The Rescue from the Stone Cell

This outpost was in far worse condition than the others. Its main door was splintered by rot, and the watchtower looked so fragile a strong gust might fell it. Thick ivy climbed the stone, its tendrils prying mortar apart to make way for resilient weeds. Aria had never seen an occupied building in such a state of decay.

"They're in there," she said, her voice strained.

"Yes," Anais replied calmly.

"Why would Helena choose this ruin?" Aria insisted. "It makes no sense."

"Perhaps not to you," Anais said, "but this place holds immense meaning for the prophets. The most revered member of their order was born here."

After another meticulous scan of the structure, Aria turned back to Anais. "I'm coming with you."

"What?"

"I want to help rescue Wells," she declared. "I was trained as a kithara, so I have magical talent. Besides, if all else fails, I can always peck their eyes out."

A flicker of amusement crossed Anais's face. "You are feisty. But I don't want you getting hurt."

"That's too bad," Aria shot back. "I don't care if I get wounded. I care about getting Wells out of there alive."

A broad smile lit up Anais's features. "And a brave little sparrowhawk, too. Very well. You may accompany me." As he neared the entrance, he glanced at Aria, who hovered uncomfortably close to his shoulder. She braced herself for the confinement inside. His voice dropped to a low mutter. "No need for subtlety this time. Can you create a whirlwind in the room?"

Aria considered it. "Yes," she said finally. "I should be able to."

"Good. You do that. I'll handle the rest."

"I'll do it and then go find Wells," she added.

After a heartbeat's hesitation, Anais nodded. He nocked an arrow, charged forward, and kicked the rotten door. It exploded inward with a powerful crack. He bellowed and rushed into the room, Aria right behind him, the world dissolving into a blur of mayhem.

They had burst into a small, square chamber. Helena and her two cronies sat at a table, their faces masks of shock. Anais loosed his arrow, and the tall one, Lyren, collapsed with the shaft buried in his throat. Isrien screamed, but his cry was lost as Aria focused her will, and a tornado ripped through the room.

The roar of the wind drowned out all other sounds. As Aria unleashed a second vortex, everyone was thrown to the floor. She screamed and swooped left toward a wooden door. A fierce flap of her wings blasted it with heat, scorching the wood and revealing a dark, descending stairway. She plunged into the shadows without hesitation.

Once inside the stairwell, she beat her wings rapidly, and a brilliant light erupted, illuminating the passage as if it were noon. The stairs seemed to fall away into infinity. She angled her body and dove sharply, a fresh glow enveloping her as she flew, letting her see what lay ahead.

The floor rushed up to meet her, and she spread her wings, slowing to a soft landing in a long stone hallway. A desk stood nearby with a set of keys resting on it. Snatching them in her beak, she glanced around frantically. Across the hall was a cell, and inside—

"Wells!" she cried, dropping the keys with a clatter. He lay huddled on the stone floor, and looked up in shock, scrambling to his feet. A long, fresh scar marred his face, and his eyes were ringed with exhaustion.

"Aria!" he rasped. "How did you—what's happening?"

Aria grabbed the keys again and flew to the cell. Unable to work the latch with her beak, she dropped them into Wells’s outstretched hand. He wrestled with the lock for a moment before it gave way with a metallic click, and he pulled the door open.

"Anais and I just arrived," she said quickly. "He's upstairs dealing with them. I think Lyren is dead. I don't know what—"

She stopped as a massive explosion thundered from above. Isrien's limp body tumbled down the stairs, followed by a desperate, racing Helena. Her eyes widened as she saw Wells was free, and she lunged at him with a scream.

Wells threw up his hands defensively. A magnificent light burst from the Ring of Hope, and a shimmering blue barrier materialized before him and Aria. Flames shot from Helena’s ring but sizzled harmlessly against the magical shield.

Another heavy crash echoed from the top of the stairs, and Anais appeared. He leaped over Isrien's body and leveled an arrow at Helena. She spun, and with a wave of her hand, vanished into the gloom. Anais cautiously lowered his bow.

"Well met, Wells Barlow," he said.

Wells managed a weak smile. "Hi."

"Are you all right?" Anais asked, sliding the arrow back into his quiver.

"Yeah," Wells replied. "Helena tried a few magical attacks, but the ring always protected me."

Anais glanced at the ring on Wells's hand. "The Ring of Hope is an ancient and powerful tool. You're lucky to have it. But if it protected you, how did you get that scar?"

Wells’s expression darkened. "That came from an attack I didn't see coming. I don't know what kind of magic it was, but it hurt."

Anais examined the mark, then passed his own ringed hand over it. A sensation like warm breath washed over Wells’s cheek. When Anais pulled back, the scar was gone. "Thanks," Wells said gratefully.

"Do you need to eat?"

"Yes. I'm starving."

"Come with me, then," Anais said, starting back up the stairs.

Aria landed on Wells's shoulder and nuzzled his neck. As he stroked her feathers, she pinched his shoulder with her talons—just enough to send a message, not to draw blood.

"Never ask me to abandon you again," she stated firmly. "Because I won't. Would you leave me if I asked?"

"No, of course not," Wells answered.

"Then don't ever expect me to do it to you," she said.

Wells nodded. "I understand."

"Good," she chirped, her tone shifting. She gave his shoulder a gentler squeeze, then leaped into the air. "Race you!"

Emerging from the outpost, they found Anais near his horse, Situs, gazing at the pinkish-blue sky. He turned as they approached, passing a strip of dried beef to Wells. "It's not much of a breakfast, but it will have to do."

"It's fine," Wells said, though he privately wished for something warm.

"We can build a fire," Anais decided. "We'll need one to burn the bodies, anyway. Help me gather some dry wood."

Wells and Aria found a stack of logs behind the outpost. After Wells brought an armful to the campsite, Anais returned from a nearby grove. "Oh, good, you found some. Is there enough for the pyre?"

"Yes, there's a whole pile," Wells confirmed.

He watched as Anais skillfully stacked the wood. When he finished, Anais raised his ring to light it, but Wells stepped forward. "Wait. I want to try."

A flicker of concern crossed Anais's face before his usual indifferent mask returned. "You've only managed simple water magic, Wells. Fire could be dangerous."

"I helped Aria do it once," Wells insisted, conveniently omitting the uncertainty he felt. He squared his shoulders, ready.

Anais relented. "If you've done it before, then."

Aria shot Wells a pleading look, but he gave a small shake of his head. "I want to try," he muttered to her.

He closed his eyes, found the myran, and pictured the Greatwood. Enough to start a fire, he focused, reciting the mantra as he drew the power into himself. It felt different this time—wilder, stronger—but he ignored the feeling and pushed the energy out.

He knew instantly he had made a terrible mistake. He had drawn fire myran, but far, far too much. A raging torrent erupted from his ring, engulfing the logs and searing the grass in a wall of heat.

"Wells!" Aria shrieked. "Stop!"

"I can't!" he gasped. The power was a flood inside him he couldn't control. He tried every mental command he could think of to stop it, but the flames only roared higher.

He began to pant, but each attempt to draw breath failed. Darkness crept into his vision as his oxygen-starved brain began to shut down. His knees gave out, and he collapsed, the fire still pouring from his hand.

Suddenly, the stream of fire ceased. Wells crumpled to the ground, taking shallow, agonizing breaths, too weak to move. Lying beside him, Aria was also limp, panting silently. As his vision slowly cleared, he saw Anais leap into action, dousing the blaze with streams of water from his own ring until only smoldering ash remained.

Wells tried to roll over, but his limbs wouldn't respond. He saw the hazy figure of Anais leaning over him, waving a hand over his body. He made one last effort to lift his head, but his strength was gone. Everything went dark.