Wings of Lomay (10 page)

Anger roared through Alcander. Holding out his staff, he called the water from the lake, pulling the staff over his head in an arc. The water followed his direction, arching up and over the rebels who were trying to filter through the entrance. A rebel Tavean fell under enemy attack before Alcander’s wave struck—his head jerked to the side, his neck snapped. The water slammed into the oncoming force.

Alcander!
Kiora’s frantic thought came.

Alcander forced more magic from his staff, increasing the water to a continuous stream. Magic launched at him from the army on the other side of the lake, but the distance was too great and the attacks plummeted into the water before reaching him.

Some of the Taveans with water ability fought back. They redirected the water and it sprayed up in giant plumes. Alcander was using all the magic he had just to maintain this stream—battling against the water-controlling Taveans on the ground was not possible.

Emane’s thread emerged at the entrance. Alcander looked down. Emane held up his bow and jerked his head toward the problem Taveans. Alcander understood his intentions. There was only one way Emane would be able to get those arrows on target.

“One at a time,” Alcander yelled down.

Emane took his stance and nocked an arrow.

Alcander breathed out, focusing on the sections of water where he could feel Taveans battling for control. His hands shook and his head ached under the mental exertion. He split the water around the first of the Taveans, exposing him. The moment the hole opened, Emane’s arrow flew. Alcander opened a path to the next Tavean, and the next. One by one, the threads went quiet and the water returned entirely to his control.

“Everyone’s in,” Emane yelled. “Get inside.”

“Seal that door,” Alcander called. “I’ve got to get the Shifters back in.” Letting go of the water, he threw the largest shield he could manage.

***

THE PORTION OF THE army that was chasing Kiora slowed and began to turn. She whirled around on Arturo, looking down, trying to understand what happened.

They have realized what you are doing and are returning to help the forces at the city,
Arturo thought.

She could not allow that. “Set us down,” Kiora said. “We can’t let them return—Alcander won’t be able to hold them off.”

Arturo swooped toward the ground. Kiora reached out her hand and called fire, igniting a line that flared up thirty feet into the air between the army and the city, blocking their march and forcing them to turn.

Kiora leaped off Arturo as he landed. Putting out both arms, she ignited two more lines of fire that ran down both flanks, encasing them on three sides and leaving only one escape—straight at her.

Several Taveans within the group pushed the fire down, attempting to extinguish it. Others bellowed as they ran forward under orders to eliminate the Solus. Kiora swung herself up on Arturo, but from the corner of her eye she saw a familiar face—the Tavean they had met while traversing the enemy village on their way to the city, the one who had killed Alcander’s mother.

Rage roared through her, foreign and not completely hers. She had seen Alcander’s memory that day—of this Tavean astride his mother. But before she could send a shot to claim justice, she heard a single voice call out, “Fire!” She looked up and the army fired as one. Hundreds of magical spears burst into the sky. Kiora pushed a shield up and out, making a dome around her and Arturo.

The magic slammed into them, one after another. As the seconds ticked by, the attack did not lessen. She could feel their threads approaching. They were using the barrage of magic to keep her in one spot.

We have got to get into the air,
Arturo thought.

A Shifter-Dragon swooped down and sprayed fire over Kiora’s shield.

How long can you sustain this?

“Not much longer. There are too many of them and I have already used a lot of magic.”

The Shifter-Dragon turned for another pass and fire again rolled over her taxed shield, which thinned above her. Kiora closed her eyes. Pulling much of what magic she had left, she collected it into one ball. It rolled in her hands, pulsing. She took a deep breath in and threw her arms out to the side. The yellow sphere expanded and blew outwards in all directions. It picked up every member of the encroaching army and threw them backwards.

***

ALCANDER COVERED HIS EYES as a large burst of yellow magic flared up in the distance.

“How are we getting in?” Drustan asked.

Alcander looked down. A large group of the enemy surrounded this entrance and it was a blur of magic. Dead bodies were piled at the feet of the rebel Shifters—acid-eaten and with gaping holes in their chests and backs from the Shifters’ barbed tails. There was a small empty space between the half circle of Shifters and the entrance they were protecting.

“Straight down. We are going to drop in behind them.” Alcander eyed the four barbed tails waving madly in the air. “Just . . . make sure your Shifters don’t try to kill us.”

Drustan flew higher, dodging Dragon fire. Positioning himself directly over the four Shifters, he dropped into a near-vertical dive. Alcander fisted fur with one hand and gripped his staff with the other, leaning back to keep himself from flying straight over Drustan’s head.

Drustan’s body began to shift beneath him. “What are you doing?” Alcander yelled.

“I will never make this turn as long as I am,” he rumbled.

Drustan grew shorter and shorter until Alcander barely fit on top. “Watch those tails,” Drustan yelled down to the Shifters. “We are coming in right behind you.”

The enemy heard as well and turned toward them. Alcander awkwardly shoved his staff out while trying to keep himself flat on Drustan’s back. White magic hit the first attacker, bowling him into the Omelian behind.

The Shifters pulled their tails forward over their heads and waved them at the enemy, clearing a path for Drustan, who dropped in behind them. He twisted his body and headed straight for the barrier. It grabbed them midflight, forcing them to a sudden stop.

When it released them, they both fell forward, rolling over one other in a tangle of limbs and flying fox paws. Drustan immediately scrambled to his feet and leaped back through the barrier in miniature fox form.

“One at a time,” Drustan shouted to the Shifters. “Back yourselves in.”

The first Shifter backed in, shrinking, while the other three stepped together to keep the entrance secure.

They repeated this until one Shifter stood alone—Erina. She roared as magic caught the tip of her tail, ripping the barb off. The enemy swarmed forward, sensing her weakness.

Alcander charged back through the protection. He slammed his staff into the ground, and using every ounce of magic he had left, he sent a ripple rushing out. It didn’t do anything more than knock the enemy off their feet, but it was enough to get Erina inside.

Alcander was out of magic. He hurled himself against the stone, manually pushing it back into place as magic flew through the open door. Once it was sealed, he fell against the wall, his chest heaving.

Erina thrashed on the ground as she shifted into human form. Blood was everywhere.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Wounded and Weak

KIORA PULLED HERSELF BACK onto Arturo, but before they could return to the air, the Shifter-Dragon that had avoided her sphere dropped in. Kiora threw a shield. The fire thinned it further and heat sizzled against her skin. The army that surrounded her had been knocked unconscious from her blast, but they were already starting to stir.

We are out of time, Kiora. Take out that Shifter-Dragon now.

Kiora turned to face the Shifter as he angled his body and dropped in for another pass. She fired. The shot was weak and flew high. She expected it to roll right over the Shifter-Dragon’s head, and she prepared to fire again. But instead, a shield appeared and her attack burst against it. Riding the Shifter were two bubbled Taveans.

The Shifter-Dragon opened his mouth and unleashed another attack. Kiora shielded. Her view was now blocked by the fire that rippled around her. She felt the threads of the two Taveans leap off the Shifter’s back—first one, then the other. One dropped in front of her, the other behind. And then they bubbled again.

The fire abated and the Shifter-Dragon went to circle back around. Her shield faltered and dropped.

Shield, Kiora!

“I don’t have enough!”

“
Shield!”

She found the center of magic and pulled at its meager remains. Her shield went up.

A Tavean appeared in front of her. He fired shot after shot in rapid succession, wicked red and pointed at the tip, each one closer than the last to tearing through. She thought she might be able to hold it, but then he held out his hands in a cupped position and flung out a swirling ball of red magic, reminiscent of the yellow sphere she had just used. It rushed towards her.

She didn’t have enough to sustain the full shield. The only chance she had was if she focused all her magic into a smaller area. She switched to a hand shield.

No!
Arturo thought in response to her plan. He spread his wings, propelling them into the air.

Kiora wrapped her arm around his neck and leaned to the side, pushing out her hand shield to protect Arturo. The red ball impacted her shield right in front of his nose. Her defenses dwindled to almost nothing.

The Tavean behind her dropped his bubble and fired a shot. It slammed into Kiora’s shoulder and shoved her forward, searing pain ripping through her. She clung to Arturo’s mane as she tilted to the side, nearly falling off.

Arturo rose. Both Taveans prepared for the final shot. Kiora gave the earth beneath them a little jerk—just enough to knock them off their feet. She would have done more, but couldn’t waste what remained of her magic—they weren’t safe yet. The Taveans fell backwards and both shots flew over her head.

Arturo pushed harder, putting distance between them and the two Taveans.

The Shifter-Dragon was returning.

Work with what you’ve already got—it requires less magic,
Arturo thought.

She did not have enough to shield another attack.

The fires she had started earlier burned unrestrained and she pulled the flames up, creating a blistering wall of red and orange between them and the Shifter-Dragon. It wasn’t a defense—the Dragon’s scales were too thick for that—but it would act as a blind. Kiora bubbled and Arturo veered to the left.

Everyone’s in, Kiora,
Alcander’s thoughts came.

How many did we lose?
she asked. She pushed herself up straighter on Arturo and looked down at her wound. The shot had torn through her shirt, creating a deep gash. Blood poured down her arm, obscuring the severity of it, but her whole body had already begun to shake.

Two.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She knew it could have been worse, but a loss was still a loss. “Arturo, we are going to Toopai,” Kiora said. She grabbed the edge of her already torn sleeve and ripped it off.

Arturo turned and headed toward the coastline. The Shifter-Dragon turned back toward the city, blowing fire at random as he searched the sky for them.

Are you all right?
Arturo asked.

“I will be fine.” She slipped off the bloody sleeve and wrapped it around her arm near her shoulder.

We need Emane,
Arturo said, turning back toward the city.

“No! Arturo, no.” She wrapped the fabric in a knot and used her teeth to tighten it. Her head spun from pain. “We can’t go back now—we will lose another entrance. I will be fine. The bleeding will stop and I can have Emane finish the healing when we get back.”

Arturo was quiet, his wing flaps methodically counting out the seconds as they flew.
Are you sure?

“Yes.” Her arm was soaked—blood dripped from her fingertips. “How fast can you get to Toopai?”

If we come in on the opposite side of the island, I can make it by this evening.

“It took us eight hours from Lomay’s.”

We will reach the coast in a couple of hours. The island is closer to where we are now than it was to Lomay’s.

“That’s good.”

Her wound was still bleeding profusely, despite the pressure she had put on it. She prayed she could make it that far.

***

KIORA TIGHTENED HER BANDAGE several times, hoping it would act like a tourniquet. But the wound extended over her shoulder and no matter how she tried, she couldn’t get the fabric tight enough. Each time she thought she had stemmed the flow of blood, she would move or a wind current would jostle them, and it would start again. Lines of red dripped down her arm and over Arturo’s side, staining his white coat.

She had spent an exorbitant amount of effort shielding her thoughts and worries from Arturo, but as she grew weaker, they slipped through. He abruptly turned his head, following the lines of blood.

Kiora! I never should have listened to you. You are going to bleed to death before we reach Toopai.

I’ll be fine.
She shook her head under a wave of dizziness.
Just . . . fly faster.

Fly faster! What do you think we are going to do when we reach Toopai? The Dragons are not healers.

The bleeding will stop—it has to stop.
Her head throbbed. She wanted to lie down against his neck and take a nap.

Don’t you dare, Kiora. You stay awake.

Kiora felt what little magic she had left draining out of her and she jolted from her stupor. Letting go of her arm, she fumbled for the talisman, ripping off the mesh covering. She felt threads—a lot of threads.

There,
Arturo thought.

She followed his line of sight. The Shadow slipped along the base of the cliff, black tendrils flowed over the beach, and behind her marched an army of Shifters.

Relief flooded through Kiora. “They are looking for the rebel camp,” she said.