A Reunion on the River

The next morning, Wells awoke to find the others gathered around a fire for a meal. His stomach rumbled, as he hadn't eaten since the previous day’s lunch. He joined the group, taking a seat between Soren and Cirus, and tuned out their discussion of the impending conflict with the Auran Empire as he devoured a piece of freshly roasted fish.

Once he finished, they began heaving the boats back into the river. While he worked, Wells noticed Aria perched in a tree nearby. Before they departed, he went over to her. She was on a limb at least five feet above him, yet he could see her clearly in the dim forest light.

"Aria, why are you being so strange?" he asked.

"I'm not being strange," she retorted haughtily. "This is just how I am."

Wells rolled his eyes. "Fine. It doesn't matter if you don't want to talk to me." He turned to walk away, but before he had taken two steps, Aria flew from the branch and landed on his shoulder.

"Wells, wait," she said, her voice softening. "I—I have a reason for avoiding the boats."

He craned his neck to look at her. "What is it?"

Aria looked down, avoiding his gaze. "I'm afraid of water," she confessed in a near-whisper.

Wells snorted. "Is that all?" He couldn't help it; he burst out laughing.

"Stop it! It isn't funny." He winced as her talons dug sharply into his shoulder. "I almost drowned when I was a fledgling. I have a good reason to be terrified."

His laughter died instantly. "Oh," he said, his face flushing with shame. "Aria, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

The uncomfortable silence that fell between them was broken by Cirus's shout. "Wells, let's go! We need to get moving!"

"Coming!" Wells called back. "I guess I'll see you later," he said to Aria. She nodded and launched from his shoulder. He watched her circle once above him before she shot upward, bursting through the canopy in a shower of leaves.

He went to the boats and climbed in, sitting at the back while Anais pushed them from the shore. Cirus, seated beside him, turned to face him as they began to drift.

"Alright, Wells," Cirus said calmly. "Today we're going to attempt some more advanced water magic. The river is the perfect place for it!" He chuckled. "As you can see, we are almost entirely surrounded by our element."

It was true. They were moving toward the center of the Cinian, which was easily five hundred feet across. Wells nodded.

"Good. This means your potential here is far greater." Cirus gestured expansively at the river. "I can practically guarantee you can do anything you can imagine. Name something."

"Uh…" Wells glanced at Anais, rowing with a steady rhythm, then at Soren and Elrin in the other boat, their oars dipping in perfect time. The choice was obvious. "I want to speed up the current," Wells declared. "So they don't have to work so hard. How do I do that?"

"You tell me," Cirus replied with a knowing grin.

"Great," Wells grumbled. "It's not like I have a deep intuition for this…" He looked around, his gaze settling on the Ring of Resolve on his finger. "Alright, I'll try." He closed his eyes.

"Ah," Cirus said quickly. "Keep your eyes open this time."

Wells opened one eye to glare at him. "What? That makes it ten times harder."

"You wouldn't have the luxury of closing your eyes in a real fight," Anais interjected from the rowing bench. "Listen to your master, Wells."

"Okay," Wells said, surprised that the usually quiet man had spoken up.

He tried to find the flow of myran while forcing himself to ignore his surroundings. It was much harder with his eyes open. He couldn't quite see the threads, but he could sense their presence, a low thrum in the air. Yet every time he found a trickle of power, his focus would drift to the glint of the water or the dark trees on the bank, and the connection would break.

"You're not concentrating, Wells," Cirus chided gently. "The myran is there. You just need to reach for it."

"What do you think I'm doing, birdwatching?" Wells snapped, his frustration mounting. "I am trying."

He focused again. He could feel it, hovering languidly over the river. He forced his vision to blur, to ignore the details of the world as he reached out. Slowly, patiently, he followed the shimmering trail of myran until he found a deep well of it.

He poured all his will into a single command: Make the river faster. Fast enough that Anais wouldn't need to row. Faster. The cool, revitalizing energy of the myran seeped into him, a slow and painful infusion. He let it build for a moment before unleashing it, sending it surging from his core into the water. With a startling rush, the current accelerated.

Wells blinked, his vision clearing. Cirus was clapping, his face alight with delight. Anais had shipped his oars and was looking at Wells with profound relief and—was that pride? It was hard to tell with Anais.

"Well done, Wells!" Cirus exclaimed. "Well done indeed!"

Wells couldn't stop a grin from spreading across his face. "Thanks. It was so much harder with my eyes open."

"You'll master it in time, mark my words," Cirus said, his own eyes gleaming. "You're a remarkably fast learner. Now, let's try something else."

For hours, Cirus drilled him. Anais barely touched an oar, except to steer the boat away from the bank or a rocky outcropping. On the shore, Isena had lengthened her loping stride to keep up, while Aria soared high above her. Neither of them looked remotely tired. Wells, on the other hand, was utterly spent. The intense concentration required to find and command the myran strained his stamina to its limit. Cirus had him lifting jets of water from the river, altering its depth, slowing the current to a crawl, and then speeding it up again. But the important thing was, he was getting it.

The day wore on. In the morning, they were still in the deepest part of the forest, so thick he could barely see beyond the riverbanks. By afternoon, the trees began to thin. As dusk fell, they emerged from the woods into a wide, grassy meadow. Deciding it was time to camp, they dragged the boats ashore. Wells staggered out, his limbs heavy and every muscle screaming in protest. Aria swooped down and landed on his shoulder, rubbing her head against his affectionately.

"I saw what you did back there," she said. "You're getting really good."

"Thanks," Wells managed gratefully, collapsing onto the ground. The grass was wonderfully soft and the night air was cool. He closed his eyes. "I'll be glad when I don't have to train so much."

"The day that happens," Aria said quietly, "is the day you'll be leaving Remira."

"Oh," Wells said. His stomach twisted uncomfortably. "Right."

Suddenly, the crisp call of a trumpet echoed across the glade. He sat up. The others were building a fire for dinner, but they had all turned to face west, their expressions curious. Isena's face brightened.

"I know that horn," she said, her voice full of warmth. "That is the horn of Erebos of Valencia."

"Erebos and Galano are passing through here?" Cirus asked, surprised. "I'd have thought they would have made for Valencia with more haste."

Wells went to the fire and helped himself to some pork they had brought from Pelara. "Will Alexa be with them?" he asked Cirus.

"Likely," the wizard replied.

Wells felt the knot in his gut loosen. He tried hard not to smile, aware that Aria, who had flown to a nearby rock, was watching him with a suspicious gaze.

"Who's Alexa?" she demanded.

"A friend," Wells mumbled around a mouthful of pork. "Remember? I told you about her, and Juliana, Nikolai, Vance, and Aidan. The ones who came here with me."

"Yes, I remember now," Aria said, though she continued to glare at him.

They had just finished their meal when the horn blew again, much closer this time. Wells looked up eagerly to see a party of ten centaurs cantering into the glade with a speed no horse could ever hope to match. Spotting the camp, they slowed to a trot and approached. With Erebos in the lead, everyone rose to greet them.

"Indeleä," Isena murmured, bowing her head in respect.

Erebos saw her, and the two immediately launched into a rapid conversation in Vaenyari. Cirus joined in, speaking just as fluently. Wells stood awkwardly behind them, craning his neck to find Alexa.

He spotted her on Galano's back as the centaur pushed to the front. She slid down and ran toward Wells. Before he knew what was happening, she had collided with him in a fierce hug, her hair filling his vision.

"Wells!" she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. "What are you doing here? They said you'd be long gone by now, but—oh, Wells, I've missed you!" She squeezed him tighter.

A genuine warmth spread through his chest as he hugged her back. "I've missed you, too," he whispered.

She finally let go but grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the crowd of humans and centaurs. Aria followed, a silent shadow in the twilight. When they were a dozen feet from the others, Alexa stopped and looked him over. "You're tanner," she announced with a smile. "And I think you're a little taller. And you'll need a haircut soon if you let it get any longer." She laughed.

"You look—" He hesitated. He had been about to say "really good," because she did. She was tanned and healthy, and she had traded her dress for a practical pair of breeches and a loose-fitting tunic. A sword was belted at her hip, and she carried a beautiful bow and a quiver of arrows. She looked completely at ease, as if she had been born to this life. "You look natural," he finished.

"Ouch," said a voice from his shoulder. He hadn't noticed Aria landing there. "That was awfully tactless, Wells," she said, pinching his shoulder a little harder than necessary.

Alexa's eyes widened. "A talking bird," she breathed. "Wells, what are you doing with a talking bird?"

"She's my—"

"It's not as if I'm deaf," Aria cut in sharply. "I can speak for myself."

Alexa recoiled. "I'm—I'm sorry," she stammered. "I've just never met a talking bird before."

Aria snorted. "I'm no more a bird than you are a horse, girl. I am a sparrowhawk, and a kithara." She turned her head to face Wells, who looked mortified. "Wells's kithara," she added, a defensive edge to her tone. "I am Aria Ashwing, daughter of bear and tiger, friend of the dragon and bane of the wolf."

"Do you ever hold your tongue?" Wells muttered at Aria through gritted teeth. "Alexa, I'm sorry. She's usually more polite than—well, no, she's never polite."

"It's okay," Alexa said, though she eyed Aria warily. "She's… unique."

"'Unique,' that's rich," Aria stated bluntly. "You're petrified of me, aren't you, girl?"

"Aria," Wells said, forcing a smile, "her name isn't 'girl.' This is Alexa, one of my best friends. Could you at least try to show some respect?"