Wings of Lomay (Solus Series Book Four)

by Devri Walls

  “Two is stronger than one. It’s the same in magic. This time, we don’t have a barrier sealed by death to protect us.”

  “And we aren’t going to have one,” Kiora interjected.

  “Having our magic bound together will be stronger than yours alone, no matter how strong you are.”

  Kiora tossed the sticks to the side. “All right, how do we start?”

  “Take off your boots. We need to stand in the water.”

  Kiora looked at the freezing lake and back at Alcander. “Really?”

  “You could keep them on, but I think it will just make it worse.”

  Shaking her head, she unlaced her boots. Her feet were already chilled.

  Alcander grabbed her hand and led her out to the water’s edge, where the waves gently lapped at the shore. Kiora sucked in her breath as the icy water moved around her ankles. Alcander turned, placing his back against hers. He took both her hands, interlacing their fingers. The magic responded as usual, flowing between them.

  “This is where I kissed you for the first time,” Alcander said.

  Kiora laughed through chattering teeth. “It was warmer then.”

  “Let me warm you.”

  Kiora closed her eyes as Alcander redoubled his magic, sending it pouring through her. She shivered again, not from the cold—she noticed it less as warmth spread from her fingers to her toes. Their intertwined magic was a delightful feeling.

  “Now,” Alcander said, “concentrate on letting your magic flow back to me. Let it become one with mine.”

  Kiora squeezed his hands, sending more magic.

  His knees buckled as he exhaled. “Good,” Alcander said, his voice breathless and husky. “Now, less give-and-take—make it one endless flow.”

  Kiora closed her eyes against the light of the moon, trying to feel nothing but the magic. She felt the give-and-take as it moved back and forth between them. Concentrating, she opened herself up further, trying to let it flow to him just as she would let it flow through herself. She smiled as the magic began to loop in one continuous current.

  “Now what?” Kiora whispered. She marveled at how pleasant and natural this loop felt in contrast to the nature magic.

  “I am going to open my mind to you. We need to think about what we are doing together in order to truly work as one.”

  Kiora felt the layers of his mind peel back like the petals of a blooming flower, and she blushed at the thoughts in the forefront of his mind. This exchange of magic was potent and she couldn’t deny her own feelings, but seeing them so plainly displayed in Alcander’s thoughts flustered her. The flow of magic stuttered immediately.

  Alcander faced her, having the decency to look slightly embarrassed for a quick moment before grabbing her hands again.

  Kiora’s cheeks were flaming and she looked away, suddenly excruciatingly aware of the numbing pain in her toes and feet.

  “Kiora, what is it?”

  Kiora shook her head. What was she supposed to say?

  “It upsets you that I think about those things? I love you.”

  “It doesn’t upset me. I just . . .” She bit her lip.

  “Do you not think like that?”

  Kiora met his eyes. They were gentle, vulnerable. “Of course I do, just . . . not so . . . vividly.”

  Alcander smiled first, and then laughed. He ran his thumb over her cheekbone, his fingers sliding beneath her jaw. She leaned into the warmth of his palm. “I see many things vividly, but you I see the most vividly of all.” He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.

  Spirals of energy and desire clenched in her stomach and she wrapped her hands around his shoulders, pressing herself into him, deepening the kiss.

  He moaned. “That is doing nothing to help my vivid imagination, Kiora.”

  She grinned against his mouth. After pulling back, she couldn’t help but lean in for one more kiss. “We’d better get back to work. I can’t feel my feet.”

  Again, they stood back-to-back, sharing magic until it flowed between them in one continual round and she lost awareness of the cold. Alcander opened his mind again and Kiora relaxed into it, trying not to focus on specific thoughts, but just to be. His mind was still unfathomable to her, and she could get lost within if she allowed herself to.

  We are going to pull the water up, Alcander thought.

  As he did so, his thoughts formed pictures, diagrams, and explanations all floating around her. She clearly saw what he meant. She felt him prepare to start the water barrier. They pulled at the lake simultaneously.

  The water exploded upwards. Freezing spray spattered around them.

  Kiora and Alcander pulled and shaped the water. Feeling secure in her hold on the flow of magic, Kiora opened her eyes, squeezing Alcander’s hand in wonder. Water pillars surrounded them, swirling upwards in phenomenal symmetry before spreading out over the top of the island like a blanket.

  They fed more and more water to the structure, directing the barrier to cover the island completely, with the exception of a hole in the middle—an oculus. It was small—only one could enter or leave at a time—but that was the only way they would be able to defend it.

  Once the water barrier was up and sufficiently thickened, about fifteen feet, Kiora and Alcander spelled the water within it. It twisted and boiled in agitated, turbulent currents within its confines.

  Kiora surveyed what they’d done. The barrier floated above the island, its sides curling down like the lid on a pan. They hung it low enough so the edges would overlap the tallest rows of spears—over fifty feet. The water barrier was both deadly and beautiful and would force the enemy to either attempt to penetrate it or take their chances with what they couldn’t see—flying through the other barrier and straight into the spears.

  “Do you think it will hold?”

  “I do,” Alcander said. “But with the talismans—nothing is certain.” He glanced down at her and then scooped her off her feet.

  She gasped and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

  “Practicing.”

  “For what?”

  He looked down at her, his eyes glinting. The tips of his ears barely poked out of his fair hair and the sharp angles of his face picked up the moonlight. Kiora’s breath hitched. He looked devastatingly handsome.

  He didn’t answer her question—he didn’t need to. The look in his eyes spoke volumes and she couldn’t tear her gaze from him all the way to the tent. Gently, he set her on the cot, kissing her as he did—slowly, thoroughly. Then he reluctantly pulled back.

  “Good night,” he whispered. He covered her with a blanket and tucked it under her chin.

  “Good night.”

  Alcander backed to his bed, his eyes still locked on her. He was only a few feet from her, but it felt as if half of herself were miles away. She wanted him next to her.

  She realized she hadn’t closed her mind to him as he whispered, Soon, in response to her desires.

  Kiora’s ears burned and she blushed. A thread reached her that shouldn’t have been anywhere near them. She bolted upwards. “Do you feel that?” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Dragons.”

  “No, I don’t feel anything.”

  The threads faded. Kiora frowned. Lying down, she pulled her blanket back up to her chin. “It’s gone now.”

  “Unless it’s a rogue Dragon, none have been seen this direction in a very long time.”

  “I know. Maybe I was just hoping.” She bit her lip. “I asked the queen to fight with us.”

  “I can’t say I’m surprised she told you no.” Alcander shook his head with a look that bordered on disgust and exasperation. “The Dragons think they can remove themselves from everything and just . . .” He stopped, frowned, and then leaned forward. “She did tell you no, didn’t she?”

  “She did.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Eight Are Stronger Than One

  THE SNAPPING OF TENT fabric in the w
ind woke Kiora. Her vision was blurry and she blinked hard, trying to get the room to come into focus. The walls of the tent whipped against the poles and the chill of the wind pushed through the fabric as if it weren’t there. It felt as if it blew straight down from the peaks of snow-capped mountains.

  She shivered and burrowed herself further under her blankets, wrapping the quilt up and around her ears as she tried to go back to sleep. But the howling only increased and the tent began to give way, lifting off the ground. She considered waking Alcander, but the fact that the wind hadn’t already awakened him spoke to his exhaustion. Making the barrier must have taken more out of him that he had admitted.

  Kiora reluctantly rolled out from underneath her blanket. She gasped when she felt the full brunt of the icy wind. She snatched her coat, already shivering as she shoved her arms though the sleeves, grateful she still wore her long-sleeved shirt. She had been too tired to change into anything else before she fell asleep.

  The tent flaps had come untied and snapped back and forth in the wind. When she stepped out of the tent, she was slapped in the face by the cord used to tie the two halves together. It left a welt across her cheek.

  The wind roared across the island. It picked up sand from the beach and blasted it forward, pelting her. She needed to secure the stakes. She moved around the tent, and then stopped.

  She squinted, looking across the island. The sand made everything hazy, and the water barrier blocked most of the moonlight. The water rolling across the beach—small, white-crested waves covering its surface—was consistent with a storm. But the little piece of sky she could see through the spears was clear, with brilliant stars speckling it.

  Kiora reached out for threads. Nothing. Something wasn’t right. She pushed against the wind and made her way down to the beach with her arm across her face.

  Each night, they assigned a few rebels to stand guard. Einar was one of the guards set for patrol tonight. He sat behind a small shield he had placed to protect himself from the sting of the sand.

  “Solus,” he said, bowing his head.

  “Einar.” She stepped behind his shield. “How long has this wind been blowing?”

  “A while.” His face was tense. “It speaks of magic, but I can’t feel any threads. No one I know of has enough power to maintain this kind of wind—except you and the Shadow.”

  Kiora crossed her arms, trying to make sense of it. Jasmine may be behind it, but why would she come alone? “Those we expected Jasmine would bring,” Kiora said, “could any of them bubble all the way here?”

  “No. And none could make a barrier large enough to conceal an entire army. We should be able to feel their threads long before they arrive.”

  “Could Jasmine?”

  “We know very little of the Shadow, but—”

  A burst of color lit the horizon, and magical attacks volleyed across the night sky.

  Kiora took a step back, her eyes wide as the attacks splashed into the lake—whoever lobbed them was clearly out of range. Why would they take a shot that they were so clearly incapable of landing? They were hidden and poised for a surprise attack—why ruin that chance? It made no sense.

  Einar stiffened. She could see the same questions written on his face. His hands were ready at his sides as the threads of an army on the mainland shore suddenly appeared. Shifters, Taveans, Omelians and one Illusionist Kiora remembered all too well—the one Jasmine had used to protect the entrance to Nestor’s underground city.

  Kiora checked the rest of the threads. There were far fewer than she had anticipated, but then hundreds of Shifter-Dragons appeared out of nowhere. Astride their backs sat dark outlines—Taveans, increasing the forces again. Who knew how many more troops Jasmine had bubbled, waiting to unveil at the right moment.

  The Shifter-Dragons’ wings were outstretched and they rode the incoming wind straight at the island. As before, the magical shots went up, arching over the attacking Shifters and Taveans and splashing down. Once again, they landed far short of their intended target. The ineffectiveness of the attack nudged at the back of her mind. Something was off.

  “Where did they come from?” Einar shouted.

  “Jasmine,” Kiora said. “She must have concealed them. Wake everyone.” She sprinted across the island, the wind and sand at her back. “Alcander!” Kiora shouted, running into the tent and shaking him.

  Alcander rolled over with a groan. The threads hit him, and he sprang out of bed. “Go! I’m right behind you.”

  Kiora and Alcander bolted into the blinding windstorm. She turned and headed for Emane’s tent, jerking him awake. “They’re here. We have to get everyone up.”

  Emane scrambled out of bed, grabbing his coat, shoving his feet into his boots, and grabbing his weapons. Kiora ran out of the tent with Emane right behind her.

  He was still fastening his sheath around his waist and trying to throw his shield over his shoulder as they ran. “Wait!” he yelled. “The talisman!”

  Kiora shook her head. Anger and fear formed a lump in her throat so large, she was having trouble speaking around it. “No,” she choked, “I can’t!” She put her head into another tent and shouted the alarm.

  The camp burst to life, but the clamor of rebels grabbing weapons and yelling for the rest to wake was barely audible over the storm.

  “Why not?” Emane yelled, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around.

  “Jasmine had the Shifters change before they got here,” she yelled, shoving a finger toward the enemy. “If I use the talisman, we will be helpless against the Dragon fire. The rebels have to be able to shield.”

  Emane swore, releasing her arm.

  Kiora took off again, heading toward Drustan’s tent. He was already outside, gathering the rebel Shifters.

  “Drustan! I need all of you in the air. Once you take down those Shifters, I’ll be able to use the talisman. You must kill them . . . fast!”

  Drustan nodded, his black hair whipping around his face. “We will do our best,” he shouted, “but this wind is going to cause problems.”

  “I think Jasmine’s controlling the wind,” Kiora said. “I’m going up to try to turn it.”

  “You think she’s here?” Emane asked.

  “I know she is. There’s no way that army could have got this close without— ” She was interrupted as the first blasts of magic passed through the barrier—the one meant only to protect them from being seen or felt—and impacted the beach. Kiora thought for a moment that whoever was firing from the mainland had increased their range. But no, these attacks were fired from the Taveans being flown in by the Shifter-Dragons.

  Drustan turned away, yelling instructions to the Shifters as they ran toward the oculus at the center of the water barrier, shifting as they went. Growing wings, they exited the tight circle one at a time.

  The first Shifter-Dragon flew up over the water barrier only to be met by three rebel Shifters. He turned and dove, heading toward the lake. The Shifter-Dragon turned to try the lower approach—straight at the beach, his belly skimming the water while the Tavean on his back fired yellow bolts of magic.

  “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 th
e 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.