Oriana's Eyes (25 page)

That night I dream of flying beneath the stars, a pair of iridescent wings upon my back as I ascend through the endless expanse. I force them downward, feeling the air currents attempt to alter my course. At first I fight their advancement; soon tiring against their endless onslaught. Then I change my approach, embracing the wind instead of opposing it. Altering instead the angles of my wings so that their arcs break smoothly through the air. Ahead I see the horizon where the moon reflects on the surface of the ocean, still just a line of silver magnificence. I fly onward, my focus centered on reaching the mystery before me. Although the ground passes swiftly below, the distance remains the same, and the slice of ocean remains always at the far edge of the land.

 CHAPTER FORTY

The morning comes, oblivious to the destiny of the day it brings. I wake, my dream falling away and the reality overcoming me at once. I find Narena’s journal lying next to me, and I slip it back into the pocket within my white robes. My body feels heavy as I get to my feet, smoothing out my skirts absentmindedly.

I wonder what Dorian and the others are doing. Are they already awake? Are they heading here now? I walk to the window and look out into the forest. Wherever they are, let them be safe and protected.

In the distant sky I notice movement. Odon’s Winglarions, and they are heading toward the University. I watch them approach, spread in an arc across the sky. There is no joy in their flight. It is merely an ordered movement, a mundane part of life. Perhaps today will change that. If not, I will become one of them, losing my identity. I take one last look at the rising sun striking the treetops.

Behind me someone enters the room. I turn to find an Odonian I haven’t seen before, despite my difficulty in telling them apart. This one is a woman, and I look closely into her soulless eyes, the eyes that reflect my potential state.

“Odon wishes you to attend the Rebirth,” she says in a monotone voice.

I sigh, partially grateful to see Dorian and the others, but afraid to witness the final outcome of the battle. I know I must be there, whether Odon realizes it or not. I now understand why my presence will change the outcome of this event. I know what I must tell Dorian.

As soon as I step into the hallway, I realize I have left my sandals within, and the smooth floor makes my toes go numb. The Odonian leads me through a series of hallways that I am unfamiliar with. I think for a moment of escaping, hoping that if I can lose the Odonian, I might somehow find my way through the hallways. Yet the moment my mind tries to focus on stepping away, I am unable to move or even think.

“Odon …” He is watching me, somewhere else, but still able to see me clearly by some vision beyond the restrictions of his eyes.

The Odonian leads me down a spiraling staircase, each white step glistening beneath the lights. At the base of the stairs, the Odonian quickens her pace down the hallway, stopping abruptly at a set of double doors.

She opens the doors and reveals an enormous domed auditorium. At its center is a large circular platform, which is surrounded by rows of seats radiating outward around the entire room. They are empty, but I can presume who is meant to occupy them. I am amazed that I’ve never seen such a large room located within the University. My gaze moves upward along the globe ceiling to its highest point where there is an opening to the azure sky.

The Odonian explains nothing as she leads me down the slope of an aisle through the seats. We reach the center platform, where she motions for me to climb a short stairway to the top. I halt for a moment, looking up at the elevated stage. The sun strikes its surface, sending a beam of light upward and through the ceiling’s opening. The Odonian motions again, and I climb the stairs, unsure what awaits me. Is this where I am to see the Rebirth? The steps are even colder beneath my bare feet than the hallway. Odon’s power must be strong here.

I reach the top, the platform’s surface quite cold despite the brilliance of the sunlight. I look out around me, shading my eyes until they have somewhat adapted to the glare. In all directions are the seats; clusters of them separated by inclining aisles that lead to sets of double doors like the one through which I entered. Everything is white, the seats a smooth metal, all meant to concentrate Odon’s power in this single location, the platform I am standing on.

I walk along the edge, noticing that the Odonian has disappeared up the walkway. It is then that my knees give out and I topple to the ground, striking the hard surface and unable to get to my feet again. It is as if I am stuck to the floor, as though a weight holds me here. I clench my teeth, again feeling the frustration of losing control of my own body.

It is then that a commanding voice echos around me,
“All upperclassmen will now be led by the Odonians to the Rebirth,”
it rumbles from above. I now recognize it to be Odon himself speaking. Then it occurs to me: Was the voice within the room or within my head? Has Odon been communicating to us all through our minds without us knowing? It does not emit from some visible device.

The doorways open at all ends of the circular room, and students pour into the auditorium. Odonians lead them in lines to their seats. No questions are being asked, no comments made. They remain silent, following without protest. In one half of the room are the Winglets; the other half I see filling up with Finlets—a crowd with flowing black hair, sleek beneath the rays of sunlight, their skin of a darker tone as if in constant shadow. I now see the opposite of these two beings, one destined to live above, the other below. There are no part-bloods here. These are the two races, each in their pure state as they first began.

These children do not know their past, nor do they understand their present state. They have been separated by Odon to keep their races from mixing, to prevent more half-bloods and forestall competition. It’s ironic that my ancestors also wanted to keep the races separated. What they didn’t understand is the power available as they come together and embrace their differences. The power of the half-blood could have brought good if only they had accepted change. Instead they tried to rid themselves of this new race. In the end, it only caused their own demise and the enslavement of their children.

“Oriana …” I look around, surprised at having heard my name spoken nearby. I realize I didn’t hear it through my ears, and I settle quickly hoping no one has seen my change in demeanor. It’s Dorian I heard speak within my mind somewhere nearby. I relax; he is all right, and he has made it to the University safely. I search the rows of seats but see no one familiar. He is well hidden too.

My eye stops on one particular seat. Lenora is there, sitting beside her roommate, my replacement. I linger on her face, but it is vacant, empty.
Lenora, soon we will be reunited. Soon you will remember me again.
I know she cannot hear my thoughts, but the words comfort me anyway.

I notice the many faces around me turn upward toward the center of the globe. I lift my own eyes to the opening above. For a moment the sun is too strong to see anything as it’s nearly at its peak in the sky. Then we are overshadowed by three figures, followed by an arc of several others. Odon is held between two of his Winglarions as they float downward, wings outstretched to their fullest extent. Behind them in perfect formation are the other winged men, Odon’s bodyguards most likely. The Winglarions place him on the platform beside me. He wears an assortment of white silks draped upon his torso. In addition, a long cape has been laid across his shoulders, held decorously by a smooth round stone, which clasps both ends together at his chest. However, I know these are not merely garments of vanity. Odon’s adornment will add to his power, allowing him to bring forth and control it.

His eyes scan the filled seats. He glances in my direction, stopping my breath for added measure. Then finally his eyes turn upward. The sun has nearly reached midday, when it will be exactly overhead and centered in the ceiling’s opening. I regain my breath and turn my own attention upward. I realize he is waiting, patiently watching as the sun moves into position. I feel something within myself begin to change, some power, some transformation ready to be released inside. It rises up my feet and through my legs, reaching all the way to my torso. It is when I sense it in my neck that it halts. My scar becomes cold and shatters it into a million pieces. I shiver physically, unsure what has just happened.

I follow Odon’s gaze once again to the opening, and the sun is sliding into its center. All around me I see the students begin to glow as the light of the sun intensifies inside the room. Odon closes his eyes, spreading his arms and concentrating. I attempt to yell, to jump to my feet trying to distract him, but of course, he is not letting me move or speak.

All around me the purebloods are fading, their colors melding and becoming indistinct. It is difficult to see them from within the most concentrated point of sunlight. I search for Lenora, but she too is impossible to discern. My head whirls around trying to comprehend what is going on. In my final turn, when the light of the others has dimmed and the sun continues through the sky, I see him. Risen into the air and surrounded by a vibrant dome of golden light.

Dorian floats above the crowd. His black hair whips upward as his body burns with an inner flame. I cover my eyes as pain shoots through them and then chance a second look. For a moment I can see him, and upon his back I distinguish translucent wings folded neatly behind him. His legs have been replaced by a long aquatic fin covered in shimmering scales. I gasp in surprise. Yet it seems as soon as I see him, the light explodes outward and when it completely dissipates, Dorian is himself again standing within an aisle on two feet. It leaves me to question whether I just imagined it.

The other students soon attract my attention. The Winglets have sprouted arcs of bleached feathers, and they ascend from their seats, hovering just above the auditorium’s floor.

I notice Odon has remained still, his eyes shut. He makes a movement with his hands, his lips moving silently, and the Winglets, now Winglarions, fly across the dome to where the Finlets sit. I notice Lenora among them. She looks beautiful with the currents brushing back her hair and her wings lifted behind her. For a moment I wish to join them, I flex my wings outward, attempting to get to my feet. I arc them upward, feeling suddenly as though I have been flying all my life. But I remain seated and glance backward to find the air empty, my body unburdened by any new appendages.
I have no wings? I am not a Winglarion?
No
, I realize,
I am not, I can never be, Odon has made me an Odonian
. It did not occur to me that they are pureblood as I am, and they do not have wings. I wish to scream, to cry with rage, but Odon restrains me from that as well. Instead I remain still, tearing at myself from within.

I watch longingly as the Winglarions fly to the Finlets who are changed as well. Their legs once laid separately, have now become one fin of iridescent scales, large and powerful. They now appear completely out of place on land, unable to move from their seats. Yet the curve of their green lower half possesses a beauty I have never seen before, and I wonder what agility they must display in their true environment within the ocean.

To my surprise, the Winglarions swoop down, plucking the Finlarions from their seats and propelling them upward. I wish to call out as Lenora takes to the air following the others through the hole in the ceiling. I watch as the distance broadens between us until she disappears through the opening and is lost into the sky.

Odon’s eyes open to watch the last of the students leave through the ceiling. He relaxes for a moment to scan the empty seats. Or is he searching them? I look around and notice Dorian has gone.

“Come out, half-blood. I know you’re here. It’s time to finish this.” Odon raises his hand, and the Winglarion men who brought him here take to the air, circling the room from above.

“I’m right here, Odon.” Dorian steps into the aisle, his stern gaze upon Odon. I have never seen him so full of anger. His hands tremble. I look closely at him. He has changed. Squinting through the glare of the sun’s rays I notice the power that entwines itself around his limbs. He has transformed.

“Good,” Odon mutters beneath his breath.

Dorian’s face softens as he notices me.

“Glad to see her?” Odon remarks, turning to me. I see a minor shift in his vision. The Winglarions hurtle toward Dorian. They reveal gleaming weapons poised in their outstretched hands. Dorian does not seem to notice. His focus is centered on Odon and me. His eyes narrow with rage at the way Odon walks over to stroke my hair.

I am powerless, unable to warn Dorian of the peril diving toward him. I can’t even move away from Odon’s caress.

“Don’t touch her!” Then as Dorian runs toward the central stage and down the walkway, a Winglarion is struck down, his wings crumpling around him as he plummets to the ground. An arrow protrudes from his shoulder.

Tor emerges from behind a seat, bow in hand and another arrow already strung. He is not the only one. Finley stands from among another row of seats. Azura, appears as well, followed by Dugan and Jagger. Yet I notice as more of them appear, more Winglarions come to triple the numbers. They string their bows, striking down Odon’s soldiers with grim accuracy. Finley gives a call, and more part-bloods burst through the double doors to join in the battle.

Odon’s laugh rises above the swell of fighting. “Is this what you’ve brought to defeat me?” He chuckles again raising his hand triumphantly and balling it into a fist. In a second the others freeze in place, halted in action. Azura is fitting her bow with an arrow. Tor raises an arm to block an advancing Winglarion. They are like so many statues, chiseled into a never-ending battle. “This will be easier than I thought.” Odon releases his Winglarions, having them stand, long, thin-bladed weapons raised to bring down each of the helpless part-bloods.

I plead in my head, “Please, don’t let them die. Please, Dorian, do something!”

Dorian eyes the scene, studying it closely. Beads of sweat form on his brow. He must act quickly. He must think of something fast. I swallow, a lump forming at the back of my throat.