A Brief and Violent Escape

At the Blade and Band, Aria was the unwanted focal point of everyone's anxiety. She despised the inn’s confining spaces, but she quelled her unease, focusing instead on a single, pressing objective: figuring out how to retrieve Wells. Perched on a ledge in one of the guest rooms, she watched as Cirus, Elrin, Isena, and Soren paced the floorboards, their worried voices a low thrum in the small chamber.

Her flight from Lady Helena had been a frantic, twelve-hour blur, taking her directly to Pelara. The sheer distance they had covered in such a short time astonished her. Ignoring her own exhaustion, she had pushed onward, her wings beating a rhythm of self-reproach for not staying to help Wells.

I could have attacked them, she had thought, soaring high above the patchwork of meadows. Anything. With eyes far sharper than any human’s, she spotted a flicker of movement in the grass below. In a silent, graceful swoop, she became a deadly blur, seizing a field mouse in her talons. It wasn’t until she began to eat that she realized the profound depth of her own hunger. I could have used my magic. I could have raked them with my claws.

As dusk began to bleed across the sky, she continued her relentless journey until she finally landed on the roof of the Blade and Band. She summoned the innkeeper, a thin, balding man who seemed utterly bewildered to be receiving instructions from a sparrowhawk.

“Where is Cirus Crewe?” she demanded.

“Well, I…” the innkeeper stammered. “He has a room here, somewhere, and…”

“Take me to him,” she commanded.

He led her through the noisy taproom and up two flights of stairs. The walls seemed to press in on Aria as they ascended, but she forced herself to hop down the long, narrow, windowless corridor that followed. She shivered, moving slowly as the innkeeper counted the doors aloud.

“Sixty-six, seventy-seven, eighty-eight… Here we are, room ninety-nine,” he announced, tapping gently on the wood. He pressed his ear to the door. “Lord Cirus?”

“Yes?” came the hushed reply from within.

“There’s a hawk out here to see you.”

A frantic scurrying sound erupted from inside before the door flew open. Cirus’s imposing frame was a dark silhouette against the setting sun. He practically shoved the innkeeper aside as he rushed out, scooping Aria into his arms. She managed a quick thanks to the baffled man before she was carried into the room.

It was claustrophobic, with a wardrobe pressed against one wall and two beds covered in stark white linen. Aria immediately flew to an open window, a small portal offering the promise of escape. With three people and a centaur already inside, the space felt even more congested.

Without prompting, Aria recounted everything that had happened. Her tale felt disjointed and flawed, as she had been unconscious for most of the ordeal. When she reached the part about her dream, however, a collective sigh of relief passed through the room.

“Thank goodness,” Cirus muttered, some of the tension draining from his face. “We can still reach him.”

But it had been nearly a day since then, with nothing more. Now, well past noon, the pressure to sleep and try to contact Wells again was mounting. When Aria proposed it, however, Isena objected.

“It sounds like Lady Helena is controlling Wells with personal myran,” she stated matter-of-factly. “It’s highly probable she only allows him to sleep when she does. Attempting to make contact now would be futile.”

“Well, it would be more than we’re doing now!” Aria shot back, her wings fluttering wildly. Her agitation manifested as a burst of raw power; her wings erupted in flame, instantly igniting the bed linens. Cirus acted at once, a hissing stream of water jetting from his ring to extinguish the fire, leaving only a blackened, smoldering scorch mark.

“Control yourself, Aria,” Cirus’s voice was like ice. “I know you are frustrated, but that is no cause for such an outburst.”

“At least I’m reacting!” she shrieked furiously. “You’re all just sitting in an inn room talking about it! Anais is out there actually trying to save Wells, which is more than I can say for the rest of you!” She was gasping for breath, glaring up at the towering wizard, only now realizing she had moved from the windowsill to the foot of the bed. So intent was she on her tirade that she hadn't noticed the others staring at her.

Cirus paused. “Aria, you must understand—”

“No, you have to understand!” she interrupted, her anger boiling over. “You have to understand that Wells is trapped in this world because you dragged him here! You tore him away from all his friends, and now you refuse to go and rescue him!” Her sparrowhawk features were twisted into a mask of pure rage.

The interruption did not seem to faze Cirus. Instead, a profound weariness settled over his features, as if etched there by the weight of his responsibilities. He sighed, closing his eyes and sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. “Aria, I have important things to say, so please do not interrupt me again. I agree with you. I should be out there, searching for Wells. Every fiber of my being wants to be.”

He paused, his voice turning grave. “However, I have a strong suspicion where Lady Helena is heading. I have dealt with her before; I know the circles she moves in. If my suspicion is correct—and I have little doubt that it is—the moment I set foot in her stronghold, both Wells and I will be executed.”

Elrin gestured to the door. “We’ll leave you two alone,” he said, ushering his friends from the room. When they were gone, Cirus looked solemn, but Aria’s fury had not abated.

“Coward,” she spat. “You think they’ll kill you and Wells just for attempting a rescue?”

“I know they will,” Cirus affirmed. “I have more than a suspicion of what they are planning.”

“Who’s ‘they’?!”

“The warlocks,” he murmured grimly. “They are an organized body, just like the wizards. I sent Anais because they are not looking for him. If I, on the other hand, go to save Wells myself, I would be handing them the Order of Sorcerers on a platter.”

Aria gave a derisive snort. “That’s your explanation?”

“That is it,” Cirus confirmed.

“And why are you more important than Anais?” she challenged.

A flicker of exasperation crossed Cirus’s face before he continued. “I am, among other things, the third highest-ranking member of the Order of Sorcerers,” he said. “Through me, they could reach Lord Silus. If the Order were to fall, the warlocks could take Remira with little resistance from the nations.”

Aria stared at Cirus for a long moment before flying back to the windowsill. “Right,” she said somberly. “I’m going to find Anais and help rescue Wells.” She turned back, her voice dripping with contempt. “But my opinion of you has fallen significantly.”

Without another word, she launched herself from the window. Soaring into the vast afternoon sky, she banked hard, narrowly avoiding the sprawling branches of a great oak beside the inn. A cry of pure relief tore from her as she flew farther and farther from Pelara. Out here, in the boundless blue, she was free. Here, she was at her best. She climbed higher and higher until Pelara was just a speck on the enormous green tapestry below.

The wind whipped past, stinging her eyes as she mentally berated Cirus. An old coward, too worried about his precious status quo to lift a finger for Wells. Wells, who had suffered so much under his tutelage. Wells and I are in this together, she thought after an hour had passed. We can only rely on each other.

She scanned the landscape for any sign of Anais. Twice she descended to inspect a lone figure in the fields below, only to find they were merely travelers. A knot of anxiety began to form in her gut. The woods were no longer in sight, and she had no idea how to find her way back to Pelara.

I can’t go back there without Wells, she realized. Not after that little stunt.

The enormity of her foolishness struck her with a chilling certainty. Cirus was far older and wiser; his reasons for not pursuing Wells must have been sound. And of what use could she possibly be to Remira if both Cirus and Wells ended up dead?

A churn in her stomach was a sharp reminder that she needed to eat. She searched the skies around her but found nothing. Then she saw it—a starling, a tiny flicker of movement against the blue. With cruel precision, Aria dove upon the smaller bird, killing it instantly. She carried it to the ground in her talons and began to peck it apart.

She was just about to finish when a twig snapped nearby. Her head whipped around. Anais stood over her, his right hand outstretched, a brilliant yellow light pulsing from the ring on his finger. He looked ravaged by his journey, but a glint of hunger shone in his eyes as he licked his lips.

“Hold still, bird,” he said, his voice a ragged whisper.