Wings of Tavea (4 page)

Relaying the vision to Drustan, Kiora said, “I don’t understand.”

Drustan ran his hand through his black hair, the red streak fanning backwards. “It sounds like something didn’t want you to see what happened.”

“How would it know I was looking?” Kiora objected.

“Not necessarily you—anyone.” Drustan paced back and forth now, as agitated as Kiora had ever seen him.” There is magic that can block visions.”

Kiora stilled, dread creeping in again. “Like the story Epona told me,” she recalled, “about the one who stole the lights.”

“Yes, though I doubt anything that powerful would be interested in Emane,” he answered, still marching back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. “The only other thing I know of with that ability is an Illusionist.”

“A what?”

Drustan waved her off. “I can explain what I know on the way. Do you think you could get me close to where Emane disappeared in the vision?”

Kiora pushed herself to her feet. “I can try.” She went from worried to angry as she glanced over at Emane’s empty bedroll. “I cannot
believe
he just left.”

“You and I both.” Drustan gritted his teeth. “We can yell at him when we find him.”

Choosing to leave the horses behind, they headed out to retrace as much of Emane’s journey as they could. Not sensing any dangerous threads they decided against the use of a bubble. If Kiora used up all her magic trying to find Emane, she wouldn’t have anything left to defend herself with.

“Illusionists are dangerous and terrifying if you don’t know what you’re dealing with. At first glance you’ll think it’s a Shapeshifter.”

“They can change their shapes?” Kiora asked while seeking the small clearing she’d seen in her vision.

“No, it only looks that way.” Drustan pushed an overhanging tree branch out of the way. “Hence the name, Illusionists. They can make you see whatever they want you to.” Drustan waited until Kiora was ahead of him before letting the branch snap back. “But,” he said over his shoulder, “if they can get you to
believe
what you are seeing, the illusion becomes solid enough to affect you. That’s where the danger comes in.”

Finding something that looked familiar, Kiora sighed in relief. “This way,” she said, turning right. “So if you don’t believe what you’re seeing they’re harmless. But if you do believe it, then they can hurt you?”

“Yes. Let’s say, for example, it turned into a dragon. If you listen only to the thread, and
know
that what you’re seeing is nothing but an illusion, you could walk right though it. But if the Illusionist can make you ignore the thread and believe what you’re seeing, the illusion becomes solid.”

Kiora turned next at a broken-down pine whose trunk poked up at an odd angle. She asked, “If it turned into a dragon, could it blow fire?”

“If you were convinced enough, I think so. Even after you get past the illusion, you must be careful. They are masters of potions.” Drustan shook his head. “They have a potion for anything you can imagine.”

“Potions . . . ” Kiora trailed off, her pace slowing. “In my vision it looked like Emane’s mouth was forced open. He struggled, like he didn’t want to swallow.”

Drustan growled. “Not good. It could’ve given him any number of things.”

“I don’t understand. Why would an Illusionist want Emane?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Drustan said, grabbing her arm to remind her they needed to keep moving. “They are an interesting species and have worked for a number of different magical groups through the years. I have been gone for so long. They could be working for anyone right now.”

Kiora jumped over a fallen log, breathing hard from the pace. “They
work
for others?” she asked. This new world was not treating them favorably thus far. First the Aktoowa, now the Illusionist, and they hadn’t even been here twenty-four hours.

“Of course,” Drustan said. “This world functions just as yours did. Your village had bakers and metal smiths, butchers and wood workers. We have our jobs here as well. Shapeshifters, for example, are craftsmen. The Illusionists are usually hired, by those who can afford it, for any number of jobs.”

Kiora jerked to a stop as she entered the area she’d seen Emane chase the furry animal into. “This is it.”

Drustan looked around and knelt next to a tree. “He was here,” he said, holding up Emane’s sword. “Can you feel anything?”

“What am I looking for?”

“Any threads or magical residue. Illusionists’ threads are too faint for me to feel unless they are very close. But you might be able to.”

Kiora walked around the area, trying to feel anything that would help. She stopped where the Illusionist had picked up Emane. There was something . . . faint. Very faint. And it seemed to be fading as she stood there. “I can feel it.”

“Good,” Drustan said, setting Emane’s sword down. “You can summon the sword later. For now, follow what you’re feeling,”

Kiora focused all her energy into tracking the Illusionist. “Why can’t I feel Emane’s thread?” she asked, moving as quickly as she dared.

“Illusionists can mask the threads of others.”

“But not their own? That seems—” Kiora stopped abruptly. “I lost it.” She ran forward, whirling around. “I lost it!”

“Kiora,” Drustan said firmly, “calm down. Getting upset will not help find Emane. Relax. Search.”

She took a deep breath. “If I lose him …”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her gaze back to his eyes. “I know. We will not lose him. Calm down and find it.”

“All right.” She closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose, her fingers anxiously pulling at the hem of her shirt. She reached out again in all directions. There was nothing. “Drustan—” A tear dripped down Kiora’s cheek. She hastily brushed it away. “I can’t find it. He’s gone.”

Drustan’s eyes darted around, his eyebrows pulled together in thought. “It must have realized we were following it.”

“Can it bubble?”

“Not exactly, but as I said, they are a master of potions.” Drustan began to morph without warning. Hair grew all over his body, his nose elongating. His body bent forward until he stood on all fours.

Kiora’s heart rose in her throat despite knowing full well it was Drustan. “Was that really necessary?”

“I’m sorry. The Hounds have the best sense of smell of any creature I’ve found.”

The Shifter-Hound sniffed the ground, following the scent trail back the way they had just been. “Bubble us, please,” Drustan said. “We need the Illusionist to think it has thrown us off the trail.”

Kiora bubbled herself and the Shifter-Hound as they tracked the Illusionist’s scent through the forest. Nearly an hour later Drustan stopped in front of a large, gnarly pine tree, his nose moving up and down its bark. Stepping back, he morphed into the human form with the pointed ears. Why did he always revert to that form? Kiora kept forgetting to ask him.

“Why are we stopping?” Kiora asked.

“Because we have found them,” he announced, looking rather pleased with himself. “Rather clever potion.” Motioning in front of them, Drustan said, “This tree is not a tree.” Turning back to Kiora, Drustan grew serious. “Before you drop this bubble, I need to know you’re ready.”

She nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Don’t forget,” he stressed. “No matter what you see, it is
not real.
An Illusionist quite literally feeds off your belief. You are the only one with the power to make what it shows you real.”

“I understand.”

“All right then, drop the bubble.”

Kiora dropped the bubble, expecting something dramatic to occur. Nothing happened. The tree was still a tree.

Kiora looked from the tree to Drustan and back again. “Are you sure this is it?” she asked.

“I’m sure,” Drustan said. “You have to tell it that you know what it is. Then we will have to take Emane. It will not release him freely.”

Kiora felt ridiculous as she stepped towards the tree. “I know what you are, and I know you have Emane. Let him go.”

The tree shuddered and began to change. For a second she thought she saw Emane’s face in there. Then he was gone. The tree didn’t shift as Drustan did. She would have been prepared for that. Instead the branches popped into a black swirling cloud, whipping and whirling around her. Kiora took a startled step backwards. The cloud collapsed in on itself, smaller and smaller. Suddenly it exploded into an Aktoowa, three times the size of the one they had already met. Kiora screamed, stumbling back. The bird screeched, drowning out whatever it was that Drustan shouted. Taking advantage of Kiora’s fear, the bird quickly nipped her arm, its sharp beak drawing blood.

She looked down at her arm in shock. Maybe Drustan was wrong. Maybe this really was a Shapeshifter. The Aktoowa moved towards her again and Kiora reacted, throwing a bolt of magic. She sent the bird flying into a tree.

“Kiora! It has Emane,” Drustan shouted. “Stop. It’s not real, Kiora, it’s not real.” Drustan tried to run to her, but the Aktoowa had already gained its footing and was coming at her again.

Kiora couldn’t hit it with magic or she would hit Emane. She had to convince herself to stop believing what she was seeing. The bird lunged at her again. Despite her best effort not to, she jumped back in fear, and again the bird drew blood. Kiora gasped in pain, her hand flying to her new injury.

Drustan cursed loudly before morphing into an Aktoowa of matching size. He jumped between Kiora and the Illusionist, biting at it.

“I can not defeat this by myself,” Drustan yelled between attacks. “As long as you believe what you are seeing it will get stronger.”

Easier said than done. She dropped her face into her hands. Nothing about this animal seemed like an illusion. When Drustan clipped the Aktoowa with the back of his wing she heard the collision. And her arm was still bleeding in two places. She held her head, trying to force her brain to ignore the throbbing in her arm. “It’s not real, it’s not real.” Kiora repeated the mantra over and over to herself. But she could still hear the battle raging, undoing any progress she thought she had made.

“Kiora, you had better figure this out,” Drustan yelled at her. “Or I am gong to accidentally kill Emane.”

“It’s not real. It’s not real,” Kiora repeated even louder, wrapping her arms around her head.

“Oh, that is
enough
,” Drustan bellowed.

Kiora peeked out to watch Drustan morphing into a very large, very thick man. The Giant grabbed the Aktoowa and pulled it down to the ground with a thud that shook the dirt beneath her feet. Wrapping his arms and legs around the bird, Drustan secured it. The Aktoowa kicked and flayed its legs, sharp claws flashing dangerously in Kiora’s direction.

“Come on, Kiora,” Drustan yelled at her as he struggled against the Aktoowa. “The only way it is going to give Emane back is if you take him.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Kiora yelled in frustration, dropping her arms to her sides. “I don’t even know where he is.”

“Kiora—” Drustan grunted. “Listen to me carefully. You need to reach in and take Emane’s hand. He is in here somewhere.”

“Reach in?” she squeaked. “You mean, in its mouth?”

“No!” The bird thrashed and Drustan almost lost his grip. He wrapped his arms back around it, clasping his hands together over its chest. “In the middle.”

Kiora walked hesitantly over to the Aktoowa. She could hear the rustle of the feathers under Drustan’s grasp and its ragged breathing through the sharp beak. Kiora could still feel where that beak had opened her skin. Closing her eyes, Kiora shoved her fist into its chest. It thudded as it connected with the bird, who shrieked in response.

Drustan was livid. “Damn it, Kiora,” he yelled over the Aktoowa’s shoulder. “There is no faking this! This is not real—the only thing making it real is
you
. Save your Protector or we might as well go home. If you can’t handle an Illusionist, there is nothing in this land you can handle.”

His words stung and Kiora blinked back tears, swallowing the lump in her throat. She had to do this. Gritting her teeth she held out her hand to the bird. “This is not real, this is not real,” she muttered again hoping this time she would believe it. Kiora’s eyes fluttered open to see the Aktoowa’s beak around her arm preparing to bite. Her eyes narrowed. She had to get Emane back. “This is not—”

The bird clamped down, its beak sliding harmlessly through her arm, just like an illusion. “Real!” she exclaimed, shoving her hand through its stomach. There was nothing but open air behind it. The creature screamed as Kiora groped around for something solid. She felt a hand and then an arm. Grabbing it, she jerked with all her might, pulling Emane out of the creature’s grasp. Dead weight slammed into Kiora. She fell to the ground, an unconscious Emane on top of her. Grunting, she rolled him to the side.

“Emane, wake up.” She patted his cheek. No response. His eyes were closed, lips slightly parted as if he were fast asleep. Kiora looked over to Drustan who was holding one of the ugliest things she had ever seen. “He won’t wake up,” she yelled.

Drustan held a small black being that had multiple legs and arms, a short torso, and a head much too big for its body. Its skin was shiny black like eel’s skin. It had long, stringy black hair and beady black eyes that flitted nervously between its captors.

“What is it trying to be?” Kiora asked, curling up her nose.

“Nothing. This is what it really looks like. Now,” Drustan said, shaking the ugly thing roughly. “What do we need to wake our friend?”

“Don’t know, don’t know,” it cackled.

Drustan squeezed his Giant’s arms tighter and the Illusionist began to choke. “I know you drugged him,” Drustan growled. “Now tell me how to fix him and I will let you live.”

Kiora wanted to free the creature from Drustan’s grasp, but Emane’s life depended on it talking.

“But he’s so pretty, so pretty,” the Illusionist said through short breaths. “Green snake-magic . . . they like. They liiiiiike,” it mourned.

Drustan’s brow furrowed and he released some of the pressure. “Who’s they?”

“The market, the market,” it said excitedly, trying to twist its body around to look at its captor. Drustan tightened his grip to keep the creature still. “They like new things—new things—good things. Good things is rare,” the creature rambled. “Very, very rare.”