Wings of Arian (14 page)

“Waiting,” Aleric replied.

Emane was far past exasperated. “For what?”

“Arturo.”

“The pegasus? He doesn’t even know we’re here!”

“It is truly sad how little you pay attention, you must work on that. Arturo speaks telepathically. I called him earlier.”

“What! Kiora said that she was the only one who could talk to Arturo.” Emane objected.

“No, Kiora is the only human with whom Arturo can speak. He can hear everyone’s thoughts, human or not. You would do good to remember these things. You never know when knowledge will be the thing that saves you.”

Aleric had to restrain from laughing as he could see Emane searching for one of his usual snappy retorts. Before he could find one Aleric felt Arturo’s thread approaching. “There he is,” he said, pointing to the sky.

Arturo soared gracefully into the clearing and landed silently in front of Aleric. “We need to take the Prince to the Hall of Protectors.”

Arturo didn’t move, but locked eyes with the old man.

“I can’t understand you Arturo, but I am guessing you do not agree.”

Arturo nodded his head and stamped his feet.

“I think I can hold a bubble long enough to get us within range of the hall. Once we are there the natural magic will take over and shield us for the rest of the trip.”

Arturo didn’t budge.

“Would you like me to make sure he doesn’t see the way there?”

Arturo nodded again.

“Very well, can we go then?”

Arturo nodded again with a disgusted snort. Despite his displeasure he turned to allow Aleric and Emane to get on. Aleric put up a bubble before muttering his second spell. Emane grabbed him from behind,

“Aleric, what is going on, I can’t see?”

“It’s just temporary. I can’t let you see how to get to the hall.”

“Why not?” he said, sounding like a petulant child. “I know how to get to everywhere else.”

“The Hollow and the Hall of Protectors are not exactly the same.”

“You think I will tell?” Emane asked, somewhat offended, “Have I not proven my loyalty yet?”

“No prince, I am not afraid you will tell, I am afraid someone will take the knowledge from you themselves.”

Emane was silent for a while. “They can do that?”

“Yes, and worse.”

They flew in silence for ten minutes before Emane spoke again. “Aleric?”

“Yes?” Aleric said weakly.

“What is this place, the one we are going to?”

“Emane,” he groaned, “I will tell you when we arrive, if you don’t mind. This bubble is taking an enormous amount of effort.”

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Aleric grunted, again wiping the sweat from his brow.

It was approaching fifteen minutes since they left. Aleric had laid himself down on Arturo’s neck, sweat poured down his face. He clenched Arturo’s mane, squeezing his eyes shut, forcing out every bit of magic he could.

“How much longer?” Emane asked.

“Soon.”

Within thirty seconds Aleric knew he was losing it. The film on his bubble was looking thinner.

We are almost out of time,
Aleric thought to Arturo.

Thankfully, he felt Arturo picking up speed as they sloped downward heading into the last mountain range that held the Hall of Protectors. He looked around Arturo’s head to watch for the tell tale rock formation signaling the entrance into the area protected by magic. They were near the borders of the land now, mountains of ever increasing height pushed back from this, the last passable canyon.

Two rocks jutted out on either side of the canyon, looking remarkably like the Wings of Arian. They swooped gently towards each other making a small archway by which to enter. He kept his eyes fixed upon them focusing all of his energy into the bubble. If he lost it now, they might as well send Dralazar a map. As they crossed under the arch, Aleric dropped the bubble and Emane’s blindness.

***

Emane yelped behind him as the light returned.

“Aleric,” he complained. “You could have warned me.” Emane rubbed his eyes moving his hands away slowly. He blinked furiously and it was a few seconds before he could make out Aleric’s shape slumped over in front of him.

“Aleric?” he did not get a response. “Aleric!” He reached forward shaking him as he yelled. “Aleric, are you ok?”

Aleric weakly nodded his head. “I will be fine,” he wheezed, “I am tired, that’s all.”

Emane eyed him, checking for signs of distress. “You don’t look tired, Aleric, you look half dead.”

Aleric pushed himself up off Arturo’s neck, trying to sit back up, but his arms shook with the effort. Emane put his hands on Aleric’s shoulders to steady him.

“You need to rest. Lay back down until we get there.”

Aleric lowered himself back onto Arturo’s neck without objection.

They were surrounded by towering reddish gold colored cliffs, stretching up for hundreds of feet. Down below was a riverbed that had long since dried up. Emane had no idea where they were.

“Are you sure you are ok?” Emane pushed.

“I will be fine. I am an old man you know, magic helps keep me young. When I use large quantities of it, I am afraid I begin to feel my age for a time.”

“Can you get it back? The magic?”

“I can’t get it back, no. But my body will reproduce what it is I have lost.”

“Your body ‘produces’ magic?”

“Yes and no. I can’t make it by myself. But my body is capable of pulling it from nature to produce what I need. That is why some of us can do magic and others cannot.”

“I am not capable of it?”

“Correct. Much like I am not capable of fighting in a proper knight’s duel.”

“I am sure you could if you trained.”

“I am afraid not,” Aleric corrected him. “I was always plagued by weak wrists and poor coordination. I could no more hold that lance on the back of a horse than I could fly to the moon. I was not born equipped to handle that.” Aleric was starting to regain his color.

Emane snorted, “It doesn’t seem like a fair trade, now does it?”

Aleric cautiously pushed himself up. “I suppose that depends on how you look at it,” he said glancing at Emane.

“You can’t be serious, Aleric. You can make magic out of thin air. I can hold a lance.”

“You never seem to look at the whole picture.”

Emane rolled his head popping his neck as he went. “Alright then, tell me what I am missing.”

“You have many natural qualities and gifts which you are responsible to use. You also have been entrusted with a kingdom, a grand gift,” he paused for a second, breathing in deeply as the color slowly returned to his face. “And as you well know with gifts come much responsibility. You need to reevaluate what it is you have, and what it is you covet.”

Emane was silent for a time. Aleric interrupted his thoughts. “Hold on, we are going down.”

Arturo banked sharply and headed straight down to the riverbed. Emane gripped Aleric’s shoulders, squeezing his knees tight around Arturo’s barreled side, while Aleric held tightly onto Arturo’s mane. They were heading straight toward the earth and Emane could feel the terror rising in his throat. They were on a collision course with the ground. Emane screwed his eyes shut swallowing a scream, but impact never came. He opened his eyes to see that they were not in the canyon anymore, but in a large strangely lit cavern.

He slid off of Arturo’s back looking cautiously around. “Aleric, how did we get in here?”

“The entrance was enchanted to look like its surroundings. So if you would like the true answer, we flew through the front door,” he groaned as he slid off of Arturo.

As Emane took in his surroundings, he began to feel at peace. Something about this place touched his very soul. He was feeling warm and peaceful like he had been wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold day. The whole place was glowing with light and yet he could find no source for it. Each wall was dotted with portraits meticulously painted and beautifully framed. Emane had never seen such beautiful craftsmanship in the entire kingdom. He walked slowly from one painting to the next. The artist was the same, but the subjects varied widely. There were humans, Guardians and other species he did not recognize.

“Aleric, what… what is this place?” was all Emane could manage to ask. The questions were swirling too fast in his mind to vocalize them.

“This is the Hall of Protectors. You are looking at the Protectors of the past, immortalized in this place. The rest of the world may have forgotten them, but we have not.”

“I have only heard mention of one battle, but they are probably fifty pictures here,” Emane said, pouring over the paintings in front of him.

“There have been many battles over the course of our history. As soon as the split was made between good and evil there have been conflicts and battles. To keep the balance in check, a Solus and a Protector were needed. The battles used to be fierce, but short lived. There were some years where two and three Solus were called,” he shrugged. “Then there were stretches of peace. Ten, maybe twenty, years and then Dralazar would grow restless and make a bid for power again. The last battle was different, Dralazar would not give in and the battle stretched on for years. When Arian secured victory, much of the valley’s population was decimated, both magical and non. It was then that Arian made his prophecy that there would be a thousand years of peace. And now, we have you. What should be our final Protector, if the prophecy holds true. Emane wanted to be angry— lately any mention of the Solus and their Protector usually procured that reaction. But there was something about this place that inexplicably kept him calm. He marveled at the feeling.

“Why are they all so different?” Emane asked still looking at the pictures. “I can see no similarities between these portraits.”

“Of course not,” Aleric answered. “Each Solus is chosen based upon their individual abilities and what is needed for that time and battle. In relation, the Protector is chosen based upon the Solus’s weaknesses. Therefore, it requires a different type of Protector each time.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I am here to make up Kiora’s weakness?”

“Yes.”

Emane voice was thick and hard as he asked with disgust, “What weaknesses?”

Aleric’s eyes softened as he looked at the young prince. He motioned to a large stone bench in the middle of the cavern.

“Please come and sit.” As they walked over Aleric put his arm on his shoulder. “Do you really not see her weaknesses?” Aleric asked.

Emane plopped himself onto the bench. “No I don’t. She’s…” he paused. “Incredible,” he said flatly.

Aleric smiled. “Yes she is that. I have never seen anything like her.”

“Thanks Aleric, you’re
very
helpful.” Emane put his elbows on his knees, shaking his head.

“Being incredible does not make her perfect. Kiora has many weaknesses, Emane. Weaknesses that she will need your help with. If you are not there to balance her weaknesses she will fall, and if she falls, all is lost.”

“I still don’t see what her weaknesses are. Believe me, I’ve looked.”

“Well for one thing, she can’t fight.”

“What does she need that for, she could do whatever she wanted with a flip of her hand?”

“Not exactly,” Aleric explained. “Using magic, especially high levels for long periods of time is exhausting, as you just saw. There is only so much you can do before other methods are needed. In the past both magic and common warfare have been used. Kiora is the first female Solus, and although she is an amazing source of magic, she lacks tremendously in other ways.”

“You need me to fight for her?”

“Yes, among other things.”

“What ‘other things,’ Aleric?” Emane’s voice rose before the peacefulness of the cavern calmed him again.

“Emane,” Aleric looked him in the eyes. “Kiora will need your strength in so many ways. Not just physically either. She will need your emotional strength, your capacity to deal with pressure. Your understanding of having the weight of the world placed on your shoulder without anybody asking whether you wanted it or not.” Clapping his hand on the prince’s shoulder, Aleric spoke from his heart. “She needs you to stop feeling inadequate. These feelings of inadequacy are crippling you. If you allow those feelings to stay in your heart, evil will use it and twist it until they have completely incapacitated you. And then you will be useless— not only to her, but to the entire kingdom.”

Aleric’s words pierced Emane to his core. He could feel the wall that he had so carefully constructed crumbling away.

“Aleric,” a soft feminine voice floated through the chamber. It was dreamlike and melodic.

Emane looked at Aleric in confusion.

“Come, she would like to meet you.”

“Who?”

“Epona. She is one of the last remaining Ancient Ones.” To Emane’s confused look Aleric jogged his memory, “I would have thought you would have remembered her as she is the one that prophesied about you in particular.”

***

Kiora couldn’t hear anything from above, but she could feel a thread— dark, cold and dragon. A tremendous boom sent her scrambling to her feet as the second dragon landed overhead.

“Get out!” Morcant roared above. “You are not welcome here.”

“What’s the matter, Morcant?” taunted the other.

This thread was new to her, but it was clear, both by Morcant’s objections and the darkness of the thread, it was not a friend. Their booming dragon voices carried easily down the hole, letting her hear every bit of the conversation.

“Jarland, I am warning you!”

“What, Morcant? Are you going to fight me?” The taunting thickened, becoming even more condescending.

“What do you want, Jarland?” Kiora could hear Morcant attempting to rein in his temper.

There was silence. Kiora strained to hear.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in, Morcant?”

Kiora’s heart stopped.

“No, Jarland, I’m not—” He was interrupted by the sound of wings and Kiora heard him bellow, “No!”

Jarland was coming in. Kiora threw up her bubble just as his snout appeared. She watched in horror, as his enormous body filled the room. She recognized him from her vision. This was one of the dragons that had answered Dralazar’s call.