Beneath Stained Glass Wings

by K Kazul Wolf

  “I don’t know. You didn’t try.”

  “Well, someone’s feisty today.” He grins. “Good.”

  I glare at him. “Why? What next? Do I have to make one of those things, now?”

  “Oh no, you won’t be able to do something like that for a long time.” He waves a hand dismissively. “But as I said, you don’t need years to be able to look into that pool, I wouldn’t think. You do, however, need to block this.”

  I need to— What?

  The sand shifts under my feet. I barely flap my wings backward before the ground bursts up from where I was standing, shimmering solid like the walls of Maur’s caverns.

  “What the hell was that for?” I lower my horns, instinct kicking in before I can stop it.

  The earth falls, and he’s just standing there, arms crossed and grin wide. “Manipulating earth isn’t too much harder than air, but it is the complete opposite. And since you were so insistent that instructions would help you, why don’t we try that this time?”

  I catch shifting sand out of the corner of my eye. I duck, rolling out of the way as a spike stabs through where my chest was a moment ago.

  “How is trying to kill me giving me instruction?” I jump to my feet, running toward Maur, grabbing my sabre—which isn’t there. I stop, gritting my teeth.

  “Kill you? That wasn’t me trying to kill you. I just enjoy keeping you on your toes, serpent.”

  Someday I’m going to be strong enough to beat him up with the exact same things he’s beating me up with right now. I don’t care if he is a dragon.

  He only seems encouraged by the anger rolling from me. “Unlike the air, all finicky in its set ways, the earth is stubborn. It won’t move unless you push. You must let go for wind, but to shift the sands, you have to be precise, powerful. Angry. Passionate.

  “So.” He takes a step closer, leaning toward me a bit. “Get angry.”

  Something hits the side of my head. Hard.

  My vision blurs. I don’t realize that I’ve moved until the sand scrapes along my side, the landscape coming back into focus.

  I’m on the ground. And the sand shifts in front of me, spikes starting to leap from the ground, getting closer and closer.

  I reach out toward them, pushing back as hard as I can, trying to fight it. But they don’t stop. A scream tries to tear its way from my throat, but my breathing is too fast to let anything out. I barely roll out of the way in time.

  “So much for it all being easy if I told you what to do.” Maur chuckles a little ways off, all relaxed and entertained while the taste of blood starts to seep across my tongue.

  The sand starts to shimmer again. I spread my wings, prepared to fly.

  No, I can’t have fear. I can’t have doubt. I’ve conquered too much for that. I have too much left to fight for. And Maur, of all people, deserves to be punched back at.

  A spike starts to emerge from the ground.

  I don’t let my awareness seep out of me—I throw it forward. I scream it out. I let all the anger and hurt that courses constantly through me flood out.

  The spike shatters…but doesn’t fall completely apart. It definitely does not go so far back as to hit Maur.

  I sag, my taut muscles falling limp. How on earth do I muster anything more than that?

  “Well, and I don’t say this very often, but I think you may have been right.” He takes a few steps toward me. “You did master that a touch faster with instruction.”

  “That’s it?” I blink. “That’s all you wanted me to do?”

  “Well, yes.” He stops walking. “I suppose if I let you get more irritated, it would probably have a been a more powerful reaction. But you got the concept down.”

  I’m not sure whether it’s relief or disappointment weighing down my limbs, making me want to collapse. “How can you muster keeping those walls moving all the time?”

  “Let’s just say…” A grin spreads across his face and a small flame flickers behind his eyes, a reminder that underneath his human skin, he truly is a dragon. “I have a lot to be angry about.”

  His smile loses its edge “Like, for instance, my empty stomach.”

  The ground shifts. Before I can move, a chair knocks me off my feet and onto a seat. That same table and same spread as last time I ate with Maur rises before me.

  Maur picks up a fork and starts at the wad of fish in front of him, but I hesitate. How much has really changed since the last time I ate with Maur? Have I actually learned anything?

  “If I’m so weak that I can barely move a bit of sand, how am I going to do anything?” I pick up my fork, jabbing the fish. “If…if you could sneak back to that lake, would you look for Vito for me?

  He raises an eyebrow, chewing a mouthful of food before responding. “I have no connection to him. How am I supposed to know what to look for?”

  “Can’t I tell you? I remember exactly what he looks like. I can tell you who he was, what he’s done…” My voice breaks a little and I clear my throat, blinking away the tears building in my eyes. No, I won’t give in to the flood of memories. He…he’s probably not still in this world with us. There may be a chance, but I know better than to hope at this point.

  And yet, I can’t stop fighting for even the possibility of saving him.

  He shakes his head, slowly. “I don’t know him, serpent. Whatever you say will mean nothing.”

  I bite my tongue, closing my eyes tight to fight the tears. This is so stupid. I shouldn’t be crying. I know better than this. I am better than this. I’ve already accepted what I’m doing next, I already know that I have Maur and my mother to fight for. This little shred of hope is going to destroy me.

  “Eat.” Maur’s voice is so soft, I have to open my eyes to make sure it’s actually him. “Then we’ll move on to the next element.”

  I follow his instruction, opening my mouth and biting down on the salty flesh, but I don’t think too much about it.

  This whole journey is just turning out to be more and more pointless. I’m making things worse, I’m putting people in danger, and I’m not learning anything that will help anyone. Not even myself.

  I glance down at the small word that Maur dragged up from me on my arm. A tiny glimpse at the world that possibly exists inside me. But what if that’s all I am? I don’t have anything else to drag out, no hidden power, nothing special.

  I should have just stayed and worked on those wings.

  “Are you finished?” Maur nods toward my empty plate.

  I don’t remember taking the last bite but I nod, standing up just before he collapses the table and chairs. The sun dips fairly low on the horizon, waves and dunes casting long shadows.

  “Do you want to take a break?”

  I eye him, but I don’t think he’s teasing or challenging me. Not that this couldn’t still be a test. I shake my head. If, if they’re keeping Vito alive, who knows how long they’ll find him useful up in the city.

  With a deep breath, I shake my head. “Let’s keep going.”

  He shrugs. “Your choice. This one may be difficult, though. It was the most difficult for your mother.” He meets my eyes. “Fire.”

  The opposite of water. “How can you even use an illusion for fire?”

  “Fire, according to the books I’ve studied, needs only three things to ignite: fuel, air, and heat. Air is everywhere.” He waves his hand and a small breeze ruffles through my hair, runs between my horns. “Fuel isn’t entirely difficult to come by either.” He drags a few branches and dried grass up from whatever hoard he keeps underneath the sand. “Heat, though?” He reaches down, taking a twig from the pile. “That is entirely on us.”

  The small branch bursts into a huge flame, spurts of green and purple running through the fire. I take a step back, the warmth burning my face.

  My heart beats fast, the fire extinguishing as quickly as it came to life. I can’t do this. But I remember my dream, I remember those brown scales in the distance.

  I have to.
<
br />   “You’re going to explain this one, right?” I lean down, picking up a large, stiff blade of grass.

  “It’s as simple as the others.” He waves a hand, like he’s talking about basic illusions and not techniques that don’t even exist in Caelum. “Though perhaps you might have trouble with this one.”

  “Why?” What’s harder than letting go? What more can I dig out of my raw emotions?

  “The key to creating fire is to believe in your ability to do so.” He holds out a hand, and the pile of kindling begins to smolder. “Take the illusion. Focus it. Grab all the light of the sun and focus it. Hone it onto your target.” A small crease forms on his forehead, concentration holding his attention for one moment before it all explodes into light and heat.

  He grins at his handiwork for half a second, then turns to me. “But, if you don’t believe you can do it, you can’t. If you don’t believe you deserve it, you won’t get it. And, right now, you don’t believe in yourself.”

  I bristle. “How would you know that?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Have you listened to yourself speak? You take chances, you are a strong little serpent, but confidence is not something you carry.”

  I clench my teeth together, focusing on my strand of grass. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know anything.

  But doubt creeps around my thoughts, fogs my mind.

  “You had better hurry.” Maur strolls away from me. “Once the sun goes down, you’ll have far too little light for someone of your level to start a fire.”

  There’re probably a few hours still left in the day. And it took me, what, minutes to get a grasp on how to move sand? That’s plenty of time.

  At least that’s what I thought.

  But the sun sets.

  And the blade of grass between my fingertips doesn’t so much as have a singe mark on it.

  28

  The Words

  Light crests over the horizon, the sky pink and the sea red. The air is heavy with brine. I wonder if I breathe it in enough, maybe I can grow gills and escape all this, disappear into the ocean.

  But instead I sit here, twirling the blade of grass in my hand, once again realizing how useless I am.

  “Are you giving up this easily again?”

  I glance over to find Maur sitting next to me, though I don’t know when he got there.

  “I…” I swallow, pinching the grass hard. “I can’t give up. I just…”

  “You don’t know how to do it.” It isn’t a question.

  I shake my head.

  He sighs. “If I had a solution for you, I would share it.”

  I snort. “I don’t think you could do anything straightforward.”

  He grins. “Perhaps not.” He’s quiet for a moment, observing the morning tide. “You could always turn back, you know. Or…perhaps you could stay here. Some company might be nice.”

  I stare at him, my mind churning thoughts slowly, trying to process his words. Staying with Maur for the rest of my life? It would definitely be interesting. And annoying. It’s a generous offer, one I can’t believe he’d make, but… “I…I need to know what that pool has to show me. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I never knew, if I didn’t try. And my mother’s being held prisoner with the Azelain. I need to help her.”

  He barks a laugh. “They locked her up? It won’t have been for long, trust me.”

  I frown. “Why not?”

  “She…” He clears his throat. “Your mother has a way with people. It’s why I dislike her, you know. I wasn’t there to shape your father when he grew up, and I acknowledge my mistake. I put my own foolish independence and want to learn above other people who relied on me. I tried to change him, help him see how sheltered and clueless he was. Of course I never got through to him. But your mother did. Your mother was the only reason he ever talked to me.

  “And she’s the reason I never saw him again, after that.” He scowls. “Then, despite her grief, she shaped the Azelain. Or maybe she had such power because of it. What she went through after thinking her daughter died, that she would never see you again, it defined her, it didn’t destroy her. She’s a strong woman.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “It almost sounds as if you admire her.”

  He snorts. “I said I don’t hate her, and that’s true. But I hardly admire her. She’s obnoxious. Not unlike you can be at times.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I mutter, bringing my knees up so I can rest my chin on them.

  “She’ll be fine, serpent. She could tell them to let the pool evaporate and then lie on the ground until they turn into raisins, and they would listen.” He looks over at me. “But if you want to use that lake to scry, you have to worry about yourself.”

  I turn away from him, staring at the grass. I’ve attempted to create fire dozens of times. There’s really no point in trying anymore. It isn’t worth it.

  But is Vito worth it?

  The thought crashes into my mind, knocking all other ideas out of view. Vito has always been worth it. For him, I joined the resistance; for him, I traveled to find Maur.

  But for me…I’m going to find him. No matter if he’s still on this earth with us or not. I need to know, no matter how much I want to.

  I concentrate on the dumb blade of grass and draw as much water in front of me as I can, pressing it together. I pull on the sureness of what I need, what I want.

  Maybe I can’t master everything overnight. There isn’t the time. Too much is going on.

  But I damn well can’t move on without at least mastering the basics.

  I try to shift, angle the water so that the light is magnified through it, focusing on the blade of grass. I’m not sure if I’m imagining the slight wisp of smoke, but I can’t let that break my concentration. Sweat beads on my brow, threatening to drip into my eyes. The illusion strains my senses, my head pounding, but I won’t give up. I can’t give up.

  I won’t fail anyone again.

  The piece of grass ignites. A small flame devours the tip and moves down. I drop it before it singes my fingertips.

  “There we are.” Maur grins, waving his hand to smother the small fire. “Finally.”

  I resist the urge to smack him. “That’s it then, right? That’s all of them?”

  He shakes his head. “You forgot the last one.”

  I blink. “But…there are only four to learn, aren’t there?”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Exactly. We may have covered it more than the others, but water is essential.”

  “B-but…” Water is all I’ve ever known. It’s all I’ve ever learned. He’s already taught me tricks to make my illusions work better. I could only manipulate the other elements because water interacts with them. “What else is there to learn?”

  He points to the word on my arm. “That.”

  My stomach slowly slides toward the ground. Oh. That.

  “Yes, you know water. But that isn’t enough. You didn’t understand how it works. You probably don’t understand all of it. But you understand what to hold onto, what to let go of, what to push and use to your advantage. You know that water doesn’t only come in one shape. You don’t only come in one, stagnant shape. Just like water, we’re fluid, messy, perfect.” His fingers flit over a few of his own words for a moment, eyes lost in a memory.

  “You have to accept that. You have to let it show. You have to let yourself feel, hope, anguish. Unless you don’t. In which case, I can’t help you” He sighs, looking up at me. “What do you choose?”

  My mouth is dry, my palms sweaty. That isn’t really a question and he knows it. “What do I do?”

  “Find your current.” He motions to the sea, to the waves crashing in a rhythmic chorus. “Let it run through you. Stop fighting it. Stop doubting it. Your current can change, you can change, but that won’t happen by denying who you are now.

  “Close your eyes.” His voice is quiet, nearly a whisper. “Focus. Start with the word on your arm. Dig deeper.”

  I do
as he says. It’s hard to feel anything in me besides my pulse. Instead, I focus on the word on my arm. On the loss and the want and the memories it represents. How it digs into me, through me, coursing through my veins.

  How it ties and knots and clogs together in my chest.

  I pull my focus in on that area, tugging at the knot, at the words caught there. They move, they budge, but then they snap right back into form. Is this what I am? A knot?

  No. This is what Maur was talking about, I think. What I haven’t accepted.

  With a more delicate touch, I reach into it again. Instead of pulling, I let it draw me in, tug my thoughts into the center of my well-guarded heart.

  Pain flares. I gasp, digging my fingers into the sand to help me focus, stay grounded.

  Once it fades though, pain isn’t left in its wake.

  It’s hope.

  I want to shy away, draw myself out of this knot and run as far and as fast as I can. I don’t want hope. I don’t want to be let down. I don’t want another high to make the next low hurt even more.

  But…I can’t. I won’t turn back, not now. I reach further into it, let it climb out of its cage and flow through me, a pulse running alongside my own. The thoughts of Vito being alive, of my mother being okay, of all of us surviving this.

  It’s terrifying. It’s horrifying, that I’m letting this happen, but…it feels too right to stop. Too close. Something that defines me, something I can’t go without if I want to keep being me.

  The current fills me, drowns me. It’s too much, it’s clawing to get out.

  And I can let it out.

  I lift a finger, press it to my arm where that one word ends. And as I feel it, not just the word, but the meaning, I carve it out onto my arm. It rises from me, splays across my skin so that all can see. And it keeps going. More and more bubbles out of me, blooming onto my skin. Words of love, loyalty, loss, need, purpose. They’re so natural, needed. My weaknesses and my strengths, past and barely hopeful future spread out for everyone to see.

  And then I’m done.

  My story’s written out in dark veins, covering only my arm.

  Maur smiles as I draw my finger back, my blank stare fixed on the words. “You’ll find more as you change and grow, I promise,” he comforts. “Mine change all the time.”