A Wizard's Wings by T. A. Barron Read Free Book Online Page A

you will need to defeat your greatest foe, nothing less.”
    “But tell me,” I pleaded, “is there any real chance of winning? Any chance at all?”
    Dagda studied me long before answering. “Yes, there is a chance. But all Fincayra’s threads, in all their colors, must bind together in a sturdy rope. And for that to happen, the rarest of seeds must find a home at last.”
    Perplexed, I shook my head. “The rarest of seeds?” I tapped my leather satchel. “You mean this one in here?”
    “Perhaps, though a seed may take many forms.” All at once, the silver lines of his face brightened, even as his voice grew deeper, so that every word echoed in the night air. “Heed well these words, young wizard: Fincayra’s fate has never been more in doubt. You may find unity in separation, strength in weakness, and rebirth in death, but even that may not be enough to save your world. For in certain turns of time, when all is truly gained, all is truly lost.”
    Wind swept past the hillside, howling in the trees below. Gradually, the clouds overhead started to thin and pull apart. As I watched, the face of Dagda faded, until at last it vanished completely. Only his words remained, throbbing like a fever in my head.
    Then I heard something else—a strange, ominous creaking. It sounded, vaguely, like a distant doorway starting to open.

5: R ADIANT S PIRIT
    Dawn came at last, so slowly and dimly that it seemed merely an extension of the lingering night. Gray-washed clouds streaked the sky, shrouding the forest lands and the grassy hillside where we had camped. The air, while calmer than last night, felt colder still. No whispers stirred the trees; no songbirds heralded the start of day.
    Pulling the collar of my tunic over my face, I shivered. And not just from the chill of morning. Whether I had slept or not after seeing the vision of Dagda, I wasn’t sure. I could only recall stumbling down the hillside, trying not to fall in the darkness. But the vision itself, and the words Dagda had spoken, were carved upon my mind as sharply as the seven symbols of wisdom were carved upon my staff. I vaguely remembered having had some sort of dream before his face appeared, etched on the clouds—something about flying, or falling. But the harsh reality of his words had thrust that memory aside. Fincayra’s fate has never been more in doubt.
    Feeling Hallia’s warm breath on the back of my neck, I rolled over. Her eyes, as deep as the deepest pools, watched me soulfully. I sat up and caressed her lightly on the cheek.
    She pushed some stray hair off her brow. “You slept poorly, didn’t you?”
    “Yes. How did you know?”
    “I just knew. Your face—it’s strangely clouded.”
    I stiffened at her choice of words.
    Her eyes lowered briefly. “I, too, slept poorly. Oh, young hawk, I had a terrible dream.”
    Gently, I wrapped my arm around her. “Can you tell me what it was?”
    “About . . .” She bit her lower lip. “About losing someone I love.”
    I pulled her close to my shoulder. How could I tell her that Dagda’s old law was now the least of our troubles? And that the future she ought to fear was not my going to live in the realm of Britannia, but going to die in battle with Rhita Gawr?
    I wove my fingers deep into her unbraided hair. Tenderly, I spoke the only words that came to me. “Nothing can separate us, you know. Not distance, not time, not even . . .”
    “ Shhh ,” she said softly, placing her forefinger on my lips. “Speak not of such things, nor even of the future. Let us just rejoice in the present, in the days we have together now.”
    Though I wished I could have felt comforted by her words, or confident enough to comfort her in turn, I felt nothing of the kind. Turning aside, I merely kept working my hand through her locks, studying the reddish glints that reminded me of a fire’s dying embers.
    “Ah, so you’re awake,” called Rhia’s voice from above us. She stood at the crest of the hill,