Wings of Ruin (Otherworld Book 3)

by Talis Jones

  The wardrobe in her sparsely furnished room had been stocked with a few simple cotton-based garments and brand new leather boots. Dressing in haste she braided her hair back as she hurried down the hall and nearly ran down the stairs. Unsure of exactly where Titus would meet her she looked about for a Whisper to ask. Seeing none Cassandra wandered out the front doors to the courtyard beyond only to find the man himself leaning against a wagon.

  “You found me,” he grinned.

  Cassandra remembered Medusa's advice to practice the art of charm and make friends but it was too early in the morning to go changing oneself. Scowling she snapped, “Would it have been so hard to have sent a note?”

  “Not technically, no,” he shrugged unapologetically. “Are you ready for your first lesson?”

  Rolling back her shoulders she met his steady gaze. “Let's begin.”

  With a mischievous glint in his eye Titus held out his hand. Hesitating only for a moment, Cassandra placed her palm against his and in an instant she felt a fleeting crush of darkness before blinking her eyes against the stretching sun from atop a cliff.

  “Where are we?” she asked, shielding her gaze with her hand as she looked about.

  “The Silas Mountains,” he replied. “I thought it best not to make a spectacle out of you. Magic requires training and training requires focus. Here there is no one to impress, no one to intimidate, nothing to distract...it's just us and the trees.”

  She nodded feeling secretly grateful that Medusa wouldn't be there to cheer and tease or Abel who would prickle her spine with his distrustful glares. Learning one's limits and abilities seemed far preferable in the privacy of the wood with a master than alone or on display. “Do I...is the magic already mine?”

  He smiled. “Of course.”

  “All of it?”

  “Ja, Cassandra. All of it.”

  “I wonder why no one else has tried to become your apprentice,” she mused.

  He shrugged. “Apprenticeship is my choice and most don't question that. Besides, ferrying the dead is not a particularly envied position.”

  “Still,” she grinned, “it's rather exciting to be given so much more than most. Although I admit I don't feel all that different...did that deal we made transfer it? I thought I'd have felt something a bit more spectacular.”

  Titus shook his head. “You have a lot of expectations and they're set rather high, aren't they? Every soul on Oneiroi has magic within them, our deal merely allowed you to access it.”

  Cassandra turned to him in surprise. “Everyone has magic? As much as I do?”

  “Of course.” He tilted his head curiously, “Did you think you were special in that regard?”

  Cassandra said nothing but her displeasure was clear in her eyes. Then with a shake of her head she pushed, “What is the point of all this ceremony when everyone is as powerful as I am?”

  “The magic may not be unique to you but it's very difficult to access much less wield. The Island grants the Whispers a channel to their magic, a small portion, a single gift or skill that they can hone to mastership. Only the Ailillish have managed to touch their inner magic for small feats and tricks. It may not be Island blessed but it's fair game.” He leaned in with a wink. “Although if you run into Israfil I'd be careful. She's the most powerful soul in Ailill. Cross her and it'll be more than a mere eyebrow that gets singed.”

  Cassandra tried to erase the deepening frown that seemed to be carving itself permanently upon her face but gave up. She'd be spending a lifetime smiling at fools, with Titus she would be herself. “Right. Well as far as I can tell you're the most powerful being on the Island. Until me. So I suppose we ought to get to work, yes?”

  Amusement caused the corners of his eyes to wrinkle. “By all means.”

  Each morning Cassandra was roused at dawn and magicked away to train with Titus in the secretive shelter of the Silas Mountains where few chose to wander preferring the entertainment of town over the stillness of nature that seemed to breathe, a true living wood. After hours of meditations and practical exercises she'd be whisked back to the citadel in Quidel which she learned was called Mordréda. There she'd meet up with Kenshin and Medusa and shepherded to her lessons with the Whispers.

  History, geography, Outer World cultures, naturalist lessons, and basic battle training. Everything had a veneer of thoroughness while the lulling sense of security kept each lesson light and brief. She agreed for in light of her training with Titus nothing the Whispers offered seemed quite as important. A seat on the Whisper Council became less and less glamorous with each week that passed but it would have to do until she could take Titus' seat as Lord of the Island.

  “How was training today?” Medusa asked brightly holding out a bucket sloshing with soapy water and a dry bristle brush.

  Cassandra's nose wrinkled. She hated chores. Always had. “Scrubbing floors? Really? You'd think they'd give me a task with a bit more dignity considering my position.”

  Medusa arched her brow. “And what position would that be?”

  “I'm Titus' apprentice,” Cassandra replied indignantly. “And that means that someday I will be in charge of Oneiroi. It would do well for them to remember that.”

  Medusa's laughter slapped Cassandra across the face. “Oh no, poor Cassie and her dreams. Titus isn't in charge of anything really. No one is. The Council keeps the peace when arguments arise and Titus delivers new souls from the Outer World but goodness no, Oneiroi is largely self-governed.”

  “Then why does Titus have full magic while the Whispers receive mere fragments and the Jourdies have none at all?” Cassandra challenged.

  Medusa shrugged. “The Ailillish are Jourdies and they have a few tricks up their sleeves.” At Cassandra's death-laced glare she dropped her teasing tone. “I don't know. It is how it is.”

  “And that's good enough, is it? Keeping to tradition for the sake of tradition?”

  “It's allowed for freedom and peace,” Medusa insisted calmly which somehow managed to stoke Cassandra's anger even hotter. “I'm not saying others haven't tried changing things before, but this is the path Oneiroi was designed for and it's the only one that's allowed the Island to truly flourish. Titus has more magic perhaps because it allows him to be the voice of Oneiroi. It gives him a deeper connection than even the Whispers and this helps us keep a steady course. The Island is not a place to be conquered or controlled, it's a haven gifted to all of us with only the request that we serve Oneiroi above all.”

  Medusa's words chastened Cassandra with warning and yet the only part she could hear was that others before her had tried and failed. But they had tried. “Perhaps you simply haven't had the right leader yet. Oneiroi is blessed with magic, think of the crowning role it could play in the world.”

  “Cassandra?” Medusa's face shadowed with worry but Cassandra brushed it aside with a laugh.

  “Calm yourself, Medusa,” she chuckled. “There's only gold on the horizon.” Taking the bucket and brush she nudged the girl into motion and followed her to a hall in the southeast wing where she dropped to her knees and began the aching solitary work of scrubbing the stone floors clean to gleaming. Medusa left to do whatever it was the Whisper Council did besides talk.

  With each glide of the bristles against stone Cassandra's mind whirled. Medusa might be a friend but she'd need someone more secure on her side.

  “Floor duty again?” a warm voice smiled from behind.

  Turning she saw Kenshin leaning against the wall. “Hello Kenshin,” she smiled sweetly.

  “Did Titus yet discern which element is your strongest?” he inquired curiously.

  Wiping her hands on her tunic she carefully scooped a small puddle of water into her hands then walked until she was only a few steps away from his friendly eyes. “Guess,” she murmured. The soapy water began to swirl gently in her cupped palms until it slowly began to stretch and rise whipping itself into a perfectly contained miniature hurricane. Throwing her hands up into the air it tore a
part into a thousand suspended snowflakes trembling in place suspended in the air. With a twist of her hands they began an intricate dance before she caught them up into a ball of ice and as she let out a mighty breath of air it blew apart into mist.

  Kenshin's eyes were wide with awe. “Water,” he answered. “That was incredible.”

  Cassandra beamed. “Thank you, Kenshin. Truly though that was nothing. A parlor trick really. I'm not the only Whisper who can play with the elements.”

  “But you are the only one who can manipulate all of them,” he nudged proudly.

  “What, like this?” she teased. Reaching towards the torches in the hall she brought fire to her hands. “No, still not impressive, I'm sure.”

  Kenshin laughed. “You know, you could use your magic to finish the floors.”

  “I could, but why would I risk Abel's ire?” she played along comically feigning worry.

  “Why so you could go gallivanting through town with Medusa and I of course!”

  “Ah of course! Well in that case...” Checking to be sure they were alone in the hall Cassandra centered her mind, lowering her lashes gently, then a sharp snap of her fingers cracked through the silence. At Kenshin's delight she opened her eyes and smirked at what she'd done. The floors were spotless, even better than could possibly be achieved by hand. Tossing the brush into the bucket she grabbed the handle and began to leave, pausing to look over her shoulder. “Are you coming, Kenshin?”

  A grin lit up his face. “Always.”

  Good, she thought. I'll hold you to that.

  Chapter 7

  A moan threatened to whine out of his throat as Titus' joints ached at sitting upon the hard ground for so long. He was getting old again and he hated it. Small favors exchanged for youth and time had extended his service as the Collector, a trick he was not the first to pull, yet it wasn't just his bones that were growing old now. It was his soul. Tethered too long to this place he could sense his end drawing closer, but not yet. Nyet, he had far too much to do. So many games to play, charges to train...prophecies to meddle in just to thumb his nose at fate...

  Titus mentally shook himself. Duty first. Oneiroi was his calling and his soul was sworn to protect it. Duty first, games later. A tiny thrill rippled up his neck in anticipation of Eisen's entrance, but even he could not predict what would come of it. All he could do was prepare the girl as best he could...or should. She was an odd sort, her soul balanced upon a point caught between two paths, and until he knew which way she'd fall he would not teach her all of his tricks.

  As Cassandra's brow creased in concentration, Titus watched her pull the water from a flower leaving it a dry husk until she resettled the moisture in its veins then repeated the task once more. A heart of fire might glow within her but it was water that answered her call.

  “Cassandra,” he interrupted quietly. “I've taken you on as my apprentice and that does not merely entail lessons on your new talents. There are important duties that come with this gift and I need you to listen.”

  Indeed he had taken quite the gamble on selecting her as his apprentice. He knew when he saw her in the very same woods where he had left her as a babe that she was one of the prophesied twins already destined for a greater fate than his usual charge. He'd hoped in apprenticing her right away he could train her as the Island's defender and ally with her brother when he came or stop him should he choose a path of malice. A wiser man might have waited to meet them both before choosing, but age could not weather the impulsive lad with a taste for games of chance. He had chosen. There was no turning back.

  With no typical adolescent huffing, she folded her hands in her lap and pierced him with that clear gaze of hers. Control was her signature and lingered in every gaze and breath. “Do share, Titus. I'm well aware that every gift comes with strings.”

  He nearly rolled his eyes at that. “These aren't strings, Feuer.”

  “I told you to call me by my name,” she snapped coldly and Titus swore a glint of ice shone in her eyes.

  “They aren't strings,” he repeated. “You are a Whisper and furthermore my apprentice. Do you think your kind receive gifts of magic simply because you are special? This island is special and you lot have been chosen to guard it.”

  A flicker of impatience tugged her lips into a frown. “I know this.”

  Titus shook his head. “The Whispers guard the land and people. They settle disputes as impartial judges and guide the ways of those that call Oneiroi home. They receive gifts that can be called into service to aid them in these endeavors. The magic is not for them, it is for the protection of Oneiroi. You are not a soul higher on the totem pole with magic as your servant. You are a servant with magic as the messenger from the Island you serve.”

  Cassandra's face was thoughtful yet she remained silent in reflection so he pressed on.

  “As a Whisper you share those duties with the others, but as my apprentice you have more. Your calling is to guard the borders of Oneiroi and protect them from every foot that desires to set upon these shores. You are the first line of defense. As you will also learn to sail between worlds and escort new souls to this one, you will be responsible for every charge you allow in. Then there are those who sneak in and you must guard Oneiroi from those especially lest they learn not only to arrive but to escape and bring back an army to conquer the land of dreamers and dead.”

  Placing a hand on her chest just beneath her throat he pressed firmly, nearly shaking her small frame. “You, Cassandra. You are responsible for protecting Oneiroi from the Outer World.”

  Her eyes burned brightly at the calling. “Am I granted access then to traverse the border between these worlds?”

  Titus tipped his head. “Everyone is granted such a thing should they build a raft and depart with intent. This is not a prison, Cassandra. It is a sanctuary. You simply possess the powers and responsibility to know who comes and goes.”

  “Does anyone ever choose to go?” she wondered.

  “And return to a world altered from what they knew? All the people they left now likely dead?” Titus shrugged. “Perhaps a scattered few throughout time, but the ocean is a vast place and the only way to survive the crossing is aboard the Reaper's ship or one built just as strong.”

  “And yet they've never brought back trouble,” she mused, a shadow slipping across her face.

  “Ah, well, your soul may be free to cross worlds,” Titus explained with a crooked smile, “but the journey is easier thought than done. Oneiroi cannot simply be found, thus returned to, simply because one wishes it. In dreams, yes. In body, no.”

  Cassandra returned his crooked grin. “Another privilege I assume the Reaper alone holds.”

  Titus' smile remained wide but tight-lipped.

  Changing back to another nagging question, Cassandra asked, “You mentioned that I am responsible to know who comes and goes on Oneiroi. It is surely easier achieved with a ship I captain, but for those who might mysteriously manage to journey here on their own...?”

  Titus sat back, leaning on his hands. “Can you not feel it? The borders?”

  “Of course not,” she scoffed. “How could I possibly?”

  A breathy chuckle huffed from his nose. “Your soul contains so much yet your mind remains so stubbornly narrow. I forget this.” Lying back on the earth he bid her to do the same. “Close your eyes.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “If you don't want to burn your eyes on the sun, then yes.” She grumbled something but a quick peek confirmed that she'd obeyed. “You are normally a much more obedient student.”

  “I don't like having my sight taken,” she explained coldly. “Now hurry up and make your point.”

  Titus smiled, holding back another laugh. “Relax. Take breaths deep and slow. Steady and gentle. Feel the air of the sky slip through your nose, down your throat, and settle in your lungs then expel the stale air through your lips. Feel it. Feel every step of its journey.

  “Now allow your body to
relax. Let your bones settle to the earth, heavy like an anchor. Feel your body mold itself to the shape of the earth beneath you. Sink into it. Settle into it. Breathe into it.

  “With your body anchored and your breath steady, retreat into your mind. Let all else go and coil your consciousness into your mind. Now slowly expand your awareness like a balloon. Feel it press up against the skull in your head. Feel it then grant it passage to the skin. Feel your scalp, each follicle of hair, your eyelids, your mouth, your cheeks... Keep your awareness there on your skin when you come into contact with the elements. Feel the sun warming your face, the slight breeze combing your hair, the earth pressing into your head, the smell of pine filling your nose.

  “When you are ready, expand further and grasp onto those elements. Hear the whispers in the wind and perhaps follow it to the roar of the sea. Smell the plants and creatures around you and follow it until it yields to sand and shore. Feel the ground solid beneath you and brush along it as it rises and falls before tumbling into the waves. Feel those waves crashing over you then gently retreat to its edge. When you find that edge let it fill your senses. Every single one. As you allow it to fuse with your awareness an image will begin to form. Perhaps one had already formed and you followed it to the shore. But you know exactly where you stand now.

  “With this knowledge now in you, you must walk. Walk the boundary. You can feel its magic, feel it guiding your feet. Whether through sand, forest, or stone, you follow it. Feel the rocky shore scrape at your feet. Feel the sandy shore sift through your toes and threaten to burn where there is no shade. Feel the coastal grasses and shrubs tug at your steps. Walk the boundary, Cassandra. There may be other elements or sounds tickling at the edges of your awareness but remain focused on the boundary alone and walk. Walk until you've returned to where you began and once you return then retrace your steps to the forest where your body lays waiting.