Wings of Nestor

by Walls, Devri

  Emane’s face turned ashen as he sank to the bed. “You do know. Someone told you.” He shook his head. “Was it Drustan?”

  A flicker of anger started burning within her. “What do you mean, someone told me? Who told you?” He knew, and hadn’t said a word?

  “Drem. When Lomay sent me to train with him, he made sure to tell me how foolish my feelings were.”

  “And…you never told me?”

  Emane laughed bitterly. “I didn’t even let myself think about it, Kiora. Being told that the girl you love will outlive you by a few hundred years wasn’t something I was ready to deal with.”

  Her anger waned at his agony and she sat next to him, carefully folding her hands in her lap. “I asked Arturo if there was a way to give my magic back,” she whispered. “After this is all over.”

  Emane’s eyes flickered to hers. “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “And the answer was no.”

  “Yes.”

  “I miss you.” His voice cracked and Kiora looked away, tears running down her cheeks.

  “I miss you too.”

  “I want you to be happy. I keep telling myself that. That no matter what, I just want you to be happy. But the truth is, I want you to be happy with me.”

  “And if I can’t?” she whispered. “Don’t you deserve to be happy too? To find a girl who can touch you and kiss you?” She reached out to move the hair off his forehead with a soft smile. “Someone who can keep the hair out of your eyes without shocking you? Meros will need a queen, someone you can grow old with.” She was trying to keep herself together, but her voice wobbled under the visual images of Emane and his wife-to-be—with his children.

  Emane was silent for a long time, his eyes boring a hole through the door. “Alcander is your choice, then?”

  Kiora jerked to her feet, making her way to the doors of the balcony and throwing them open. Sucking in the cold night air, she wrapped her arms around herself. Emane moved silently, but she could feel his thread stopping behind her. “I don’t know if I am choosing Alcander,” she said. “But I am choosing to acknowledge that I can’t have you—and I never will.” The tears that slipped down her cheeks stung with the chill in the air.

  “Do you love him?”

  She whirled on him, swiping at her cheeks “Why? Why would it matter, Emane?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it will help me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed at her feet. “Maybe it will help me let go.”

  Kiora closed her eyes, looking away. “Yes, I think I love him.”

  Emane’s thread moved silently across the room. The next sound she heard was the door shutting behind him.

  A strangled cry escaped from her lips before she slammed the glass balcony doors so hard, they rattled in their frames.

  ***

  JASMINE LOOKED OUT OVER the ground where the palace once stood. There was nothing except a cloud of settling dust. She put out her hands, trying to summon something, but nothing came. She screamed in frustration. Her talisman was doing nothing to offset whatever magic was at work here.

  The vision faded, opening back up with Jasmine standing on a hill. She was staring intently at a large oak tree. Her hands rose suddenly, spouting magic like a geyser, impacting the tree. But the tree was impenetrable and the magic sheeted harmlessly off to the side. Jasmine summoned the book of the Creators and thumbed through it. She mumbled different incantations, one after the other, watching for any change in the tree as she did. Again, the tree stood silent and immovable.

  “Father!” Jasmine yelled to the sky. “This will not beat me!”

  Kiora jerked awake, the dream quickly fading as the night before came to the forefront of her mind. She had told Emane the truth, so why didn’t she feel better? A thought whispered a possible answer: Because you hurt everyone you love.

  And then there was Alcander. If she let herself love him, what would happen? Would she break his heart? If she didn’t, he was still condemned. Was there a happy ending anywhere?

  The sun was just breaking through the window and Kiora rose to get dressed. There was so much to do and she couldn’t deny herself the excitement she felt for taking control of her own destiny for the first time since Aleric had shown up on her doorstep, telling her she was the Solus. Since that day, she had been told what she was to do and what she would become. And now she was finally in charge. It felt good. And it was the only thing that felt good, so she clung to it.

  Everyone else was waiting in the meeting room. It seemed she was always the last to wake. Pushing open the doors, she evaluated the scene before her. Emane looked like he hadn’t slept and only glanced at her for a quick moment before turning away. Alcander was looking at Emane, confusion etched on his face. Drustan lounged in a chair, looking as disinterested as he had the day before. Lomay, on the other hand, was bright-eyed and gazing at her expectantly.

  “Have you called Arturo?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” she said sheepishly. The night before had held one distraction after another. She mentally sent out the call.

  I will be there as soon as I can, Arturo’s thoughts came. I had to move farther out when the ships came the other night to avoid being discovered. It will be an hour.

  Kiora relayed the message.

  “Shall we be on our way, then?” Alcander asked.

  “Not quite,” Lomay said. “Kiora, you need a particularly potent spell if you hope to get through unnoticed. A simple thread-wrapping will not get Alcander through those camps—there are too many Taveans. They will recognize him immediately.”

  Alcander growled. “I hate that spell.”

  “Hate it all you like—it will keep you alive,” Lomay retorted. “When you get there, summon the book of the Creators. Alcander will know the spell. Use it on yourself and Alcander. Drustan will be able to change his appearance on his own.”

  Kiora moved to the map. “Which entrance will you be waiting by, so we know which one to open?”

  Lomay pointed to one of the entrances to the west. “This one.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Please be careful. To be discovered in such a vulnerable position could be devastating.”

  “We will.”

  Patting her shoulder, he announced. “I will wait for Arturo—someone will need to let him through the boundary. Alcander, Drustan, why don’t you both come with me? Drustan can shift outside and then you can all be on your way.”

  Drustan left without question. Alcander hesitated, but allowed himself to be escorted out by Lomay, leaving Kiora alone with Emane. How did Lomay know?

  Once the room had emptied, Emane pushed off the wall, flipping his hair from his forehead with a shake of his head. “You be safe,” he said gruffly.

  “I will.”

  “I mean it. If you die, I will never forgive you.”

  Her eyes stung as she blinked back tears. Curse him! Of all the things he could have said, why did it have to be that? He had said the same thing at the battle for Meros, back in a time when he could kiss her good-bye. There would be no kisses today.

  “The same goes for you,” she said softly.

  “After this, you are going to have to keep me around. They named me Protector for a reason. You might need me.”

  “I know. Emane, I’m sorry.”

  He hesitated, the façade he held cracking slightly. “I am sorry too.” Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders. “Who knows—maybe someday things will be different.”

  She frowned. “Emane, I don’t think—”

  “Come on now, there are always exceptions. You just never know.” He tried to smile, but it was weak and didn’t reach his eyes. He felt as helpless about their situation as she did, and it was written all over his face.

  “I will see you tonight.”

  “You better.”

  For a moment she wished she could pull off the cover to her talisman and rid herself of magic so she could hug him as a Witow. No magic, no danger. But then sh
e remembered that it would do little good. The talisman took everyone’s magic—except hers. Useless. Gritting her teeth, she went out to find Drustan.

  A very large Pegasus awaited her.

  “I know you hate riding dragons,” Drustan said.

  She smiled. It was a peace offering, and she appreciated it. “Thank you.”

  Alcander helped her, climbing up behind her. As his arms wrapped around her, she shivered under his magic.

  Drustan groaned, swinging his head around. “If you two would please keep that under control—you’re leaking into me.” His body shuddered beneath them. “Such things were not meant to be felt by a third party.”

  Kiora blushed. Alcander chuckled in her ear, sending new thrills rushing from her head to her toes. If she had been standing, she was sure her knees would have given out.

  Drustan spread his wings and dropped, literally, off the cliff. Kiora screamed despite herself, clutching at his mane.

  A glorious laugh, reminiscent of better times, rolled through the air as Drustan caught the wind, which pushed him back into the sky. “That was too easy.”

  Kiora scowled. “Feel better, Drustan?”

  “A little.”

  ***

  EMANE WASN’T READY TO go outside. He was dreading Lomay’s questioning. Pausing at the doors, his eyes settled on a matching set of double doors across the hall. A mixture of curiosity and plain old avoidance pulled him in.

  The room was two stories tall. It had rows of bookshelves, stopping only as the ceiling began sloping in to create a magnificent dome. Tall ladders on wheels were placed at increments around the room to allow a reader to reach the higher shelves, which Emane found curious in a magical household where one could just call the books down with a thought.

  Peering around, he saw that every inch of the wall had a towering bookshelf, a painted mural, or a hung tapestry. He immediately recognized Lomay as the artist behind the paintings. The style was identical to the ones he had painted in the cave.

  Being unfamiliar with this land’s past, Emane wasn’t sure which painted events had already happened and which were future visions. He made his way around the room, looking at each scene. There was one with a dragon and Epona that must have been in the past—Epona looked so young. One was eerily similar to the vision he had seen with Kiora in the Wings of Tavea—winged people falling from the sky, secured in the grasps of hideous creatures.

  Coming around a corner, he faltered, looking up at an intricate picture of Kiora on her wedding day. Any remaining hope of holding on to her flickered and died in his chest. She was radiant. The train on her dress stretched out behind her, and a tiara was on her head. But by far the most beautiful thing was the smile on her face. He loved it when she smiled like that. It only happened when there was nothing around to pain her, nothing she was worried about. It hadn’t happened very often.

  This day was one he had thought about. From the time he told Kiora he wouldn’t marry Ciera, the image had fluttered in the back of his mind—that maybe Kiora was the one, his queen. And she certainly looked a queen here—but not his. Her arm was linked through that of a proud-looking Tavean.

  At first Emane could not tear his eyes away from Kiora, but then they settled on the depiction of Alcander. Emane’s hands clenched into fists as tears threatened to spill. Alcander’s words rolled through his mind with even more savagery than when they had been spoken. Will you love her when you are old and gray? Will she still love you? She is not one of you anymore! If you loved her, if you truly loved her, you would let her go!

  Whirling around, he kicked a chair, sending it sliding across the floor. He pushed one of the ladders as hard as he could. It was not satisfactory. Chest heaving, he scanned the room. The horrible truth of it all refused to be silenced. Kiora was not the same girl he had fallen in love with. She looked like her, had the unbelievable strength she did, laughed like she did, but now she was filled with an awesome power that kept him at arms’ length and always would. Everything Kiora had said last night was true. He had seen how Alcander and Kiora touched each other. She was relaxed, at ease. But when he touched her, every muscle in her body tensed to keep from hurting him.

  But none of that changed the fact that he loved her.

  He picked up a book and threw it across the room. It slammed into the wall with a delightful thud. He threw another and another, hoping to relieve himself of the pressure building within. It wasn’t enough. The rage had become a roar between his ears, his vision muddled. Emane kicked over another chair, sending it clattering across the floor. Turning around, he grabbed at the only thing he saw—a giant tapestry hanging from the wall depicting dragons swooping through the sky. He wrenched it down with a guttural cry. Moving to the next tapestry, he grabbed it with a yell, throwing it to the floor. He stood there, panting, and then his eyes caught on a painting the tapestry had hidden. As it came into focus, Emane’s heart slowed nearly to a stop. His knees grew weak and he didn’t have the energy to fight it. He dropped to the ground, his mouth gaping.

  “I did not wish for you to see that,” Lomay said from behind him.

  Emane rolled his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut. “Then why did you paint it?”

  “Sometimes there are things I wish I didn’t see.” Lomay carefully moved between Emane and the picture. “Painting is my way of releasing those things. Then, if it is something I do not wish others to see, I hide it.”

  “This changes everything,” Emane whispered.

  “No. It cannot,” Lomay said with enough force that Emane looked up at him. “Nothing is certain. And sometimes things look different than they are.”

  Emane looked at him skeptically.

  “Come.” Lomay hobbled over to one of the tables, righting two overturned chairs as he went. “Sit.”

  Emane numbly stared at the vision for another minute before he joined Lomay, who sat in such a way so as to put Emane’s back to the painting. Unfortunately it faced him toward the wedding scene.

  “Is that one not what it seems as well?” Emane asked bitterly.

  Lomay looked over his shoulder. “Alcander was furious when he found that.”

  “Why?”

  “He hated the Solus, felt that the people had been abandoned by her. He swore this vision would never happen, that he would hate the Solus until the day he died.”

  “He changed his mind rather quickly,” Emane said, slumping.

  “He fought it, make no mistake. And so must you.”

  “You are telling me I should fight your visions?”

  “No. But maybe that one.” He inclined his head toward the painting behind Emane. “Some visions have missing information. Such as what happens right before and right after. We don’t know. Not to mention I have been wrong before.”

  Emane straightened. “You have?”

  “Once.” He leaned forward. “You must push this from your mind. When that moment comes, you cannot make choices based upon what you have seen here.”

  Emane rubbed his forehead. “You aren’t making any sense.”

  “Some visions are very clear, set in stone, because there is really only one option. Drustan is aware of this, which is why he is so angry. He can see what Kiora can not.” Emane frowned. “But others show only the beginning and not the end. As is the case in this one.” Lomay gestured toward the painting behind him. He hesitated for a second before standing and moving over to a rather normal-looking framed painting of a landscape, the only framed painting in the room. “And this one,” he said as he lifted the painting free of the wall. What was revealed beneath brought Emane to his feet.

  “She would never!” he shouted.

  Lomay looked thoughtfully at his work. “Now that I have met her, I believe you are right. This painting is missing something. It does not show the end, or the beginning. And yet, it looks like Kiora is killing me, does it not?”

  “Lomay, she couldn’t. She can’t harm anything without it nearly killing her.”

  �
�As I said, now that I have met her, I believe that. But all these years, waiting for the Solus, this painting was in my mind. It made me suspect her intentions and her heart. This is my point, Emane.” Lomay gestured toward the horrible portrayal. “You cannot base your decisions on what I have painted on that wall. Some will come to pass. I will not deny that. But others may come to pass very differently than how it appears in the painting.”

  “But there is no misconstruing that one.” Emane turned back to the one he had uncovered beneath the tapestry.

  “Perhaps. But as we speak, Kiora is trying to change it. Regardless of my opinion.”

  “But isn’t that what you want her to do? You just said—”

  “I know what I said. But as I also said that some destinies are to be because there is no other possible outcome. Jasmine has to be defeated. The Shadow must die. If that does not happen, Jasmine will stamp out our resistance. But Kiora has made her choice and I will not force her in another direction. She will learn in her own time.”

  Emane placed his thumb and forefinger in the corners of his eyes. “No one should know these things.”

  “On that account, you are very right, my boy,” Lomay said wearily, his eyes traveling the length of the room. With a wave of his hand, the two tapestries returned to the wall, falling neatly onto their hooks. “Please do not remove those again, for everyone’s sake—but most of all, for yours.”