Wings of Lomay (Solus Series Book Four)

by Devri Walls

  She found herself in an open and airy room. It looked like the inside of a castle, with white-and-beige marble floors, two-story windows opening out to a balcony, and a chandelier attached to the top of a steep and intricately decorated dome. The chandelier was crystal and glittered beautifully in the rays of the setting sun coming through the windows, throwing mini rainbows around the ceiling and walls.

  A fire roared in the fireplace and she noticed the tops of two heads, barely visible over the backs of two high-back chairs. Coming around the side, Kiora craned her neck to see who it was. She gasped and leaped back. Jasmine and Enzo, the new leader of the armies of Tavea, sat staring into the fire. Both seemed unaware of her presence and she reminded herself to relax. It was just a vision.

  “They have to be somewhere,” Jasmine said.

  “We think the rebels may have made it around the lake and are traveling back toward the canyon where we nearly captured Lomay.”

  “All of them, Enzo?” Jasmine snarled. “How is that possible?”

  “We have the lake surrounded, my lady. No one gets in or out.”

  Jasmine tapped the edge of her chair with long, delicate fingers. “Can’t they? It is my understanding that you have had several incidents.”

  Enzo paled, his thick, stocky frame shrinking in his chair.

  Kiora couldn’t help but notice how strange fear looked on him.

  “You have seen what happens to those who fail me.” Jasmine slowly reached out a finger and trailed it down his cheek, her nail biting into skin. “Lying does not yield less lenient results, Enzo.”

  “My apologies.” He bowed his head. “The Solus and Alcander have left the city. We are using their absence to our advantage.”

  “How so?”

  “We can’t penetrate the entrances. Instead, we are attempting to break through the enclosure beneath the lake.”

  Kiora saw a faint flicker of amusement pass over Jasmine’s face. “Continue.” She motioned, leaning back in her chair.

  “We are wrapping Dragon fire in magic and sending it to the bottom. Hopefully we will be able to break through soon.”

  “Dragon fire,” she said smoothly, nodding.

  Kiora was confused. Dragon fire would do nothing against that barrier. Jasmine, in all her power, could barely open a hole, and even then she wasn’t strong enough to fully dispel the barrier. One break in concentration and the hole would have slammed shut. Jasmine knew it too, so why wasn’t she telling Enzo?

  “Yes, my lady. We will continue the assault—you have my word. And we are ready and waiting for the return of the Solus.”

  “You assume she will return?”

  “She has proven herself to be overly soft-hearted. She will not leave her rebels there to die.”

  “Perhaps . . .” Jasmine cooed with such kindness, it sent fear stabbing though Kiora. Enzo as well, judging by the way he scooted himself to the other side of his armchair, looking as if he wanted to crawl over the edge and scramble out the door. “Instead of sitting around waiting for them to come to you, you should force the rebels out.”

  Enzo frowned. “How would we do that?”

  Her head whipped around to face him, her green eyes flashing. “Have you no imagination? Why must I lay out every step? I might as well do it myself.”

  “I’m sorry, my lady,” Enzo stammered. The muscles in his neck were tight and bulging, his eyes wide.

  “Think about it, Enzo,” she hissed. “Just . . .” She trailed off, going rigid in her chair. “Go,” she demanded.

  Enzo stood immediately, dropping into a deep bow. “We will do better.”

  Jasmine sat stiffly until the doors closed behind Enzo. She stood, walking closer to the fire as if to warm her hands. “How dare you?” she said to the empty room. “How dare you come here?”

  Kiora took a step back in confusion. She wasn’t really here, was she? This was just a vision.

  The bright green silk dress Jasmine was wearing rippled behind her as she turned and walked around the room. “I can feel you, Solus, I know you are here.” She turned around, her eyes running past Kiora, but not seeing her. “How dare you ask for a vision of me?” Kiora realized with a jolt that her vision had taken her here, with Jasmine, in the time it was happening. Not after, not before. Jasmine thought she had come on purpose, that she had called it.

  Jasmine summoned a Light, holding it up in her hands. The ball was dull and lifeless, just as all the rest were, but as Jasmine placed a finger in between two of the cords that bound it, the Light flared back to life. Closing her eyes, she turned her head to the side, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

  Kiora’s heart pounded. What was Jasmine doing?

  “A Tavean,” Jasmine breathed with a smile. “That is how you did it.”

  “No,” Kiora whispered. “No, no, no!” She tried to pull herself out of the vision, but it wouldn’t release her.

  Jasmine tapped the Light, her lips pursed. “Taveans are so very particular with their minds—I am surprised. You must be very persuasive.” She looked around the room again as if she would be able to see Kiora. “I think it’s time you and your accomplice are taught a lesson. A little mental pressure on our Tavean friend should be very uncomfortable.” She closed her eyes, concentrating, as magic from the Light began to swirl around her.

  Kiora panicked, mentally pulling and yanking against the vision. Still nothing. She watched, helpless, as Jasmine focused her energies on Alcander.

  ***

  ALCANDER STOOD NEXT TO Drustan, ready to intervene, as the last flying fox sniffed his hand.

  “We will release the foxes when Arturo arrives,” Alcander said, heading toward the stairs. A sudden blinding pressure started in his temples, quickly wrapping around his forehead. He stumbled backward, falling into the wall.

  “Everything all right?” Drustan asked.

  “Fine,” Alcander said, straightening. He made it up three stairs before the pain intensified. Grunting, he fell forward.

  “Emane, grab him,” Drustan said, pulling him to his feet. Emane placed Alcander’s other arm over his shoulder.

  Emane searched him for injuries. “What’s the matter?”

  “My head,” Alcander groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut.

  Emane placed his hand over Alcander’s forehead, trying to heal whatever was ailing him. It made no difference.

  “It’s not helping,” Alcander said through clenched teeth. Excruciating pain exploded behind his eyes and traveled down the base of his neck.

  “I have enough magic,” Emane said, looking over at Drustan. “I don’t understand why it’s not helping.”

  “Come on,” Drustan said, dragging them up the stairs. “There is nothing wrong with his head. This headache is from outside magic.”

  “I have healed magical injuries before.”

  “No, you have healed the physical result of a magical blow. If I had to guess by your inability to heal him, his pain is resulting magic that is still in effect.”

  The voices of the two pounded through Alcander’s ears, grating on his already frayed nerves. “Stop. Talking.” he said between clenched teeth as they half helped, half carried him up the stairs. Normally he would have been mortified by his helplessness, but he hurt so badly that he could hardly register his embarrassment.

  The courtyard was barely lit by a slim crescent moon as they exited the stable, but the faint glow was enough to add to his pain. They were only halfway to the castle when Alcander grunted, jerked himself free of their support, and vomited.

  He wiped his arm across his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. “Arturo said we have to get some warm clothes,” he said weakly. “For the journey. And I need . . . some sleep.” Clenching his staff, he tried to stand back up, but he stumbled. The pressure inexplicably increased and he dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around the back of his head. The sound of a woman laughing jangled in his throbbing mind. Alcander yelled out, curling himself into a ball.

  “Eman
e, find us all some warm clothes. I am going to take Alcander up.” Drustan sprouted wings from his back. He bent down and wrapped his arms around Alcander’s middle.

  “I had no idea opening my mind to Kiora would open it to everyone,” Alcander groaned as Drustan flew them to one of the upper balconies. He felt like a child as Drustan carried him through the frame of the shattered glass door and set him on the edge of the bed. His stomach heaved again and he gripped the edge, trying to force the nausea down.

  “You would have done it anyway,” Drustan said, walking back toward the door. He spread his wings and was gone.

  Curling himself back into a ball Alcander wrapped his hands over his head, trying to shut out the pain and protect his thoughts behind walls.

  ***

  JASMINE OPENED HER EYES. “Despite the pain to your Tavean friend, you are still here. Surely you must realize it is your presence that is allowing me access to him.”

  Kiora had realized and was frantically throwing herself against the vision, trying to be free of it. She had always been able to pull out, but this time was different. She couldn’t escape, just like she couldn’t wake up from her nightmares. Fear shot through her. Just how sick was she?

  Jasmine pursed her lips before vanishing.

  Kiora breathed easier. She looked around the empty room, hoping it was over—that whatever pain Jasmine had inflicted on Alcander had stopped. A moment later, the black began to seep in around the edges of her vision and she sagged in relief, nearly laughing with joy—it was over. But instead of waking up, she appeared in front of the slave camp—right next to Jasmine.

  Those with threads of good trudged around, their shoulders rolled forward, carrying baskets of dirt and rocks. Their hands were thick with grime, their hair matted, and their faces bleak.

  The hopelessness of these slaves was so much more complete than the prisoners they had freed from Tavea. While the Taveans had languished away in cells, the prisoners here sagged under hard labor, captivity, and abuse. A Shifter slave master kicked an old Winged woman in the back of the knees, sending her sprawling in the dirt.

  Feeling Kiora’s presence again, Jasmine breathed out in disgust. “If you need something to watch, Solus, I shall give you something to watch.”

  Striding forward, Jasmine dropped the bubble she was holding, and the work site fell silent. She had donned her shadowy covering and her followers bowed deep, but the nervous shaking of their hands and knees betrayed their desire to run. The slaves whimpered, dropping their loads to the ground as they looked with hollow eyes at what they surely knew was death. Some backed up toward an escape that didn’t exist.

  Jasmine’s hand emerged from the shadow, using magic to pull a Tavean woman toward her. She gripped her upper arm tight enough that the woman cried out in pain. Kiora ran forward, but could do nothing—she wasn’t really there.

  Jasmine’s other hand flicked out, rapidly running her finger along the Tavean’s throat. Black magic flared and the Tavean gasped as blood poured down her neck.

  Jasmine discarded her and the Tavean crumpled to the ground, grasping desperately at her throat, trying to stem the tide of blood.

  Kiora cried out. She ran and dropped down beside the woman. She tried to touch her—comfort her. But she was helpless. The blood ran down the Tavean’s neck, staining her white hair. The woman’s eyes grew wide, her pupils shrinking to small black dots in her pale blue eyes Her chest jerked once, twice—and then she was still.

  “Ready to go yet?” Jasmine hissed. She waited momentarily to feel if Kiora’s presence would leave. When it did not, she pushed out her shadowy covering, wrapping it around the Winged woman who had been pushed to the ground moments before.

  Kiora screamed as the woman’s thread ceased to exist. “Stop!”

  “I tire of this game, Solus. I think perhaps it is time we end it.” Jasmine raised her voice from within the Shadow. “Pack up the slaves,” she announced, “If the Solus does not deliver herself to me by the winter solstice, I will slit the throats of each and every rebel. One every hour, on the hour, until she does.”

  The camp exploded into movement as the slave masters grabbed the slaves, hauling them up from their knees.

  Jasmine bubbled and dropped the shadow, watching the action with a self-satisfied smirk.

  Winter solstice? When was that? What was that? Kiora had no idea, and every slave’s life depended on her. Her throat and eyes burned with fury and she wanted to reach out and wrap her hands around Jasmine’s neck. The woman oozed evil in a way she had never experienced before.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Winter Solstice

  ALCANDER’S HEAD WAS STILL filled with throbbing pressure, but he didn’t feel the need to throw up, which was an improvement.

  Drustan walked in the room, tossing him a coat. “Arturo’s here.”

  Alcander forced himself to his feet, shoved his arms through the coat sleeves, and followed Drustan to the balcony. Out of habit, he mentally reached for threads. A stab of pain chastened him and he recoiled immediately.

  The nausea was returning. Trying to clear his head, Alcander took a deep breath of the cool, crisp air. It smelled of home; the bitter edge in the air was from the rows of flowering hedges his mother had insisted be planted, despite the fact that they smelled dreadful. But when in bloom they were magnificent, and his mother would forgive all to look at those magenta blossoms in the spring.

  The morning light was just reaching across the balcony and he looked out, but the rising sun was like a dagger to his brain. He hissed and threw his arm over his eyes, squeezing them shut.

  “Not much better?” Drustan asked.

  Alcander just grunted. He could barely open his eyes as Drustan flew them down. Emane was already outside, waiting next to Arturo.

  Alcander gave Arturo a nod of acknowledgment and motioned for Emane to follow him to the stables. He sighed in relief as they descended into the darkness. He kept his staff as dim as possible and directed it toward his feet to minimize the amount of light reaching his eyes. “I need you to stand on the stairs and keep the foxes from sneaking out.”

  “You want me to block their path? Alcander, they spit acid.”

  “They like you.”

  “Great—they also lick acid.”

  “Listen,” Alcander snapped with ferocity, “if anyone besides the leader of this pack gets out first, they are gone.” He rubbed his temples, and then took the key from his pocket.

  The first door dissolved and the flying foxes trotted into the center area. They stretched their wings, their large ears swiveling back and forth. More joined them as Alcander continued to open doors.

  Two made their way toward Emane, leaping with excitement. Emane backed up a couple of stairs when one tried to lick him.

  “Hold your ground, Emane, or they will push you all the way up.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Yell at them—show a little presence.”

  Emane leaned forward. “Ha!” he yelled. “Get back!”

  The two pushy foxes skittered backwards.

  Alcander surveyed the pack until he spotted a smaller fox roll onto its back, showing submission to the leader. Alcander nudged his way through the animals and grabbed the leader by the scruff. He pulled it the rest of the way through the group and positioned the fox in such a way that its body blocked the stairs. “Head on up and get out of the way,” he told Emane.

  Alcander put his hands on the fox’s back, preparing to climb on, but hesitated, gritting his teeth at the imminent sunlight. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself up in one fluid movement, lying flat as the fox bounded up the stairs.

  The fox leaped into the open courtyard and spread its wings, taking immediately to the sky, the rest following. Alcander let them flip and twirl for a minute before urging them back to the ground.

  Alcander looked at Arturo, squinting. “We have to bring the foxes, but I have never flown one at the altitude you favor. Are they capable of it?”<
br />
  Arturo just looked at him

  “You don’t know?”

  Arturo shook his head.

  “I’ll ride the leader,” Emane said. “My thread is less likely to be noticed if the foxes need to be a little lower.”

  “And if your thread is felt?” Drustan asked.

  Emane huffed in aggravation, swiveling to look at Drustan. “Then you can all come rescue my poor magicless behind. Let’s go!”

  Alcander slid off the fox, holding it by the scruff as Emane climbed on. He gave him quick instructions on flying before mounting Arturo. Drustan shrank into a small, extremely furry animal Alcander had never seen before. It leaped onto the back of Arturo’s neck, nestling down into his mane.

  “What are you?” Alcander asked, closing his eyes again against the pain of the sun.

  “Warm,” Drustan replied.

  Arturo took to the sky. The sun was brighter as they cleared the minimal cloud cover. Alcander moaned. He ducked his head, letting his hair fall forward to help block the light, and squeezed his eyes shut. Despite that, it was still agony.

  ***

  EMANE MANAGED TO KEEP the foxes at nearly the same altitude as Arturo while they flew toward Lomay’s. As the sound of the ocean reached his ears and the sun returned to earth on its daily arc, he looked up to notice that Arturo had vanished. Grabbing his bow, he nocked an arrow, scanning for whatever had caused Alcander to use a bubble. He saw nothing—which, unfortunately, didn’t mean a damn thing in this world.

  A moment later, a bubble slipped around him and Arturo appeared at his side. Emane jumped at the sudden appearance. “I am going to accidently shoot you one of these days,” Emane grumbled, slamming his arrow back into its sheath.