Turstan bellowed a loud screech and swung his blade. He was no match to his opponent.
The warrior dressed in flight armor was quicker…faster than the siblings’ protector. Turstan fell to one knee, blocking a slice of the Sordarin steel from his opponent. Pivoting, the Sordarin bore down with his weapon toward Turstan’s back.
When Sareta opened her mouth to scream again, Kela blasted her hand, wiping out the warriors charging her and barreling over both Turstan and his assailant. Crawling to his feet, the fallen Sordarin reached for his sword.
Kela shot her hand again. The sword broke into pieces.
The warrior’s eyes flared at Kela, giving her a measured look. Kela returned his cold, hard glare. For a moment, neither of them moved.
“Devil be hanged! She’s a Euchoun!” He cursed loudly. Taking a step back, he pointed behind Kela. “Cono, grab her arms!”
Kela whirled, but too late. Strong hands clasped hold of her and brought her arms roughly down to her side. Struggling fiercely did little to loosen his grasp.
Dark shadows of the night cast an eerie glow on the Sordarins. Trying vainly to wrench herself free, Kela surveyed the scene. Her family had been captured. Turstan was sprawled on the ground before a crying Sareta, who clung to a weeping Guilda.
Falco…her brave, courageous brother…had been disarmed. He stood defiantly between four large Sordarins. Panic seized Kela. Behind Falco stalked a lethal predator. Reflected off the moonlight, Kela saw a blade high in the air aimed at her brother’s back.
Lunging forward, her only thought was protecting her own. The Sordarin’s grip tightened, pulling her back against his armored chest.
A sudden surge of power swept through her like nothing Kela had ever felt. Streams of light exploded from her eyes, blasting with such force that she and the Sordarin who held her were was thrown backwards.
Kela was free! Crawling to her feet, she stood, but could not move.
All around her looked a battlefield. Their home was in ashes. Debris floated downward from the sky covering the Sordarins who lay littered on the ground.
Her family…her precious family…was safe. Thank the Great One!
“By Gawds! Look at the damage you have done to those who came to rescue you!”
Stunned, Kela stared at the young dark warrior, who had held her. Tall, broad wings flexed to ensure they still worked. Dark bold eyes met hers. He looked disheveled with his hair hanging loose. Yet, his face was stern and keen. She lowered her gaze and saw his sword was still secured in his sheath.
Shaking her head, Kela found her voice. “I have only done what I must. Who…who are you rescuing us from? You attacked. What were we supposed to think?”
Turstan gave the warrior no time to answer. He rushed to her side. With a look of pride, Turstan embraced her tightly. A smiling Falco followed, carrying Sareta.
They tried to kill you, Falco. Do not trust any!
They won’t now…not with you by my side! I will make it quickly known who I am.
Do you not believe they knew?
It matters only that now they will know I have returned!
An ominous feeling overcame Kela, but her energy had been sapped. She dare not show her weakness for she trusted none of the words that the Sordarin warrior had uttered. Rescued from who?
The clouds slowly exposed the full moon. The Sordarin warriors began to stand, flexing their massive wings. Orders were barked out. The soldiers followed direction and started forward. Then, a sudden shout had the men running toward the voice.
Frightened, Kela glanced up at Turstan. He swung her back behind him.
Falling to her knees, Kela grabbed hold of Sareta and buried her face into her sister’s shoulder.
Kela found comfort. The fear within her sister had faded, but the whole of her body began to tremble uncontrollably.
“Are we safe?”
“Yes.” Turstan knelt down by her side, his face etched with worry. He reached for her. “For now.”
“I don’t feel well,” Kela managed. Her head hurt; her eyes blurred. Then, everything went black.
* * * *
Movement woke Kela.
She felt air beneath her and wind in her face.
Slowly opening her eyes, Kela recognized she was being held by strong arms, secured by a leather strap.
He whispered in her ear to remain calm, pleading for her to do so.
A sudden realization that the odd sensation she felt was flying made her grip tight to those arms. She cried out to her brother. Falco! Falco!
Falco spoke to her, soothing her, allaying her fears. Sister, calm yourself for all is well. We are beside you. Sareta’s with Turstan, flying in front of you. I’m flying on a fleogan behind you. We are going home. Home!
She calmed. Glancing upward, she studied the handsome warrior who held her. Dark, with large, piercing brown eyes. His face was firm, his jaw strong. He looked down at her with a smile.
“You aren't going to cause any more devastation I hope. We are flying high and the fall would be a long one."
Her fingernails dug into his arms. From the sky, Kela looked down. They were shadows in the early morning light. Trees and fields could be made out clearly, flying high above the Kampar River.
The air was so crisp, Kela gasped, clasping her arms around his neck.
“Have no worries, little one,” he whispered. “I won't let you fall.”
Surprisingly, she took comfort in his words and closed her eyes once more. To her surprise, she fell back into slumber.
Castles in the Air
Kela’s sleep was disturbed. Distant voices called to her, but she could not tell who they were or what they were saying. Visions of people she had known, places she had been, flashed before her. Then as quickly, faded from her view.
When she opened her eyes, Kela saw nothing. Though alone, she wasn’t scared. She knew exactly where she was.
Guilda had talked in detail of the most beautiful city of Rangi, a wondrous place of endless beauty. Twelve crystal towers reigned high in the sky encircled by shiny white marble walls. In the distance, a glorious waterfall roared off a cliff, spraying water upward in a mist off Kororia Lake.
Kela stood on the drawbridge above a moat of deep, running blue water. Before her were luscious green fields, pastures with sheep quietly grazing, and gardens filled with colorful flowers in bloom. Behind her, the sounds of the city resonated: the bustle of the townspeople in the market, horses plodding over the stone streets, and, to Kela’s surprise, a woman’s stunningly exquisite voice singing.
Strange…the song sounded familiar, but for the life of her, Kela could not remember where she had heard it.
“She has a lovely voice, does she not?”
Startled, Kela turned to face a distinguished gentleman. He wore amethyst silk, high black boots, and a dark violet satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic was a mandala, embroidered in gold thread.
In that moment, Kela realized she had on nothing more than peasant’s garb, a long, woolen gray dress with no adornment. She rubbed her hand against the grain of the skirt, feeling the rough, prickly material. Suddenly, she felt totally unworthy of his attention, small and insignificant.
“Dear Kela, hold no worries on what goes against your skin. It is what is in your heart that matters.” With a wave of his hand, she was adorned in an elegant, lavender gown interwoven with glittering diamonds. He continued, “Your wardrobe changes nothing of what you must face. Your courage and character will clothe you…shield you. Riches and honors will gain you nothing.”
“Do I know you?” Kela tilted her head. “Have we met?”
“I am Halmir, brother to your beloved mother, Eufamia, uncle to the Euchoun, Kela Monicalia Flandigana Calledwdele.”
“I don’t understand.”
He looked over his shoulder in a nervous manner. Whispering, he beckoned her closer, “You have been called to see, to understand…there is no more time…he will soon know of your appearance…you
will need to understand. Thardalf betrayed your mother, your grandfather, Witheleghe. Thardalf called forth Asmeodai from the darkening chamber. No one is safe. No one. In any realm. Cyaika has already crossed. She waits for Asmeodai, who is assembling an army. Waiting for a sign.”
His face grimaced as visions relived in his mind, grisly, gruesome scenes. “Run, Kela, run! He will devour you. Run quickly.”
“I do not run. I protect.”
Then, Kela saw...
Looming in the distance was a cloud of black dust. The setting sun cast an eerie gloom. Gone were the luscious green pastures, replaced by a barren land and desolate terrain. Laughter and chatter had become unending screams and frightening cries.
The walls crumbled, exposing a burning fire with flames flaring upward. Within the blaze, a loathsome creature walked through the inferno. Emerging, his skin was as leather; his eyes bloody red. A giant of a creature. With long arms that stretched toward her, beckoning with skeletal fingers.
A great evil overwhelmed Kela.
Courageous and valiant, Sordarins were not cowards, but terror seized her.
Without warning, a light illuminated around Kela, moving her far away from the danger. She found herself within a dense haze, but a soft voice called to her. A remembrance from another time.
“Kela!”
The light moved until a faint image of a figure emerged. A beautiful face of one long gone, but never forgotten…oh, never forgotten.
“Mother!” Kela cried.
“My child.”
Kela heard the words and wanted desperately to run to her mother…to run into the light. She was no longer afraid. She stepped towards the figure. “Mother? Is it you?”
“Halt, Kela. Do not come any closer. You must not come within…not yet. I have only moments. Listen, my precious. Do not forget the words I will utter. Do not let go of the past. It will lead to the future. Do not let go of your siblings. They will have need of you. Trust your instincts. Search out Seilda the Tvopac. She will guide you. You aren’t prepared as you should have been, but all that you need you have. Find your path, Kela. Do not fail, my darling daughter…”
“Mother!” she cried, watching the light fade from view. “Mother, don’t leave me!”
The light disappeared.
Kela ran towards it…and fell out of bed onto a cold, stone floor.
* * * *
Sunlight filtered through a low narrow window in the stone wall. Kela had awakened, but where was she?
Crawling to one knee, she surveyed the chamber. The walls were of gray stone, cold and dank. Yet, she had slept upon a feathered mattress, covered with a thick, soft blanket. Two cushioned chairs with a table and reading lamp sat in front of a warm fire, burning in the hearth.
“Kela, you are awake!” From underneath the covers, Sareta emerged and smiled broadly. She looked lovelier than Kela had ever seen. Her aura had taken shine once more, brighter than ever.
Sareta gleamed happiness at Kela and embraced her tightly. “I have never been so worried. I could not leave you and have been here every night by your side.”
A long moment passed. The visions in her dream had shaken Kela. The longing for her mother renewed. The warnings were locked away, never to be forgotten…but slowly reality seeped back into her world.
“Where is Falco…Turstan…Guilda? What have they done to them?”
Bringing her knees into her chest, Sareta lowered her gaze. “It is not they that you should be worried about. Falco has been given an apartment in the Glas Keep and named heir apparent. His marking could not be denied. He has what he has always wanted, acknowledgement of his birthright.”
“Turstan…what of Turstan?”
“He is in Falco’s household and has been given the title of master of arms. Grandfather says that he will continue to oversee Falco’s training until the Citadel. Turstan has been honored, Guilda says.”
“And what of us?”
“I have been placed in the care of Princess Iris, our aunt. Guilda remains my nurse. My rooms are not far from Falco. Though, he has told me that he will go to the Citadel within the year, as soon as his wings fully form.”
“Am I not with you?” Kela asked, confused.
She shook her head. “Why not?”
“I’m not certain.” Sareta frowned. “I know only Falco told me to find you…and I did, but you have been sleeping ever so long. I have been so worried. I didn’t know if you would ever wake. I have been coming every night.”
“Every night?” Kela grabbed her hand. “For how long?”
“A week…almost.”
“Where…where am I?”
She grimaced. “I’ve heard it called Torni, the Black Tower.” Sareta went silent after she spoke the words. She needed not to say anything else. The bed, the fire, the lamp…she had magically conjured to give Kela comfort.
Kela had been thrown into prison. “Left to die?”
She gasped at the thought of being alone.
Fervently, Sareta shook her head. “No…no. Falco would never allow such. Nurses have been sent to bathe and feed you honey and water until you woke…that I know for a certainty. Only when I came, the chamber was so cold…so wet that I gave to you what you needed. I will do so now. Tell me, what is your will?”
Her beloved sister pleaded with her. For what, Kela wasn’t certain. To be as happy as she…Kela could not be and be separated from her family. But Kela could not cause Sareta distress. “I am hungry.”
“Of course!” she exclaimed. “That is simple…and a new gown.” Reaching over, she ran her hand along the material and winced. “You cannot wear such a thing.”
The next moment, a hot meal of eggs, ham, and fresh bread sat on the table. The plain, white tunic disappeared. In its place, a beautiful sky-blue satin gown embroidered with Sordarin designs embroidered materialized on Kela.
Sareta looked so pleased. Yet, Kela held frustration that would not be so easily relieved.
“I need to know, Sareta. Why am I here? You must know since you are calling the king, Grandfather.”
Her expression saddened. “Falco said they have been arguing over what to do with you. A… conundrum Falco said. Our brother told me to be patient…so you need to be as well. He will not rest until you are with us.”
“Sareta!” Her tolerance worn thin. “Am I not a Euchoun? Have I not shown my worth?”
“Your ability is not in question, my dearest sister.” Sareta choked on her words. “It…is only our cousin, Prince Axel…died in the exchange that night. They…blame you…they say you murdered him.”
Silas
The King’s Council
Since he had his fourteenth name day, Silas had sat on the king’s council, destined to head the armies of the king. His fate had been decided by his birth order. He bore no mark of the heir apparent, nor would he now. His father, Crown Prince Fenwick, had been the second born son to King Edulf and the king’s second wife, Beatrix.
Fate had played an inauspicious ruse on his brother. Axel had been the first born son, but even Axel had not borne the mark. Silas had known…the whole court realized that the true heir was not his father nor Axel…that Mithelk’s son, Falco, lived.
Silas held little memory of the young prince before his disappearance. Yet, he recalled the chaos that besieged the palace upon Mithelk’s death and the destruction of Nottesdone well. Taking the death of its beloved prince as a bad omen, the country fell into deep mourning.
Fearing a rebellion without a true heir, King Edulf, had defied the rights given to the heir apparent. He had Fenwick tattooed with the emblem of the golden hawk; the same tattoo repeated on Axel.
This day however his grandfather’s actions had come back to haunt him. The true heir had returned and the false one, murdered.
King Edulf sat stoically at the head of the table in the council’s chamber surrounded by his trusted advisors. His majesty gave no indication of his thoughts, but Silas knew his grandfather well.
King Edulf was a simmering flame about to ignite.
Rarely did the king dress formally so early in the morning. He had done so this day. His long, silver hair had been tied back neatly in a queue. The jeweled crown on his head was worn only when he wanted to intimidate.
He wanted to intimidate this day.
Clear-eyed and clean-shaven, the years had been kind to the king. Strong and firm, the king still soared in the skies over Yucca, as he had done for the last thirty-seven years. In those years after the Arachnidan Terror, his rule had been fair and just. Scarladin had prospered, but King Edulf had done so with an iron fist, not to be questioned.
Silas admired his grandfather. When after having declared Mithelk’s children dead…then with their reappearance, King Edulf stood openly and declared that his faith in the Great One had been rewarded.
“Tell me again as to how you accompanied my Wings without my knowledge?”
Silas watched in awe as Cono did not flinch, standing before the whole of the council in the richly furnished chamber. The young warrior stood upon deeply threaded Azmaion carpets surrounded by Scarladin tapestries hung upon the walls, scenes of glorious battles won. Grand doors made of the rare pavolin wood from the farthest reach of Scarladin, the Forbidden Forest, carved with Sordarins in flight, closed tightly behind him.
“I followed orders, Your Grace.”
“They were my orders, Grandfather.” Silas offered in the exchange. “Cono has distinguished himself in his brief time at the Citadel. I took him along with another cadet, Totus, as my men.”
King Edulf glared at Silas for a long moment. “Yet untrained King’s Wings.”
“But it was not he that caused the rift. The Earl Marshal attacked without provocation. I held Cono and Totus back. We had nothing to do with the fire or the proceeding battle. I tried only to disarm. When I recognized the Euchoun, I commanded Cono to hold the girl’s arms down, to do no harm.”
All eyes turned to the Earl Marshal, who stood behind Cono. He took a step forward and bowed his head.
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