“You won’t have to,” his reflection soothed. “At least...not for long. It’ll give just enough time to draw out your true adversary. Only then will your kind understand.”
*****
Glory waited anxiously for the prince’s return. After Ashpin’s episode, she worried conflict between the two might cause a collapse in the well-being of the clan. In some respect, she was appalled by Wisdom’s lack of responsibility to tell Ashpin the truth.
How could he think this would just go away? She glanced out a nearby window. Even if the man did take a life…Ashpin should still know.
Her thoughts slid off topic when she saw movement coming from the backyard trees. When Wisdom stepped into view, she felt relief. He had gone off so suddenly at the call of his name. Now, as he came by way of the garden paths, two boys trotted over to meet him, one being Ashpin.
Glory squinted, trying to make out the second boy.
Isn’t he the one who called me a farm girl? Though she had to admit the clothing worn that day had reflected it, the memory of his actions did not easily wane. What is he doing here?
Impatient to know the situation, Glory made her way upstairs after seeing Wisdom shift. Sure he was headed for his room, she crossed the hall quickly to the master suite.
He must have spoken with Ashpin since he didn’t look upset. She played the scene over in her mind as she approached the first conjoining door. Wonder if that Schevolsky boy had something to do with it earlier?
The turn of handle offered an empty click – locked. She turned to the second door that led into the bedroom. Her hand had just touched the reflective, silver handle when she paused upon hearing several shouts coming from inside. Intrigued, Glory leaned closer to listen.
The voice was Wisdom’s, but who was he conversing with? She made the motion to knock, then paused. His tone had lowered, and she had to press an ear against the door.
“…Sorry I ever got involved with humans,” she heard.
Who is he talking to? His brother? Glory strained to hear more, perturbed at this unusual statement. Why would he say that when he’s been with humans all this time? With me even!
“…Should have never gotten her involved.”
Her? Glory froze, feeling her skin crawl in sudden fear. He spoke again, barely audible, and all color left her cheeks.
“…Wish we’d never met. Never fallen in love.”
She felt cold. Unable to hold her hands steady, she let them drop to her side. Had he really said that? Had the one she held so close to her heart just rebuked her?
He doesn’t…love me? Glory feared her knees might give way. She wanted to call out to him, get him to come out and explain himself. Yet her throat seemed to close as fresh tears threatened to well up. Keeping a hand on the wall beside her, she forced herself instead to turn away. If she could just get to her room and think, maybe she could make sense of it all.
Breath came in deep swallows as she took one look at her bedroom door and kept going. She needed air. There was no other balcony on that part of the mansion, so she descended to the lower floors.
Perhaps a walk. She assured herself that it could not have been about her. A brisk breeze ruffled her long, wavy hair off her shoulders when the door to the outside opened. Paying little heed to the servants in the yard, she started down the drive and out the front gate.
Nod and smile. She knew her greeting must have been awkward, as she avoided eye contact the whole way until she was beyond earshot.
No one had stopped her, yet she knew there had been stares. Realization tightened her chest as she neared town ten minutes down the road, and still no one had come for her.
They probably all thought I had errands to…run.
The town itself seemed to come and go, for the next moment she stood overlooking the harbor where the ships came into Trully.
“When did you stop running?” she recalled asking her mother long ago.
“When you find what you are looking for, you stop,” had been her answer.
Seagulls called overhead with the smell of salt permeating the air. Glory eyed the rolling waters while a large ship readied to take sail.
And the urge to go with it grew strong.
Run.
*****
He had brought the spell with him just in case, though by now Abraham had cast it so many times it simply rolled from his tongue like a second language. The paper, torn from his father’s spell book, was a hidden token in his pocket. Jenario may not have known it was gone since he rarely flipped through his spell books anymore. But the horn knew.
It always knew.
I’ll wager it knows what I’m doing even now. He pulled back the curtains surrounding the sleeping form of Corrigan.
Long hours of practice using the assassin had the young magic-user fairly confident that he was ready. He chuckled to himself, recalling how Nathaniel had collapsed the moment he pronounced the Living Sleep spell. By reversing certain syllables, Abraham found he could induce a full cycle of sleep or simply have Nathaniel unable to function except for his vocals.
Not that he could function anyhow. Abraham rolled his eyes at the thought. Nathaniel could use a good dose of this for all the liquor he’s consumed. Funny how I haven’t seen him of late to try it.
Like before, Abraham gently unfurled the harpy’s wings that had snugged around his breast. He would need full access to the chest area in order to complete the spell.
“You may fly yet,” he leaned over to whisper.
There came a slight shiver, followed by a groan. It was usually all the Black Wing could muster under the spell’s influence, though how powerful it was Abraham could not be sure until he tried.
Don’t hold your breath on this, he thought with vexed concentration and extended a hand over the upper body. I’m still learning how to conjure magic, and it may be that I can’t wake him at all.
Putting aside all other thoughts, Abraham fixed his attention on the harpy and brought the Living Sleep spell to mind. All that was needed was the removal of a single syllable in order to change its property from sleep to wake.
“Kar’soom de Lsahr’ken!” Abraham pronounced clearly, rolling the r’s as his father had taught him. From these intense trainings also came the words of creatures put into the language of magic. Never would he have assumed the word for Black Wing contained a silent ‘s’, and was careful to leave it out until the spell’s echo faded around the tower room.
He waited, daring to hope his version of the spell was powerful enough to pull the harpy from unending sleep.
“Corrigan?” When no movement came, he began to worry. If this had been Nathaniel, he’d be awake by now. So what’s different? Gingerly, he touched the wing.
There came a sudden growl.
“Don’t!” Corrigan coughed and strained to disconnect his body from bed, to no avail. He sucked in several breaths before attempting to speak, a dry monotone that reflected his lack of energy. “Always...pulling...the wings!”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Abraham said. With a sigh, he watched those amber eyes pry themselves open and dart around the room before briefly closing, only to repeat. “Can you not get up?”
He stood back to give the harpy’s wings more room. They could just as easily take my head off! Yet, from the way they drooped after several attempts, he doubted caution was needed.
“Obviously,” was the dry comment.
Abraham cursed under his breath. “He’s still too strong.”
“Can’t be all that powerful when you’ve nearly surpassed him,” Corrigan said. “Weren’t you just an illusionist when you came?”
Abraham thought back to his first few weeks in Sapphire. Never did he imagine he would acquire what his father could not.
“It’s not the magic,” he whispered harshly. “It’s the horn’s controlling nature. Maybe if I persist with the past, my father’s thoughts might wander enough to let the spell lapse even more.”
“That all?” Corrigan rolled
his eyes.
“And until then, you’ll have to feign a nice, peaceful slumber.” Abraham tried to sound cheerful, but those prying amber orbs locked onto him like a hawk ready for the strike.
“Pray I’m not hungry when this is over...mage.”
*****
Jenario leaned against his balcony wall, head slightly bowed. With eyes closed, he allowed the thoughts of the horn to mull over events for him, as he himself was too weary to bother. Nathaniel was gone, a relief to both horn and mage. Not only did it cut back on the horn’s ongoing claims of uselessness, but focused on the positive approach of Abraham’s training.
A shift in thought signaled the horn’s eagerness to speak. When at last Jenario raised his head, eyes opened to a flushed crimson burning around the irises.
Someone was coming.
The horn controlled the mage like a marionette, pulling his mental strings to lift an arm at the faintest movement within the darkness. Whether day or night, it was all the same. A constant surge of lightning lit up the surrounding forest and outlined the form of an approaching raven.
It alighted upon the mage’s outstretched arm with a loud caw, then brushed its beak affectionately over the soft fabric. The mage smiled and ran a finger down the soft tuft of feathering over the breast.
“You’ve done well,” the horn spoke softly. “Now that I know our Healer friend is bound to his clan, he will surely remain until that time in which I see fit to collect him.”
Jenario lifted his arm higher, and the raven took to the sky.
“Return to your kind! Tell them their heir has failed!”
The raven’s wild cackles eventually drowned within the clap of thunder. Its dark form easily matched that of its surroundings, and was swallowed without a trace into the forest.
“Their lust for vengeance against humans will only feed my storm. With the human population extinguished, there will be nothing to hinder my plans.” He cast his eyes up, toward the tower room where he knew the Black Wing was still within his control. There came a chuckle. “Ah, the rarity of ripening fruit in a barren wasteland – the time of harvest grows nearer.”
CHAPTER 8
The room was steaming with mixed emotions. Fear and anger filled Alexander’s Planning Room with venting bodies, so much that they had to keep the doors open to let air flow through. Not only were the three clan leaders present, but a good majority of their clan members. From Harbor’s Point, Mr. Phine had pulled a few other ship builders and fishermen. From town, Lorens and his boys attended, along with a few shopkeepers and carpenters. All had their skills and ideas to put forth in discussion, but none had a clear solution. Panic edged its way into concerned voices.
“But why?” was the question that hit Wisdom many times, in which no clear answer could be given. The guilt that he should have known sooner burned at his core, especially knowing how strong his kind could be. Already, the day was waning. If they did not come up with a plan soon, Wisdom feared the worst should his kind catch them off guard.
“What of Lexington?” Nemmerel said amidst a slew of other questioning clan members. “If your kind are coming from Crystal Valley, Lexington stands directly in their path!”
“I’ve already sent messengers their way.” Wisdom’s voice carried over the group, enough to redirect the conversation. When asked who the messengers were, he answered, “I sent Chanté with a few of his kind to start spreading the word. They’ll be faster than any ship or by foot. I also sent Blackavar back with his merchants. They would have left already to start pulling people out of Lexington.”
Here, he paused, his thoughts briefly reflecting his days at the guild. Silently, he prayed their vessel made it to Lexington’s port on time. It’ll take them at least two days! And I’ve no idea when or even if Chronicles has started his war.
“How long do you think we have?” Lorens forced Wisdom to refocus. A few servants busied themselves delivering drinks to their guests, which were accepted in hushed thanks. “How long before they reach here?”
“I wish I had a definite answer. It could be tomorrow. It could be days even. But one thing’s for certain, we need a course of action now! Alex,” he pointed to a map sprawled overtop the room’s central table, “how many men can you spare?”
“We can all fight,” the Western Prince said in a stern tone. He nodded toward the Schevolskys. “And they can attest to it.”
“We have equipment,” one of the Schevolsky boys added. “We have armor and weapons. Bit old, but it’s still good.”
Nickademis cleared his throat. “Armor won’t be much against a shape-shifting magic-user. No offense, Master. But you know a human is no match against even one of your kind.”
“I, at least, hope to detain my father long enough before he sends in the rest,” Wisdom said. “If I challenge him one-on-one, perhaps that’ll be enough time.”
“Until?” Nickademis raised an eyebrow. “You expecting someone else to show?”
Murmurs started up around the room. Even Mididus, with his connections in thought to the Simpletons, grew sensitive to the question. Yet Wisdom knew better than to blurt out that a dark unicorn would approach during confrontation. Instead, he shot the doctor a quick look.
“I did send a message to one other for help. My grandfather lives with a number of outcast Healers. No promises, but assistance would be greatly appreciated. For the time being, we’ll need to gather the women and children, and those who can’t fight, inside the clan, or at least far enough from where we hold our ground, which should be here.” His index finger brushed along a vacant field just north of the farmlands. “It’s just outside the borders of Trully. It’ll be the first place they come to.”
Mr. Phine grunted. “What makes you so sure they won’t travel a different way?” The old shipbuilder studied the map a moment more. “They could just as easily follow the shoreline around the storm. The way you put it, sounds like they’ll be coming from the storm itself.”
Wisdom cast his gaze down to the dark liquid rolling inside his mug after taking it from one of the servant trays. Within, he could just make out his reflection, not the clearest, but one that offered a wink at the suggestion.
The horn’s power will feed off their hate, came the thought. They’ll be drawn without question, and with little choice.
“Trust me,” Wisdom finished and sipped at his drink. “We’ll meet them as they come out.”
“And if this doesn’t work?” Nickademis said. “What then? There must be something we can use to keep them from going around us and finding those who are helpless.”
“You can use fire,” the voice of Shy cut through the group before his brother could answer. Heads turned toward the albino Healer with Katherine by his side.
Wisdom let out a soft growl. “You’ve some nerve to show yourself. If I’d known—”
“Vistom, please!” Katherine pleaded. “Just hear him out.”
With a long sigh, the prince nodded. “Fine.” Ignoring the questioning stares from others, he gestured for his brother to continue.
“Simply challenging Chronicles isn’t going to work,” Shy said. “You know how he operates. He’ll have destroyed half the clan by then. What you need to do is cut off all connections with Nature!” The group let him through as he walked up to the table and pointed to the spot where they planned to meet. “If you burn the fields, we’ll be forced to fight using just the energy we have, and not Nature’s.”
“Burn the fields,” Wisdom repeated softly. He glanced down at the piece of cloth wrapped around his wrist, keeping his scar hidden. The scar itself had been created with fire, which Osha now used to show phases of the moon. It would never heal, as fire was not a part of their element, and therefor had no control over it. “It would definitely slow them down.”
Mididus stepped forward. With his words slowed in concentration, he said, “May I suggest my clan cover what vegetation does not get touched, as we do with our homes. It will seem as though the whole land has been s
corched, and they will not know the difference.”
“You’ve seen how strong Simpletons are,” Shy said. “They can project what they want us to see. Even we will have no clue where ash starts and grass begins!”
“Then let’s get started!” Wisdom said. “The longer we delay, the less time we have to prepare.” To the Schevolsky’s, “Get all the armor you have! Alex, I know you have weapons and things here as well. Bring torches and build pits to heat your weapons. I want those fields smoldering by the day’s end!”
As the group began to disperse, Wisdom cast his eyes over to this brother. A nod of thanks was all that was needed, which Shy accepted with a grin.
We’re going to make it, came the thought.
While members filed outside, a commotion drew attention to the doorway. High-pitched chatter immediately marked the voice of Josephine, who pushed through the crowd to enter.
“Josephine! I thought I told you to watch the shop!” His grandfather shuffled over to him. “What’s the matter with you? You got cloth ears?”
“Sorry, yes! I mean no!” Josephine placed a hand over his chest as he tried to catch his breath. “It’s just,” a cough, “I ran all the way...looks like someone saw....your lady board one of the ships earlier.”
“What?” Wisdom’s gaze shifted to his brother, then back to the young man. “Are you sure? Who saw her?”
“Where would she go in a time like this?” Mr. Phine grumbled. “Not to Lexington, I hope.”
“How long ago was this?!” A pressure of worry built in the prince’s chest. How could she think of running at a time like this? He tried to think back to the last time he saw her, but everything was a blur.
“Um, well...” Josephine scrunched up his nose in thought. “Not sure, exactly.”
“Well, go get her!” Wisdom threatened, but the young man cringed and took a step back.
“But the ship...left already. No telling how long ago.”
“You oaf!” A slap from his grandfather sent the young man skittering back outside. “Get your facts straight next time!”
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