by L. R. W. Lee
The trek to The Canyon and across it would be long—a good four or five moons I estimated, if all went well. I chafed at my helplessness to save those in need sooner. Was there a way to speed our journey? My mind worked through the path we would take—we’d travel out of Astana, dip south to skirt the mountains, then cut across parts of Wood and Terra, finally reaching the sea. From there we’d need to hire a boatman, if we could find one who would risk Sonmel as a destination.
Five moons. My gut churned. It would take too long. What would speed our travel? My mind whirred. Ali had told me she used to fly. I still couldn’t picture her with wings. If only we could fly now. The notion flitted about my mind.
“Of course!” My thoughts crossed T’s and dotted I’s. We might just be able to.
But just as quickly as hope burst forth, unease galloped on its heels. If we succeeded in flying, I’d have to give up Alshain. I exhaled sharply. Why was he even a consideration? What was Kennan’s life worth? Surely my sibling came before my horse.
I'd had Alshain since I was seven. He'd been with me through every trial since. He'd listened as I poured out my angst over Rasa, knickered in understanding as I told him about Father’s berating me when my powers dallied to manifest, and lent an ear when Dierna did what she’d done. He’d carried me into battle and back. He was even the inspiration for some of my writing. He’d been a rock in my often tumultuous world. Beside my brother, he was the only one I trusted with my life. Yes, Kennan had his books, paints, and music to work out the overflow of angst we’d endured. I had Alshain and my writing. I hadn’t fully understood the power in a name when I’d named him—Alshain, the second brightest star in the Aquilla constellation, it’s brilliance behind only that of Altair, after which our family took its name—but he had become that and more, to me at least.
Ali tilted her head.
“It would take a lot less time if we flew.” The idea was out before I gave myself time to reconsider.
Ali drew a hand to her chest. “Fly? We could fly? I could fly again? You know how?” Her violet eyes filled with hope.
“No. But it can’t be much different than innovating anything, and it seems like it would be a useful skill to learn.” Bathing her after a hard sun of training immediately came to mind, but I wasn’t going to offer that up as an example. I’d not known how to manipulate my Air and Water magics for such a purpose prior to that, but I’d managed. It just took creativity.
“Have you known anyone with Air magic who could fly?”
“No, but there’s never been another sorcerer as powerful as me.” I forced a throaty laugh as I banished thoughts of Alshain. “I believe that our abilities are limited only by our imaginations.”
Ali forced a chuckle, covering a sob of joy. “Oh, thou powerful one, wilt thou bestow upon this humble maiden your secrets of flight?” She swiped at a tear.
I could only imagine what it had been like to lose her wings after flying her entire life, to suddenly not be able to when she’d fled Dream. While she’d never confided in me her feelings, the loss had to have been traumatic.
She’d endured that loss to come to me. The traitorous thought romped about and taunted me. No, I insisted, actions spoke louder than words. That kiss had certainly been action. I wasn’t the easiest person to be around, and her feelings for me had cooled after getting to know me better. It had to be that. Although, from everything she’d told me, she’d known me intimately before coming. My blasted mind. I forced it to stop these gyrations. Ali’s actions were inexplicable, pure and simple. I would not entertain the stray notions anymore. Period.
“We’ll learn to fly together,” I said gently.
“Fair enough.” She cleared her throat.
And so after breakfast, we cleared a large patch of ground, away from the fire, and made our first attempt at flight. It was a good thing Ali had been practicing nuancing her power. She’d need it.
“Did you fly like a bird, belly down?” I asked. I wouldn’t assume.
Ali laughed. “Yes, silly. How else would one fly with wings the size I had?” Her smile faded.
“Then move a step further away so we don’t touch. We’ll probably need to stretch our arms wide to stabilize us.”
Ali did so, and we extended our arms.
“We’ll need to conjure a cloud of air to float on. It shouldn’t be much different than when you buffered your fall from Fiona. Can you do that?” I asked as I gathered a cushion of air before me.
“I’ll try.” Ali furrowed her brow in concentration then opened a palm to the clearing. “Nuance it,” she mumbled to herself.
Leaves swirled before her. She waved her arm about as if building a large pillow. “Okay, I think I have it,” she reported several heartbeats later.
I couldn’t tell; I couldn’t see it. It was air. I hoped she was right.
“Lay forward.” I was guessing, but it seemed the next logical step. I leaned and felt my winds catch me.
“Ow!” Ali cried out, tumbling. She nearly planted her face in the ground and came up fuming.
I suppressed a laugh as I looked on. Sprawled across my cushion as I was, there was nothing I could have done to save her. “Try it again,” I encouraged, brushing a hint of power over my cushion to keep myself afloat.
Ali glared at me before picking herself up, dusting off her leathers, and returning from whence she’d fallen.
I kept our bond closed. I didn’t need to hear her thoughts. I could guess her sentiments.
Ali made a second attempt. At least she rolled before hitting the ground this time, but her reaction was much the same. It was clear she longed to return to the skies. I hoped she didn’t defeat herself with frustration.
Standing again, she huffed, “It’s like I can’t hold my winds stiff. They collapse just as I need them.” Determination shone in her eyes. She would not be thwarted by the damn ground.
Several heartbeats later, she sighed, then shook her head as if considering. A mumble followed, but I couldn’t make out what. She finally turned and in a pleading voice asked, “Would you let me see through your eyes and experience how you’re doing it?”
I caught her look. She wanted me to open my side of our bond. While I’d mastered a full block of our connection, I hadn’t yet figured out how to open just a portion. How badly did I want to rescue Kennan?
Still bolstered by his wind cushion, Kovis took a deep breath, as if worried about all I might see, then nodded.
I celebrated silently. He was willing to make it easier and faster for me to learn. But I found it hard to still my mind—a collage of hopes and excitement flooded it. To fly again. Stifling my glee wasn’t easy.
At length, I took a deep breath and focused, desiring with every fiber of my being to join Kovis’s mind. I longed to see and feel what he was doing to make his winds obey. A heartbeat later, I felt the usual disorientation as I viewed the world through two sets of eyes.
I felt him shift, desperately wanting to restore the block to our connection. He was like a scared creature longing to hide. He moved again, and I decided I’d better hurry.
I tried to focus on his thoughts as he maintained his wind cushion, but I couldn’t help seeing more. Images flew by as his imagination dredged up Kennan leaning down, meeting my lips, then pressing the kiss further, taking my mouth with his tongue while I leaned in, an eager participant. While Kennan and I had been sitting, not standing when it happened, Kovis’s mind hadn’t missed the mark by much. I winced. Is this what he saw every time he looked at me?
I half expected to see snippets of Dierna in bed with his guard next, but memories of his father molesting Rasa, who Kovis loved like himself, stampeded after. In the blink of an eye, his father transformed into my likeness and Rasa into Kovis. I nearly gasped. In his mind, I’d raped him.
The images dissolved as quickly as they’d come. It seemed Kovis was figuring out how to shield them even with me in his head. He replaced them with benign images of our travels. But I couldn’t
unsee. A queasy feeling beset my stomach. Clearly, he hadn’t wanted me to view them, so I couldn’t say anything, but I now understood.
I attempted to refocus on what I’d come to learn. Kovis, can you start over so I can hear everything you think about to make it work?
He stood up and dismissed his air cushion, then began again. He envisioned a navy, cloth pillow, a ball of sorts, with the empire’s eagle insignia—I chuckled, of course it would have that on it—that rose to his waist. It became invisible as he directed air magic to replace the cloth, then leaned forward. Unsurprisingly, it held him.
You picture a solid object first, I observed.
Of course, how else would you get it to support you? His tone came out clipped, and he shifted again.
I felt like a fool. Of course. I knew I had to envision what I wanted. I hadn’t started with imagining something firm, but rather a cloud of sorts. I’d gotten exactly what I’d pictured.
He released a heavy breath that lingered in the crisp air.
I wouldn’t dally. Kovis clearly didn’t want me here. I willed my mind to return to my own body. Then I put into practice what I’d discovered. When I succeeded, I didn’t pat myself on the back. Not after what I’d seen.
Neither of us were in a mood to practice more after that, so we packed up camp and headed out. We exchanged hardly a word. Not surprisingly, our bond was again deathly silent.
The next morning we agreed to practice again. I’d been anxious to, Kovis not so much despite knowing it would get us to Dream that much faster. I longed to feel the breeze in my hair as I soared over the land again. Nothing else compared. I’d missed that freedom more than I’d realized, and now that the possibility stared me in the face, I couldn’t master it fast enough.
We separated, and I succeeded in constructing a pillow of Air magic that supported me, the first time. Kovis withheld comment. His mood hadn’t improved since last sun, and I wondered if he knew what I’d seen and it was making him more distant.
I listed left and thrust my arms wide to steady myself—it felt so natural. I flattened out. Perhaps my former skill would come in handy despite not having wings to buoy me on the breeze.
“We need to imagine our cushion expanding, having it raise us higher,” Kovis said a while later, his voice was flat.
And so began the next series of trials and errors.
I pictured the ball of air expanding as my magic infused it with more and more power. I concentrated so hard that I’d lifted myself to my height above the ground before I realized it. My shock burst my control of the magic and I plummeted. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the quickness of mind to cushion my fall, and I met the unforgiving ground with a thud. I’d have a nasty bruise down my side, I could already feel it.
Concern laced Kovis’s face, but he didn’t say anything. I took a deep breath, buried my upset, and stood. I’d endured worse while training and competing in The Ninety-Eight. He hadn’t yet fallen. He soon floated twice his height above the clearing, bobbing and shifting, then stabilized himself with outstretched arms.
Our winds whipped about the campsite, stoking the fire. The flames grew higher and higher the longer we practiced. They nearly licked the trees when Kovis landed and doused it with his Water magic.
By the time the sun had climbed to half its peak, I could reliably hover twice my height. I thrilled. I was ready to go higher, but Kovis called a halt.
“We’ve done well, but we need to keep moving. Let’s pack up.” His words held no emotion, no celebration, nothing.
I sighed. Was this all my doing? Had breaching his barrier caused this? He’d taken to talking to and spending more time with Alshain. It seemed he was retreating into himself, and I had no idea what to do. He didn’t want to talk, he’d made that abundantly clear.
A sennight later, we again practiced as soon as we’d finished breakfast. A light dusting of fluffy snow covered the ground as the sun rose. It filled the air as our winds stirred it and became nearly blinding until we rose above the trees, which I could now do. I’d taken to layering both my linen and woolen braises under my leathers to keep warm as I rose ever higher, and they made it difficult to bend, but I persevered. The cold reminded me of flying back home—the heights we flew at made my nose and fingers numb.
Kovis was double the height I flew at, and he’d taken to maneuvering about, turning and diving, rising and spinning. He was doing it; he was flying. I could only hover, but I would master this. I was so very close. I could taste it.
“Ali, rise higher and start directing yourself.” It came out gruff and a command. I gave him a long look. Could he not see how hard I tried? I huffed. He was in no mood to argue with, so I bit my tongue and did as he bid.
I could reliably steer myself and dive a sennight later. Kovis was growing increasingly antsy at the length of our journey. We still rode in Vaduz province, and while we’d avoided all towns and villages so our chance of discovery was minimal, he worried about Kennan and exposure in the cold temperatures. We needed to move faster.
“We find the nearest village, release the horses, and fly from there,” he declared after breakfast.
I gave him a long look. “Are you sure?”
“We’re ready.” There was no joy in his voice.
“I’ll put the fire out,” I offered.
He nodded, then turned and took a long look at his mount.
Alshain and Fiona were focused on the ground, brushing snow aside with their lips to nibble what little scrub they could find.
With a heavy sigh, he trudged over to them and began talking quietly to Alshain while stroking his onyx neck. The horse brought his head up. Several heartbeats later, Kovis rested his brow against the stallion’s neck and his open palm stilled. Kovis’s body trembled.
Was he crying? He’d never mentioned any feelings for his stallion, and I hadn’t seen any of his memories allude to it, although it certainly made sense. They’d been together for most of Kovis’s life. I busied myself with packing up. I’d give him as much time as he needed.
At length, Kovis inhaled deeply and swiped his arm across his eyes. He patted his stallion’s neck once more, then moved on to brush snow off the blanket covering Alshain’s back and saddled him. He repeated the process with Fiona, but there was no emotion.
Kovis’s eyes were red as he helped me up into my saddle.
I wanted to tell him I was here if he wanted to talk, but I held back. I wished he’d open our bond.
We moved out into the woods. The tops of the trees were pretty with snow coating their branches. It looked like a baker had frosted them all with white icing. Not much snow had made it to the forest floor, but it seemed all life had gone into hiding. Over the past couple moons, we’d noticed that there were fewer and fewer animals about, and hunting had become more of a challenge. Of late, even spotting an Axis, a quick, four-hoofed animal, had become rare. Even the birds had left. Only the sounds of our mounts negotiating the path met my ears.
“If I’ve judged correctly, we’re not far from the town of Croft,” Kovis said over his shoulder a while later. It was the first thing he’d said since we broke camp. “We’ll approach, find a suitable stable, and.…” He let the words hang.
As the sun reached its peak, it became clear he had been correct about our location. The forest thinned, and a smattering of wattle and daub structures appeared, nestled amongst the trees. Unlike Sanis, these looked in fair repair, and it gave me a good feeling that we’d find a suitable place to shelter our mounts, a place where they’d be cared for.
I moved forward and rode beside Kovis as we passed several homesteads. I watched as he scanned each one we approached. What he looked for, I couldn’t tell, but it was clear he had some criteria in mind for he dismissed the fifth, then sixth, then the seventh, before pulling Alshain to a halt at the tree line near the eighth.
The barn stood tall and proud beside a modest home. Unlike most of its neighbors, the daub was fully covered by white-painted wattle. No crack
s or defects marred the outside of either structure between the dark timbers of the latticework. It had to be the home of a wealthier farmer.
Kovis patted Alshain’s neck before dismounting and helping me off Fiona. He removed Fiona’s saddle then set it near the foot of the tree I stood by.
“These saddles are too fine a quality to be from these parts. We’ll leave them here,” he explained.
I rummaged through my saddlebag and pulled out what I could carry and put it in the large pockets of my cloak. It wasn’t much. Our blankets wouldn’t make the trip, not with their weight. If it got too cold, Kovis would have to give up his distance from me and share my body heat—I certainly wouldn’t complain. Perhaps it would get him past our breakdown. But even as I thought it, my gut told me no. I stared at the sapphire on my finger. One could always hope.
I looked up to see that Kovis had leaned Alshain’s saddle against another tree and was removing a medallion, of the altairn, from the back of the seat. There were two pendants, one on either side, that adorned only the saddles of the royal family. Good idea. Father didn’t need to know we’d been here.
Kovis moved on to do the same with Alshain’s bridle. Medallions in hand, he studied them briefly, then closed his hand around them. He closed his eyes. Three, four, five heartbeats expired before he slipped them into a hidden pocket of his leathers.
“Nothing I can do about your shoes, boy,” Kovis said. He peered into one of his stallion’s big, brown eyes. “We’ll just hope they don’t look, at least not right away. So don’t get a pebble stuck in your hoof anytime soon, okay?”
“What’s on his shoes?” I asked.
Kovis startled, clearly lost in the moment. “Alshain’s shoes have an altairn engraved on them. They’ll know who he belongs to. With dissent brewing, I just hope.…” He shook his head but didn’t turn.
I took a step closer. “Kovis, I’m here if you want to talk about… him, this, anything.” I added an unspoken “us.”
He bobbed his head twice but didn’t reply.