Wing Magic
Page 17
Moments ticked by as my panic rose and rose and rose. I didn’t know how long the bees could shield me and I feared that the moment they left, my enemies would close that last step and strike. Perhaps they should. Perhaps I deserved it – I, who had been fomenting a rebellion that I now condemned. I, who had kept Juste Montpetit alive when he deserved to die a thousand times and I’d done it just to save myself and my kin. I, who had put Osprey in this terrible situation where his heart broke again and again and my attempts to save him only mired him more.
He didn’t deserve to die.
And so, I hoped that the shield would hold and I closed my eyes and imagined soaring up into the velvet embrace of the sky, feeling the wind of freedom brushing my cheeks and stroking my hair, sweeping up through filmy clouds and away into the tangled night to the north of Glorious Ingvar. I imagined the lights of the city fading into the distance and the screams and cries of the dead and dying washed away as my lips formed the familiar prayer.
Flight of wind protect us, mercy of the skies fly over us, give us peace and protection, let us soar from this terror on the wings of eagles.
The mind is a powerful thing. Mine nearly convinced me that I really had been taken away. That I really was sweeping through the air with Osprey in my arms. I didn’t want to open my eyes and see that it wasn’t true, but eventually, the strength of my bees began to fade.
First, their hum faded, no longer filling every inch of me. And after the strength of their buzz, everything else seemed quiet.
Then, I felt my feet on the ground again.
The bees’ stings ceased, and their tiny bodies stopped ricocheting into mine.
I knew I needed to open my eyes. I knew I needed to accept that my time had now come. I’d played every card I had and none had changed my hand.
But I didn’t want to. I just wanted one more heartbeat with Osprey in my arms, his warm breath gusting against my cheek from where I cradled his head, his presence comforting even as I worried about whether he’d ever open those eyes again. One moment followed another and then another.
Eventually, I sighed. I could not stay here forever.
I opened my eyes.
And gasped.
We were on the edge of a farm field where planted rows met the tangle of willows edging the turned earth. The Forbidding was cleared well back to allow crops to grow. In the distance, the city of Glorious Ingvar burned like a forge, the fires there so intense that they lit the field, the surrounding forest, and the Forbidding in a haze of orange.
Beside me, Osprey lay, his long lashes black against his dark skin, his lips parted in a way that made him look more vulnerable, younger. I rested a hand on his warm chest, breathing a sigh of relief when it moved upward as he sucked in a breath.
Tears of relief stung my eyes. But how was it possible? My bees couldn’t have flown us both here, could they? Only the most powerful of manifestations could bear two people at once. And even then, the magic would need guidance. And yet here we were.
My hands burned hot and I lifted my palms to see that they glowed a faint golden color, each one marked with a small image of a bee at the center of it. It was the marks that were glowing. I gasped, utterly astonished, and then another light flared in the night and my breath froze in my chest.
Above Glorious Ingvar, bright spirit birds were materializing, popping into existence like reverse soap-bubbles. They paused a moment, hovering over the city, and then began to fly, in one formation, aimed straight toward us.
I stumbled to my feet, looking around me for anything that might help me when they arrived, but the field was bare and there were no buildings or roads in sight.
I closed my eyes and summoned my bees.
There wasn’t even a buzz. Not even the tiny hum of frustration that I usually felt.
My mouth went dry as our fate flew toward us.
***
Read the next part of Aella’s story in SWARM MAGIC.
Behind the Scenes:
USA Today bestselling author, Sarah K. L. Wilson loves spinning a yarn and if it paints a magical new world, twists something old into something reborn, or makes your heart pound with excitement ... all the better. Sarah hails from the rocky Canadian Shield in Northern Ontario – learning patience and tenacity from the long months of icy cold – where she lives with her husband and two small boys. You might find her building fires in her woodstove and wishing she had a dragon handy to light them for her
Sarah would like to thank Barbara, Melissa and Eugenia for their incredible work in beta reading and proofreading this book. Without their big hearts and passion for stories, this book would not be the same.
Sarah has the deepest regard for the talent of her phenomenal artist Luciano Fleitas who created the gorgeous cover art that accompanies this book. Without his work, it would be so much harder to show off this story the way it deserves. She also wants to thank her editor, Melissa, who tried her best to make this book better. Any errors remaining are all Sarah’s.
Thanks also to the Noble Order of Female Fantasy Authors who keep me sane – sort of. And for my beloved husband, Cale and sons Neville and Leif who are endlessly patient as I talk to them about bookish passions.
Visit my website for more information:
www.sarahklwilson.com