by Devri Walls
“She probably watched the whole thing. But as long as I continue to destroy everyone, she will continue to let me. Tell the rebels not to worry—we will be fine.”
As Emane headed back out to ease the rebels’ worries Alcander looked at her. “You really think she is here?”
“Yes. I’m almost sure.” She gripped his hand, squeezing it to steel herself. “I’ll be right back.”
Alcander’s eyes flickered over to Leo before nodding.
Kiora walked below the Guardian—the same Guardian she had almost killed by accident when she had first learned magic. “Leo?”
His wings hung limp. “How are you?” he asked. His tone was genuinely concerned.
Kiora wrapped her arms around herself, trying to block out some of the cold. “I’m worried about you.”
He took a deep breath, looking out over the group of rebels. “I have known Malena for longer than I can remember,” he said.
Placing her hand on the trunk of the tree, Kiora swallowed. “She changed my life.”
Leo smiled sadly. “She changed many lives.”
“Leo, I would like you to do something for me.”
“Yes, Solus?” He blinked, trying to pull himself out of his grief.
“The Guardians were not meant to perish in this battle, or any battle outside of Meros. That is your home—that is what you protect. I would be honored if you would carry news of Malena’s death that they might hear it in person, and take back up your protection of my people and my home.”
“You wish me to leave?”
“No. But I wish for you to protect those I cannot. And I do not want word of such a loss to be sent any other way than by one who loved Malena as much as I did.”
Leo slowly came to his feet, his head still bowed. He stood like that for a moment before straightening. “Malena never held pride in anything—except you.”
Kiora looked away, her eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you.”
“Be safe, Kiora,” Leo said before flying away. He enclosed himself within a bubble as he cleared the top of the wall.
Alcander and Emane were organizing the rebels back into their groups for traveling. Taveans flew on foxes to offer security to the rebels who would be traveling on foot—Kiora doubted they would need it.
Alcander gave a few short whistles—calling more of the Marlocks. The long, furry animals with sweet, bear-like faces and legs that were much too short for the speed they possessed rolled and leaped on one another in the most carefree and delightful way. Kiora couldn’t help but smile.
***
THE REBELS MADE IT halfway to Lake Everleen before stopping to rest for the night. Jasmine did not make an appearance. Although relieved, Kiora was sick at the twisted depravity—to watch people destroy one another and enjoy it.
They had stopped to camp near a meadow filled with tall, dry grass. At the base of the grass lay a dusting of tiny white balls. Not snow, really, and almost too small to be considered hail, but it crunched lightly beneath her boots. She didn’t bother with a bubble and found it unbelievably refreshing not to have to hide.
The sun had not quite set, but between the battle and their travels, the rebels were exhausted. Kiora put up a large barrier to sleep beneath in case of roaming soldiers. As the group ate the food they had summoned and laughed around the fires, they told exaggerated stories of battle—mostly of her. Their laughter filled the sky with frozen white puffs of air.
Kiora slipped away.
She lowered herself to the ground and breathed out, looking around at the grass that stood a few inches over her head and offered the brilliant illusion of solitude.
A memory flashed and she closed her eyes, a smile slowly spreading across her face. She had loved to hide in the fields as a child, where the plants grew over her head and she could escape into a different world. She was scolded once or twice for damaging the crops in her play.
She plucked the fuzzy top off a strand of grass. She rolled it between her fingers, sprinkling the tiny seeds inside over the ground and watching with interest as each one fell.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” Alcander asked from behind her.
“I’m not really hungry.”
Alcander motioned to the ground. “May I?”
“Your pants will get wet.”
Alcander looked at the sky, sighing, as if begging the Creators for patience. “I’ll be fine.”
“Sit where you like.”
Alcander sat down, putting his hand on her knee. Magic flowed through her—kind, gentle, and loving. “It is all right to mourn now, Kiora. You lost a great friend today.”
Kiora watched the setting sun. It painted the clouds in the most brilliant of colors. Pinks and oranges splashed across the puffy bottoms, while the tops of the clouds maintained a brilliant blue. It was beautiful.
“You were half right—when you said Malena saved me,” Kiora finally said.
“Half?”
Kiora couldn’t take her eyes off the beauty before her—it was her balm. She wrapped her hand around his. “Malena wasn’t protecting me, Alcander. I would have been fine. It was your life she saved today.”
When he didn’t say anything, she finally turned to look at him. His pale eyebrows were pulled tightly together. He stared at the ground in front of them.
A breeze picked up, bringing with it even cooler temperatures and swaying the grass around them, filling the silence with a pleasant sound.
“I was trying to get to you when you stopped to help the Shifter,” Kiora said softly, “trying to shield you before the Dragon filled the tunnel with fire. I wasn’t fast enough.” She shrugged wearily. “Right before the battle, Malena asked me if I had chosen you. She saved you, Alcander—for me.” Her voice hitched.
“You said I was half right,” Alcander whispered.
Kiora’s mouth went dry, her stomach rolled, and her heart pounded. “She saved you . . .” She swallowed. Alcander squeezed her hand. Admissions of love were painfully difficult for her, especially when her fear and worry were running rampant. She looked wearily over at him. “Can’t you just look?”
Alcander’s eyes smoldered as he looked down at her with half open lids. Taking his free hand, he rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone. “No,” he said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear before kissing her forehead. “I want to hear you say it.”
Kiora gave a nervous laugh, looking down. She deserved that. “She saved you . . . because she knew I couldn’t live without you.”
In a moment, Alcander’s arms were around her, pulling her into him and squeezing her tight.
Kiora buried her face in his shoulder. Alcander held her in their own private grassy world, where they could hear nothing but the swishing of the stalks, and ran his hands over her hair as the sun set.
***
THE TEMPERATURE CONTINUED TO drop and the fires around the enclosure were not strong enough to combat the winter chill. The rebels shivered in the dark, with the exception of the Shifters who had each chosen forms with thick fur coats. Even the Winged people, who had their wings wrapped around their bodies, looked miserable.
“Alcander, we need warmer clothes,” Kiora said.
“Summon them.”
Kiora bit back a sarcastic retort. “Any ideas on where to summon them from?”
“Tavea.” He pushed his hair back over his shoulder. “It’s deserted. No one will have need of them this winter.”
Kiora closed her eyes, imagining Tavea as it had looked from the hillside. The glittering castle, the fairytale-style homes. She didn’t need to know which house or room they were in—just the general area. She summoned coats, scarves, blankets—continuing to pull until she felt the strain that indicated there was no more of what she was requesting.
As the rebels dug through the pile for warmer clothes, sighs of comfort filled the camp. The Winged people used their newly acquired swords to cut holes in the back of their coats to accommodate their wings. Emane walked over, holding a pile of coats and blank
ets out to Kiora and Alcander.
“Thank you.” Kiora pulled one on.
Emane wrapped a blanket around Kiora’s shoulders and plopped down next to her while Alcander shrugged into his coat. The sleeves were at least three inches too short. Alcander’s mouth twisted to the side, stuck somewhere between a smile and a look of annoyance.
“You look ridiculous, Alcander,” Emane said with a grin.
Alcander held up his arms. “You did this on purpose.”
“Possibly.” Emane jerked his head toward Drustan. “Look at those two,” he said. “He seems fond of this new Shifter, doesn’t he?”
Drustan and Nara had both shifted into flying foxes and lay on the ground, Drustan’s body curled protectively around hers.
Kiora watched as Drustan nuzzled his snout into Nara’s neck. “I’m not sure what happened, but the connection was instant.”
“Seems like a cruel twist of fate,” Emane said.
Kiora frowned. “What do you mean?”
“To find love days before a battle that might take it all away.” He shrugged. “But I suppose it’s better than not finding love at all.”
***
KIORA WOKE TO RUSTLING in the grasses surrounding the camp. The fires had gone out in the night. She blinked, trying to focus, pulling down the blanket from around her face. The rustling continued and a flash of white caught her attention.
Alcander’s arm was draped around her waist and she gently slid out from beneath it, trying not to wake him.
The morning air was freezing and her breath puffed out as she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing them to take away the chill. Her coat was still warm from the blanket, but the cold cut through.
“Hey,” Emane whispered.
She looked behind her. Emane sat up, pushing off his blankets. “Where are you going?”
“I want to see what’s making that noise.” She knew the threads, but wanted to get a closer look.
Another streak of white darted through the grass to the side, and Emane smiled.
They walked through the tall grass, following the scuffling sounds. They walked past the flying foxes that were nestled down, asleep. Their heads rested on their paws and their thick fur was frosted.
The further out they walked, the taller the grass became until Kiora could barely see over the top. She stopped at a section of grass that had been completely flattened—it was about the size of the center of the city—and in the middle the Marlocks leaped and frolicked—wrestling, running, and darting in and out of the tall grass. One of them bounded out from its hiding place and pounced on another. Their play varied from slow and laughable to moving so rapidly, their shapes nearly blurred.
Kiora laughed. “They are so cute.”
“I know, and the fastest things I have ever seen.” Emane gave her a mischievous sideways glance. “Want to have a race?”
“What?”
“You. Me. On them. Come on, before anyone wakes up and notices we’re gone.”
The stars were faintly visible overhead, as the sun had just started to light the sky. Kiora looked back over her shoulder. Alcander could always call to her if he woke and didn’t know where she was, she reasoned to herself. She looked at Emane, her eyes twinkling. “It’s a race, then.”
Emane grinned. Kneeling down, he whistled softly. The Marlocks stopped their play to look at him with their curious bear-like faces before trotting over. Emane chose one of the larger ones, gingerly climbing on its back.
Kiora chose one of the smaller ones, sleek and fast, with a sweet face. She climbed on. “How do we get them to go?” she asked.
The Marlock she was on looked at her with what Kiora could only decipher as disgust.
“Alcander says they are extremely intelligent and understand speech. We just need to tell them where we’re going.”
“Oh.” That would explain the disgust. “Sorry,” Kiora said, scratching her Marlock behind the ears.
“I say we let them pick the finish line.” Emane leaned down and patted his Marlock on the side. “What do you think?”
Both the Marlocks leaped and bounded with excitement, chittering to each other.
“I think that’s a yes,” Emane said. “Lie as flat as you can and hold on tight.”
Kiora leaned forward as far as she could. She grabbed a fistful of fur and rested her chin against the Marlock’s neck. Her heart lurched into her throat at the sudden start and she squealed. The dry grass rasped against her, stinging her hands, and the cold was amplified by the rush of freezing air that cut through her coat. She couldn’t tell how fast they were going, only that the grass had ceased to look like grass and had become a solid blur.
When they burst from the dry meadow, Kiora gathered her courage and lay flatter, urging her Marlock faster. Exhilaration met with terror, leaving her unable to decide whether to whoop or scream.
As they tore across open ground, Emane’s Marlock ran alongside hers, trying to outpace hers. He was gaining. Kiora urged her ride forward. The next thing she knew, they were streaking through trees. Her Marlock was headed straight for a large pine. A scream lodged in her throat. There was no way they were going to miss it. At the last possible moment, they swerved and bounded around it. Her arm slid across the bark and Kiora jerked her elbow in, looking behind her at the tree she still could not understand how they missed.
With no warning, the Marlock dug its back feet in, sending dirt and rock flying upwards. The sudden shift in momentum almost tossed Kiora over its head.
A second later, Emane’s Marlock skidded to a stop as well. Kiora threw her arm over her face as pine needles, rocks, and bark peppered her.
She slid to the ground, squeezing her hands in and out of fists in an attempt to restore the flow of blood to her fingers.
Her Marlock bounded and jumped around her, making chirping noises—clearly pleased with her win. Suddenly realizing where they were, Kiora froze. They stood inches from the edge of a cliff that dropped down at least a hundred feet into a tiny river that had dried to a mere trickle, half of which was frozen.
Emane dismounted, looking warily over the edge before patting his Marlock. “Go get a drink and rest,” he said.
Both Marlocks leaped off, nudging each other in playful fashion.
Emane cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his coat pocket. “Maybe next time we shouldn’t let them pick the destination.”
Kiora started laughing. The nerves and grief and stress gave way, and she laughed harder until she was bent over at the waist, her stomach aching. When she finally got herself under control, she sighed. Dropping to the ground, she put her legs out to dangle over the edge of the cliff.
Emane sat down next to her. “I didn’t think it was that funny.” Despite the comment, his eyes shone with amusement.
“I needed to laugh. It’s been too long since I’ve laughed like that.”
“I think it’s been too long for all of us.” He tossed a dirt clod over the edge. “I noticed that you sent Leo away.”
Kiora nodded. “I wanted someone to deliver the news of Malena’s death in person. And I need the Guardians in Meros—that is where they belong.”
“Did he take the body?”
Kiora’s throat tightened. “There was no body to take. There was nothing left.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I would have liked to honor her in some way, but now, without even a body to bury . . .”
“You can honor her without a burial, Kiora.”
Kiora pulled out the blue sapphire pendant she wore around her neck. “She gave me a pendant identical to this one so I would always be able to call for help when I needed it.” She took the necklace off. “Dralazar destroyed it. I wish I still had the original.”
“This one reminds you of her, though, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” Getting an idea, she stood up, brushing off her pants. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” Emane asked, following.
“You’re right—I
can still honor her. And I intend to.”
They walked until Kiora found a magnificent tree. All its leaves had dropped, like the rest of the trees around it, but its branches were perfect—evenly spaced, thick, and proportionate. It was flanked by two pines whose size denoted majesty. Sunlight filtered through the trees, lighting the eastern sides of the trunks and bathing them in a soft glow.
She placed her palm against the leafless tree. Using her magic, she hollowed out a niche in the trunk and slid the pendant inside. The blue sapphire winked in the sun. Below the pendant, she traced Malena’s name in fire, burning the letters into the bark. It wasn’t a proper burial and it wasn’t a tombstone, but it would have to do.
Kiora stood back to admire her work.
“It’s beautiful,” Emane said.
“Do you think she would have liked it? I never asked her what she would have wanted if it came to this.”
“I think she would like anything you did.”
“I know the traditions for some of the species here, but I never bothered to ask anyone else. I don’t know if Drustan would want to be buried here or at home, I don’t know if you would—” She stopped herself, unable to finish.
“What about you?” Emane asked, crossing his arms. “Would you want to be buried in Meros?”
“I . . . well . . .” She swallowed, running her fingers around the letters in Malena’s name. “No, I don’t think I would. I think I would want to be buried here. Somehow this seems more like home now.”
Emane nodded. “Me too.”
That was not what Kiora had expected to hear, and her head jerked up in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah, although—not buried.”
“What do you mean?”
Emane hesitated, flushing. “When we paid our respects to the Winged people, with the funeral pyres, I thought it was . . . nice.” He shrugged awkwardly.
Kiora didn’t know what to say. She didn’t particularly care for the topic at all, and she stammered for a response. “You want a funeral pyre? Why? Your whole family has been buried in the cemetery between the castle and the forest.”
Emane’s jaw tightened. He was trying to hold back whatever it was he wanted to say. He kicked a frost-covered rock, sending it clattering into a tree trunk. “I have come to hate this body and all its limitations,” he blurted. “I want to be free of it, sent soaring—like the Winged people.”
