Chapter 14: Ottelio (Part 1).

  ****

  Along the Sotria river. Month: 94, Year: 226.

  The young man tightened the straps of the hardened leather armor, careful not to pinch the small wing buds rising like small sprouts from her upper back. “Too tight?” he asked, voice low in the quiet room.

  She shifted inside the armor, exhaling. “No. It’s perfect.” Her voice was soft, but not devoid of tension. He kept the next thought to himself: Now comes the hard part.

  They did not make Haksari armor with a hole for a tail. He would have to make one. He lifted the knife, measuring the spot with his thumb, hoping he’d guess right the first time. The leather resisted at first, then yielded with a clean tear. He slid the bottom plate into place over the clothes she already wore, buckling fast and instinctively.

  “I don’t think we have armor made for Drakvari, so I just… carved a hole in one of ours,” he admitted. The tail poked through the opening, testing the gap like a wary animal. “Looks like it fits." She said. "Grab the other side and help me guide it through.”

  He snorted. “You slapped me last time I touched your tail.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That was because you grabbed and pulled it without warning.”

  “I had never met a person with a tail before. How was I supposed to know it was impolite to touch it?” He protested.

  “Pulled Otto! You pulled it!” She retaliated. “Anyway. This time, I’m actually giving you permission.”

  “Fine.” He took hold of the silver furred tail with one hand as he held the armor with the other one, guiding it gently through the leather, careful not to accidentally pull any of the three rings that chimed softly close to its tip.

  “There. Perfect fit,” she said, securing the front buckle. She turned to him, brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. “Your turn. I’ll help you with yours.”

  “Haksari lords don’t wear armor,” he replied with a confident grin. “Solenya’s will is my sword and shield.”

  She shot him a flat look. “Don’t be ridiculous, Otto.”

  He laughed, turning away to strap on his harness and gather a few metal pieces from the counter. “I’m not joking. My magic works better this way. I promise.”

  She held his gaze, remembering all too well that unlike her, Solenya’s followers were free to lie whenever it suited them. Otto had laughed for weeks at how easily she used to believe everything said to her. Not anymore. One can only stay that naive for so long.

  Her stare pressed him back a step. He raised his hands between them like a shield.

  “I promise. Armor and weapons would only get in my way.”

  He removed a bow and quiver from the wall, offering them to her like a peace treaty. She accepted the bow and quiver, but not his excuse. With a resigned puff of air, she grabbed a leather helmet plated with overlapping scales and planted it firmly on his head.

  “At least wear the helmet,” she said, fingers already working the straps,

  “Stupid Haksari,” she muttered, soft enough that she might have thought he wouldn’t catch it, “don’t come blaming me if that mushroom head of yours gets cracked open.” She had mentioned this before, claiming in teasing smiles that his red hair and the way he wore it made him look exactly like a notorious venomous mushroom back from her native Kalista.

  Once she’d fitted her own helmet, she brushed past him, shoulders stiff. Even with that small victory, her body language bristled with protest, forcing him to keep arguing. “Besides, Marego will already be carrying two people,” he insisted. “Extra armor would just slow him down.”

  Then she stopped mid-stride, realization freezing her in place. “Marego. Right. I don’t know why I assumed we’d be riding horses.”

  “Marego can fly. That’ll get us there faster than any horse,” Otto explained.

  She nodded, but he caught the hesitation in her step. Her pace slowed until she walked beside him, shoulders tight, eyes fixed ahead. She might have agreed, but every line of her body said she dreaded it. Even after all this time, Marego still scared her.

  They stepped into the stable. Marego was bent over the feeder, rummaging through a pile of corn with gentle snorts. Ottelio never understood her fear. Yes, Marego was larger than a horse, with two sets of wings and no real face, in the sense that humans and horses have. His eyes and ears whisked in sensory patches scattered along his front wings instead, but he was calm, trained, and loyal to a fault.

  “Hey, champ. How’ve you been?” Otto asked, pressing a steady hand to the creature’s warm neck. “Remember Onahi?”

  Marego released a low, guttural trill and spread his front wings wide, the sensory whiskers along them brushing the air as he inspected her.

  “He remembers you,” Otto said with a grin, offering an apple. Marego snapped it up, crunching happily.

  Otto lifted the riding chair and secured it along the creature’s back, mindful of not obstructing the vents along the chest that carried air in and out with every breath. Once it was settled, he helped Onahi climb up and fastened her armor into the harness.

  She sat in the saddle, staring down at her hands as if something heavy pressed on her chest. “You don’t have to do this, Otto,” she whispered. “I won’t blame you if you just… carry on. This isn’t your fight. These are my people, my city, my Queen. My fight, not yours.”

  He climbed to sit in the saddle, right in front of Ohani, then tightened his harness and knelt to check Marego’s straps, but her hand found his shoulder, gentle but trembling. “Your mission was only to warn Lord Creese and Princess Uquoia. You don’t need to risk your life here. Or your soldiers. Or pull your family into the middle of our mess."

  He swallowed and patted Marego’s flank, eyes dropping to the ground. “We have accords with the Drakvari cities of Kalista and Kaltesia. The daughters of Queen Kalista and Queen Kaltesia are allowed in this territory under those accords. But Drakvari from other cities? Not without permission. Marching an armed force into our territory leaves us no choice but to respond.” His voice faltered; even he wasn’t sure his parents would accept that as a casus belli.

  “Besides, we have not been formally notified of any changes in command of Kalista, that means that if these strangers are pursuing a princess of Kalista in our territory, it is our duty as trade partners to defend her."

  He forced a smirk. “If they're not happy with my decisions, they shouldn’t have gone to the capital and left me in charge.”

  A sharp whistle, and the outer doors groaned open. Cold wind spilled in. “They’re not giving us a choice,” he muttered.

  Onahi touched his shoulders, grounding him. “Then promise me you won’t be reckless. Not with this. Not for me.”

  Marego moved, stepping slowly out into the cold night, front wings sweeping forward to inspect the landscape while his back wings and legs drove his muscular body toward the exit. The two riders swayed on its back, and from the height of the mount, Ottelio scanned the river below. Even beneath the darkness, he could make out the shapes of fish breaking the surface, following the current of the great Sotria like silver arrows in the black water.

  “Young lord Ottelio." The fully leather-armored man said respectfully as he made a reverence.

  “What’s the situation, Lieutenant?" Ottelio called down to the man waiting on the deck.

  “They’ve taken the tributary, my lord, holding positions in the ruins of a former fortress” the Lieutenant replied. “The enemy hasn’t crossed yet, but they’re forming a ring to surround the daughters of Queen Kalista.”

  “Can we reach them with these ships?”

  He shook his head. “No, my lord. That tributary’s too narrow and too shallow. We’d run aground before we reached them.”

  “In that case, we take the lead,” Ottelio said. “Ready the cavalry and arm the ships. If we can help them break away, they won’t follow, no one wants to be stranded in the open fields during the long night.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the man answered.

  “And Lieutenant, remember, the enemy’s in metal armor. The ones fleeing aren’t.”

  “Understood.”

  “Good,” Ottelio replied. And if he needed to be sure, he thought, he’d just look for the silver hair and violet eyes like those of Onahi.

  Onahi held him a little tighter than necessary as Marego bounded forward and launched into the air. The creature’s wings snapped open, and with a single beat they were airborne, the ship they had been traveling in shrinking beneath them. “Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down,” she whispered into his back like a mantra.

  Cold wind knifed past them, sharper the higher they climbed. Below, the riverlands unfurled like dark and silver ribbons, wet fields glimmering in scattered moonlight, narrow streams snaking toward the Sotria, and patches of farmland drowned by the recent rainfall.

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  At the river’s bend, the ruins appeared: crumbling chambers and towers slumped against the water, ancient walls half-eaten by time. Onahi pulled out a white cloth with trembling fingers and raised it. Ottelio guided Marego into slow, circling sweeps above the ruins, announcing their arrival to whoever waited below.

  They descended into the ruins and moved toward what remained of a half-standing structure. Ottelio stared, unable to hide his awe. The walls were carved with figures, men and women crowned with antlers, frozen mid-stride as though still walking through time. In the atrium beyond, stone antlered-giants loomed, their hollow bodies staring with expressions so lifelike it was hard to believe a human hand had ever shaped them.

  But his attention didn’t remain on stone for long. Dozens of Drakvari warriors lined the entrance, towering over the rubble like living pillars. They dwarfed everything but the stony giants that rested behind them. Their eyes flicked toward Marego, studying him with the same disbelief he felt toward them, perhaps none had ever seen a creature like him before.

  The Drakvari warriors were taller and more muscular than any man Ottelio had ever met. Their sheer size made him wonder if any one of them could wrestle Marego into submission with their bare hands.

  He remembered the tales he'd heard as a boy, stories of Haskari heroes who had defeated Drakvari warriors in physical combat through cunning and skill alone.

  Yet, as he looked up at the hulking figures, he couldn’t help but think,

  Yep. Those stories were definitely a bunch of nonsense.

  He briefly considered turning around and having Marego fly away, but the idea evaporated quickly as one of them let her weapon down and slowly walked closer, limping slightly but in a thankful expression.

  He knew that most Drakvari from the same city were daughters of a single queen, sisters or half-sisters by Haksari logic. Yet as he looked at the towering figures and then at Onahi clinging to him from behind, the contrast struck him. Most of them shared the same silver hair, the same violet eyes, the same sharp beauty of their lineage… but their bodies were built like fortresses, while Onahi was carved in softer, more delicate lines. Although he had heard of this, he had never been as aware of the stark differences between the famous Drakvari castes as he was in that moment.

  “We help,” he said, carefully choosing the words in the Auron tongue.

  Although Otto had been learning the Auron tongue from Onahi for months, it still tangled in his ears. He could catch pieces of meaning, but the rest slipped past him like the water of the Sotria. Speaking it was worse, every word he spoke still felt as if his tongue was going to get tangled.

  Onahi, however, stepped forward, although they had been learning each other's language for the same amount of time, her grasp of both languages put his to shame.

  “I am Onahi of Kalista, ??????? as a teacher in the Haksari city of Ferano. We’ve come to help.”

  The limping warrior inclined her head. “Thank you for answering our call. Our messages have not reached Princess Uquoia. The enemy is likely ???????? the route.”

  She bowed stiffly. “I am Captain Tekira, Security division… or ??????? remains of it. We wish only to get Princess Sulaye to safety, to warn Princess Uquoia of that ?????? Ashani’s plan.”

  Otto filled the gaps with context and body language. He didn’t know what ?????? Ashani meant, but the tone they used made it sound like a harsh insult.

  Shouting echoed through the ruins, followed by a loud splash that shattered his concentration on the conversation. Marego flinched, wings shifting as he backed away from the noise.

  “Easy,” Otto murmured, patting the place where a horse’s ears would have been. The creature steadied, but the tension in his wings remained.

  As the captain moved her hand, many of the warriors broke the lines and hurried towards the walls and the towers of the ruin. “It’s been like this for several minutes,” the Captain said. “We’re holding them at the river, but they’ll surround us soon.”

  “What’s the plan, Captain?” Otto asked.

  “To stall them. Long enough for the princess and the civilians to escape.” She met his eyes. “Unless you’ve brought the means for a better solution, Son of Solenya.”

  “I apologize for not introducing myself.” He said, trying to sound as formal as possible. “I’m Ottelio Calesso, eldest son of Vettorio and Corinna, lords of Ferano.” The introduction seemed to make little sense to the Drakvari crowd, but none interrupted.

  Translating the next part properly was beyond his capacity; instead he turned to Onahi.

  She spoke in a loud and clear voice, translating so everyone would understand well. “We have three ships waiting on the main course of the Sotria river. If your forces can make it to our firing line, then the enemy won't be able to pursue.”

  “A cavalry unit from Ferano is already on the way,” Onahi continued. “If you can hold this position until they arrive, then we guide the retreat.”

  The words eased the tension among the warriors; shoulders lowered, and breaths released.

  “Thank you, Lord of Ferano,” the captain said, offering her hand.

  Ottelio reached out, and his hand disappeared inside hers. He managed to grip two fingers at best, the closest thing to a handshake either of them could manage. She held back her enormous strength, gentle despite her size, but the comical imbalance of size made it easily the second most awkward handshake of his life.

  And, as for the title… he didn’t correct her. Admitting it belonged to his father would only shrink him further, and he would probably need every scrap of authority he could keep.

  Onahi lifted her chin. “Captain… do you believe the enemy will follow us?”

  “No. For all Ashani’s desire to seize Princess Sulaye, she won’t risk losing an entire unit to the cold of the long night. If the situation turns against them, they’ll fall back to Kalista.”

  Perfect, Otto thought. Exactly as he suspected.

  A thunderous crash erupted behind the walls, followed by an even louder splash that snapped every head toward the river.

  “Apologies,” the captain said. “We’ll have to cut this reunion short.”

  The remaining warriors grabbed their weapons and surged toward the battlements.

  “One more thing, Captain,” Onahi called. “Where are Princess Sulaye and the workers?”

  “They’re already moving north, guided by a couple of our guards and moving towards the Sotria. We were hoping to buy them enough time to get away.”

  Great, they should meet our forces, or at the least a merchant ship when they reach the Sotria river. Otto thought to himself. For the rest, until reinforcements arrive, staying in the ruins would be safer than running into the open. For now, all that was left was to resist in this position.

  Without another word, Otto raised his hand. A Sun Mark flared along his skin, bright as molten gold. One of the marks ignited fully, releasing a bird of shadow, its body ink-black, its wings like smoke, and its eyes two burning points of yellow light.

  “Show me what’s happening,” Otto commanded.

  The creature shot into the sky. Otto’s stomach lurched as he let his own vision slide away, reaching instead for the shadow-bird’s. A heartbeat later, the world snapped back in a different shape. Through the bird’s eyes, he saw the battlefield from high above: enemy lines spreading along the river, forming a noose around the ruins; the daughters of Kalista crowding the walls and hollow towers, attacking and defending in disciplined waves, punishing anyone foolish enough to try the crossing.

  A Drakvari warrior hurled a metal sphere that swelled in size as it flew, striking a tower with stone-shaking force. The orb shrank again, returning to the warrior’s hand like an obedient dog.

  A blessing from Auron. No doubt about it.

  Attacks rained over this warrior from the other side of the river, trying to defend the tower as it provided tactical advantage. However, all of the attacks were rendered ineffective by the line of warriors standing in front holding shields.

  In a blur, a dark silhouette streaked across the sky, dark wings cutting through the cold air like blades. Bolts of blue energy burst from its hands, hammering the tower’s defenders in blinding flashes. The figure dove, and Otto’s link severed on impact. His shadow construct was gone.

  “Flying enemy!” Otto called to anyone still within earshot.

  Onahi’s head snapped toward him. “Princess Ashani?”

  “I didn’t get a clean look,” Otto replied. “But the outline looked like a man… could it be? Are there even male Drakvari?”

  “Of course there are, Otto. And they can fly too, just like the princesses.”

  Onahi raised her left hand and the gauntlet’s blessing flared to life. The metal shimmered like a mirrored surface rippling with water, bending light around them in impossible angles. Months among the lords of Ferano had taught her their language, their etiquette, and even some of their tactics, and now she used her blessing from Auron to compliment Otto.

  Light folded around them. A mantle of distortion cloaked Otto, Onahi, and Marego until their figures blurred and vanished into the night.

  They launched back into the sky under the safety of disguise. Otto scanned the battlefield below; the flying enemy was nowhere in sight, but the cluster of soldiers attacking the tower, stood in the shallows of the river. One of them, the woman with the expanding metal sphere, was bracing for another throw.

  From above, Otto readied his first strike: a lightning arrow. Fast, precise, and capable of dropping every soldier in the shallows before they even understood what hit them. But there was a catch. The Sunmark needed two full seconds to cast, the cooldown is almost ten minutes long, and the flare of energy would reveal his position the moment it formed. Still, once released, the shot would be impossible to outrun, especially while standing in water.

  That's where Onahi's magic came in, she raised her gauntlet again pushing the blessing harder. The gauntlet shimmered, bending light to scatter the spell’s origin, making the cast invisible and the bright trajectory seem as if it had been fired from several angles at once.

  Lightning split the night. Three, four, five streaks tore through the air, blinding bursts that sent every head whipping toward the river. But only one of them was real. The soldiers collapsed where they stood, not dead, but twitching and unable to rise.

  Otto exhaled. It would take him a while before able to summon the power of that Sunmark again. By then, the skirmish would probably be over, but he still had plenty of Sunmarks, quite literally, hidden up his sleeve.

  They searched the sky for the flying man, the most immediate threat. He could easily slip past them, attack from behind the defenses and if he found the civilian group, he could reach the princess and the civilians before anyone could do something about it.

  “There!” Onahi pointed, her voice thin with nerves. She drew an arrow, breath catching.

  “Hold your shot.” Otto warned. “Just be ready.”

  Marego angled toward the target, still cloaked in the near-invisibility of Onahi’s blessing. Otto triggered another Sunmark. Fire gathered in his palm, then burst forward, a blazing sphere arcing toward the flying figure.

  The man shifted his weight. The fireball missed by an arm's length. Onahi loosed her arrow a heartbeat later, but it clashed against a sudden wall of shimmering light surrounding the target and shattered harmlessly.

  The counterattack came instantly, a lance of light, too fast to dodge. Otto reacted on instinct, triggering a Sunmark. A barrier of golden force unfurled before them, the beam slamming against it with a sound like cracking glass.

  Before the glow faded, he burned another mark. Shadows erupted around them, thick in smoke. Onahi renewed the distortion on top of it, bending light until they vanished again, making them now virtually impossible to see.

  They flew higher. Otto’s mind raced. Five of his strongest Sunmarks were now on cooldown. They needed time to make a plan.

  But no time was given. Another beam sliced past, narrowingly missing them.

  “How? He shouldn’t be able to see us!” Otto snapped, frustration bleeding into his voice.

  “Otto, look!” Onahi pointed upward. “He marked us with something.”

  Otto followed her gaze. A bright orb of light hovered just above them like a guiding star, weak magic, harmless on its own, but enough to give away their position. Their invisibility meant nothing now.

  “When did he even cast that on us?”

  Onahi tried to bend the light, to scatter the mark until it broke apart, but it clung stubbornly to them like a beacon. Marego banked hard as Otto guided the creature through another evasive dive. A beam cut past them, grazing empty air.

  “Can you throw an illusion?” Otto shouted through clenched teeth.

  “No. He’s not giving me time,” Onahi hissed, fingers already forming new shapes in the air.

  A beam snapped toward them, they were not in position to move away and Otto’s shield was still on coodown. He was forced to use yet another Sunmark and fired a force burst to meet the attack head-on. The force burst met the beam in midair, cancelling it at the cost of a vicious recoil through Marego’s wings.

  Otto's ears rang for a bit, until he retook control over the mount. Weight dragged at the creature’s turns, slowing his turns, letting the attacker dictate the fight when in close combat. But as the distance between them grew, the shots came late and wide, an easy dodge. The flying man seemed to realize he couldn't catch up to Marego, and instead of chasing, he veered away, flying higher above the fortress.

  He dropped a canvas pouch, and it burst open midair, metal shards raining down like glittering hail. They were harmless on their own, but falling from that height they turned lethal, sending warriors scrambling and screaming as the fortress descended into chaos.

  He was becoming too dangerous to ignore. Even with the cavalry on the way, he might still be a lot of trouble.

  Onahi moved her hands between her chest and his back, Otto only able to imagine the figures she was shaping behind him; nearby four silhouettes that resembled themselves appeared, all with beacons included. “If we're lucky, the illusions will draw one or two of his strikes away from us.”

  Onahi’s hand found Otto’s shoulder as she reached for an arrow with the other. “Their magic is powered by Auron, just like mine. And unlike you, we don't have cooldowns.” She warned. “However, our magic is finate and even their strong wings are not powerful enough to lift them properly without magic. Without magic, they can barely glide short distances.”

  Otto finished her thought with a grin, as if already knowing exactly her plan. “ So, if he runs out of magic, he’s grounded.”

  “Precisely,” Onahi responded as she sliced through her tunic with the arrowhead, then dragged the blade across her forearm. Blood welled up instantly. She wrapped the fabric around the shaft, soaking it until crimson dripped from the cloth.

  “It has a two minute cooldown,” he warned. “If this doesn’t work, we retreat and wait for all my Sunmark cooldowns to reset. Got it?”

  She set the prepared arrow in front of Otto. Her voice steadied. “I won’t miss.”

  Otto drew in a breath and a Sunmark flared, white and silver fire trailing from his exhale, like a breath made of stars. The flames touched the bloody cloth, lighting it with a soft, terrible glow.

  Marego dove towards the enemy. The wind roared. They moved as fast as Marego could take them.

  Qilani's Campaign.

  Chapter 14: Ottelio (Part 2).

  Thank you very much for taking the time to read my story.