by Devri Walls
Alcander dropped onto the edge of the desk, looking murderously at the floor. They had come all this way for nothing.
“Anywhere else it could be?” Drustan asked as Emane swept another armful of books to the floor.
“There’s a whole blasted castle where it could be,” Alcander shouted, gesturing toward the doors. “A castle in ruins.”
“Alcander?” Emane said.
“Maybe it’s under one of the piles of stone. Or maybe it’s in the throne room!”
“Alcander!”
“What?” Alcander snapped.
Emane raised his eyebrows, pointing to the only two books left on the shelves. “These won’t budge.” He jerked on the spines to demonstrate.
Pushing off the desk, Alcander strode over and grabbed the books. They wouldn’t move an inch. “Stand back,” he said. Extending his hand, he fired a shot. Green magic burst against the books, flaring up before dissipating into nothing, leaving the books unharmed.
“Try your scepter,” Drustan suggested.
Alcander fired another shot with his scepter. The brilliant white magic rippled around the books, again leaving them unharmed. Tilting his head to the side, he frowned, then extended the staff, touching it gently to the spines.
There was a soft click. What looked like two books was actually a small box. He swung open the door, revealing a small green ball—the key they had been looking for.
Alcander held it reverently, then crossed to the desk. He knelt down and slid the key into a decorative cutout on one of the legs. The ball fit perfectly. The key flashed green and a small wooden door swung open.
Alcander hesitated. What if it was gone? What if his uncle had found it? He reached in. What he pulled out made his breath hitch painfully in his chest as hundreds of memories surfaced. He held the ring up so the sun streaming through the windows could catch the sapphires and emeralds.
The ring was a thick gold band with inset square-cut stones. It began with a sapphire of the deepest blue. Next to that sat a stone slightly lighter in color, and it continued until the blue was so light, it was nearly white. Next to that was an emerald of the brightest green, followed by one that was slightly lighter, continuing that pattern until the pale green ran back into the sapphires.
“What is that?” Emane asked
“My mother’s wedding ring,” Alcander said as he slipped it onto his little finger.
***
EMANE COULDN’T TEAR HIS eyes off the ring as Alcander walked past him, stepping over the vine on his way to the door. A piece of him wanted to berate Alcander for hauling them to Tavea for a ring, for putting them all in danger for a sentimental piece of jewelry. He opened his mouth—but couldn’t do it. Deep down, Emane understood—more than he wanted to. His mother’s ring was sitting in a box in his room in Meros, waiting for the next queen.
The next queen. For one crazy minute, his heart pounded wildly in his chest and blood rushed in his ears, thinking of the ring Alcander had just found being placed on Kiora’s finger, and he questioned his decision to let her go. Every second he had to pretend he was fine with her choosing him, fine to step back—to be the gracious loser—chipped away at his soul. What if he had misconstrued things?
Alcander reached out, using magic to blow the door the rest of the way off its hinges and slamming it into the wall as he stormed out.
And there it was—magic. The awful reality check. No matter how many reasons Emane gave himself for why he was wrong or why he shouldn’t have stepped back, that one thing always came back to haunt him. Deflating, he followed Drustan and Alcander into the hall.
***
KIORA NARROWED HER EYES and put her hand to the ground. The island trembled as raw power flooded it. Loud cracks and pops shattered the air as the rock tore apart beneath her, opening a chasm and allowing seawater to rush up from below. She pushed more magic out, feeling the exhilaration and trying to open herself up to nature. Her body hummed and her heart hammered faster in her chest. She grunted, fighting against the earth. The island relented, ripping in two with a horrible rending sound that vibrated around her.
Motioning, Kiora pushed half of the island away from her. The water behind it rolled up, providing resistance before it gave way and the waves swept out to sea. Standing, she put her hands out, forcing the land down. The ocean bubbled and boiled around the huge piece of earth, spitting up geysers of water as it swallowed the island. The water sprayed down over her—drenching her. It felt wonderful as it cooled her down. She was so hot.
She peered over the edge of the cliff she had just created to watch half the island disappear.
Arturo landed beside her. That was impressive.
She stood straight, throwing her head back and reveling in the rush of magic and power. She put her hands on her hips and grinned at Arturo. I’m not holding back.
Indeed. Does it feel different?
She knew what he was asking. “It feels different because I’m not resisting it, but I can feel my levels dropping as I use it, just like always. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. How do I tap into something I can’t find?” Turning, she stumbled, falling into Arturo. She wrapped her good arm around his neck to keep from crashing to the ground.
Arturo jerked his head back. Kiora! You are burning up.
She pulled to her feet and shoved the wet hair out of her face. “I’m fine. I just used a lot of magic, that’s all.”
Show me your arm.
“Arturo, I’m fine.” Turning, she looked over the remaining piece of island. “I think I’m going to try to combine wind and water next—see what I can do.”
Show me your arm, he repeated sternly.
Pursing her lips, she pulled back the small cap of a sleeve that remained, exposing her shoulder. The wound was flaming red around the charred skin, multiple red streaks tracking up her shoulder to disappear under her shirt.
Arturo glared at her.
“I will be fine,” she repeated for the third time. “I just have a few things to practice, and then we can go back to Emane.”
You’re right. That magic is clouding your mind.
Kiora took a step back as if he had slapped her.
The wound is infected, Kiora—badly. Emane’s power of healing is not going to bring you back from the dead!
I’m not going to die, she thought. Her body was still buzzing from the magical high and she was ready for more.
Get on. Now.
“Arturo— ”
Kiora, you can get on or I will fly back for Emane myself. I can’t communicate with him and he can’t bubble, which means that one, or both, of us will probably be killed while you die out here on a rock.
Kiora stared him down as the magical high began to fade, leaving her shaky and craving more. But as the high vanished, the throbbing in her arm returned and the heat of her fever rolled up from her toes to her head. “Fine,” she snapped, climbing on.
The longer they flew, the more miserable she became. Her fever was much higher than she had realized. She called up seawater, letting it rain over her in an attempt to stay cool. But as the water evaporated, the salt left an irritating crust on her skin that just made it worse.
Your use of magic was masking how bad the infection was, Arturo thought.
Kiora just laid her head against his neck, wishing for sleep.
***
BY THE TIME THEY reached the mainland, Kiora was having a terrible time holding the bubble. Not because she was out of magic, but because she could hardly keep herself awake. Arturo kept mentally yelling at her that the bubble was thinning.
Kiora squinted into the setting sun. Thinking maybe she wasn’t seeing things correctly, she shaded her eyes to get a better look. “Why are we over here?” she mumbled, falling back against his mane. “We’re near Lomay’s. That’s the wrong direction.”
You won’t make the journey. I have to leave you somewhere, and the other coast is too dangerous. I will leave you at Lomay’s while I get Emane.
&
nbsp; It doesn’t matter. I don’t know the incantation. She tossed her head to the other side with a moan. Alcander never taught me how to get in.
Arturo pushed harder into the wind. Stay awake! he repeated as her bubble thinned again.
She was shaking, exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Her skin was soaked with salt and sweat, and her eyes burned with fever. Arturo landed, hard, and she jolted forward against his neck.
Kiora, we need to do a couple of things. Quickly, lean on me and make an enclosure.
Kiora slid off his back, leaning on his side. He walked with her as she stumbled, touching the trunks of a few trees to set the enclosure. Once it sealed itself, she dropped to the ground, her eyes closing before she even lay down.
Not yet, Kiora. Almost.
Kiora peeled her eyes back open, blinking furiously as she tried to focus on Arturo’s face.
Listen very carefully. I need you to open your mental connection with Alcander completely. I am going to try to talk to him—through you.
Kiora nodded sluggishly as she lay back in the dry meadow grass. The ground was cold and felt wonderful against her skin. She relaxed her mind, pulling back at the layers, revealing Alcander.
***
ALCANDER FROZE IN THE hall as a voice he had never heard before called his name—in his mind. Every muscle in his body tensed at the violation.
This is Arturo. Kiora is very ill, came a male tenor voice. I don’t know how much longer I can keep her awake to speak with you. I need Emane. Have him waiting outside the city.
“Alcander, what’s wrong?” Emane asked, coming up alongside him.
Alcander shook his head. He leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees, pinching his eyes shut. We are not in the city. We are in Tavea.
Arturo was quiet, but Alcander had the most distinct impression that the Pegasus was flipping through his mind, assessing the situation from his memories. The feeling made him want to vomit and he swallowed back bile.
You cannot bubble long enough to get to a safe place, Arturo thought. Stay there. I will be there by morning.
Are you bringing her? Alcander thought back.
No, she is too ill to ride any longer. We must move quickly. Find warm clothes—we will be flying high.
Where are you?
Near Lomay’s. We also need the incantation to—
Alcander gasped and stumbled forward as Arturo’s presence withdrew abruptly from his mind.
“What is it?” Emane asked as Alcander righted himself.
“Arturo is coming for us. Kiora needs you.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Drustan asked.
“Arturo says she’s too sick to travel.”
“Arturo?” Drustan said, realizing the impossibility of that statement. “How are you talking to Arturo?”
“I’m not sure,” Alcander said, starting back down the hall. “He said he was using Kiora.” He broke into a jog, leaping over vines. “We have a lot to do. Hurry.”
The three ran out the back exit. They followed the broken castle wall, past the gardens, where a small collection of houses stood in a semi-circle within the castle keep. This was where those who helped with castle duties lived. The vines had turned the houses to piles of sticks. Eerily, most of the wooden pieces were still standing, nearly in their correct locations, leaning on the vines that twisted in and around them. A shock of black hair spilled out from a lopsided doorframe, confirming that the houses had not been empty when the attack occurred.
Past the homes, a white door lay flat on the ground. Alcander grabbed the handle and wrenched it up, revealing a set of stairs leading down.
“Flying foxes nest underground,” Alcander said as he hurried down the stairs. He held his staff up, willing it to glow. Blue-and-white light swirled around the walls.
The stable was a circle and stalls lined the perimeter. On the top of each stall was a long, rectangular window with bars to allow one to look inside. Feeding troughs hung outside each pen in front of an opening large enough for the fox to extend their head through. The trough was divided into two parts, food and water, and both were completely full despite the time that had passed since Tavea’s destruction
“Who is feeding them?” Emane asked. His hand moved to his sword as he looked at the stairs.
“No one. The troughs are magicked—they fill on their own.”
Drustan wrinkled his nose. “Too many flying foxes for my liking,” he said as several noses appeared between the bars, sniffing and displaying their teeth.
“As long as they get your scent, they will be fine,” Alcander said. He approached the first cage and held his hand up to the bars. The flying fox sniffed and its giant ears perked with interest. “Emane, Drustan. Come on.”
Drustan inched forward, holding out his hand as if it were the last time he might ever see it. He looked over his shoulder to Emane, grimacing as the flying fox sniffed his hand. “And you thought Dragons were temperamental.”
The fox laid its ears back flat on its head. It pulled back its lips to expose curved teeth and hissed. Alcander yelled from a few pens over. The fox’s ears perked up as it jerked back. It glanced over at the king and then returned to Drustan for a grudging reevaluation.
“Remember that first time you saw a flying fox and Alcander said it only spits on people it doesn’t like?” Drustan said, pulling his hand away.
Emane nodded, frowning at the fox before him.
“He wasn’t kidding.” Drustan moved over to the next cage. “Go ahead.” He smirked. “Stick your hand up there.”
Emane hesitated.
“We have a lot of foxes you need to get acquainted with, Emane,” Alcander said. “And not a lot of time. Just put your hand up there.”
Emane gritted his teeth and stepped forward, holding out his hand. The fox sniffed. Its ears perked up and forward. It pushed its face against the bars and made a funny chirping sound. Before Emane could move, its tongue flicked out from between rows of needle-sharp teeth, licking his hand.
Emane yelped, jerking back as the acid spit ate through his skin. “I didn’t do anything!” he yelled, hurriedly healing his hand.
Alcander strode over, giving him a congratulatory pat on the back. “He liked you. A lot.”
Emane looked at him incredulously. “So, if it hates me, it spits at me. If it loves me, it licks me? Both end in the same result,” he sputtered.
“Don’t let him lick you,” Alcander said.
Drustan jumped back from a pen, yanking his hand protectively behind his back as another fox barred its teeth at him. “Why do they always hate Shifters?”
Alcander rushed over, shushing the agitated fox. “Because your kind is not very likable,” he said.
“Funny as always, Your Majesty,” Drustan said, glaring at the fox like it was a demon’s spawn.
This continued for hours, Alcander coaxing the foxes into liking Drustan—some were far more resistant to his presence than others. Emane, on the other hand, learned quickly to be prepared, leaping back as fox tongues whipped out from between bars.
“Who knew they would be so fond of Witows?” Alcander said.
“Yours didn’t like me,” Emane pointed out, skittering back as a fox chirped happily at his presence.
“That’s because I didn’t like you.”
Drustan crouched down in front of some lower bars on the other side of the stables. “Now these guys I like.”
“What are they?” Emane asked.
“Marlocks.”
Emane knelt down to look in. The creatures were twice as long as he was, with short, muscular legs and faces that looked like miniature bears. They came in all colors and were leaping and wrestling with each other. Black, brown, white, and reddish fur, all rolling around the pen.
Alcander came up behind them. “The Marlocks’ main strength is their intelligence. They have the ability to understand speech.”
“That, and their speed is unrivaled,” Drustan marveled. “How did you c
atch them?”
The voices brought the Marlocks out of their wrestling match and running toward them. The first two skidded to a stop, looking intensely curious before the rest of the group collided with them, slamming into the door.
“We caught two of them a long time ago. The rest were been born here,” Alcander said.
Kneeling down, Alcander explained to the Marlocks what he needed. Intelligence glittered in their eyes as they nodded their understanding
“Are you sure?” Emane asked.
“They will be fine. They’re fast enough not to get caught and their threads won’t raise alarm.” Alcander stood and held out his staff, running the light across the walls.
Drustan plucked a key off a hook. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
Alcander took it and inserted it into a small hole near the top of the door. The door shimmered, then dissolved before their eyes. The Marlocks burst from their cage. Alcander opened the next three doors as well, each full of Marlocks. The creatures ran and rolled through the room at lightning speed.
“How long has it been since they’ve been out of these cages?” Drustan asked, leaping out of the way of two rolling Marlocks.
“I don’t know,” Alcander said. “Too long.”
A Marlock clipped Emane with his tail and he fell backwards, landing hard. He scrambled back up before he was trampled by the others.
“Go,” Alcander said to the creatures. “I will call you when it’s time.”
Each and every Marlock stilled, gave a small bow with their heads, and rushed up the stairs.
***
TOO EXHAUSTED TO HOLD on to it anymore, Kiora let her mind connection with Alcander slip closed.
Arturo nudged her cheek. Sleep. I will be back as soon as I can.
Grateful for permission, she dropped off. The dreams started immediately.
Her mother leaned over her, placing a cool rag against her forehead, telling her it would be all right. It played over and over again, her mother’s green eyes looking anxiously down at her.
Too soon, her mother left, and the dreams turned to nightmares. She tossed and turned, telling herself to wake up, but she couldn’t. She was trapped in her own mind with Morcant and Drustan, Taveans in water bubbles, and Aimon. Each of them dying over and over again. Morcant’s death came with the soul-wrenching pain of losing a friend while the others came with the soul-twisting guilt of killing. Her hands dripped with blood. She scraped at her palms and the back of her hands, trying to remove it, but the blood remained. It was a part of her. When the darkening edge that indicated a vision invaded her nightmares, she threw herself into it headlong.
