Wings of Lomay (3 page)

Kiora laughed. “Omelians like things sweet?”

Alcander shuddered. “Very.”

She took another bite. “Who
is
in the kitchen?”

“A Tavean, I’m sure. But it has been a while since they have had the opportunity to cook.” His current tone was one that she had been unable to decipher when they first met. But now she knew well the sound of pain overlaid with his Tavean façade of impassive distance.

Kiora set her spoon down, looking at him intently. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said, repeating his words from earlier.

He evaluated her for a moment, looking undecided on whether he should say what he was thinking.

“Go on,” Kiora said. “Say it. You have never been shy about voicing your opinions.”

Alcander raised one eyebrow. “I was thinking, there are a number of things that are not your fault and yet you continue to carry around grief for them. I wish you would apply the advice to yourself.”

“I . . .” She looked into her bowl. “It’s not . . .”

“It’s not the same?” Alcander said. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Kiora slammed her spoon down. “It’s not!”

The murmur of voices at the tables around them dropped off. She looked over her shoulder at three Omelians seated at the table behind her and gave them a tight smile. They nodded and politely returned their attention to their breakfast.

Kiora leaned forward, trying to keep her voice low, but the emotion bubbling beneath the surface was making it difficult. “Your people were enslaved by your uncle. You thought they were dead. There was
nothing
you could have done, and it was Aimon’s actions, not yours, that kept them there.”

Alcander reached across the table, gripping her hand. “You almost died trying to save those women and children. Jasmine killed them, Kiora. Not you.”

“But I was running away from my responsibilities. Lomay warned me—Drustan tried to warn me. And people lost their lives. It is
entirely
my fault.”

Alcander stretched across the table and pulled her hand closer to him. His eyes were wide and inches from her face. “The only reason you have a destiny at all is because of Jasmine. She has murdered hundreds of thousands, and each and every one of those acts falls on her head, not yours. You are not responsible for what you failed to stop.”

Kiora’s eyes filled with tears. “I hate her,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Good,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Hate her.”

Kiora took a deep breath. “I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

Alcander slid back down until he was sitting in his chair again. “No, you can’t. It will destroy you. You have been directing your hate at yourself instead of where it belongs—Jasmine.”

Kiora felt a shift somewhere deep inside as her anger found a new target. “You’re right. Thank you.” She picked up her spoon, thoughtful as her guilt began to dissipate, and took another bite of breakfast.

Lomay stepped outside the front door of the main house. He looked up at the barrier, scowled, then disappeared back inside.

“Have you noticed that Lomay has been acting a little strange lately?” Kiora said.

“Lomay frequently acts strange. But yes, I know what you mean.”

“What do you think is wrong?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that he will keep whatever it is a secret until he’s ready to tell us.”

“It makes me nervous.”

Alcander chuckled. “Get used to it. It is how he functions.”

Kiora took another bite, enjoying the sweetness that Alcander was so disinclined toward. “I still feel unprepared.”

“We are unprepared.”

“I know. I am trying to formulate a plan to win this war.”

“As am I. I hope you have enjoyed more success in your efforts than I have.”

“Not really. But while trying to assess our assets and decide how to use them, I realized that I don’t know what your staff does.”

Alcander leaned back, crossing his arms. “The staff has power of its own. You witnessed that at the battle for Tavea. More importantly, it amplifies the powers I already possess.”

“Your control of wind and water increases?”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you carrying it?”

“It seems strange to carry it here. Finished?” he asked, nodding at her bowl. “I thought we could watch a training session with Emane.”

“Are we checking up on him?” Kiora picked up her bowl and walked around the other tables, smiling at the Omelians as she carried it to the kitchen.

“You could say that.”

“He’s doing a fine job, Alcander. I have already checked in on his sessions several times.”

Alcander smirked. “I’m sure he is. But that’s not actually why we are going.”

In the city center, on either side of the main house, four rooms occupied the wall, set behind pairs of wooden doors. Alcander pulled one open, ushering her inside.

Emane and a Tavean stood in the center, swords raised and eyes locked. Emane charged forward. The Tavean stumbled backwards, trying to get his sword up in time. He was slow and awkward, hopelessly outmatched. Realizing eminent defeat, the Tavean dropped his sword in order to raise his hand in front of his face. A blast of magic burst out that caught Emane in the stomach and landed him on his backside.

Alcander chuckled under his breath. “
That
is why we came.”

Emane grunted as he got to his feet, looking at Kiora as if to say,
See
?

“We’re going to try something different,” Emane announced, brushing himself off. “Since you can’t seem to stop using magic . . .” He paused to give a pointed look to the Tavean who had just blasted him. “No matter how many times I ask you not to, we are going to practice in an environment without it.”

The Taveans shifted uncomfortably.

“You will get your magic back as soon as the training is over,” Kiora announced to soothe the tension in the room. “Emane is right. You all must learn how to fight without it.”

She removed the sheath from the talisman. The magic in the city vanished. “This is what it will feel like in a battle against the Shadow. Jasmine will take your magic as she has always done, and you will be left helpless against the Shifters. When that time comes, you will have nothing to lean on except what Emane is trying to teach you.”

Emane jumped in. “I know you are all very familiar with this feeling, and right now you equate it with helplessness.” He spoke slowly, clearly, as if to embed it not only in their minds, but in their hearts as well. “You are not helpless. I will teach you how to fight when all you have is your mind, your body, and your weapon. And although learning the moves and stances I am trying to teach you is important, I need you to realize how much
power
you still hold when your magic is taken from you. That is what will truly make the difference.”

The Taveans looked dubious.

“Perhaps a demonstration is in order,” Emane said. He took the sword from the Tavean he had been working with and tossed it to Alcander, who snatched it out of the air by the hilt, his eyes glittering at the prospect of a battle.

“I am not asking you to ignore your natural strengths,” Emane said as he strode forward. “As you will see. But you cannot use magic.”

Kiora leaned against the sidewall. Sliding down, she wrapped her arms around her knees. The other Taveans backed up along the sides, giving Emane and Alcander the floor.

Emane twirled his sword in a circle as he smirked at Alcander. “Ready?”

“Always.”

“You’re about to be embarrassed in front of your subjects.”

The Taveans shot glares at the Witow who dare insult their king.

Alcander held his sword out in front of him, signaling his readiness. “Over-confidence can be fatal, Emane.”

Emane struggled with a smile. “You would know.”

Emane made the first move, charging Alcander. Alcander lowered his sword, but instead of meeting Emane on the ground, he leaped straight up into the air, spinning over his head. He had used this move before and Emane skidded to a stop, crouching, to track Alcander’s movements with his sword, ready to slash at him as he flew over. Alcander anticipated this. Using the moves Emane had taught him, he modified them, holding his sword at the proper angle to prevent Emane from hitting anything besides his blade. The swords screeched and sparked. Alcander landed on the other side, immediately regaining the proper stance.

Emane’s sword sagged lower as he tilted his head in surprise. “That’s new.”

“I grew weary of getting beat,” Alcander said. “I have been giving it some thought.”

“It works.” Emane stepped forward, connecting with Alcander’s sword. Alcander stepped back and Emane pushed his sword against him, putting them nose to nose. “To the
side
, Alcander.”

The pleased look on Alcander’s face disappeared. He swung with an attack of his own. Kiora’s mind wandered as Alcander and Emane danced across the floor. They needed more swords—they needed the Shifters.

Drustan walked up and slid down next to her. “Quite the show.”

“Hmmm? Oh, yes . . . it is.”

Emane disarmed Alcander and his sword clattered to the ground. Alcander flipped forward, slid across the floor, grabbed his sword, and rolled onto his back, bringing his sword up in defense.

Drustan looked over at her, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t even watching.”

She half smiled and shook her head. “No, I wasn’t.”

Emane ran forward and pressed the tip of his sword to Alcander’s neck before he could get up. Tossing his sweaty hair back off his forehead, Emane grinned. “The ground is never a good place to be, Alcander.”

Kiora sighed. The Taveans watching the demonstration looked more concerned now than they had before.

Stepping back, Emane sheathed his sword at his side and offered Alcander his hand. Emane pulled him up, clapping him on the back before addressing the rest of his students. “You will not be fighting against someone like myself—someone trained with a sword. What Alcander just did would be more than sufficient under the circumstances you will be in.”

“Sufficient?” Alcander said. “I am not satisfied with sufficient,
Witow
.”

The Taveans laughed. Emane grinned, sliding his sword free. “Again, then?”

Kiora leaned over. “Drustan, can I talk to you? Somewhere else?”

“Of course.” Drustan helped her up and the two slipped out as Emane and Alcander prepared for the next sparring match.

They headed up the short flight of stairs that led into one of the tunnels. Kiora chose one free of threads and picked an empty room, slipping inside. Drustan shut the door behind them.

She turned to face him. “Are the Shifters truly capable of making the weapons we need?”

“Yes,” Drustan said. “Is that really what you dragged me down here to ask?”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Of course . . .” He hesitated. “As long as we had someone to teach us the technicalities of weapons making.”

Kiora’s eyes widened. “What? You don’t know how?”

Drustan chuckled bitterly as he leaned against the wall. “We can grow claws the size of swords. What possible use would we have for weapons?”

“Where did Lomay get the other sword for Alcander?”

“I have no idea. But I highly doubt you are going to find anyone here capable of teaching us the skills we need.”

Kiora made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. “Why didn’t you say something in the meeting? You said we needed craftsman and that the Shifters were the ones who could do it.”

Drustan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I may have gotten a little ahead of myself.”

Kiora dropped to the bed, drumming her fingers against the edge and pursing her lips. “The Guardians made Emane’s sword. Could they teach you?”

“If we could get them here.”

She took a deep breath. “I want to take the bracelets off the Shifters.”

Drustan stilled, tilting his head as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. Realizing he had, he crossed his arms in front of himself, scowling. “What?”

Kiora deflated. “I thought you would be more excited than that.”

“I . . . I don’t know.” Drustan paced around the room. “I am not sure how the Shifters would react, or what they are capable of without those bracelets. Some of them are exceedingly angry.”

“With good reason.”

“Absolutely. I have been against their slavery from the beginning—you know that. But being justified in their anger will not change their actions when they are finally free. Many of them want revenge.”

“If we want their help, it must be under their own free will,” Kiora said. “If we bring them here with those bracelets on, they will resent it—even if they would have made the same choice had they been given the option.”

“And how do you plan to manage this?”

“We’re going to let them choose sides.”

Drustan was silent for a moment, waiting to see if there was more. When Kiora just stared at him, he asked the obvious. “And if they all choose the Shadow?”

“Then we are no worse off than before.”

“Maybe. But it will supply the Shadow with more weapons—and the Shifters are
very
dangerous weapons.”

Kiora snorted. “If we hope to win this battle on numbers, we might as well surrender now.”

“Lomay will be a problem,” Drustan pointed out.

“I know. I don’t think he will agree.”

Drustan waved her off. “That’s not what I meant. I am not worried about him agreeing—which he won’t. But if you are trying to convince the Shifters to join you, it will be nearly impossible with Lomay in the mix—they have some very bitter feelings toward him.” He shrugged. “Toward Alcander too, for that matter.”

“What about me?” Kiora asked.

“They were oddly impressed with you. Just as I was.”

“Oddly?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Drustan’s mouth. “It was actually quite humorous to watch. You could tell the Shifters didn’t want to like you—you were there with Lomay and Alcander, having meetings, being friendly. But that little outburst of yours, when I tried to run—” Drustan shook his head and grinned. “You were so infuriated with Lomay. I don’t think they had ever seen anyone question him before. They were impressed, and they watched you after that. They whispered about the things you did, the kindness you showed. The only thing that gnawed at them was when you allowed Lomay to bracelet me.”