Wyntier's Rise (Creatures of the Lands Book 3)

by Natalie Erin

  I can get color for you, if you want it, Angel told him. From the same place I got this stuff.

  Where exactly did you get it from? Kennu asked, hoping Angel hadn’t been so desperate to steal art supplies just to make him happy.

  There’s a little art store not far from here. They have to close because the owner’s being sent away, Angel said. He’s giving everything away to those who want it.

  Oh. That’s too bad.

  So do you want anything other than color?

  Maybe an eraser...but I don’t think I need anything else.

  Okay. I can do that.

  Angel was gone for almost an hour before returning with a set of over thirty different colored leads and four small erasers. She had grabbed an extra set of regular leads for good measure, and a huge stack of paper as well.

  Thank you, Angel. You’ve made me a little bit happier than I was, Kennu said, taking a purple lead and gently shading in the picture of Vera.

  I’m glad I could help in some way, Angel said, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. Can I see them all now?

  Of course. This is Vera, all colored in. Kennu displayed the image to her, and had to do a double take. He realized it was just like the real Vera had been.

  She’s so beautiful, Angel said, looking at the drawing.

  Yeah, she was. Kennu took the picture and hung it on the wall, using the rock to pound in a nail. He looked at the next picture on the pad, one he hadn’t meant to draw. But even though it was accidental, it was perfect. The colors on the bikini were identical to the one in real life. Her hair and her sunglasses, even her small hands, were drawn perfectly. He’d gotten every detail about her right.

  Who is that? Angel asked curiously.

  Someone I miss. Not as much as I miss Allie, but I miss her just the same. He hung up the drawing of Reagan next to Vera and the two griffins.

  Why did you have to be so mean? Why couldn’t you feel the same way about me? he thought openly, not caring if Angel could hear as he stared at the picture of the human girl. He took a deep breath, struggling to hold back tears, and then reached under the pillow to pull out a picture that was folded four ways. He unfolded it gently and hung it up on the wall, closest to where his head would go when he slept.

  That’s Allie, isn’t it? Angel asked.

  Yeah, that’s my Allie. I miss her more than anything in this world, he sighed. Angel set her head on his shoulder, and he returned the affectionate gesture, leaning against hers.

  Later that night, Ana walked toward Kennu’s room to bring him dinner. She knocked before opening the door, entering slowly. Kennu was curled up in a ball on the bed and Angel sat next to him, her head buried beneath her wing. The walls were plastered with all sorts of pictures, at least twenty of them. She set the food down on the bedside table and looked around her in amazement, her mouth dropping open.

  There was a picture of the small hut where Kennu had been born, with Kia and Keota standing side by side, both of them smiling. There was one of Ionan and Allie flying together and one of Mela, her blue hair up in pigtails like when she was small. Soran, Zorna, Cameliyon, Pumpkin, Martin and Daren were in their own picture, all clustered together on a beach under a setting sun, grinning gleefully. There was one of Allie in her lynx form, standing next to a slightly larger male lynx. There was a picture of each of the wolves on their own, and then one of all of them together.

  But the one picture that caught her eye was the one of Vera and all of the children that had been kidnapped those ten years ago. The drawing looked perfect, as if she were actually looking at something in real life.

  She reached out and brushed the drawing, as if she needed to touch it to be sure it wasn’t real, and then left the room.

  Luciana leaned against a tree, a broad smile across her face. In her arms, little Nathanial sucked his thumb and slept. The child had pale blonde hair that was almost white, just like his mother’s, but he hadn’t opened his eyes yet, so their color was still unknown.

  “He’s so beautiful.” Luciana smiled and stroked her son’s cheek gently, wondering if the child was really in her arms, or if it was just a dream. “It was worth everything I endured to have him here with me.”

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t look much like you, does he?” Rose said, sitting down next to her. “He must take after the father.”

  “Yeah, but that’s okay,” Luciana told her. “He’s my son just the same, whether he looks like me or not.”

  “He is a very cute little thing,” Rex said, admiring the baby’s perfect pink skin. The baby’s white hair ruffled as he blew a warm gust of air out of his panther nose.

  “He’s my little angel, that’s what he is,” Luciana cooed, rocking Nathanial gently back and forth in her arms.

  “You’re going to be a great mother, Luciana. I can just tell,” Rose said with a proud grin.

  “You really think so?” Luciana asked, looking up at her older sister.

  “I know so,” Rose replied, smiling.

  Luciana continued talking quietly to Nathanial. “Mommy loves you. Oh, yes she does. She loves you, baby!”

  The little boy moved slightly and they watched him squirm curiously. “What’s the matter, Nathanial?” Luciana asked deliriously, as if expecting the boy to answer.

  The small child opened his eyes to look up at his mother. Rose immediately gasped. “Luciana, do you see it? In his eyes!” she said, pointing to the baby.

  Luciana didn’t answer, but it was obvious she saw the same thing her older sister did. For in her child’s hazel eyes, she saw a friend of old.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Wyntier’s Puppets

  Everyone was packing their things in order to make the trip to Southwild, except for Lyrica and Mirabelle, who were simply too tired to do anymore. They had just gotten back from a long trip already, and to go on another after a few days of rest seemed a daunting task to the two young girls. Lyrica stroked Mirabelle, who was a puppy, on her lap as they sat on the bed wearily. Both had been too exhausted to even mutter a tune recently, let alone dance and sing. Ionan prowled in as a lion, maneuvering around their few belongings on the floor.

  “All ready to go?” he asked, resting a paw on the bag.

  Mirabelle opened her eyes. “Yes, Papa.”

  “Girls, you’ve been quieter than I’ve ever known you to be. What is wrong?” Ionan asked.

  Lyrica continued looking out the window. “I miss Mommy and Daddy. Ionan…Ionan, I’m scared.”

  “There’s no need to be frightened. Your parents are very brave fairies. I’m sure they’re alright,” Ionan said.

  Her blue eyes dimmed and she said, “But Ionan, remember what the oath from the forest said? The one written on a stone in every realm? But if land is dead and creatures cry, therefore shall the fairy die? If the forest and plains are burned, how can Aunt Kia still be alive?”

  Lyrica’s eyes began swimming with tears. She knew the consequences of a fairy leaving their realm unprotected.

  Ionan said, “Don’t worry, Lyrica, Kiatana has left the forest many times and she has never been killed from it. I’m sure whoever wrote the poem long ago was exaggerating highly.”

  “But each time Aunt Kia left, it got worse for her,” Lyrica protested. Mirabelle cleared away her tears. It hurt Ionan to watch, remembering Allie had done the same for Kennu not so long ago.

  “Do not worry yourself so. We will find them soon enough. It won’t be too long before you’re back where you should be, at home with them.” Ionan smiled at her, though it was a grin marred with uncertainty. Reassured by his words, she stopped crying and smiled back, only to have the small grin fall once again.

  “That’s not all…” she said. “There’s something else.” She looked down at her hands. “Ionan, Mommy is the Great One, but the prophecy said the one who was her heir would be of her own family, with wings shining and rare. I…I think it’s me. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

  Lyrica’s rai
nbow wings flickered once and Ionan recoiled. One of her own family, wings shining and are rare…he recalled the verse from the prophecy. It fit perfectly. “Lyrica…I have to agree with you. I believe it is you. There’s little way around it.”

  “But I don’t want to be the Great One!” she protested, and Mirabelle wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to have any special powers or rule over people, I just want to be myself! If Mommy’s gone, I have to take her place, but I don’t even know how to be the Great One!”

  “You may not have a choice, Lyrica.”

  “No! Mirabelle and I have been talking about it. We want to come back here when we’re grown and become famous singers! That’s what we want!”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. You could be both…”

  “But I don’t want to be!” Lyrica insisted. “You know that if I really am the next Great One I’ll have to end this new war! This is so unfair!” She squeezed her Changer tightly.

  “Calm yourself. There may be a different way,” Ionan said.

  Lyrica looked out the window. “This isn’t right. I don’t want to be forced into this. I want a choice.”

  Ionan wagged his tail feebly to try to get her to smile. “Though the prophecy states what must be true, the war cannot balance on the shoulders of an eleven-year-old girl. Follow your dreams, Lyrica. Whatever makes you happy and safe should be good enough for the rest of us.”

  “One day left,” Soran reminded himself. Things were being readied to load onto the Changers for the long flight to Southwild. Zorna laid in Soran’s arms as a phoenix and watched the luggage be piled outside of Ana’s house in stacks mournfully, as if the very idea of leaving Nesting’s Haven was torturous to him.

  Cameliyon came running up the street, Martin and Pumpkin following. Soran could tell by the look on their faces that whatever she had to say wasn’t good.

  “My stupid godparents won’t let me come with you!” she said angrily, stomping her shoes into the grass. “They’re forcing me to stay behind. And Martin and Pumpkin’s parents won’t let them come, either.”

  “What? But Daren’s parents said it was okay. Can’t they come with you? They have to know it’s not safe in the city anymore,” Soran said.

  “No. They say there’s no danger,” she said sourly, and sat on the grass. “I hate my godparents. I wish they were gone and I didn’t have to deal with them anymore.”

  “Be thankful you still have them,” Zorna snapped, raising his head up. “Unlike a lot of people here.”

  “Shut up, Zorna. I don’t need a lecture,” she growled back at him.

  Soran tilted his head, looking upward as he got a sudden idea. “Wait. Maybe there’s something we can do so nobody has to leave.”

  “What do you mean?” Pumpkin asked.

  “The Council’s secret files!” Zorna said excitedly, catching on. “You’re a genius, Soran!”

  “Moorock kept hinting at them. I never got it until now, but I think he wants us to go through them,” Soran said. “I bet if we find Wyntier’s file, we can show everyone who he really is. There’s probably tons of stuff to discredit him in there.”

  “The files? As in the secret, private files the Council keeps locked behind closed doors? You’re insane if you think we’re getting in there,” Martin said.

  “But I have the perfect way,” Soran hushed. “At dusk, Wyntier’s going to be crowned king. Everybody’s going to be there, including the Council and their best guards. They’ll put their worst soldiers to guard the files because, let’s face it, if there’s going to be an attack they’ll expect an assassination attempt, not a break-in. Plus, their faith in the system is so absolute. Like you said, Martin, you’d have to be half mad to try to get in.”

  “We’re going to do this, aren’t we?” Cameliyon sighed, shaking her head. “Come on, what’s the plan?”

  It was just as Soran had said. Wyntier was being crowned at the new palace they were building for him downtown, so the Council Hall was practically empty. Daren had met up with them after Pumpkin and Martin flew off to spread the word.

  “You do realize this is illegal, right?” Kennu whispered by Soran’s side as they entered the great wooden doors. Once he had found out that Soran was planning a full scale sneak attack on Wyntier, he and Angel forced him to drag them along. Soran worried that there were too many of them and they were going to get caught. The adults had been so busy packing that they didn’t see the kids leaving. It was almost too easy to get away, and it made Soran weary.

  “Duh. What do you think I am, stupid?” Soran hissed to his cousin, already wishing they could turn back.

  “We’re all stupid if you think we’re getting out of here without getting arrested. My parents aren’t going to bail me out of Azazael if we get caught.” Daren quivered with fear as they walked the cold, marble hallways of the Council Hall. The room to the files was at the end of the building, the door protected by several guards and their Changers. The kids stood behind the corner of the long walkway leading to the room, feeling so close to their goal.

  Unlike his Accompany, Federin was completely calm, resting in Daren’s shirt pocket. Zorna had changed into a black hamster and was hiding inside Soran’s coat at his Accompany’s request.

  “If we’re caught, Lukas will tear us apart before we get the chance to be arrested,” Cameliyon said. She was in a guard’s uniform they had stolen from one of the storerooms in the back, and looked rather intimidating. “Looks like this is where I come in.”

  As a female guard and her Changer rounded the corner to end their shift, the kids stood along the wall patiently, pretending to be waiting for their parents. The guard nodded to them before leaving for home.

  “Come on Cam, hurry,” Soran hushed under his breath.

  Cameliyon melded her looks, taking on the pixie-nosed appearance of the guard while Pumpkin mutated into the large black dog that had been following her. Cameliyon nodded to Martin and Angel, both small ferrets, and the two went around the opposite wall in the same route the guard had taken. It wasn’t long before they heard a loud crash. Every guard but one stayed behind to block the room to the files.

  Cameliyon walked boldly out into the hallway, pretending to be in a hurry. The last guard and his Changer turned, looking at her curiously. “Edana, what’s up? I thought you were done for the day,” the guard said in confusion.

  Cameliyon huffed, changing her voice to sound different from her own. “Change of plans. I was sent back here to watch the door. It looks like somebody’s trying to get into the court room. The boss wants you and your Changer to look into it.”

  Without another word, the man and his Changer hurried off. Once he was gone, they all stepped out from behind the corner.

  “Don’t take forever,” Cameliyon said. “Angel and Martin can only keep the guards preoccupied for so long.”

  Thanking the Creator for Martin and Angel’s bravery, they rushed inside. Daren started leafing through the many different drawers, pulling out two at a time. “Look for a tan file, that means they’re living, or green, which equals missing. Any colored file means they’ve died. Red means death by murder, purple means death by illness, and white means died naturally.”

  “Aw, come on. There’s got to be a million different cabinets in here,” Kennu moaned.

  Soran opened a drawer and said, “Quit with the bad attitude, Kennu. Angel and Martin are risking their safety to give us this time. Stop wasting it.”

  With an irritated look at his cousin, Kennu pulled open another drawer. He asked, “It’s alphabetized, right? Doesn’t that mean we should look for his last name?”

  “It’s not organized by name, but the year of birth, which we don’t know. Just keep leafing through stuff,” Soran said, pulling out dozens of files at a time.

  Daren was deep in immense concentration, reading a large file carefully. “Wow these facts are amazing…” he said, truly awed. “It says here that most of the population’s partners are same gender. Only a qua
rter are female Accompany male Changer pairs, and a tiny sliver makes up the male Accompany female Changer bonds…they’re supposed to be really rare…”

  “We’re going to be rare if we don’t get out of here. As in, non-existing.” Cameliyon poked her head through the door. “Kennu, what are you doing!” she asked as her friend flung the files to the floor.

  “What?” Kennu asked, pausing with two files in each hand.

  Cameliyon pointed and said, “They’re not supposed to know we’re here! You’re making a mess!”

  “Oops.” Kennu gulped. There was no time to correct it now. They kept going, file after file.

  “Stay near the bottom, that’s where the more recent ones are. The ones on top are all older, a hundred years or so,” Soran said.

  Kennu pulled out his fifth drawer. Within it, he found his own file. He didn’t even know he had a file, as he didn’t live in Nesting’s Haven. Yet there it was, all folded, several papers organized neatly inside. He pulled it out and looked at it. Inside he found Allie’s file, still tan. They hadn’t yet put it in a red folder. Tears formed in his eyes, but he brushed them away. This was no time for hysterics. He put his file back and moved on.

  “I’m close!” Soran cried and they all hurried over to his cabinet. “I found Vera’s file!” He pulled it out, and they saw it was purple instead of red. Why it wasn’t in Wyntier’s file, they had no clue. They opened it up and found less than a page of information.

  “Nothing we didn’t already know,” Soran said with disappointment. “Just has her family, her graduation year, her time in the service and the date that she died.”

  They put it back solemnly, rushing quickly through the rest of the files. After a while, they felt like giving up.

  Finally, Daren screamed, “I’ve got it!” He pulled out a tan file and they opened it up, dreading what they would find inside.