A Wizard's Wings Read Free Page A

the etchings on my staff seemed to glimmer with the magic surrounding us. Dew glistened on rain-washed limbs, while the forest floor shone orange, scarlet, and brown. Above our heads, a pair of squirrels, their eyes nearly as large as their bulging cheeks, scurried over a branch, chattering ceaselessly. Beech trees’ smooth bark reflected the sun like mirrors, and linden leaves trembled like running streams. Clumps of moss, deep green flecked with red, nestled among the burly roots of oaks and pines, often joined by parades of yellow toadstools.
    Resins wafted everywhere—from the needles of fir trees, sweeter than honeysuckle; from rainwater cupped in palmate leaves, as rich in smells as marshland pools; and from fallen branches already more soil than wood. I could smell, not far away, the gamey scent of a fox’s den. And I knew that the fox itself could smell us approaching.
    The sound of the stream behind us merged with the undulating whisper of wind among the branches. And, as always, I heard in the forest wind many distinct voices: the deep sighing of oak, the crackling of ash, the rhythmic whooshing of pine. Many voices, yes—and one above all, the unified breath of the living forest.
    A place of many wonders. Those words, the first description I’d ever heard of Fincayra, never felt so true as today. Especially here, in the depths of Drama Wood. Even the harsh winds of winter, which had already brought snow and frost to much of the rest of Fincayra, seemed unable to penetrate here. Though some forest animals had retreated to their burrows and hollow logs, and many trees had changed to brown and tan, the Druma still pulsed with life.
    And that wasn’t all that set this forest apart. Much of Fincayra still suffered from the long years of suspicion, even hatred, that divided its many races and kept them separate from one another—and especially from the race of men and women. But not here. Even during Stangmar’s Blight, when creatures in other parts of the island feared to show themselves in daylight, this place remained at peace. Here, someone’s good fortune also gave strength to others; one creature’s loss brought widespread grief. It was truly a community.
    Hallia squeezed my hand, halting us both. Following her gaze, I spied an extraordinary bird perched on a branch above our heads. There was no mistaking the bright purple crest on its head, nor the flaming scarlet feathers along its tail. An alleah bird! For a breathless moment, the creature watched us in silence, cocking its head pensively. Then, with a dazzling flash of iridescence, it flew off into the forest and disappeared.
    “The long-tailed alleah bird,” whispered Hallia. “A sign of good luck.”
    At that instant, something slammed into my back, sending me sprawling into a stand of hip-high ferns. I tumbled through the stalks, finally smacking into a boulder. Head spinning, I crawled free of the ferns. With effort, I straightened my leather satchel, which had wrapped itself around my neck, retrieved my staff, and started to regain my feet.
    “Greetings, Brother.” Rhia, dressed in a suit of tightly woven vines, placed her hands upon her hips and laughed heartily. “You’re still my favorite place to land.”
    “Sure,” I groaned. “But great seasons! Need you always land so hard?”
    She reached down and tugged on my arm to help me stand. “Well, you might not notice me otherwise.” She paused to give Hallia a knowing wink. “Occupied as you are with the world of romance.”
    Hallia’s face flushed as red as the leaves of wild geranium by her feet. “Rhia!”
    “Haka-haka-tikky-tichhh,” cackled a tiny creature who had poked his head out of the leafy pocket on Rhia’s sleeve. His small, furred head bobbed with laughter, causing his long ears to flap against the sides of his face. Meanwhile, his lopsided grin opened wide, revealing only three teeth, all of them as green as his eyes.
    “Haka-haka-tichhh. Poor lover manman!”