill looking down over the oncoming force.

It wasn’t a large group by any means, maybe fifty. But they were an interesting sight. The ranks had formed a tight circle, stepping together. The ones in the front marched forward, the ones on the flanks sidestepped, and the ones in the back marched backwards. At random intervals the soldiers on the outside reached out their hands in sync, sending out fireballs of magic. A dragon, chained with magical bonds, moved in the middle. The inner circle of soldiers would poke the dragon periodically, forcing him to spray his fire straight up.

Kiora evaluated the unusual tactics. “They’re trying to pop bubbles, aren’t they? In case we sneak up on them.”

“Exactly,” Alcander said.

Kiora could see an Illusionist as well, slithering along inside the circle in its natural, hideous form. Three black creatures she had never seen lobbed along the outside of the group like apes. They were hairless with large snouts, leaning on their knuckles, sniffing the ground as they went.

“Are those the trackers?” Emane asked.

“Yes,” Alcander replied.

Emane looked sideways at Alcander and then out to their surroundings. “So, we just march in there and let them pick up our scents?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of plan is that?”

Alcander turned stiffly, his eyes cold and calculating. “Just make sure they are all dead before we leave, and we won’t have a problem.”

“Great,” Emane nodded in frustration, “absolutely
great
plan.”

Kiora still hadn’t pulled her eyes off the army. “Why aren’t they bubbled?” she asked.

Slowly detaching his eyes from Emane, Alcander followed Kiora’s gaze. “They have been traveling for some time. Besides, they don’t mind being found. You forget, they are the majority.”

“Are those Taveans on the outside of the ring?” Kiora asked, pointing at the fair-skinned people whose black hair whipped in the breeze.