Apology in a Dream

The figures swarmed him, forming a tight, shifting circle. Wells’s attempt to break through their ranks was futile; each time he found an opening, unseen hands thrust him back into the center. The circle constricted, closing in on him until he collapsed to his knees. In desperation, he tried to summon his magic, a desperate, pathetic plea. He focused with all his might, but the power would not answer his call. Nothing happened. Wells curled into a ball, his arms shielding his head as he rocked on the cold floor.

"Stop it," he pleaded. "Stop it, stop it, go away, leave me alone—"

A commanding voice boomed from above: "Silence."

The circling figures faltered, suddenly pulled backward by an invisible force. They scrabbled at the floor, their claws scraping stone, but were dragged relentlessly away from him and absorbed back into the painted canvases on the walls. The corridor fell silent. Wells was alone. He cautiously lifted his head to see his Uncle Jonathan standing before him. The frail, sickly old man he remembered was gone. In his place stood the vibrant image Wells held in his memory, the vision of his uncle hale and content, just as he had looked on the night he vanished with Cirus without explanation.

Uncle Jonas offered his familiar, captivating grin before dissolving into a thousand points of light. The corridor melted away from Wells's sight, replaced by the sound of his uncle's echoing laughter.

He found himself standing in a vast, windswept field under an endless sky. A brilliant sun beat down from its zenith, the heat unusually intense, even for a dream. Taking a tentative step forward, Wells saw her.

Aria soared in a euphoric arc across the heavens, climbing toward the clouds before plummeting back toward the earth, her joyous cries echoing across the meadow. She banked sharply, heading in his direction. Upon spotting him, she halted so abruptly she tumbled several feet through the air before righting herself. She approached him warily, her expression a mixture of displeasure and relief.

Averting his eyes, Wells mumbled, "Hey."

"Hello," she returned, her tone clipped.

He rushed the words out. "Aria, I—I'm sorry. For what I said."

Some of the irritation in her gaze softened. "Really?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "I shouldn't have called you bloodthirsty. But," he added, "you did overreact by just flying off like that."

"I know I did," she conceded. "But thank you for saying you're sorry."

"You know," Wells said, "I think I really hit the nail on the head about your issue."

"What?"

"It's an idiom," he explained. "It means I've pinpointed your problem."

Aria remained silent, tilting her head to stare at the dream sun. Heat radiated in visible waves from the scorched grass below.

"No," she said flatly. "No, you haven't."

Wells sighed. "If you say so." He glanced around before settling into the thick grass and extending his arm. She hopped onto his forearm. It felt right to have her there again, a comforting sign that their fight was over and their friendship restored. "Where are you, really?"

"On your arm, clever boy," she quipped, a hint of a smile in her eyes.

"You know what I mean."

"I had to get away from Pelara," she admitted. "Away from you. I just flew as far as I could think of."

"And where did that take you?"

"A grove in Holtwood."

Shielding his eyes, Wells leaned back in the grass to look at the sky. "That's not so far," he said. "Will you come back—" He stopped himself. He'd almost said "home," but this strange place was anything but. A knot tightened in his stomach. "Will you come back to me?" he amended. "Soon?"

"How soon?"

"We're heading for the Cinian River at dawn. I want you with me."

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll be there."

He stroked her feathers gratefully. "Thanks. I don't like being without you, even if we've only known each other a couple of weeks."

"I don't like it either."

"But you're the one who left," he pointed out.

Her feathers ruffled. "That was different," she murmured. "Look, if you need me by morning, I ought to wake up and get moving."

"Okay," Wells said. "I'll see you soon."

She gave his arm a gentle squeeze with her talons and vanished.

The rest of the night passed without dreams. It was a relief to awaken, the strange vision of Uncle Jonas tempered by the comforting memory of his talk with Aria. He climbed out of bed and caught his reflection in the mirror between the beds—his hair was a frightful mess.

"A truly flattering look for you," came Cirus's dry voice from across the room.

Wells grumbled, running his fingers through his hair to tame it. Just as he was inspecting the results, a sharp tap sounded at the window. He turned, his heart leaping with delight to see Aria perched on the sill. Rushing over, he threw the window open, and as she flew inside, he caught her in a hug.

"Thank God you didn't do something stupid," Wells said.

"Have I ever?" she retorted, squirming out of his grasp. She flew to his bedpost and settled, and he watched her with a fond chuckle.

"I'm not answering that."

Cirus, fastening his belt and adjusting his cloak, nodded to her. "Aria. It is good to see you."

"And you, Lord Cirus," she replied, dipping her head respectfully. Wells noted her formal tone with Cirus again, a stark contrast to her usual demeanor. Turning to him, she asked, "Are we leaving soon?"

"We are," Cirus confirmed. "I am heading down to finalize preparations with Elrin. You two should get some food." He moved toward the door. "I will return in an hour. We depart then."

"I've already eaten," Aria announced.

"I haven't," Wells countered, realizing he was famished. It felt like ages since he'd had a proper meal.

"Downstairs, then," Cirus said, leading the way to the tavern. The common room was nearly empty, occupied only by the innkeeper and a cook. Wells took a seat and asked for something warm. Minutes later, the cook brought him a steaming bowl of porridge.

Aria watched him eat in silence. Finally, after swallowing a mouthful, he looked at her. "What?"

"The things you humans consume are revolting," she commented.

Wells snorted. "Says the one who eats live mice." His gaze shifted to Cirus and Elrin, who were huddled over a map of Remira, whispering intently.

He scooped up another spoonful. "Wonder what that's about."

"The quickest route to the Burning Plains," Aria said matter-of-factly. She met his surprised look with a simple explanation. "My hearing is superior to yours."

Once Wells finished his breakfast, Aria hopped onto his shoulder, and they approached the two men. Wells looked down at the map, where a bold red line had been drawn.

"So that's our route?"

"It is," Cirus confirmed. "We follow the road to the Cinian River. From there, we can acquire boats and continue our journey to the Burning Plains by water. It should be a hard day's ride to the river. After that…" He trailed off. "Well, after that, we'll see."

Cirus rolled up the map. "Elrin, gather your mercenaries." Elrin nodded and headed for the stairs. "Wells, Aria, with me. We need to ready the horses and load the supplies."

They followed him to the kitchen, where the cook, Fenris, had six packs of food waiting. "Two weeks of rations, Lord Cirus, as you asked."

"My thanks, Fenris," Cirus said with a nod. The cook bowed his head. Cirus and Wells took up the packs and exited through a rear door that opened into the yard behind the inn.

To their right stood the stable. As they walked toward it, Aria launched from Wells's shoulder, spreading her wings gracefully. She let out a cry of pure joy as she circled overhead, and the sound made Wells's heart lift. Cirus, however, gestured for him to keep moving.

"No time to dawdle."

Wells watched Aria for another moment before hurrying to catch up. The stable was dusty and filled with the warm, earthy scent of horses. Cirus found Situs and Solea. "You saddle our mounts. I'll see to Elrin's." He moved to the adjacent stalls, which housed Anais's roan and two other brown steeds.

Just as Wells finished saddling the horses, Aria swooped into the stable, landing on Solea's back. The mare nickered a soft greeting. "Are you ready for this?" Aria asked.

Wells, busy checking a strap on the saddle, replied, "Ready for what?"

"To be a wizard, of course."

He fell silent, focusing on cinching the knot tightly before bending to retie his bootlace.

"Well?" she pressed.

"Honestly? I don't know," he admitted, straightening up. "I have to be, but will I be any good? I feel like I've forgotten everything Cirus taught me." He shook his head. "This isn't the time to be second-guessing, I know."

Aria tilted her head. "You'll be fine," she said softly. "I have faith in you."

A small smile touched Wells's lips as he reached out to stroke her head. "Thanks."

At that moment, Elrin entered the stable with Soren and Anais. Wells could see Isena just outside, testing the string of her bow. After a round of greetings, they all mounted. Cirus led Situs out into the pale morning light, with the others following suit.

"So, what's the plan?" Soren asked, his voice rough.

"For now, we ride north," Cirus answered.

"At speed?"

"Not yet. I doubt we are being followed so soon."

"But we will be," Wells added, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

Cirus gave a solemn nod. "That is more than likely, yes."

"Then let's be off!" Isena declared, rising in her stirrups. "The forest calls to me!"

With a final nod, Cirus spurred Situs into a gallop, quickly outpacing the group. Elrin gave a hearty laugh and charged after him. Soren and Anais followed at a more measured pace, while Isena shot past them all. Wells and Aria shared a look.

"Last one out of Pelara eats grass!" she shrieked, launching into the air. She made a playful circle above his head, her laughter like the ringing of tiny bells. "Well? Are you coming?"

"We'll see who's eating grass!" Wells shouted back. He urged Solea into a run, chasing after the others. Above, Aria was a dark speck against the vast blue canvas of the sky, her cries echoing with the pure, unbridled joy of flight.