Wings of Lomay

by Walls, Devri

  “Emane, I need you on the ground—” Kiora was interrupted again as more shots impacted the beach.

  The first Shifter-Dragon passed through the barrier and impaled himself on the spears sticking up out of the sand. He bellowed, flapping his wings and kicking in a desperate attempt to free himself. The spears—now covered in his blood—poked out of his back and shoulder. The Shifter turned his attention to the advancing rebels, blowing fire at anything and everything around him.

  His rider leaped off, running toward the rebels with magic flinging from his fingertips. Kiora and Emane took off toward the beach to meet him.

  ***

  EMANE RAN AS FAST as fast he could, lowering his shoulder and pushing into the wind. Kiora was using magic to help clear her path, but it felt like the wind was ripping around her and slamming into him.

  The Tavean held a shield to keep back the attack from the rebels. He opened a small hole in the side and flung a thin, spinning piece of defensive magic through it. It sliced an Omelian, and blood poured down his arm.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Kiora said, her hair whipping around her face. “Help them.” She jerked her head toward the rebels trying to deal with the wounded Shifter-Dragon that was thrashing back and forth on the spears and still spewing fire.

  Kiora threw a shot of green magic tinted with blue around the edges. It slammed into the Tavean’s back and sent him sprawling out on the sand. She stalked forward, hands out. He scrambled to his feet.

  Two more Shifter-Dragons flew through the barriers, impaling themselves as well. Their riders were flung into the lake. Two Omelians headed for them, one firing bolts of magic while the other used the water to pull the Taveans beneath the surface.

  Emane ran toward the group of rebels that surrounded the wounded Shifter-Dragon. They were all firing magical shots which bounced off its hide. No one thought to use their sword.

  Emane swore. After all their training, the second they were left with their magic they reverted to what they knew. It had been too long since the rebels had dealt with Dragons, and they were wasting their magic on useless attacks.

  Emane slipped around the base of the stakes. He glanced over as Kiora hit the Tavean she was battling with an attack. It was so large that his shield shattered and he fell to the sand, lifeless. Emane came up behind the wounded Shifter, throwing his shield over his back as he did—his only defense against the magical shots that randomly rained upon them.

  The Shifter-Dragon was completely focused on the rebel forces, giving no attention to the thread of a Witow. Emane ducked beneath the Dragon’s back feet that were suspended in the air by one of the stakes and rammed his sword into the front of the Dragon’s chest—piercing its heart. Its head dropped and its body fell limp. The rebels looked at Emane in surprise. He ripped his sword free.

  “Use your weapons.” Emane yelled over the wind. “They are more effective against Dragon hides than your magic.” There were a few other choice words he wanted to include, but was cut off by a burst of magic that slammed down beside him, spraying him with sand and knocking him to his stomach.

  ***

  THE TAVEAN’S THREAD WAS weak and Kiora picked him up with magic, tossing him out to the crashing waves. She looked up. Another Shifter-Dragon came through the barrier right where the first had crossed, chased in by two rebel Shifters. Instead of impaling himself on the stakes, he bounced off the dead body of his comrade and splashed into the water on the beach—stunned, but otherwise unharmed. The Tavean riding the Shifter was crushed beneath him.

  Kiora watched all their carefully constructed plans crumble. That was not supposed to happen. She grabbed an Omelian and a Domat as they ran by. “I need you to get everyone organized,” she shouted to the Omelian, pointing at the impaled bodies. “We have to keep these poles clear—the bodies have to be removed. Go!”

  The Omelian ran toward the dead Shifter-Dragon, motioning to the others. The surviving Shifter twisted and flopped, trying to right himself in the water.

  “I need the Domats to protect the oculus—it should keep you out of the brunt of this,” Kiora said.

  The Domat’s large black ears laid back. He was clearly irritated.

  “We can’t lose you,” Kiora said. “We will never find the Lights otherwise.”

  Another Shifter-Dragon flew out ahead of the main group and headed up to the water barrier. Kiora watched, waiting. She could barely see his shadowed outline through the water. He hovered, looking, searching for a way in. Drustan and Nara came shooting across the top, protecting the oculus. The Shifter-Dragon dove, attempting to go through the water barrier. Kiora held her breath, hoping the barrier would perform as intended. The Shifter was caught by the current and zipped overhead, twisting in the water.

  The beach was suddenly inundated. The main part of the attacking force passed through the barrier, crashing into the spears. The screams and roars of the wounded and dying carried over the wind. Kiora threw up a shield as a number of magical bursts and balls flew in their direction.

  Shifter-Dragons who had survived blew fire over the sand as they hung from the spears. Their riders, black-haired Taveans, dropped from their backs to the beach, showing little concern for the mortally injured Shifters. At least a hundred Taveans advanced.

  Shields flew outwards from rebel and enemy alike and the beach exploded into a riot of magical color. It was a battlefield, and it was exactly what Kiora had been trying to avoid. Shields were slammed with bolts, spears, and spinning spheres of attack magic. In the chaos, she felt threads falling silent. This was a nightmare, despite all their planning, and there was nothing she could do.

  Turning back around, she yelled at the Domat that was still standing next to her. “Go! Before we lose the only hope we have.” Little good it would do to win the war and still have lost the Lights.

  The Domat turned, bubbled himself, and went to collect the rest of his kind.

  Alcander and the Taveans swooped across the back of the island on flying foxes, spraying acid and magic down on the enemy.

  Alcander landed his fox next to her. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her up behind him while pointing his staff and firing at two Taveans running in their direction.

  “We can’t sustain this!” Alcander shouted as his fox rose into the air.

  “I know! Get me out of here.” Arturo, she called. I am coming out.

  “Kiora!” Alcander threw a shield for them as Dragon fire billowed forward, riding the still-increasing wind further inland.

  A pair of Omelians ran in front of them, their heads turned toward their pursuers and their shields up to protect their backs, oblivious to the danger in front of them. The Dragon fire engulfed the Omelians, then pelted against Alcander’s shield.

  Alcander turned the fox and headed for the oculus. Kiora fired at the enemy, catching a Tavean with a spell that wrapped around his chin, jerking his head straight up and back. She couldn’t hear the snap, but saw the moment when the angle of his neck became too severe to survive.

  The Domats manned the entrance under the water barrier, each holding a small cart with a large wood spear on top.

  Alcander’s fox flew through the opening.

  The sun had broken over the horizon and lit the air battle. Kiora looked across the lake in horror. The army’s size had increased again. Jasmine was unveiling her forces slowly, not allowing Kiora to see what she was truly dealing with.

  Drustan and his Shifters were doing their best to stave off the enemy and had taken a variety of forms. Some Shifters were long and thin and clearly meant for speed. Some were very large and capable of an immense amount of firepower. Some had razor-sharp claws that glinted in the sun and were obviously sharpened and lengthened for one purpose—cutting through Dragon hide. The Winged people were trying to keep a safe distance between themselves and Dragon fire while firing magical disks meant to unseat the Tavean riders, but all struggled desperately against the wind. The attacking army was flying with the wind—it gave t
hem an edge.

  “I have to turn the wind,” Kiora said in Alcander’s ear. The fox jerked awkwardly, frantically flapping his wings to right himself. She grappled for control, trying to push the wind back, but it resisted in a way she had never felt before, almost as if it were alive.

  ***

  THE REBEL TAVEANS AND Omelians used magic to push the dead and dying off the posts and into the lake, often times clearing a body just in time for another to crash through the barriers. Everyone worked with efficiency born of good teamwork, but they weren’t fast enough to maintain the protections at the rate the enemy was breaking though.

  Emane yelled out to the Domats manning the oculus as he ran by, “Defend that hole with magic as long as you can. No one gets through except us.”

  He and a small group of rebels sprinted toward the herd of Marlocks that nervously pranced and leaped around in the sand. They were intelligent enough to understand exactly what was going on. Emane swung himself over the back of one, the rebels following his lead. The two Omelians in the group looked incredibly awkward astride the Marlocks, with their ostrich legs poking oddly to the sides.

  “Run along the beach,” Emane announced for both Marlock and rider. “Avoid the rebels—keep the enemy to your right as much as possible.”

  Each Marlock laid its ears back, their eyes focusing on the task—steeling themselves, Emane was sure of it. He tightened his legs and leaned forward, holding his sword straight out to the right side.

  They bolted forward. The sudden start nearly yanked him off. He readjusted and pulled himself tight to the animal, keeping his other arm straight out. There were flashes of fur to his left and right—the other Marlocks, running near him.

  His blade passed cleanly through the first Tavean enemy before he even knew Emane was there. His sword continued to cut through the arms and legs, torsos and necks of the Taveans who had survived the attempted breech of the rebels’ defenses. His Marlock slowed to avoid a rebel, and Emane was hit with a bolt of magic and knocked off. He skidded across the sand until his head cracked against a stump.

  Emane cried out and rolled over, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. His face throbbed. He wouldn’t heal it—it wasn’t bad enough. He took a quick look around while his Marlock pranced nervously. The other Marlocks zipped around the bases of the spears, their rebel riders cutting down Taveans. Another Marlock was hit and rolled across the sand.

  Emane went to push himself up, then stopped at what he saw. He blinked, fighting the urge to rub his eyes. It wasn’t possible. And yet, it looked like the enemy’s forces had just doubled—out of thin air.

  ***

  KIORA THREW A MASSIVE shield to allow her to transfer from the flying fox to Arturo. Alcander kept a firm hold on her wrist, lowering her down and not releasing her until she was seated.

  Seeing that she was secure, Alcander turned his attention to the fight and swooped out from behind her shield to unleash a firestorm of blue-and-green magic from his staff as he joined the other rebel Taveans who had joined the air battle on their foxes. Magic and flame danced across the sky.

  And then in one heart-dropping moment, the force in front of them doubled. The sky was thick with Shifter-Dragons and Tavean riders.

  What had just happened? They couldn’t have been bubbled. The new forces had appeared throughout the entire battle, not in one group. The fire and magic would have popped any bubbles they had tried to hold long before now.

  The rebels’ shields went up and Kiora watched as one of the rebel Taveans tried to turn his fox, shouting over his shoulder. With neither of them looking where they were going, they flew right though the open mouth of a Dragon, slipping through it as if nothing was there.

  Illusions, Kiora thought. “Mother of Creators!” she swore. She sent out a rippling force in a circle, pushing back the incoming Dragons to give her some space to grapple with the wind. It was even stronger than it had been before. She fired again, trying to hold back a large portion of the force that had taken a keen interest in her.

  Get me higher, she thought.

  Arturo angled himself down first as she threw a bubble. He then jerked back up, the wind pushing him into a half twist.

  The enemy filled the sky and continued their onslaught of the island, despite the rebels’ airborne attempts to distract them.

  She scanned the mayhem. She felt the thread of the Illusionist—but couldn’t see him. And even more confusing were the Omelian threads she could feel. They were close—and powerful. But no matter where she looked, she could see no Omelians in battle. The only ones visible were the faint outlines of those on the shore who were still inexplicably throwing magic that was completely useless and splashing down far from where the air battle took place.

  She was about to ask Arturo to take her back down when a mass of whirlwinds erupted, spinning with their tails sunk into the lake. They sucked water up as they began to move toward the island and her rebels.

  Kiora tried to turn the whirlwinds, wrenching against them. Again, it resisted her influence like nothing she had dealt with before. This is not working! she thought. She reached for water instead. The lake responded, and a solid wall of water jerked straight up. The twisters slammed into it, dissipating immediately.

  Good, Arturo thought.

  Magic exploded up and out—blue, green, white, red. The enemy was looking for her, trying to pop her bubble. Kiora put up her shield and returned fire with as much force as she could manage. Her burst broke two Shifter-Dragon’s wings and they tumbled toward the lake below.

  Kiora, the illusions have become real—doubling their forces. We have to find that Illusionist.

  “I can’t defend us and follow that thread, Arturo.” Multiple shots connected with her shield, sizzling across the front.

  I’ll track the thread. You make sure we get there.

  Before she could object, Arturo dived back into the mass of Shifter-Dragons and Taveans. Kiora thickened her shield, leaving only a small hole in the front through which to fire.

  ***

  ALCANDER EXTENDED HIS STAFF, knocking a Tavean off his Shifter-Dragon. He aimed for another, but his fox jerked sideways to miss a burst of Dragon fire. He wasn’t expecting it and started to slid off, grabbing the scruff around his fox’s neck as he fell. He dangled by one arm. The fox screamed in pain as Alcander’s weight began to pull its fur out.

  The wind blew so hard, it was impeding all efforts to right himself. Seeing weakness, several Shifter-Dragons moved in closer. Alcander put out a shield, using all his magic to reinforce it. Fire rippled around him, thinning the shield dangerously. He thrust his staff forward, adding its magic to his own to keep himself alive.

  A Shifter-Dragon roared and its thread went silent—lessening the burden on his shield. Then, in rapid succession, the other attacker’s threads went silent as well—the fire vanished. Four of his fellow Taveans surrounded him, each on a fox, facing outwards to protect their king. Their swords dripped with blood.

  Einar flew underneath Alcander’s swinging feet. Bracing himself on the back of Einar’s fox, Alcander pulled himself up.

  “A sword?” Alcander asked Einar. The corner of his mouth quirked to the side as he extended his staff and took a shot at the enemy.

  “Helpful against Dragon hides,” Einar said, holding his sword in the air. “Who would have thought?”

  “Only the Witows,” Alcander said.

  A Tavean brought his fox next to Alcander’s, throwing magic in every direction. “Your Majesty, we can’t keep this up. We don’t know what’s real and what’s not. The Shadow just doubled her forces.”

  It hadn’t taken them long to realize that the Illusionist was in play. Forces could not just double the way they did—not without bubbles. But without knowing which one was which, it didn’t matter—the illusions might as well have been real.

  Alcander rested his staff against his outstretched arm to steady it and aimed for the Dragon’s wing—the one weak spot. Green magic ro
ared forth, breaking the bone. “I know. That happens to be this Illusionist’s specialty.” He had recognized the thread the minute he felt it. This Illusionist was gifted, more so than any he had ever heard of, and using this tactic in battle was brilliant. With so many threads in such close proximity, he couldn’t determine which Shifter-Dragon had one and which ones didn’t.

  “And the Omelian priests have to be stopped,” Einar added with a grunt as he shoved out a sphere of magic. “This wind is making half the maneuvers these foxes normally use impossible.”

  “The Omelian priests?” Alcander shouted. He whirled around to throw a substantial shield. The attack magic slammed into it with a bang. “I thought they were dead.”

  “I did too,” Einar said. “But I know those threads, and it’s the right number. It’s the priests.”

  Alcander swore as Drustan swooped by, his razor-sharp claws opening up deadly gashes on a Shifter-Dragon. “That’s why Kiora can’t get ahold of the wind. It’s not Jasmine—it’s the priests.” Alcander turned his fox, spraying magic to the front, and shielded his back as he followed Kiora’s thread. “I have to find her.”

  ***

  THE FURTHER OUT KIORA flew, the worse the wind became. It was numbing, and her lungs burned. Arturo pushed with everything he had, and even still he was jerking from one side to the other, tossed around by gusts of wind.

  Kiora’s hope dwindled as the enemy became so thick that she was forced to put all her resources into her shield only, completely abandoning any sort of offensive actions. Shots came from every direction—magic and fire. Her shield was a blur of color and she was trusting Arturo’s ability to follow the thread because she couldn’t see anything besides the dark shapes outlined by the flares of color on her shield.