Kela walked out the door.
She didn’t look back.
Escape from Yucca
Her faith crushed, Kela’s world had been shattered.
Through all her tribulations, she had held to the conviction that her course was right and true. In one moment in time, all she had long accepted was no more, wrenching her soul into an abyss where her heart now lived.
Training with only one purpose, the whole of her being lay to the belief of protecting the innocent from an evil that threatened to destroy their world. This she knew well, for the enemy had never been questioned. Her path lay clear before her.
Now all blurred.
Humiliated and betrayed, the hurt stung. Her eyes saw nothing before her. Her ears heard only silence.
Leaving behind all she had held in belief, Kela carried herself with one purpose...to escape Yucca.
She was under no illusions.
The path she walked now, she walked alone.
Making her way down the poorly lit corridor, her anger surged. She had been betrayed by those she loved.
She yearned for a time when she had felt safe and protected. Those days... when her parents lived... were now shadowed memories. A time of her carefree existence had turned to a faint reminiscence.
Reprimanding herself greatly, she had no time for self-pity. Her parents had died long ago… had sacrificed themselves for her to live, for her siblings to live.
Had she not made a vow to defend both worlds of her heritage? She would not let them have died in vain.
She would not fail.
Her fury swelled the farther she walked away from Cono’s chambers. Cono. Even the utterance of his name wounded her.
My love. My lover. Branded by his mark, he left her unprotected and vulnerable. He subjected her to a brutal humiliation.
She had believed in his love. His words had struck her heart. He pleaded with her to accept what he had to offer. She wanted nothing but to be by his side…but not like that.
In all, she could not live in that manner.
The belief that her path lay with her warrior—the one she had bonded with, fought beside… loved—withered within her heart.
Kela rushed through the arch entrance to the servants’ narrow stairwell. She descended down five levels before the serpentine steps halted before a locked gate.
She made no hesitation.
Extending her hand, she blasted.
Sharp pain swept through her body. She fought back the urge to succumb to the overwhelming throbbing.
A light appeared. She stepped into a massive vestibule. The ceiling was open, but the floor was a mosaic of a flying hawk made of white and gold tile.
Before her stood a heavy iron gate. Freedom lay just beyond.
She had only to maneuver around the two burly guards rushing toward her. Their longswords drawn, the two had reacted to the explosion. She needed to attack and put an end to it.
Kela’s frustration unleashed. She thrust her hand toward the larger one. Stunned, he sprawled back against the wall, unable to move. Before the other had time to respond, he, too, felt her wrath.
She flung him over next to the other.
In her next breath, her attention fixated upon the gate. Another blast at the colossal door left the door hanging by one hinge.
Kela had access to the streets of Yucca.
Crawling through the rumble, Kela heard screeches of warning resonate through the night’s air. Kela cared little. Above her, Sordarins circled. Others perched on the fortress’ stone machicolations.
In the night’s sky, she saw the convergence of the Royal Wings. Until that moment, she had not realized what she now faced.
Alone, she found herself surrounded from all directions: above, behind, and in front of her. She needed to strike at them to make it into the city. Her only hope was to vanish in the city’s streets.
Attack or surrender.
She attacked.
With the instincts that lived within her, Kela reacted as she had been trained.
Her hands outreached, she blared a surge of power into the sky. Hawkmen plummeted from the sky, falling backward against the fortress. She blared again and again.
Before her, the valiant warriors flipped backward in the air. Others fell to the ground.
The screeches ceased.
Kela gave pause.
The dust settled.
Before her, the fortress wall lay in ruins. Walls crumbled. Warriors began to stand, stretching their wings, but the west wing of the citadel had collapsed. Only remnants of the once impenetrable fortification remained.
Forthwith, shouts rang out. A call for arms. Wings once more fluttered in the night sky with only one purpose...to subdue Kela.
Gone was the desire to do more damage.
She had to retreat.
Kela fled.
She ran down the stone street until she could not catch her breath. Leaning against the side of a brick storehouse, she gathered herself.
Clutching her pounding head, she needed to think. Horns resounded around her. The sky filled with more and more warriors.
Suddenly, the thought occurred to her that perhaps she should have been subtle…perhaps she shouldn’t have taken upon the whole of the Royal Wings.
If it was as it should have been, Falco would be by her side. In turn, he would have called for Sareta, as they had done as children.
Kela looked up into the sky. She once more realized there would be no fog rolling in to hide her movements.
No sooner than the thought had come, a haze began to encircle her. A fog had begun to roll around her.
Sareta!
From within the haze, a figure emerged. Recognition swept through her. Astonishingly, Prince Pieter de Folur stood before her with a mocking smile.
“I thought perchance you may be in need of help, my lady.” He made a sweeping bow.
“Are you mad?” she asked, having no time for games. “Be gone!”
Another wave of pain surged through her. She grimaced and clutched hold of the side of the building.
Pieter paid no mind. He grasped her shoulder. “Be still. I will help.”
She tried to jerk out of his reach. He would have none of it.
“It is time for you to accept help, Kela.” His manner turned serious. “You have done enough damage for one evening. It is time to leave.”
Hope sprang within Kela. “Leave?”
“After I take care of your wounds,” he said grimly. “Do not move. I could not believe my eyes that King Edulf had you renounced. To flog one who protects the realm…is foolishness. I would have stopped it myself if that Sordarin hadn’t flown off with you.”
Kela said nothing. She was confused at his intent.
Pieter pulled down the back of the gown before she had time to protest. An utterance of disgust escaped his lips, but in her next heartbeat, he began to chant in a language from her childhood.
“Bepattevouai tpauyaticw yivoyai aitia kako!”
She gasped, for immediately the pain dissipated.
“I’ve been blessed as a healer. I can’t heal all, but this…this I can. At least, your physical pain,” he said.
Kela felt his hand rub over her back, smooth and without injury. He had healed her.
“You are Witheleghean?”
“My mother is from Witheleghe,” Pieter confessed. “I have been waiting for you, Kela Monicalia Flandigana Calledwdele.”
“You know my name,” she said, suddenly becoming wary of him. “What do you want from me?”
“I want only to help you.”
Pieter took her wrist and turned it up right to see her mark. “Much has been done that can’t be undone,” he said with utter revulsion in his tone. “You do not deserve to be marked in this manner.”
“Can you take it from me?”
He shook his head. “I cannot, but it is within you.”
“I have no magic.”
“There you are wrong,” he said. “As I
told your sister earlier, you need only to call upon it. The difference is that Sareta knows the magic is within her. You do not.”
Kela gaped at Pieter in confusion. “I am a Euchoun.”
“Without question,” Pieter agreed. “Yet, you also hold a rare magic. Vaellyn.”
“You are talking nonsense. I hold no magic.”
“Yes, you do,” Pieter insisted. “On this, I am certain. Think quickly. Has there not been anything to make you question?”
Kela was silenced. There had been much. How had I truly traveled to Yucca? Had I fallen short of the portal? Moreover, how had the gown appeared when I wanted to leave Cono’s chamber?
Yet, it could not be so. She would have known.
Pieter ran his hand over her mark. “Do this now. Make this mark vanish.”
Staring down at the hated sign of her sin, she wanted nothing more than for it to disappear. She needed no reminder of what happened to her…that had happened to others…that would happen to those who came after her.
She was tired of rules! She was no whore! No, she was not any man’s!
Slowly, the mark faded until it was no more.
In disbelief, she looked up at Pieter. “How can this be?”
“I do not have time enough now to explain.” He said the words solemnly. “Let it suffice at this moment to know, it is my belief that it was not only your mark that vanished. The whole realm would be my presumption. There will be no more renouncements.”
“I don’t understand…why is it that you know what I do not?”
“Because you lost your parents before it was time for you to learn.” He silenced for a moment to listen for any sound. In the faint distance, rapid footsteps pounded the stone streets. “There is much we need to discuss, but not here. We need to leave.”
“I need to leave. Yet, I cannot with you,” Kela said in a firm voice. “I do not know how these things have happened, but I would be foolish to trust you.”
“Indeed, it would, if not for the knowledge of where you head.” Pieter took a step back. “You head to Seilda the Tvopac.”
“How would you know such a thing?” Kela demanded. “Are you a seer as well?”
“No,” Pieter said in all seriousness. “She is my grandmother and has been expecting you.”
Above Kela, she heard the beating of wings. The fog was dispersing.
Panic began to surge. She had no desire to fight any longer.
“I will go with you…at least until we are out of Yucca.”
Pieter glanced over his shoulder. “Then, you need to take us to the royal stables. I cannot transport. Your sister transported me to you.”
Kela wanted to argue with him. He’s outrageous! The footsteps became louder.
Then, something calmed within her…told her he wasn’t wrong. She had transported herself to Yucca.
“Halt!” a sentry ordered.
Pieter took her hand. “Now would be a good time to go.”
In Kela’s next heartbeat, she was no longer in the street. Pieter and she stood beside his fleogan, Asa.
Asa was the most magnificent of creatures. White, of great stature and strength, the fleogan’s coat glistened in the moonlight. Saddled, he had been prepared for a journey.
“He’s a beauty. Is he not?” Pieter said. Taking her hand, he helped her up into the saddle. Quickly, he mounted beside her.
“We cannot just leave,” Kela whispered. “The Wings are out on patrol…looking for me.”
“We are not alone in our quest, Kela,” Pieter said. “Prince Silas has ensured our safe passage. We will not be stopped.”
“Silas? Why would he help us?”
“Silas and I have formed an alliance, for there is much amiss in Yucca. Silas understands that we fight something dark and deadly.”
For a long moment, Kela pondered her quest. She took comfort in the knowledge that Sareta had begun to emerge from her shell, much like a butterfly from their cocoon. Sareta would be needed.
As would be Falco. She had not relinquished her anger at her brother. She did not know if she ever would, but her mission came before everything else. She would do what was necessary to succeed.
Prince Pieter was more complicated. He seemed to know more about her than she did herself. That alone worried her. Yet, she had no choice but to accept his help…for the moment.
Her surprise lay with Silas’s help. Had he gone against King Edulf? She pressed her lips together in thought. No, never, she decided.
She would be foolish to think that there wasn’t more going on than she had knowledge of. In time, she would discover what was hidden from her.
Doubts overcame her about this venture. Yet, none lay with leaving Cono.
She would not look back.
Kneeing Asa, Pieter had the fleogan walk out of the stable into the pasture. He gently pushed Kela’s head back against his chest. He whispered, “Hold tight to me. The ascent is steep.”
Kela closed her eyes.
The next moment, she felt Asa’s feet leave the ground as his wings beat in a rhythmic manner. Hard and fast, the fleogan flew straight up into the wondrous sky.
High above Yucca, Asa leveled himself. Only then did Kela find the courage to open her eyes.
A full moon lit their way.
The view was breathtaking.
Before her lay a great challenge. Yet at this moment, she knew only one thing.
She was free.
WITHELEGHE
ALRIC
Arachnidan Troms
The capital of Witheleghe, Troms, had been a large city.
At one time, Troms had been the epitome of beauty. Sitting on the salt coast of Meera Bay, the walls were of red stone from the Maunga Mountains. The fortification served more as ornamentation than defensive.
The mighty King Darius of House Flandigana reigned with his queen, Ophelia over Witheleghe. His magic was greater than in all the three realms.
The whole of the city lay on escalating terrace greens, intertwining stone buildings with gardens and tall Brupses trees. A white crystal tower known as Mazava sat in the center of the capital from which King Darius ruled.
From the top of the tower, the entire of Troms could be seen: the trades along both the marine bay and the wide brick streets, lodging of the inhabitants of the city, temples to Elohim including the Temple of Etar, garden and fountains, even the brothels and baths.
Beyond the walls lay the lands of the Orimons. Each of the Houses held their own special magic. Yet, none of the Houses had ever risen against the Flandigana reign… not successfully for over five thousand years.
Greed and envy were not only the weakness of men. Magical beings were not immune to the draw of power and wealth. Yet, they, too, had never risen against the Flandigana rule.
Flandigana magic had allowed the realm to live in peace and tranquility. Flandigana were pledged to the betterment of their people, bonded to that oath.
In turn, the one Flandigana who reigned held the most powerful magic of all—Vaellyn—the ability to enhance or weaken the powers of others.
There were none who could challenge the Flandigana reign… until Asmeodai.
Betrayal and treachery had allowed King Darius’s reign to fall.
Asmeodai had killed King Darius in one swift thrust of a knife. King Darius had not even seen his assailant.
During the Darkening, Troms had been devastated. Dragons attacked from above. Arachnidans emerged within the walls, killing any in sight.
There had been no mercy.
After the invasion, Asmeodai had ordered his killer dragons destroyed. The dragons had been bred for war. They could not be controlled.
Yet… one Arachnidan dragon survived.
Jordris the Red.
The largest, most ferocious dragon Asmeodai had crossed into Witheleghe. It was said Jordris once swallowed a fleogan whole.
For more than a decade, the skies over Trom had been quiet. There had been no animal left that could fly, except the sm
all birds. Asmeodai had killed any that dared, especially the fleogans. He wanted nothing more than to ensure the sigil of Flandigana was wiped out.
Most of Troms still lay in rumble. Moreover, the city still smelled of death and doom.
Yet, work had been done. A fortified brick wall had been erected, studded with bastions. A massive gate had been added where no entry was given unless ordered by Asmeodai. The crystal tower, Mazava, had turned black where a dark flame burned.
The Arachnidan Night Raiders patrolled the streets, allowing the Arachnidan inhabitants to have full reign of the city. Homes and businesses that had been rebuilt had been for the Arachnidans.
The Withelegheans whom remained were now slaves. The Arachnidans forced them to live in squalor. The slum was placed on the north side of the city, close to the tunnel Asmeodai was determined to build his connection to the Siochanta Realm.
In the dead of night, the Arachnidans would come and drag out those that were chosen to go work in the tunnel, Parkua of Death, as the slaves called it. The slaves lived in constant fear of being one of the chosen. No one came back from the Parkua of Death.
When the sun went down, the streets became quiet and still.
A full moon shone the night the beast came. The silence of the night was broken.
Shrieking and hissing, a dragon circled high in the sky, ominously shadowing the city beneath him. He flew low with his jaw snapping and his tail lashing back and forth.
The moonlight reflected off his crimson scales. His horns were outlined in the glimmer of light as his talons flexed in the air.
Soaring back upward, he outstretched his wings and hovered for a moment. His screech pierced the night’s air as he folded his wings and dived.
The red dragon opened his mouth and unleashed his dragon-fire. Flames spread throughout the city’s streets.
Jordris the Red had returned.
A Week Before
The Council of Orimons
At Tuhinga O Mua, the Orimons held council. The council room lay in the deepest cavern with one narrow entrance. The room had been illuminated by lighting crystals, allowing the members to gather around a long wooden table.
The Path Now Turned Page 15
