Wings of Lomay (31 page)

The stars were faintly visible overhead, as the sun had just started to light the sky. Kiora looked back over her shoulder. Alcander could always call to her if he woke and didn’t know where she was, she reasoned to herself. She looked at Emane, her eyes twinkling. “It’s a race, then.”

Emane grinned. Kneeling down, he whistled softly. The Marlocks stopped their play to look at him with their curious bear-like faces before trotting over. Emane chose one of the larger ones, gingerly climbing on its back.

Kiora chose one of the smaller ones, sleek and fast, with a sweet face. She climbed on. “How do we get them to go?” she asked.

The Marlock she was on looked at her with what Kiora could only decipher as disgust.

“Alcander says they are extremely intelligent and understand speech. We just need to tell them where we’re going.”

“Oh.” That would explain the disgust. “Sorry,” Kiora said, scratching her Marlock behind the ears.

“I say we let them pick the finish line.” Emane leaned down and patted his Marlock on the side. “What do you think?”

Both the Marlocks leaped and bounded with excitement, chittering to each other.

“I think that’s a yes,” Emane said. “Lie as flat as you can and hold on tight.”

Kiora leaned forward as far as she could. She grabbed a fistful of fur and rested her chin against the Marlock’s neck. Her heart lurched into her throat at the sudden start and she squealed. The dry grass rasped against her, stinging her hands, and the cold was amplified by the rush of freezing air that cut through her coat. She couldn’t tell how fast they were going, only that the grass had ceased to look like grass and had become a solid blur.

When they burst from the dry meadow, Kiora gathered her courage and lay flatter, urging her Marlock faster. Exhilaration met with terror, leaving her unable to decide whether to whoop or scream.

As they tore across open ground, Emane’s Marlock ran alongside hers, trying to outpace hers. He was gaining. Kiora urged her ride forward. The next thing she knew, they were streaking through trees. Her Marlock was headed straight for a large pine. A scream lodged in her throat. There was no way they were going to miss it. At the last possible moment, they swerved and bounded around it. Her arm slid across the bark and Kiora jerked her elbow in, looking behind her at the tree she still could not understand how they missed.

With no warning, the Marlock dug its back feet in, sending dirt and rock flying upwards. The sudden shift in momentum almost tossed Kiora over its head.

A second later, Emane’s Marlock skidded to a stop as well. Kiora threw her arm over her face as pine needles, rocks, and bark peppered her.

She slid to the ground, squeezing her hands in and out of fists in an attempt to restore the flow of blood to her fingers.

Her Marlock bounded and jumped around her, making chirping noises—clearly pleased with her win. Suddenly realizing where they were, Kiora froze. They stood inches from the edge of a cliff that dropped down at least a hundred feet into a tiny river that had dried to a mere trickle, half of which was frozen.

Emane dismounted, looking warily over the edge before patting his Marlock. “Go get a drink and rest,” he said.

Both Marlocks leaped off, nudging each other in playful fashion.

Emane cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his coat pocket. “Maybe next time we shouldn’t let them pick the destination.”

Kiora started laughing. The nerves and grief and stress gave way, and she laughed harder until she was bent over at the waist, her stomach aching. When she finally got herself under control, she sighed. Dropping to the ground, she put her legs out to dangle over the edge of the cliff.

Emane sat down next to her. “I didn’t think it was
that
funny.” Despite the comment, his eyes shone with amusement.

“I needed to laugh. It’s been too long since I’ve laughed like that.”

“I think it’s been too long for all of us.” He tossed a dirt clod over the edge. “I noticed that you sent Leo away.”

Kiora nodded. “I wanted someone to deliver the news of Malena’s death in person. And I need the Guardians in Meros—that is where they belong.”

“Did he take the body?”

Kiora’s throat tightened. “There was no body to take. There was nothing left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I would have liked to honor her in some way, but now, without even a body to bury . . .”

“You can honor her without a burial, Kiora.”

Kiora pulled out the blue sapphire pendant she wore around her neck. “She gave me a pendant identical to this one so I would always be able to call for help when I needed it.” She took the necklace off. “Dralazar destroyed it. I wish I still had the original.”

“This one reminds you of her, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” Getting an idea, she stood up, brushing off her pants. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Emane asked, following.

“You’re right—I can still honor her. And I intend to.”

They walked until Kiora found a magnificent tree. All its leaves had dropped, like the rest of the trees around it, but its branches were perfect—evenly spaced, thick, and proportionate. It was flanked by two pines whose size denoted majesty. Sunlight filtered through the trees, lighting the eastern sides of the trunks and bathing them in a soft glow.

She placed her palm against the leafless tree. Using her magic, she hollowed out a niche in the trunk and slid the pendant inside. The blue sapphire winked in the sun. Below the pendant, she traced Malena’s name in fire, burning the letters into the bark. It wasn’t a proper burial and it wasn’t a tombstone, but it would have to do.

Kiora stood back to admire her work.

“It’s beautiful,” Emane said.

“Do you think she would have liked it? I never asked her what she would have wanted if it came to this.”

“I think she would like anything you did.”

“I know the traditions for some of the species here, but I never bothered to ask anyone else. I don’t know if Drustan would want to be buried here or at home, I don’t know if you would—” She stopped herself, unable to finish.

“What about you?” Emane asked, crossing his arms. “Would you want to be buried in Meros?”

“I . . . well . . .” She swallowed, running her fingers around the letters in Malena’s name. “No, I don’t think I would. I think I would want to be buried here. Somehow this seems more like home now.”

Emane nodded. “Me too.”

That was not what Kiora had expected to hear, and her head jerked up in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, although—not buried.”

“What do you mean?”

Emane hesitated, flushing. “When we paid our respects to the Winged people, with the funeral pyres, I thought it was . . . nice.” He shrugged awkwardly.

Kiora didn’t know what to say. She didn’t particularly care for the topic at all, and she stammered for a response. “You want a funeral pyre? Why? Your whole family has been buried in the cemetery between the castle and the forest.”

Emane’s jaw tightened. He was trying to hold back whatever it was he wanted to say. He kicked a frost-covered rock, sending it clattering into a tree trunk. “I have come to hate this body and all its limitations,” he blurted. “I want to be free of it, sent soaring—like the Winged people.”

“You hate your—”

“Kiora,” he interrupted, his head down, “this body, this human body, has limited me in everything I have needed to do. It has weakened me in battle, put others at risk . . . it has cost me the love of my life. I feel . . . trapped.”

“But . . . but . . . you have done magnificent things.” She reached for him, her heart aching at his confession.

“Yes, I have.” He didn’t take her hand, but met her gaze, his look pleading for understanding. “But that was not my body. That was my heart, my soul, my essence—whatever you want to call it. And when I die, whether it be tomorrow or when I am old, I want to set that free. The thought of being trapped in the earth in the very thing that has limited me—it makes me ill.”

“What about your father?” Kiora asked. “He would want—”

“He can put up a headstone,” Emane interrupted, waving his hand. “This is about me, about what I want.”

Kiora looked into his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I understand.”

His look said he doubted that she did. “What about you? Would you want to be buried?”

“Yes.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “If I choose to be buried here, the burial itself would really be the only piece of home I have left.”

Emane stared at her for a long moment before he shook his head and chuckled. “Well, this is a dreadful conversation.”

Kiora laughed and wrapped her arms around herself. “Yes, it is. Do you want to know the last thing Malena ever said to me? She asked me if I would change anything about the past.” Emane’s demeanor changed. She regretted bringing it up, but her heart was so troubled by it that she kept talking. “I told her I would. She told me I wasn’t thinking deeply enough.”

Kiora stared at the sapphire. It winked and flashed in the sun. She shivered, wishing the sun would hurry and warm the air.

“She’s right,” Emane finally said.

Shocked, Kiora looked over at him. His face had been schooled into a neutral expression. “I didn’t expect you to agree.”

Emane shrugged, turning away from her. When he spoke again, she understood why he had. His voice wavered, betraying his emotion. “I don’t have to like the things that have happened to see the good that has come from them. You are strong, much stronger than you used to be. Pain can prepare you just as well as joy, Kiora, and you have been prepared. Things have to hurt sometimes.”

Kiora smiled wearily, leaning against the tree. “She asked me what part of me I would give up to change the past.”

“I hope your answer was ‘nothing’,” Emane said. Having gained control of himself, he turned back around.

“I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t—I still can’t.” She shook her head, looking skyward. “What an impossible question.”

“It’s not an impossible question. Life continues as it will— wishing to change things is useless. Just appreciate what you have learned and use it.”

“When did you get so wise?”

“I wasn’t always?” he asked with mock hurt.

She laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“Life experiences. They haven’t just changed
you
, Kiora.”

She looked at him, really looked at him, in a way she hadn’t since she had rescued him from Dralazar. He was more handsome than she remembered. His hair was pushed back in the usual manner, his blue eyes bright. But he looked older, wiser, more confident—in an utterly new and delightful way. The confidence he had before was puffed up and immature. This was strong, peaceful, and content. “You’re right,” she said softly. “They haven’t.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lake Everleen

IT WAS ALMOST SUNSET when they reached the borders of Lake Everleen. It was going to take multiple trips to get everyone across, and Kiora would need to travel with each group to provide a bubble. She needed Jasmine to see where they were going, but she didn’t need her to see how to avoid the defenses.

She and Emane rode Drustan and took the first group. Drustan carried a Marlock by wrapping his Dragon legs around its body. A group of Shifters and Winged people, all carrying passengers, followed behind them in close formation. They headed toward the island.

“All right, Drustan,” Kiora said, throwing a bubble that encompassed the entire group. “Go low.”

The sun was starting to catch the ripples in the lake, throwing up bits of light and making the surface appear as if it were covered in tiny bits of broken glass. Kiora searched for the telltale differences in the small waves below—the ones that indicated they were breaking against the solid line of the beach. “Heads down,” Kiora said as she spotted the shore.

She ducked her head and lay flat against Drustan’s back. The group followed her lead. One second, the lake stretched out in front of them, and the next, they were through the log barrier.

Drustan dropped the Marlock gently before landing on the sandy beach.

Emane slid off, looking around appreciatively. “Now this, I like.”

The rebel camp on Lake Everleen was just as she remembered it. All around the island, tree trunks had been sharpened to long, thin points and then buried, sticking up at various heights and angles. Some crisscrossed over each other, leaving no space to maneuver between them—built to impale anything that tried to fly through. Various trees grew around the island, but she could see the edge of the camp set a little ways inland—tan-and-white structures flapping in the breeze.

“I thought you might,” Kiora said. “You are in charge of improving it. We need to make it bigger—better. When the magic is gone, the island must stay protected.”

Emane nodded absently, strolling off to get a closer look at the first non-magical defense system he had seen since passing through the mountain pass.

“Let’s go get the rest of the rebels,” Kiora said to Drustan.

***

THE MORNING CAME TOO quickly and there was much to be done. Emane had erected a makeshift command station on the middle of the beach. It consisted of a small wooden table, its thin legs pressed into the sand to keep it from toppling over. Kiora had suggested earlier that due to the freezing temperature, they move the table inside, but Emane insisted it stay where it was—he said he needed to be able to oversee the workers constructing the defenses.

A large piece of thick brown paper was spread over the table and Emane was busily scratching designs and notes, stopping periodically to point out something to Alcander.

Kiora watched them silently. They looked so comfortable with each other. It was nice—strange, still—but nice.

Alcander looked up, motioning for Einar, who approached and dropped into a bow. “Your Majesty.”

“Einar, I need you to work with Emane on these plans. The Shifters must begin construction immediately.”

“You want me to work with the Witow?” Einar’s lip curled and his voice lowered, as if the Witow who was standing right next to him was also hard of hearing.