Wings of Lomay (11 page)

But the rebels were safe in the city. Jasmine had missed them by a day.

***

ERINA WAS BLEEDING FROM a gaping hole in her lower back. Killian sat by his mother, holding her hand. His eyes were closed in his own helpless agony as his mother moaned in pain.

The skin surrounding the wound was rough and jagged where the stinger had been ripped from her body. Emane knelt down to evaluate. He had healed many things, but this was beyond anything he had attempted.

He put his hands on her and the bleeding stopped, but the hole remained—puckered and rough. Sitting back on his heels, Emane looked at Erina’s scarred back and sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t restore missing flesh.”

The severed stinger lay just outside, but Erina had insisted the door not be opened.

Erina sat up and reached behind her, running her fingers over the wound. Feeling the scarred skin, she closed her eyes. “It will be fine. Thank you.”

Killian looked around at the puckered, concave skin. “Mother—”

“It’s fine, Killian,” Erina said. Her tone was gentle, but held a finality only a mother can claim.

“I wish I could have done more,” Emane said. He hung his head. “If we retrieved the stinger, perhaps—”

“I probably would have bled to death. You have done plenty.” She stood, but stumbled to the side. Killian grabbed her arm. She straightened and turned to Alcander. “Where do you need us, Your Majesty?”

“I think you should rest for a while,” Alcander said.

Her eyes softened and she smiled. “You are different than I remember.”

Emane pushed to his feet, watching Erina and Killian walk down the hall. “She’s right, you know. You are different.”

Alcander was his normal hard quiet before snorting. “You humans. You talk about feelings as if they were on the dinner menu.”

Emane laughed out loud. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do. Not as bad as Kiora.” He pointed at him. “But nearly.”

“Remember how we discussed the need to acquire some creatures that were suitable for battle?” Emane asked as they headed down the tunnel to join the others.

“Of course.”

“We need to get on that. I don’t know how much time we have left until this battle is on us, whether we like it or not. We can’t just wait until Kiora returns to finish preparing.”

The sounds of celebration reverberated down the hall as rebels from different camps reunited in the center of the city.

“I agree.”

“Any ideas on where we are going to find them?”

“I have one,” Alcander said. “But you aren’t going to like it.”

Emane shrugged. “When do I ever like anything you say?”

“Tavea has an extensive collection of battle-worthy animals.”

Emane stopped dead in his tracks. “You have got to be kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I don’t do that very often.”

Emane hurried to catch up. “We barely made it out of Tavea alive last time.”

“I know. I am hoping most everyone is outside of Tavea at the moment. Considering the amount of threads surrounding us, I will assume I’m correct.”

Emane ran his fingers through his hair. “What about the horses I suggested?”

“If you want to try to scour the land rounding up wild horses, we can try. Although I doubt we will have much luck within our time frame. We need a large number of creatures quickly.”

“If the Taveans have such a large collection, why aren’t any of them riding them?”

“When they partnered with the Shifters, they found it was more useful to ride something that could change shapes at will. Aimon, however, continued to collect animals, despite the fact that they had no use for them. It ensured we couldn’t have access to them. Without anything to ride, and without Shifters that would fight with us in battle, we were exceptionally vulnerable.”

“You had a flying fox.”

“That was my fox from when I was a boy. He was very loyal.” Alcander’s words were tight and clipped, indicating that any questions regarding his childhood were unwelcome.

“So, what you are telling me is that there are no flying foxes left anywhere in the land and that the only source is to go to Tavea.”

Alcander hesitated. It was only for a moment, but Emane saw it.

“That’s what I thought.”

“It’s the best use of our time,” Alcander said. “We could spend weeks trying to round up just one fox, and we would have to travel through some dangerous areas to get to them. Even then, there is no guaran—”

“Dangerous like Tavea?”

Alcander’s mouth tightened.

Emane crossed his arms. “You aren’t telling me something. Why are you so desperate to return to Tavea? I don’t believe it’s just for the foxes.”

“That is none of your concern.”

“I think it is. We barely made it out of there last—”

Alcander held up his hand for silence as they reached the mouth of the tunnel. His expression changed, a hint of a smile flitting across his lips at the reunion below them.

Hundreds of rebels filled the courtyard, embracing and talking with one another—Winged men, Taveans, Omelians, and a handful of Domats who looked like Drem minus the wrinkles. But while the rebels laughed and rejoiced, the Shifters stood silently around the perimeter of the room—outsiders looking in.

“No one would have made it in without the Shifters,” Emane pointed out. “Every single rebel would have been caught by that army.”

“I know.”

Emane spotted Maddox and Ky talking to another Winged man who had just joined them. The Winged man stepped back, laughing, and bumped into a Shifter. He turned around. All joy dropped from his face as his eyes fixed on the Shifter’s wrist—the one who should have been braceleted. The Winged man’s face turned red, his hands fisted, and his wings flared. He looked up to Alcander.

Alcander shook his head.

Maddox grabbed the Winged man’s arm and pulled him away.

“This is not going to be easy for them,” Alcander said. “As tools for the Shadow, the Shifters almost wiped us out. It was difficult for many of them to tolerate the Shifters’ presence as controlled servants, let alone as an equal.”

“It was difficult for you as well,” Emane pointed out.

“Sometimes it still is. You can’t erase years of history by meeting one or two Shifters who don’t meet your expectations.”

Drustan strode toward them and looked out over the clear divide. “Don’t forget your promise, Alcander. The Shifters are to be treated as equals.”

“I remember.”

Emane wanted to ask Alcander how he planned to heal wounds of such depth. But everything about his stance, from the cross of his arms to the tightness of his frown and the stiffness of his shoulders, spoke to a leader who was unsure of how he was going to deal with the problem at hand.

***

KIORA SLUMPED FORWARD ON Arturo as the sun set. Her stomach churned, and she leaned her head to the side and vomited.

Hold on, Kiora. We are almost there.

Her mind was a fog and her body was screaming at her to rest. Vaguely she heard a Dragon roar, and was somewhat aware of a Dragon thread. But she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, and drifted off.

The clattering of Arturo’s hoofs against stone jolted her back to reality. She cried out as pain ripped through her arm.

Kiora!

Unable to hold on any longer, she slid off Arturo’s back. Her body hit the stone ramp inside the Dragon mountain of Toopai. She blinked, rolling her head to the side as Arturo’s face came into focus. His eyes were wide and worried as he nudged her cheek with his nose.

Time was hazy, and the room went black. The next thing she saw was a Dragon face she recognized, yellow scales framing large eyes. “Your Majesty,” she whispered.

“Kiora,” the queen rumbled. “What have you done?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” She couldn’t form sentences—nothing made sense. Her mind felt clouded, muddled, as if she were trying to think through a thick fog.

The queen’s head pulled up so all Kiora could see was the underside of her jaw. “I can stop the bleeding,” she said to Arturo. “But it is going to be very unpleasant.” The queen turned back and looked down at Kiora. “This is going to hurt, little one. I am sorry.”

Little one—that sounded familiar. But why? Kiora frowned, shaking her head again, desperately trying to fight the fog that had overtaken her mind. She tried to remember, but it floated away, just out of reach.

Her eyes closed and the feeling was so blissful, she smiled. Her body felt like it was floating away, and she wanted to go where ever it took her.

Arturo nudged her—hard.
Stay awake.

“I didn’t say hello to Malena before we left,” Kiora mumbled, trying to roll away from Arturo. “Would you tell her hello for me?” Her tongue felt thick and her words slurred.

No. You will tell her yourself.

The queen held up one of her massive claws. Turning her head away from Kiora, she blew fire, heating the claw until it was glowing red from the inside. “Arturo, I need you to turn her.”

Arturo put his head underneath Kiora, rolling her onto her side—her good arm pinned beneath her and her wounded arm exposed.

Kiora’s eyes opened reluctantly and immediately fixed on the red-hot claw coming for her.

The queen hesitated. “I am sorry.” She laid her claw against the wound in Kiora’s arm.

Kiora screamed as fiery pain ripped through her. Black flooded in on the sides of her vision and she fell unconscious as the queen finished cauterizing her wound.

***

ALCANDER HAD CALLED THE rebels together to the city’s center. He stood on one of the lower balconies, holding his staff. The Shifters stood uncomfortably along the back, a good foot between them and any of their fellow rebels.

He had spent the first few minutes of the meeting apprising the new arrivals of the situation. With the revelation of the talisman a celebration had broken out through the city. Having something to combat the mysterious power of the Shadow was more than they could have hoped for. But once Alcander explained that
both
sides would now be fighting without magic, the mood chilled. He was still asking them to fight crippled. Understanding that they would be in a better position to cope with magic’s loss than the Shadow’s forces did not take away the paralyzing fear that came from fighting without it. Alcander understood.

He ventured into the next part of his speech, knowing full well it wouldn’t be received any better. In fact, he anticipated it would be worse. “There is one last matter we need to discuss,” he began. “All who have entered this city are here because they have agreed to fight with the Solus for our families, our future, and our freedom from the Shadow’s rule. That includes the Shifters.”

A murmur of muted outrage and disbelief ran through the room. Many of them turned to their neighbors, talking in whispers that were loud enough to ensure their opinions would be heard by all within earshot. They then looked up at him as if he had lost his mind. Einar, who stood in the front of the group, crossed his arms and stared at him as if he had personally betrayed the name of Tavea.

Alcander held up his staff and his voice reached a crescendo to push back the sea of protests. “Many of you would not have made it through these doors without the Shifters. And they did so of their own free will.” The crowd silenced, albeit grudgingly. “Many of you have noticed that their bracelets have been removed. That was done before they reached the city—they passed through the magic just as we all did. The threads you feel from them are true by choice.

“The only way we are going to survive is if we work together. The Shifters are an invaluable asset, one I am grateful to have.” He inclined his chin, taking the time to meet the surprised looks of the Shifters. Could he blame them for their shock at his words? His history with them was less than kind. He found Erina in the crowd. She smiled and nodded her head, encouraging him on.

“I am especially grateful, considering the way we have treated them,” Alcander said. “They are here, standing side by side with those of us who have hated them, killed them, and treated them as if they are inferior.” He held up his staff again in recognition, slightly bowing his head to the Shifters. “I honor you and thank you for your service.”

The Shifters bowed their heads one by one. Killian wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulders. Erina reached up, sliding her hand over her son’s. Drustan kept his head held high, but an uncharacteristic tear of gratitude slipped down his cheek.

“I know this will be an adjustment for many of you,” he said, addressing the rest of the rebels. “But we have the talisman, and we have our Solus and her protector. We have a long path ahead of us and there is only one thing that will guarantee our defeat—the refusal to work together.”

The rebels shuffled and moved uncomfortably below him, looking suspiciously over their shoulders at the Shifters. Their reaction was not promising.

Alcander looked around, desperate for some sign of forgiveness within the group. Ky and Maddox exchanged a glance, then Ky looked up, as if seeking strength from above. Alcander watched, unsure what he was about to do. Ky took a deep breath and readjusted his wings behind him. He turned and pushed his way through the crowd of rebels. The crowd parted, silent—watching.

As Ky reached the Shifters, he lowered his head. “Thank you,” he said.

Alcander’s heart leaped.

The Shifters were silent, uncertain how to react. They stood with wide eyes and open mouths, staring at the Winged man in front of them.

Killian slipped his arm from his mother’s shoulder and stepped forward. He held out his hand to Ky. There was a moment’s hesitation. Killian waited—hand outstretched. Ky stood stiffly, staring at it. Moments felt like hours and Alcander couldn’t breathe, watching, waiting—hoping.

Ky’s hand came up, taking Killian’s.

The breath Alcander had been holding rushed out. A Shifter and a Winged man, together. He couldn’t help but remember the scene he had watched in the Wings of Tavea when Kiora and Emane had arrived—the Shifters attacking a village of Winged people and the massacre that had ensued. But here they were. Two rebels, united against the Shadow, hand in hand. It was nothing short of miraculous.