Wings of Lomay by Devri Walls Page B

into a Winged person, the buds of two white wings poked out from her back. Her leg was pinned under a boulder and she pulled against it, trying to free herself, only to cry out in pain.
    “Emane!” Kiora yelled.
    She willed the stone upward as Emane knelt next to the Shifter. His hands skimmed over her bloody and mangled legs, trying to pinpoint the injuries. “Does anything besides your legs hurt?” he asked.
    The Shifter’s face was twisted in pain. She gave a tight head-shake to the negative.
    “Hold still,” Emane said. He placed his hands on her legs, trying to be gentle.
    The Shifter grimaced and looked away, expecting more pain. But as the bones in her leg slid together and there was none, she slowly turned her head back. Her eyes widened as she watched the wounds fade and her torn flesh knit back together.
    “Better?” Emane asked.
    The Shifter looked back and forth between her legs and Emane in awe. “But you don’t have any magic.”
    Emane leaned forward with a good-natured smile. Kiora had never seen him use that smile when a comment regarding his lack of magic was in play. “I obviously have a little.”
    “Thank you,” she whispered with wonder.
    “You’re welcome.” Emane held out his hand and helped her to her feet.
    A Shifter stepped forward. “What is going on?” he demanded “Are you here to bring us back to Lomay?”
    Drustan shifted into his preferred human form and came up behind Kiora. “Lomay is dead,” he announced.
    A murmur of disbelief ran down the beach.
    Drustan put his hand on Kiora’s lower back and turned her, nudging her toward the river. “I would feel much better if you weren’t surrounded,” he whispered in her ear.
    Kiora allowed him to lead her until the river was at their backs. His hand returned to his side and Kiora noticed he was wearing the silver bracelet that was used to enslave the Shifters—the fake Lomay had given him in the canyon. When had he put that back on?
    The Shifters slid into human forms. Their murmurs built to a crescendo, each repeating the announcement. “Lomay is dead.”
    Kiora held up her hands. “Quiet, please.” The volume dissipated and she spoke over the lingering noise. “We are not here to bring anyone back who does not wish to come. We are here to remove your bracelets.”
    Again, silence rippled across the beach. Some looked shocked, others hopeful, the rest—dubious.
    “Why would you do that?” someone called out, speaking what many were thinking. Nods of agreement circulated.
    “We all have a right to freedom, and Lomay took that from you. I am here to return what is rightfully yours,” Kiora said. “We are on the verge of confronting the Shadow and I need all the help I can get. I need your help. We need smiths and metalworkers, and I hear you are exceptionally skilled. But I will not take that help in the form of slavery. I am here on the hope that some of you will choose to side with me. To fight with the rebels of your own free will.” She paused to let her words sink into their disbelieving ears. “I can’t guarantee that you will live, or that we will win—I know you are all well aware of the stakes. But if we do win, I can guarantee your freedom.” Kiora tried to meet as many of their eyes as she could, hoping to help them see the sincerity behind her words.
    A large Shifter scoffed as he strolled forward. “That was a pretty speech, Solus. But you come here speaking of freedom while riding a braceleted Shifter. You speak of choice and rights, but he is still enslaved to you.”
    Drustan held up his arm. The silver bands caught some of the last rays of the setting sun and flashed. “I am not enslaved, and I never was.” He pulled the bracelet off and tossed it into the river behind him. “The one I wore in the canyon was a fake, removable at any time.”
    The Shifter’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Drustan’s naked wrist, trying to determine what type of trickery had just been employed. “Lies,”