Page 33 of Wind and Water
Both centaurs look as if they’ve been provided with an epiphany. They gape at him.
“There has not been an obelisk in Domhan since the ancient age, and even then, it is only theory and myth.” Farress sounds doubtful, but there is fear in her narrowed gaze.
“Um… Not to sound ignorant, but what is an obelisk beyond a tall structure? Obelisks have four sides. I thought this was round.” Everything that’s going on and the fact that the tower in my dream doesn’t match the technical description of an obelisk is what’s bothering me. I may actually be cracking up.
With a hint of a smile, Liam looks at me. He’s so close; if he leaned in, he could kiss me. He turns away too soon, as if he thinks better of our proximity. “You’re right, of course, Wren. However, in some of the darker mythologies and dogma of the ancient age, the towers were built around the four-sided obelisk.”
“What’s the purpose?” I wish I had a dozen books at my disposal right now so I could learn all the information about this ancient age of Domhan. I’m better with books than people.
The three of them stare a long time at each other. Finally, Liam says, “To focus power. Those in the light brought power from the sun and stars. The wielders of dark magic drew their power from the demon realm within Domhan. It’s called Coire.”
“Hell. She’s drawing her power from hell?” I blink several times. Maybe this is all a dream and I can wake myself up. None of this sounds real. It’s fantasy, horror, but not truth. Yet Momma is gone, and I’m sore from riding a centaur for the better part of a day. Clearly, either my dreams are more graphic than ever, or this is the new reality. “My mother is in a tower designed to draw power from hell,” I mutter, but the effect is the same. My gut tightens, and my eyes fill as emotions swamp me.
“We’re going to find her and bring her home, Wren.” Liam is making promises that he can’t possibly know will come to pass.
Even so, his words comfort me, and I dash away the tears.
Chapter Eight
Liam
Jadar brings six foals to the front of Farress and Corell’s house. “These are the foals who were saved by Birdie Martin.”
The young centaurs all look thin and diminished. Even though I’ve never seen centaurs before today, I feel the young would be full of laughter and life. The four colts and two fillies standing before us are afraid. Still, the fact that centaurs have had female children since the curse is not lost on me.
They should, at the very least, be curious about an elf and a human in their midst.
I step forward to question them.
Wren puts her hand on my upper arm and steps in front of me. She looks at each centaur child individually until he or she meets her gaze. “My mother would not wish for your fear and sorrow. She made her sacrifice, as she would for any child of any species. It is who she is and why she is so beloved. I’m happy you are safe. I pray we will rescue my mother, but even if that is not possible, your lives should not be marred by her sacrifice. I hope you will see how lucky you are and use your time to be of service to others.”
She’s magnificent, my Wren.
The filly with black hair, dark skin, and a black horse wipes a tear from her cheek. The other has red hair and a roan horse, and she pats her back in comfort, where they stand close together.
A colt who looks very much like Farress, with a white horse and fair skin and hair steps forward. “I am Dollan, son of Corell. We are honored by your mother’s sacrifice. We will live to make her proud. How can we help the daughter of Birdie Martin?”
His parents pull their shoulders back and beam at him.
I give Dollan a short bow. “Can you tell us how you were taken and everything that happened after that?”
Dollan’s already light complexion pales further. “I will tell it, though it isn’t easy, and if my language fails…” He looks at his father.
“I will help you,” Corell says.
Swallowing hard, Dollan sits, as do his friends.
I sit on the short stoop leading up to the living area.
Wren takes her seat beside me.
“We like to play in the sand by the ocean. We’ve been warned since the tower rose that it might be dangerous. My father told us to keep to the forest.” Dollan lowers his head. “That day, we went farther down the beach. It was a nice day with a bit of wind and a drizzle that kept the sand firm. When the shadow demons came, it was fast, and the sound they made hurt our ears.”
“Go on, son,” Corell encourages.
“We ran toward the forest, but they were faster. There were at least twenty of them, and they lifted us high in the air. My stomach lurched as the ground grew smaller. I thought they were going to drop us, but they brought us to the black tower.”
I feel the fear from these children and don’t wish to make the memories too vivid, but there are things I must know. Keepingmy voice soft, I ask, “How did you enter the tower, Dollan? Did a door open on the side or at the base?”
