Wings of Lomay (Solus Series Book Four)

by Devri Walls

  “You hate your—”

  “Kiora,” he interrupted, his head down, “this body, this human body, has limited me in everything I have needed to do. It has weakened me in battle, put others at risk . . . it has cost me the love of my life. I feel . . . trapped.”

  “But . . . but . . . you have done magnificent things.” She reached for him, her heart aching at his confession.

  “Yes, I have.” He didn’t take her hand, but met her gaze, his look pleading for understanding. “But that was not my body. That was my heart, my soul, my essence—whatever you want to call it. And when I die, whether it be tomorrow or when I am old, I want to set that free. The thought of being trapped in the earth in the very thing that has limited me—it makes me ill.”

  “What about your father?” Kiora asked. “He would want—”

  “He can put up a headstone,” Emane interrupted, waving his hand. “This is about me, about what I want.”

  Kiora looked into his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I understand.”

  His look said he doubted that she did. “What about you? Would you want to be buried?”

  “Yes.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “If I choose to be buried here, the burial itself would really be the only piece of home I have left.”

  Emane stared at her for a long moment before he shook his head and chuckled. “Well, this is a dreadful conversation.”

  Kiora laughed and wrapped her arms around herself. “Yes, it is. Do you want to know the last thing Malena ever said to me? She asked me if I would change anything about the past.” Emane’s demeanor changed. She regretted bringing it up, but her heart was so troubled by it that she kept talking. “I told her I would. She told me I wasn’t thinking deeply enough.”

  Kiora stared at the sapphire. It winked and flashed in the sun. She shivered, wishing the sun would hurry and warm the air.

  “She’s right,” Emane finally said.

  Shocked, Kiora looked over at him. His face had been schooled into a neutral expression. “I didn’t expect you to agree.”

  Emane shrugged, turning away from her. When he spoke again, she understood why he had. His voice wavered, betraying his emotion. “I don’t have to like the things that have happened to see the good that has come from them. You are strong, much stronger than you used to be. Pain can prepare you just as well as joy, Kiora, and you have been prepared. Things have to hurt sometimes.”

  Kiora smiled wearily, leaning against the tree. “She asked me what part of me I would give up to change the past.”

  “I hope your answer was ‘nothing’,” Emane said. Having gained control of himself, he turned back around.

  “I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t—I still can’t.” She shook her head, looking skyward. “What an impossible question.”

  “It’s not an impossible question. Life continues as it will— wishing to change things is useless. Just appreciate what you have learned and use it.”

  “When did you get so wise?”

  “I wasn’t always?” he asked with mock hurt.

  She laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  “Life experiences. They haven’t just changed you, Kiora.”

  She looked at him, really looked at him, in a way she hadn’t since she had rescued him from Dralazar. He was more handsome than she remembered. His hair was pushed back in the usual manner, his blue eyes bright. But he looked older, wiser, more confident—in an utterly new and delightful way. The confidence he had before was puffed up and immature. This was strong, peaceful, and content. “You’re right,” she said softly. “They haven’t.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lake Everleen

  IT WAS ALMOST SUNSET when they reached the borders of Lake Everleen. It was going to take multiple trips to get everyone across, and Kiora would need to travel with each group to provide a bubble. She needed Jasmine to see where they were going, but she didn’t need her to see how to avoid the defenses.

  She and Emane rode Drustan and took the first group. Drustan carried a Marlock by wrapping his Dragon legs around its body. A group of Shifters and Winged people, all carrying passengers, followed behind them in close formation. They headed toward the island.

  “All right, Drustan,” Kiora said, throwing a bubble that encompassed the entire group. “Go low.”

  The sun was starting to catch the ripples in the lake, throwing up bits of light and making the surface appear as if it were covered in tiny bits of broken glass. Kiora searched for the telltale differences in the small waves below—the ones that indicated they were breaking against the solid line of the beach. “Heads down,” Kiora said as she spotted the shore.

  She ducked her head and lay flat against Drustan’s back. The group followed her lead. One second, the lake stretched out in front of them, and the next, they were through the log barrier.

  Drustan dropped the Marlock gently before landing on the sandy beach.

  Emane slid off, looking around appreciatively. “Now this, I like.”

  The rebel camp on Lake Everleen was just as she remembered it. All around the island, tree trunks had been sharpened to long, thin points and then buried, sticking up at various heights and angles. Some crisscrossed over each other, leaving no space to maneuver between them—built to impale anything that tried to fly through. Various trees grew around the island, but she could see the edge of the camp set a little ways inland—tan-and-white structures flapping in the breeze.

  “I thought you might,” Kiora said. “You are in charge of improving it. We need to make it bigger—better. When the magic is gone, the island must stay protected.”

  Emane nodded absently, strolling off to get a closer look at the first non-magical defense system he had seen since passing through the mountain pass.

  “Let’s go get the rest of the rebels,” Kiora said to Drustan.

  ***

  THE MORNING CAME TOO quickly and there was much to be done. Emane had erected a makeshift command station on the middle of the beach. It consisted of a small wooden table, its thin legs pressed into the sand to keep it from toppling over. Kiora had suggested earlier that due to the freezing temperature, they move the table inside, but Emane insisted it stay where it was—he said he needed to be able to oversee the workers constructing the defenses.

  A large piece of thick brown paper was spread over the table and Emane was busily scratching designs and notes, stopping periodically to point out something to Alcander.

  Kiora watched them silently. They looked so comfortable with each other. It was nice—strange, still—but nice.

  Alcander looked up, motioning for Einar, who approached and dropped into a bow. “Your Majesty.”

  “Einar, I need you to work with Emane on these plans. The Shifters must begin construction immediately.”

  “You want me to work with the Witow?” Einar’s lip curled and his voice lowered, as if the Witow who was standing right next to him was also hard of hearing.

  Emane didn’t look up.

  Alcander stiffened and snatched a stack of papers from the table before Kiora could say anything. “No, I want you to work with Emane, the Protector. The one who, if you happen to become injured in battle, you are going to hope and pray is close enough to reach you.” He shoved the papers against Einar’s chest, holding them there. “And I don’t ever want to hear you refer to him by that name again. Are we clear?”

  Einar grabbed the papers. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Alcander jerked his hand away.

  Einar turned stiffly to Emane. “My apologies.”

  Emane motioned to the plans he held. “These should have everything you and the Shifters need to know. We are going to need more trees—lots more. The measurements are listed, as are the locations of where the logs should be stacked.”

  “Any questions you have are to be directed to Emane,” Alcander said. “I am simply assisting him on this.”

  The tips of Einar’s pointed ears turned red, but he snapped to attention. He bowed deeply at
Alcander and left.

  Emane raised one eyebrow.

  “What?” Alcander said gruffly, turning his attention back to the plans. “Only I get to call you ‘Witow’.”

  Emane laughed. He slapped Alcander on the shoulder, nodding with a grin. “That’s fine . . . Tavean.”

  “The correct title is ‘Your Majesty’.”

  Kiora chuckled silently, looking at the sand to keep her mirth under control.

  “Not a chance,” Emane said.

  She looked between the two. “Well, that was interesting.”

  Alcander gave her a look that indicated he was not going to talk about it.

  Kiora held up her hands and laughed. “My apologies. We don’t have to talk about you defending Emane if you don’t want to.” The ease with which the three of them could interact brought her more joy that she could describe. Laughter danced through her and she could feel it twinkling in her eyes. She leaned over the plans. “What are these?” She pointed to logs that had been sharpened to points and mounted onto a base.

  “They work on hinges and wheels,” Emane explained. “One spear is attached to each base, allowing the user to roll the defense into a new position and change the angle with minimal effort.”

  “That is brilliant.”

  “I read about something similar in my history lessons,” Emane said. “Now, on the beach, we are going to add at least three more rows of spears. I need each row to be higher than the last—if by some miracle the enemy manages to pull up after they pass through the barrier.” He paused, his mouth twisting itself in such a way that indicated he seriously doubted the possibility. “These spears have to be impossible to miss. Some will point up, and others will point toward the lake and should be angled to cross the spears in the row in front of them. They should be forming something that looks like an ‘X’. Do you think you could magically fuse two of the trees together to make the spears for the final two lines? I need them taller.”

  “I am sure I can come up with something,” Kiora said.

  “Good. With the height and the variation of the angles, it will take out any who come in for a beach landing. However, I can’t do anything about the open space above.” He tapped at his plans. “Too bad we don’t have any of the vines from Tavea,” he said thoughtfully. “Those would be useful.”

  “How did they enchant those vines?” Kiora asked Alcander. “Could we recreate that?”

  “I don’t know how that was done. That spell is very old, and not recorded.” He frowned, calculating, then his gaze lit on Kiora. “But there was something you did in Tavea that could be effective. Water can be very deadly.”

  Kiora knew what he was referring to—the water bubbles she had used. But she couldn’t understand how that would help them with the problem at hand.

  “A water barrier,” Alcander said.

  Kiora mulled it over, voicing her thoughts aloud. “If we created one thick enough, and the water flowing inside the barrier was violent enough, it could work. The current would have to grab them before they passed through.”

  Emane looked lost. “I don’t understand.”

  Alcander’s confidence in his idea was growing and he took the paper from Emane, drawing on it. “A normal barrier used for concealing such as the one in place at the moment around the island, keeping the enemy from seeing the spears until they are on top of them, is useless as a defense—anyone can pass right through it. It only protects you from view and keeps threads hidden. Lomay and Nestor enchanted their barriers by sacrificing their lives, making their barriers much more powerful.

  “But if we covered the top of the island with a barrier formed of water, thick water—thick enough that any who attempted to pass through it would find themselves fully submerged—and if the water inside was moving, pulling them along, it would keep the enemy trapped inside and unable to escape—drowning them.”

  Alcander had drawn what looked like a giant clamshell above the island, floating in the air. The edges curved down, meeting with the tops of the stakes that were buried in the sand.

  “Unless they can control water,” Kiora said.

  “No.” Alcander shook his head, looking up. “If you and I put our powers together to create the barrier, it will be too strong for anyone but Jasmine.”

  “You won’t have any magic if Jasmine shows up,” Emane said.

  “If I contribute my abilities to the barrier’s creation before the magic is lost, I believe Kiora can keep it functional.”

  “I don’t see any better options,” Kiora said after a moment’s thought. “We will need a hole in the middle, in case the rebels need to get back to the island during the battle. If we continue to go in and out by flying low to avoid the spears on the beach, we will show the enemy how to bypass our defenses. We have to get rid of that—lower the spears in the front row. We go in and out only through the top. Emane, do we have enough of those movable spears to put a few beneath the opening—just in case we are followed through?”

  “I will take care of it, but we will need two trunks fused for those as well. Otherwise, they won’t be tall enough, and the enemy will simply turn before running into them.”

  “Good. How many should we be expecting, Alcander?” Kiora asked.

  Alcander sighed. “I don’t know. A lot changed when we were forced to go into hiding, and we could not keep track of much of it without risking discovery. I would guess that the location of this camp will force her to use the Shifters, Winged people, and Taveans. Most other species will not be of much use—their magical range is not large enough to reach us from the shore.”

  Kiora felt threads rapidly approaching. Alcander’s eyes went wide and he threw himself flat across the table, lying on the plans Emane had drawn. A moment later, the herd of Marlocks flew by in a blur, spraying them with sand. And then they were gone, already halfway around the island in the blink of an eye.

  Kiora ran her tongue over her teeth, trying to remove some of the sand that had pelted her.

  Alcander pulled himself off the papers. “For something so intelligent, those creatures drive me crazy,” he grumbled. “If they weren’t so useful, I would have left them on the bank.”

  ***

  THE ISLAND WAS A flurry of activity. The Shifters had transformed into strange woodcutting creatures. Their hands were saws, and they had been working most the day felling trees.

  After the trees were down, other Shifters stripped them of the branches while the Winged people, Domats, and Taveans worked at sharpening the tops of the trunks into points. The nature of this work was such that magic was almost useless and Kiora finally understood why the Shifters had been the craftsmen of this world. They could adjust their bodies to work the needed materials whereas others were forced to do it with tools—a terrible inconvenience to those who preferred to do everything with magic.

  Once the trees had been transformed into oversized spears, the workers would move them into place. Alcander and Kiora worked on positioning the finished beams.

  Using magic, they hollowed out a deep hole in the sand. Kiora lifted the spear into place, holding it at the proper angle, while Alcander forced the sand around it, burying it tightly.

  By that evening, they had about a quarter of the island fortified. Kiora walked along the perimeter, looking over their work. The beach was impenetrable by creatures of any size flying in. With the barrier in front of the island shielding the spears from view, the enemy would have no idea what they were flying into until it was too late. And as the only non-magical protection Kiora had seen since she crossed out of Meros, it would be completely unexpected.

  ***

  THE REBELS HAD ALL gone to bed, exhausted from four days of hard labor. It was finally completed—their new security system was in place. They were as ready as they were going to be.

  Kiora and Alcander stood in front of the barricades on the tiny swath of beach that remained. The sand was damp from the waves pushing up onto it. Kiora looked out. The moon was reflected in the lake,
a silver circle, its bright light cutting a path through the dark water. It reminded Kiora of the last night she had spent on this beach before they had left to rescue Emane—the first time Alcander had kissed her.

  Alcander wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. His long white hair brushed against the side of her neck as his magic mingled with hers. She sighed and leaned back against him, putting her hands over his.

  “How are we doing this?” Kiora asked.

  “You are I are going to combine our magic.”

  “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “Not many can—there has to be a deep connection.”

  “In other words, you have never tried this before.”

  “No.”

  “Ever seen it done?”

  “No. But there was a group of Omelian priests that used to work together as one. They became very powerful and taught the theory that any two or more people with a deep-enough connection should be able to master the skill. They wrote their methodology down, but few managed to achieve it.”

  “Don’t you think I can make the barrier on my own?”

  “Probably.” Alcander pulled his hands from around her. “But watch.” He jogged over to retrieve a few small branches at the edge of the beach. He handed one to her. “Break it.”

  Kiora took the stick. It was maybe an inch or two in diameter. She raised her other hand.

  “No, not with magic. Just break it.”

  “The king of Tavea telling me to not do magic.” She brought the stick down over her knee and it snapped in two. Her thigh stung from the force. “Ow,” she said, handing the broken pieces back to him with one hand while rubbing her leg with the other.

  “Good. Now, break these—together,” he said, handing her two sticks of approximately the same size as the first.

  Kiora took the two sticks. Holding them with both hands, she brought them down over her leg. The wood didn’t even crack. Kiora’s leg, on the other hand, was bruised. “Ow!” she exclaimed.