Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
DRYSTAN
The only Ehp’uch we concern ourselves with is the one we serve in the afterlife. Our tie broke when you allied with the thief.
– Correspondence from New Dragon to White Hawk.
Drystan – Borva, Votruvia
Awet wind buffeted against my face, and I took a deep breath of the salty air that whipped off the Crimson Sea. The sweat on my palms dampened the leather reins in my hand, and I laced my fingers tightly through Tempest’s charcoal mane.
My legs clenched around her side as an updraft sent her wings wobbling. Had I not spent weeks on Tiberius’s back last year flying from Lotrennia to find Lyvia, I might have toppled off.
I gave Tempest’s sweaty side a pat, and her ears pinned as if I were chastising her.
We flew over Borva, heading to a large hill where we’d meet Lyvia and the others.
The four other Votruvian Islands emerged in the distance, each anchored in the gray waters of the Crimson Sea.
The misty, floating mountain of the Arx hung in the center of them like an unnatural cloud.
I adjusted myself in the saddle and angled my hips toward the large hill in the distance, leaning forward slightly.
Tempest took my meaning, and she tilted her wings.
A bud of resentment flared for a moment.
It would be so much easier to ride her if we’d shared a conscious connection. If she had been meant for me…
I squashed the emotion as soon as it arose, certain the mare would catch onto my disappointment and likely toss me into the clouds.
I braced myself as we began our descent.
My stomach somersaulted as the ground came up to meet us.
My teeth clanked together as her hooves hit the ground, and she cantered up to the gathering of people.
I hopped off her back and made my way to stand next to Jon Pavel. He looked over his shoulder as we approached, nodding in soft appreciation as he eyed the winged horse.
A line broke in the clouds, and the morning sun stabbed through, drawing a bright line over the field.
I rubbed my hands over my arms, willing the morning rays to chase away the airborne chill that had settled into my bones.
Bits of frost clung to the blades of grass before my feet and sparkled in the light like they possessed their own sort of magic.
I tripped forward as Tempest’s giant head nudged me from behind. I held the gray mare’s lead as she shoved her way between us, as if to get a better view.
Vulcan and Raek stood in the line of pirates at the far end of the field, most of them with arms crossed and eyes wary as Lyvia approached a white mare.
Her matted mane and tail were tangled with burrs, and a large smudge of mud ran down her flank.
But where her coat was clear, it shimmered in the morning light.
Lyvia pursed her lips at the stable hand who brought the horse up, no doubt taking note of the tangles, but she nodded as she took the lead from him. Her eyes cut to where Tiberius stood next to Lord Astraeus several feet away, and her features softened as an easy confidence fell over her.
Jon Pavel shifted on his feet next to me, and his brows narrowed as he crossed his arms, waiting for Lyvia to make the transformation. Lyvia’s lips moved slightly as she ran a hand down the front of the mare’s face, smoothing her thick forelock to the side as she did so.
Lyvia’s eyes closed, and she leaned her forehead on the pane of the mare’s face, her lips continuing to move.
Several small, twinkling lines of golden power blinked into existence in the air surrounding her.
The whites of the mare’s eyes flashed and her ears flickered back and forth, but she kept her head still.
Her hooves remained planted firmly on the ground.
The lines of magic gently looped up and around the horse, dancing through the air and encircling the two of them. A moment later, golden sparkles of light floated from behind the mare as Tiberius added his own Transcindiel power.
The light twisted and danced around the horse, thickening until Lyvia and the mare were wrapped in a slow cyclone of glittering golden magic. Astraeus’s shoulders tensed as they disappeared from view entirely.
A blinding white flash erupted before me, and I jerked my arm in front of my face. As I lowered it, two thick, white wings flapped wildly in the center of the field. Little glittering bits of magic dissipated in the air that blew around them.
Pride swelled in my chest, and I clapped my hands together as the mare threw her head back.
Lyvia let the lead slide smoothly through her hands, giving the horse space as she began to trot around her in circles.
The mare held her wings to the side, and they wavered slightly, not knowing what to do with them yet.
Lyvia’s smile was wide, and she crinkled her nose as her eyes met mine.
Jon Pavel’s mouth had gone slack, and as I looked at the old warrior, his hardened eyes softened before he brought his fingers to his lips. The whistle must have been loud because the mare bolted, her wings sending a gust of air against the summer grass, leaving giant divots of mud in the ground.
Lyvia held strong, moving with the mare and directing her energy with a slight tug of the lead.
She threw Pavel an exasperated look but smiled and turned as Vulcan approached.
The ex-War Slayer circled the mare once before taking the lead from Lyvia and walking the horse down the hill to the training grounds.
“How do you feel?” Astraeus asked as he approached. Though he spoke to Lyvia, his hands moved in my own language as Pavel, and I made to join them.
My chest tightened at the gesture.
“Amazing,” Lyvia replied, her smile still wide. “It requires much less energy to simply add the wings. Nothing like transforming a creature into a caeluma.”
Her throat bobbed as her eyes landed on me before cutting to Tempest. I resisted the twisting in my gut and forced my jaw to relax.
Don’t pity me.
I shoved the feeling down and jerked my head to the stable hand, who approached with another horse.
“How many do you think you manage today?” I asked.
Her gaze cut to the stables in the distance.
“Five or six. But I’ll keep going as long as I can,” she replied, nodding. “We’ll begin training the riders and horses immediately.”
Days had passed, and Lyvia’s transformations became increasingly successful as she created a small, winged cavalry for the Realm of Vael. And though she honed her skill, no one had ever managed a herd of winged horses before.
I chuckled as Aeriden stood at the center of a pasture, holding a bucket of oats over his head and shaking it. He whistled as he scanned the skies, trying to coax the winged gelding he’d chosen back to the ground. The tall bay made large circles overhead, ignoring Sultira’s horse lord entirely.
It would take weeks to train this herd of island horses and pirates how to fly together. And longer, perhaps, to prepare for a battle against the gods. My gut tensed as I recalled Selvina’s recounting of the skydrakes.
I made my way to the forge in the center of the island, where I was to meet Isla and continue our work on the múritinnes.
My eyes watered as I entered the dark building, the stinging smoke of melted steel snaking into my nose.
Fires blazed in the center of the massive building, iron sparking as men and women hammered the metal in various lines and alcoves.
I walked the outer rim, scanning the workplaces below until I came to the small room on the upper level.
Isla hunched over the Lock Scroll, and she ran her thin fingers over the scarred words on the hide. She looked up as I entered, and my brows narrowed as I noted her state.
Bags shadowed the amber eyes that darted up to me. My hands lifted to ask how long she’d been at it, but she scrunched up her nose in annoyance and swatted the air.
“I’m fine,” she signed, “And I think I finally figured it out. Come over here.”
She stood and gestured to me, waving her hand quickly at the massive cauldron before us. I moved to her side and peered in to scan its milky contents. Not much had changed since we’d been here last.
“I think we can pool our power,” Isla explained.
“Contact with another magical being can sometimes mimic an amplifier, though it’s typically a much smaller bit of power.
But the more I’m reading here”—she jerked her head to the scroll—“the more I think we need people from different races to work together. That’s the whole point of this. ”
My eyes darted to the small rings adorning Isla’s pointed ears. I gave a firm nod, not needing more explanation. Isla’s smile stretched as she clasped her hand into mine.
Her full lips moved as she muttered the spell, and I spoke the words in my mind. I was never sure how or why it worked when I did it this way, but it did. And as the last word formed in my mind, a dazzling display of light and color erupted from the cauldron.
My face went slack as Isla began jumping up and down. Her face lit up as she called for Ezrich. I ran a hand over my face as I stared at the swirl of sparkling liquid, the colors twisting and writhing like a living rainbow.
Ezrich and Kellan entered the room distractedly, deep in conversation as their heads bent toward the small chunk of violet crystal Kellan held in his hand. Their faces snapped up as Isla said something, and Kellan pocketed the crystal as Ezrich rushed forward.
I took an iron ladle and scooped up the silvery, white substance, pouring it into the mold where it sizzled against the liquid steel. A sweet, loamy scent wafted up, and I blinked against the heat from the torch, shoving my spectacles up my nose as they slid against the sweat on my face.
The orange glow of liquid metal and sparkling light from the múritinne solution melded into a twinkling river.
Ezrich moved quickly, and he shaped the múritinne metal as it cooled and began to harden, twirling it around a thin, iron rod.
He hammered the anvil against it before twisting and hammering again.
My shoulders tensed in anticipation as we watched him repeat the moves until he dipped the thin ring in a vat of cool water, the heat escaping in a cloud of mist.
Ezrich pulled the band free, carefully removing it from the rod and letting it plop onto his thick, leather glove.
The múritinne ring glowed against the burning fire of the forge, and an opal-like shimmer reflected a spectrum of colors off the small white band.