“Was that a harpy!”
It was less of a question, Wilson peering at the cliffs that sat in the distance. Wilson wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead.
He’d never seen a harpy up close. They were creatures that flew in and out of the area from lands far, far, far away with wings that blocked out the sun.
A fast flier was just what he needed. He wondered if Alastair would give him some money to bribe the harpy into delivering a letter to the capital.
“Does it matter?” Emmy asked him when he jumped out of the wagon and began to walk beside the horses.
He answered right away, “Of course!”
“Well, someone sounds like a kid in a candy store.” Wilson heard Argo laugh from behind him.
Alastair giggled at Argo’s comment.
Wilson shot back at him. “Well, have you ever talked to a harpy before?”
Wilson knew he hadn’t. He’d always stayed away from them when he was a boy. Despite his curiosity, harpy’s were carnivores.
And they certainly didn’t shy away from trying human meat.
“Once. He was an ass and a cheat when it came to poker.” Argo’s eyes glossed from the memory that Wilson couldn’t understand.
He shook himself awake, the horses getting closer to the burning town. The stone packed walls had guards lined up with cannons and spears, Wilson’s eyes burning when they walking inside the thick wall of smoke.
“What happened here?” Wilson breathed out, as they passed under a bridge. Alsiar nodding at the guards at the entrance.
Argo leapt off his horse, allowing the two knights Alastair had to take them away and into a stable like area.
Alastair sighed. “A group of rebels have been attacking the other towns in the desert. This was attacked just last night.”
“I’m sorry about that. You don’t think this has any connection with the castle attacks?” Wilson bowed his head in respect.
“Hopefully, no.” Alastair frowned. “This town has had a lot of history with attacks so I don’t think so.”
Despite the shine of hope in her dark eyes, her voice was lost; filled with second guesses.
She approached a small tavern, a grim looking demon standing at the entrance. He shot off a bolt of lightning from his fingers. It leapt from knuckle to knuckle, his eyes going black when they walked up.
“You’d think that would be dangerous after a storm.” Argo whispered.
“You’d think you’d mind your business.” The demon shot back.
Storm magic.
Wilson hurried off to catch up with the captain and the knights.
While the injured knights were being lead off the wagons and to open beds. Half of them were already filled with wounded soldiers and citizens.
Wilson even saw a child. Something punched at his heart. One nurse going back and forth with a wet towel, pressing it to burn marks.
“So, how long will you be staying here.” Alastair asked, twirling a pen on her fingers.
Wilson jumped when she addressed him. He was the leader of the group.
“Not long, maybe a few days to get your leader to agree to come to the city with us. It’s for the meeting on all of these sudden attacks.”
Alastair tensed, setting her pencil down.
“The Mistress isn’t here right now.” Alastair sighed. “We had to move her because of the attack.”
YOU ARE READING
The Magic Of An Alter Ego.
Fantasy|Book 1 of 2| Wilson had his hopes high for his future. Emphesis on had. He'd already made the grades in his local college, studied as much magic as he could despite being unable to truely use it to his advantage, and had his sights on one day join...
