Wings of Lomay (7 page)

First one large slab of stone ripped itself free. It fell for a moment, surreal in its silence, before slamming into the cliff and setting the imminent collapse in motion.

The Shifters around her screamed, scrambling to change into something that could fly—there was no time.

The first few rocks crashed onto the beach. Sand sprayed up like geysers. Kiora threw another shield, doming it up and out as fast as she could. The roar of falling rock and sand buried the sound of screams.

The bulk of the landslide slammed into their only protection. Her shield held, and the rocks slipped down the steep backside and into the river behind them. Muddy water splashed around in giant waves.

That was too close. Kiora closed her eyes and took a cleansing breath as the last pieces of sand and dirt pitter-pattered down her shield and into the river. She looked at the camp of Shifters, who stared at her in dumbfounded silence.

A moan emerged from the back of the group.

Kiora and Emane grabbed hold of Drustan’s tail and he lowered them to the ground. She pushed her way through the crowd of Shifters to where one woman had been caught by the first falling rock. She had been midway through the shift into a Winged person, the buds of two white wings poked out from her back. Her leg was pinned under a boulder and she pulled against it, trying to free herself, only to cry out in pain.

“Emane!” Kiora yelled.

She willed the stone upward as Emane knelt next to the Shifter. His hands skimmed over her bloody and mangled legs, trying to pinpoint the injuries. “Does anything besides your legs hurt?” he asked.

The Shifter’s face was twisted in pain. She gave a tight head-shake to the negative.

“Hold still,” Emane said. He placed his hands on her legs, trying to be gentle.

The Shifter grimaced and looked away, expecting more pain. But as the bones in her leg slid together and there was none, she slowly turned her head back. Her eyes widened as she watched the wounds fade and her torn flesh knit back together.

“Better?” Emane asked.

The Shifter looked back and forth between her legs and Emane in awe. “But you don’t have any magic.”

Emane leaned forward with a good-natured smile. Kiora had never seen him use that smile when a comment regarding his lack of magic was in play. “I obviously have a little.”

“Thank you,” she whispered with wonder.

“You’re welcome.” Emane held out his hand and helped her to her feet.

A Shifter stepped forward. “What is going on?” he demanded “Are you here to bring us back to Lomay?”

Drustan shifted into his preferred human form and came up behind Kiora. “Lomay is dead,” he announced.

A murmur of disbelief ran down the beach.

Drustan put his hand on Kiora’s lower back and turned her, nudging her toward the river. “I would feel much better if you weren’t surrounded,” he whispered in her ear.

Kiora allowed him to lead her until the river was at their backs. His hand returned to his side and Kiora noticed he was wearing the silver bracelet that was used to enslave the Shifters—the fake Lomay had given him in the canyon. When had he put that back on?

The Shifters slid into human forms. Their murmurs built to a crescendo, each repeating the announcement. “Lomay is dead.”

Kiora held up her hands. “Quiet, please.” The volume dissipated and she spoke over the lingering noise. “We are not here to bring anyone back who does not wish to come. We are here to remove your bracelets.”

Again, silence rippled across the beach. Some looked shocked, others hopeful, the rest—dubious.

“Why would you do that?” someone called out, speaking what many were thinking. Nods of agreement circulated.

“We all have a right to freedom, and Lomay took that from you. I am here to return what is rightfully yours,” Kiora said. “We are on the verge of confronting the Shadow and I need all the help I can get. I need
your
help. We need smiths and metalworkers, and I hear you are exceptionally skilled. But I will not take that help in the form of slavery. I am here on the hope that some of you will choose to side with me. To fight with the rebels of your own free will.” She paused to let her words sink into their disbelieving ears. “I can’t guarantee that you will live, or that we will win—I know you are all well aware of the stakes. But if we do win, I can guarantee your freedom.” Kiora tried to meet as many of their eyes as she could, hoping to help them see the sincerity behind her words.

A large Shifter scoffed as he strolled forward. “That was a pretty speech, Solus. But you come here speaking of freedom while riding a braceleted Shifter. You speak of choice and rights, but he is still enslaved to you.”

Drustan held up his arm. The silver bands caught some of the last rays of the setting sun and flashed. “I am not enslaved, and I never was.” He pulled the bracelet off and tossed it into the river behind him. “The one I wore in the canyon was a fake, removable at any time.”

The Shifter’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Drustan’s naked wrist, trying to determine what type of trickery had just been employed. “Lies,” he said. “Lomay would never have allowed that.”

“Had I wandered into your camp alone, you are correct. But I didn’t. I wandered in with the Solus and her Protector. Kiora and Emane both stood between Lomay and me, ensuring I didn’t receive a bracelet.”

Whispers flew. Many eyed their own bracelets.

“And if we choose to fight against you?” a different Shifter asked.

“Regardless of your choice, the bracelets will be removed. You will be free to join the Shadow,” Kiora said. “But I warn you—hers would be another form of slavery, one where you are forced to murder, where you are disposable —the kind of slavery the Shifters have been subjected to from the beginning.”

The Shifter who had been the most vocal crossed his arms. “Do you think we are stupid? As soon as we pick sides, you will execute whoever is not with you.”

Kiora looked at him sadly. “No, I won’t.”

“How do we know that?”

“If she wanted to execute you, she could have already done it,” Drustan said. “It is well within her power. She has grown much since you last saw her.”

The Shifter stepped forward, claws extended from his fingertips. “The bracelets do not prevent us from defending ourselves if attacked, Drustan. There are far more of us than there are of you,” he added, jerking his head toward those behind him.

“What if she is telling the truth?” Emane asked, stepping between Drustan and the Shifter. “Whose side would you rather be on? Kiora is offering you your freedom regardless of what path you choose. Can you say the same for the Shadow?”

“Siding with you is a death sentence!” called a Shifter from the back. “No one can stand against the Shadow.”

“I can,” Kiora shouted over the voices of agreement that were buzzing around them. “I have stood against her—and lived. We all have.” She motioned to Emane and Drustan. “Because we have this.” She pulled out the talisman, unsheathing it as she did, to demonstrate its power.

The Shifters fearfully backed against the canyon walls, their eyes wide as they searched the sky for a billowing blackness.

“I am stopping the magic, not the Shadow,” she said. “With this talisman, I can finally place both sides on equal footing. We are no longer helpless. We know who the Shadow is, and we know what we need to do to defeat her.” A slight exaggeration, but Kiora had to believe she would figure out a way eventually. “And equally important,” she added, “we have a safe place to stay where she can’t come.”

The whispers resumed.

As the buzzing subsided, Kiora spoke up. “There is one more thing I must make clear before you choose. The city we are going to was created by Nestor. He built in a number of protections that will search you, ensuring that you hearts and threads are good. Any who are hiding their true intentions
will
be discovered, and if you are evil . . . the magic will destroy you.” Her head and shoulders drooped. “Please, I can’t watch that happen again. If you are not with us, stay behind and do what you will.”

Drustan smiled. “That, my fellow Shifters, is an indication of who you are siding with. You will not receive such honesty or concern from the Shadow. Now, make your choice. I am shifting back into the form I arrived in, for transportation and nothing more.” He looked around to ensure the message was received—this shift was nonthreatening.

For a moment, nobody moved, and Kiora’s heart sank. They would be going home empty-handed.

There was a shuffle further down the beach and a young male Shifter maneuvered his way through the group, his head held high. The others turned to watch as he passed.

“Killian, no. I forbid it!” The Shifter who had been arguing with them from the beginning grabbed him.

Kilian jerked his shoulder free. “You forbid it, Father?” He scoffed. “I make my own choices, and I choose to side with her.” He jerked his head toward Kiora.

“No, you won’t,” the man seethed. “The rebels have never treated us as anything but slaves—she is no different! You are too young to understand—”

A woman stepped up, interrupting the two. “Vardon, he is of age,” she said firmly. “Killian may choose.”

Vardon glared at her, the tendons in his jaw and neck tightening.

“
Everyone
has treated us as slaves,” Killian said, speaking loud enough that the whole group could hear. “Whether it be the Shadow or Lomay, it has never mattered. We have been used as tools and pawns, and I am finished with it. I choose to side with the first person who has ever given us a choice.”

“You will never survive,” Vardon said. “Not against the Shadow.”

Killian inclined his chin. “If I die, at least I did so on my own terms.” He turned away from his father and bowed to Kiora, then moved toward Drustan.

What Killian said flowed through the area like a fresh breeze, softening others.

A few more Shifters stepped forward under the rage-filled watch of Vardon and those who sided with him. The atmosphere was charged, rife with tension, and rising.

Emane slid up next to Kiora. “Sword,” he murmured in her ear as he scanned the Shifters for possible threats. Kiora summoned his sword into his hand and Emane strapped the sheath around his waist.

The beach was filled with murmuring as more made their choices. As each Shifter walked forward, Kiora could see Vardon holding himself back from physically restraining them. Then the female Shifter who had stood next to Vardon advanced.

“Erina! You are my wife!” Vardon called to her. His voice wavered, although whether in rage or desperation, Kiora couldn’t tell.

Erina stopped and slowly turned. “I was your wife, Vardon. But I don’t know who you are anymore.” Vardon shook his head, his mouth opening before Erina cut him off. “Your son knows who the Solus is. I know, and so do you.” She jabbed a finger at him. “We knew she was the Solus from the second she stepped into that canyon. But you have allowed anger and hate to corrupt everything about you, and I will no longer be a part of it. I am going with our son.” She held Vardon’s gaze for a moment before turning into a bug and flying to join Killian on Drustan’s back.

Vardon’s hands clenched in and out of fists. Then he snapped. He leaned down, picked up a large boulder, and with a bellow, heaved it toward Kiora.

Kiora twisted. The rock was too close—she wouldn’t get her shield out in time. She sent out a wide burst of magic. It shattered the boulder, and bits of dust and rock sprayed in every direction.

Emane rushed forward. He slammed into Vardon and laid him out flat on his back. Wrenching the sword from his sheath, he pressed the point into Vardon’s neck.

The Shifter glared up at Emane, chest heaving.

“Never again,” Emane growled. “The next time you try anything like that, I will lead with my sword.” He pressed the tip in further. A bead of blood appeared.

Two male Shifters stepped forward in Vardon’s defense, their hands morphing into claws. But Drustan, already in Dragon form, held up his own claws. “I would not try that if I were you.”

“Enough!” Kiora shouted. “I will
not
do this. I have made my offer. Those who wish to stay with Vardon may do so. Those who are coming with me—we are leaving now. Change into something small and wait on Drustan. I have not come to battle.”

Emane stepped back, keeping his sword out. Vardon pushed to his feet, his eyes not leaving Emane as he rubbed at his throat, smearing blood.

More Shifters came, each looking nervously back at those who had their feet firmly planted in the sand. It appeared that all had chosen sides when three Shifters suddenly stepped forward, stopping near Vardon. A look passed between them that Kiora did not understand, but immediately made her uneasy. The three then walked to her, giving a slight bow before shifting into birds and joining the rest.

Kiora frowned, watching the three birds.

Emane scowled as he backed away from Vardon. Leaning over to Kiora, he whispered, “What was that?”

“I don’t know.”

Around sixty bugs and small birds were ready to be transported back to camp. The rest stood on the beach, their bodies as tense as springs that had been stretched to their limit. Kiora knew the only thing preventing them from attacking was the influence of the bracelets.

“Anyone else?” Drustan asked. “Last chance.” When nobody moved, Drustan gave Emane and Kiora his tail and lifted them up.

The sun gave one last flash of light and disappeared behind the horizon.

Vardon stepped forward. “I knew it! You had no intention of removing the bracelets.”

Kiora looked down at him. Sorrow filled her at their inability to see her for what she truly was. “If I wanted you for slaves, I could have taken you without resistance. The bracelets would have ensured your loyal service to me, just as they did to Lomay.” She unsheathed the talisman. “Drustan, take us up a little.”

Drustan leaned back on his hind legs, beating his wings to push them into the air. Each beat sent sand flying into the eyes of the Shifters on the beach. They turned away, bringing their arms across their faces.

Kiora repeated the complicated series of incantations Lomay had left for her.
Clicks
resounded as the bracelets snapped open and fell to the sand. The Shifters who had chosen to come with her cried out in delight at receiving their promised freedom. The Shifters below rubbed their wrists in muted surprise.