Wings of Tavea (26 page)

“A few feet. As long as you stay close to the door, you should be fine.”

Emane fought the urge to run down the hill and slam his fist into a tree. Instead he slipped outside and leaned against the grassy hill that surrounded the doorframe. Sliding down, he threw his arms over his knees.

Had Kiora realized? Is that why she hadn’t been able to tell him she loved him too? Or did she not want to hurt him? Or maybe she hadn’t realized it either. The thoughts and questions rolled through his mind, each unanswered. Emane ripped a handful of grass out, throwing it as hard as he could into the breeze. Despite his anger, the grass did nothing but flutter gently to the ground.

He was staring down at the group camped at the base of the hill when a flurry of activity exploded. Taveans and others began spilling out from their tents, roaring. Emane looked around, panicked that somehow his thread had slipped out of the enclosure.

Drem’s head poked out the door. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Emane said, scrambling to his feet. “I didn’t go any further than this.”

The shouts from the bottom of the hill were growing louder, and some of the creatures moved away from the group, shifting into dragons.

A shadow blacked out the sun. Emane looked up at the bottom of a dragon belly. The dragon stretched his neck and looked down at the army as he flew over, exposing a scarred and ruined eye. “Soolan,” he breathed.

Drem glanced at the dragon and back to Emane. “You know that Shifter?”

“It’s not a Shifter, it’s a dragon.”

“Not possible,” Drem said, gripping the doorframe.

“Oh, it is. My arrow hit him in the eye.”

Drem looked at him appraisingly. “You took on a dragon and lived?”

“What is he doing here?” Emane muttered to himself.

The Shifters took to the sky in dragon form to intercept Soolan. Soolan flapped gently, hovering in the same place as the others approached. The next moment a bubble dropped, revealing a man and a girl sitting on the dragon’s back. The man held out one hand, pushing magic clean through two of the dragon-Shifters’ wings. The two Shifters plummeted back to earth as Soolan blew fire towards the other two. Their dragon hides prevented Soolan’s attack from doing damage, but it gave the man on his back enough time to turn and take out both their wings as well.

When the man turned, Emane finally saw his face. “Dralazar!” Emane looked over to Drem, whose mouth was hanging wide open, his ears pressing themselves flat against his head.

Dralazar’s voice came booming out, magically amplified over the valley. “You are looking for some threads that appeared in your land a short time ago. I believe I can help.”

Emane looked frantically at Drem. “What is he saying?”

Drem’s eyes were still fixed on the dragon.

Emane stepped in front of him, grabbing his shirt. “Drem! What is he saying? Can he help them?”

Drem blinked before looking at him. “Does he know your names?”

Emane nodded.

“Then yes, that is all he would need to allow them to scrye for you. It will show them anywhere you have been where you were not concealed.”

Emane’s mouth went dry, and his hands slipped from Drem’s shirt. He remembered one very important time when he stepped out of the boundary. He remembered Alcander snarling,
He might as well have drawn evil a map
.

“Lower your hands,” Dralazar commanded the stunned crowd of Taveans below them.

One Tavean stepped forward. His hair was jet black, his eyes so red Emane could see them from the hill. He yelled back, “If your information is not worthwhile, we will kill you.”

Dralazar must have felt confident in his information, because as soon as the group lowered their hands Soolan began circling to land.

“No!” Emane shouted. Turning, he shoved Drem out of the way, grabbed his dagger and sword, and ran out of the enclosure.

A cry went up from the camp the second his thread emerged from Drem’s house. Soolan banked a moment later, turning his course. Emane skidded to a stop as magical volleys were launched his direction. He hadn’t thought past stopping Dralazar from revealing their names. Kneeling, he raised his sword, blocking the nearest two shots in danger of connecting with him. The others landed harmlessly in the grass next to him. He saw Soolan bearing down on him as another group of volleys went up. But the magic went high and to the right. Confused, Emane turned his head to see Drem running down the hill in the opposite direction.

“No!” Emane yelled. He had seen how fast Drem could move when he wanted to. Drem was not trying to run to safety—he was drawing fire.

Drem turned his head just long enough to mouth, “Run,” before two shots of green magic caught him in the chest. The old man’s thin arms flayed in the air as he spun backwards. One more volley of magic connected with his back, and he crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

“Drem!” Emane ran towards him. He hadn’t taken more than two steps when he felt dragon talons wrap around his waist.

He twisted with a yell to see Dralazar standing on Soolan’s back, throwing a shield to protect them from the fire of camp. He saw Soolan’s other foot coming up a second before it slammed into the side of his head.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Save Him

KIORA TRIED TO WALK normally as they headed down the hill. But after another day of training, everything hurt. Alcander had insisted she be healed before tomorrow, and she hadn’t argued. They found Lomay outside his house pulling weeds. Alcander sighed audibly. The old man straightened with a groan. Kiora looked curiously between the two.

“Alcander finds it silly that I weed my garden by hand,” Lomay grunted, stretching backwards. Alcander raised his hand before Lomay scolded him. “Gah! Leave them alone. It’s how I stay young. One needs to work.”

Alcander rolled his eyes and strode into the house.

“He gets rather huffy, doesn’t he?” Kiora asked.

“Noticed that already?” Lomay asked, grinning. “You look to be injured again. Come along.” He waved her inside.

She hopped up the stairs and dropped onto the couch.

“Just the ankle?”

She glanced towards the kitchen where Alcander was rummaging for something to eat. “And my back, elbow, neck, and finger,” she whispered, holding up her right hand. Her little finger was swollen to nearly double its size.

“Goodness,” he said, taking her hand in his. “He really is merciless, isn’t he?”

She sighed with relief as the healing began. “He says it is for my own good. I would argue with him if he wasn’t right.”

Alcander returned with a hunk of bread in one hand and an apple in the other. He raised his eyebrows as Lomay moved his hands to the back of Kiora’s neck and then her elbow. “You said it was just your ankle.”

She shrugged. “I lied.”

Alcander shook his head in disgust and tossed her the apple. Kiora caught it, gratefully taking a bite as Lomay healed her ankle. She was starving.

Lomay patted the top of her leg before moving to his own chair. “Now, Kiora. Alcander told me you had a dream last night about a daughter of Nestor?”

Kiora sat up excitedly. “Yes, but Alcander said she didn’t exist. I knew I was right!”

Lomay held up his hands. “I know of no such daughter either, but it is a curious dream. How many times did you have it?”

Her mouth twisted in frustration. “All night.”

“What did she look like?”

“Olive skinned, dark hair, green eyes. She was very beautiful.”

“Curious,” Lomay muttered.

“What’s curious?” Kiora asked around her apple.

“Oh, nothing.” Lomay smiled. “I would like you to keep me updated on your dreams though. You never know when the tiniest detail may . . .”

Lomay’s voice faded as a vision rushed in.
Nooooooo! Emane’s scream was all she heard at first. There was terror in his cry, and it echoed in her ears. A second later she saw Emane appear out of nowhere, running down the hill. Then she saw the Taveans and the dragon. She cried out as Soolan swooped down, wrapping his claws around Emane’s waist, lifting him into the air. Dralazar stood atop the dragon, throwing a shield as Layla sat behind him. A moment later and Emane was gone. The vision turned to a dark-skinned man running in the opposite direction of Emane. It only took three shots for the Taveans to bring him down. He crumpled to the ground.

Kiora frantically reached for the vision as if she could somehow grab Emane from Soolan’s grasp.

“Emane is gone—Dralazar took him!” she yelled at Lomay, surging to her feet. Her apple slid from her lap and rolled across the floor.

Lomay leaned forward, his jovial expression gone and his voice deathly quiet as he whispered, “What?”

“He’s gone.” Kiora was shaking, needing to go somewhere but not knowing where.

Alcander stepped swiftly in front of her, gripping her hands. “Kiora, calm down. What did you see?”

“I saw, I saw . . .” she was breathing so hard she could barely get a word out.

“Kiora.” He squeezed her fingers harder, looking into her eyes. “We can’t save him unless you tell us everything you saw.”

Taking a shaky breath, she focused on his eyes, trying to ground herself before relaying everything.

“You didn’t see where Dralazar took him?” Alcander asked, letting his hands slip free of hers.

“No. He just bubbled.” She collapsed back onto the couch. “He will kill him,” she said weakly. “Dralazar hates us both. Me for being the Solus, and Emane for taking away some of his magic.”

Lomay straightened as Alcander whispered, “What did you say?”

“Emane’s armband,” she said as numbness spread through her body. “Dralazar tried to remove it, and it bit him. It started destroying his magic.”

“That is a rather ingenious piece of magic,” Lomay said, rubbing his chin. “Eleana’s idea, I assume. I always liked her.”

“I have to go,” Kiora murmured. “I have to find him.”

“No,” Lomay said sternly. “We need a plan.” “I can’t just sit here!”

“You can’t just leave,” Alcander said. “You have no idea what is out there. You wouldn’t last two days.”

“Alcander, go get Drustan,” Lomay said.

. He objected, “But Lomay, his cover.”

“Start another fight with him, and then bring him here. Kiora, I assume you can warn him?” She nodded. “We need someone who has known Dralazar for longer, someone who can help us figure out his next move. Drustan is our only option.”

* * *

EMANE WOKE WITH A pounding headache. Groaning, he placed his hand to his head. It felt as if someone had cleaved his skull open with an ax. Struggling, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. The room spun violently.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he clenched his jaw and took deep breaths in through his nose. As soon as the vertigo lessened, he forced one eye open to look around. He was in a cage—a magical cage. Glowing red bars ran all the way around him, crackling and fizzing. Peering between the bars he saw stone walls and thick carpets—he moaned again. His headache was nearly unbearable. Flopping onto his side, his armband cracked loudly against the floor, reminding him he needn’t suffer.

He grabbed his head and willed the magic to flow. The headache immediately dissipated, as did the vertigo. Which unfortunately made him aware of the throbbing pain wrapped around his ribcage.

Dragon! Emane remembered. The dragon had swooped down on him, picking him up before everything went black. He moved his hand to his ribs, healing them as well. One by one he touched every bruise and sore area on his body. When he was done he felt empty. He had used a good majority of his magic, but at least he felt better.

Sitting up, he looked back through the bars again, trying to understand where he was. The room was nicely furnished, not unlike some of the rooms in the castle he had grown up in. A round, thick red rug sat in the center. There was a large fireplace accented with a stone mantel, and two armchairs sat on either side of it. Several other chairs and love seats were scattered around the enormous room. It looked rather cozy, except for the cage.

“Good to see you awake.”

Emane rolled to his feet, his hand going for his sword but finding nothing there. “Dralazar?”

Dralazar sat comfortably in one of the armchairs Emane had thought was empty just a moment before. He really hated bubbles. “What are you—why—”

“I see you have healed yourself,” Dralazar said, cocking his head to the side. “That is so . . . convenient.”

The way he said “convenient” made Emane’s skin crawl.

Dralazar’s eyes glinted as he pushed himself fluidly to his feet. “Oh, you will be of great service to me. In many, many ways.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “What do you want with me?”

“There is more than one answer to that question,” Dralazar said, strolling closer to the bars. “First, you are bait.”

“Kiora,” Emane whispered.

“And second, you have something I need.” Dralazar pushed back the long sleeve that had been covering his wounded hand. Two angry red fang marks remained where Emane’s snake had bitten him. “Your magic has proven to be destructive, thanks to Eleana.” Dralazar stepped closer to the bars that separated the two of them. “I need healing.”

“You can heal.”

“Not this.” Dralazar said, running his fingers over the bite marks. “But you can.”

Emane frowned. “I can’t heal that.”

“Oh, but you can. That is the beauty of it. There are always exceptions in magic—surely you have learned that. The exception to this masterful piece of work,” he wiggled his fingers, “is that you can heal it.”

Emane’s eyes flitted between Dralazar’s eyes and his hand. He took two shaky steps back. “I won’t do it.”

“I figured that would be your answer,” Dralazar said, dropping his hand to his side. “Unfortunately for you, old magic is powerful, even if I can only get it out of one hand.”

He casually raised his good hand. Emane braced for the hit, fully expecting to be thrown against the back wall of his prison. Instead, white snake-like smoke emerged, weaving and slithering through the air.

“What is that?” he asked, backing up further.

“Nothing you won’t be able to heal yourself of.” Emane’s eyes flicked to Dralazar’s grinning face. “But it may hurt a bit.”