Chapter 18:
The Sapphire Legacy
Although the hawk was scarcely a foot in length, its small frame belied a body of dense, powerful muscle. It possessed a wickedly curved beak that looked lethal and intense yellow eyes that seemed to scrutinize the very essence of Wells. Its wings were nearly black, a stark contrast to its subdued, grayish-brown body, which was marked with dark stripes across its abdomen. While its jet-black talons were hooked like razors, its legs were the same pale yellow as its beak. When it landed upon his arm, however, its claws did not break his skin.
“Wow,” Wells breathed, his voice barely a whisper. The moment was both startling and magnificent.
A profound silence settled over them for a beat before the hawk shattered it. Well? Aren't you going to say something?
A jolt went through Wells, and his arm trembled, nearly dislodging the bird. “You—you just spoke!”
The hawk let out a light, mocking chirp. So did you. It was a female voice, carrying a wild, untamed quality that reminded him faintly of Galano.
“Yes, but—well, I’m supposed to talk!” Wells stammered in defense, instantly aware of how absurd the situation was. What am I doing? he wondered. I'm arguing with a bird!
A sound like a hawk clearing its throat preceded her next words. I beg your pardon, but I find that offensive. I’m more than just a bird, you see.
“You’re not?” Wells asked, his tone skeptical.
No, she retorted with dry sarcasm. I’m a sparrowhawk. My name is Aria Ashwing.
“So, Aria Ashwing—”
Just Aria, the sparrowhawk interjected. And you might be?
“Wells Barlow,” he replied automatically. God, I’m talking to a hawk, and she’s acting as if she were merely asking for the time.
Alright, Wells Barlow. Aria’s tone was unnervingly direct. You must be the magician who summoned me, then?
A strange sense of apprehension crept over him. “Yeah,” Wells confirmed. “Yes, I am.”
May I ask you a question? she inquired pleasantly.
“Well, okay,” Wells agreed, his unease growing.
Are you naturally this foolish, or is there a specific reason you summoned me at your age?
“What?” Wells exclaimed, rage flaring in his chest. “I’m not a fool! I have a 3.5 GPA and—”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Cirus cut in smoothly. In the shock of Aria’s speech, Wells had almost forgotten his teacher was there. “Why don’t you two come down here?”
Wells carefully climbed off the stump, struggling to keep his arm steady. Aria swayed precariously despite his efforts. She fixed him with her uncanny yellow eyes. Be careful there, Wells, she remarked sharply. If I fall, I might just have to dig these into your arm.
Sighing, Wells rolled his eyes. “My apologies.”
“Hello, Aria,” Cirus said with a welcoming smile. “My name is Cirus Crewe, but you may call me Cirus. I am Wells’s teacher.”
To Wells’s astonishment, Aria dipped her head and bowed so low she was nearly looking upside down. Lord Cirus, she said, her voice filled with a humility he hadn’t thought her capable of. It is an honor to have you oversee my training.
Cirus grinned. “You have been preparing for this day for a long time,” he stated.
Indeed, she affirmed. My entire life.
Cirus nodded. “Wells, your kithara is your animal familiar. She will be your companion for life, your partner in magic, sharing the myran you will need to wield,” he explained. Then, he turned to the hawk. “Aria, Wells is your magician. He will be your defender and guardian, and he will never leave your side.”
Aria launched herself from Wells’s arm, hovering for a moment to stare him squarely in the eye. She made a small scoffing sound. Well, I suppose you’ll do, she declared, before landing neatly on his shoulder.
“What was that supposed to mean?” Wells asked Cirus, still stinging from her remark.
Cirus chuckled again. “Most magicians summon their kithara when they are ten,” he clarified. “Aria, Wells is from another world. He is the nephew of Jonas Barlow. Have you heard of him?”
Jonas Barlow? Aria repeated. No, I can’t say that I have.
A wave of relief washed over Wells. Finally, someone in Remira who knew nothing about his uncle. “Good,” he said. “It will be nice not to have any expectations to live up to with you.”
Cirus turned and began walking toward the edge of the clearing. “Wh-where are you going?” Wells called after him, a note of panic in his voice. “You’re just going to leave me here?”
Indeed, Cirus replied. “You and your kithara should spend your first night alone. I’m taking the horses, too. I will see you in the morning.” With that, he gathered the reins and led the mounts from the clearing, leaving Wells and Aria in solitude.
A thick, expectant silence descended. Unwilling to let the awkwardness fester, Wells decided to make an attempt at conversation. “So,” he began clumsily. “Tell me a little about yourself.”
With a sharp, cutting laugh, Aria flapped from his shoulder. She soared up to a branch on one of the towering trees and called down, You’ll have to get me down first!
“What?” Wells shouted up at her. She was perched at least twenty feet above him, looking down with what he could only describe as amusement. “Are you crazy? That’s like three times my height!”
Then I guess we’re never leaving, are we? Aria quipped. Wells was certain she would be smirking if she had lips.
He let out a growl of frustration. “What if I can’t climb trees?” he challenged.
What if you can’t? she echoed mockingly.
“How am I supposed to get up there?” he yelled at the tree, startled by the sheer ridiculousness of it all: a teenage boy, shouting at a talking sparrowhawk because he couldn’t climb.
You’ll have to climb it, that’s how, Aria stated firmly. I’m not coming down until you come up here.
Frustration boiling over, Wells sighed. “Fine,” he shouted. “I’ll climb up there and wring your scrawny little neck!”
Oh, threatening someone half your size, big man! Aria’s laughter echoed through the clearing. What’s next, are you going to pick on a four-year-old?
Wells snarled again. “Get down here now!” he roared, and was stunned when the ring on his finger erupted in a flash of blinding light. Aria cried out as she was yanked from the branch, as if pulled by an invisible string. She seemed to fight it, her wings flapping uselessly as an unseen force drew her downward. She landed on his shoulder, glaring at him.
Hmph, she grumbled. I underestimated your power.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wells asked, walking back to the stump and sitting down. Aria hopped from his shoulder to his lap, looking him directly in the eyes.
It means you have a great deal of raw talent, and you already know how to access a sliver of it, she said, a note of grudging respect in her voice. For a fifteen-year-old with no formal magic training, anyway. She held his gaze. Now, tell me about yourself, Wells. If I am to be your kithara, I need to know more than just your fear of heights.
“How did you know about that?” he asked, startled.
She laughed again. Oh, please, Wells. Anyone could have guessed that from your reaction to the tree, she said. Don’t feel bad about it. I’m a fledgling when it comes to water. Terrifies me. Now, tell me about you.
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