Endrah woke at dawn tangled in the blankets he had laid on. Something felt wrong. He untangled the blankets from his limbs and climbed into his Drifter’s uniform, boots, robe and all. He lit a candle and slipped out of the room he had claimed. He walked up the hall and peeked into Brooke’s room, then down the hall and into Acarad’s. The prince’s bed hadn’t been slept in yet. Endrah’s steps became quicker as he searched the halls for what had him so on edge. He found Wanda and her charge asleep in the main common room. He draped a blanket over each of them before continuing into the kitchen. He found Acarad sitting in a small pool of candle light, tapping his fingers on the counter.
“Acarad, what are you doing up at this hour,” Endrah asked.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Acarad answered. “So I came into the kitchen and tried to start baking something. Then I realized we have nothing to use to bake anything.”
“You bake when you can’t sleep,” Endrah asked.
“I know it sounds strange,” Acrad rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s something my father taught me. He was born into a low noble house back home. His family only had the cooks cook for them when they were all going to be home. Father and his sibs learned how to cook from their father. Whenever my sibs or I had a nightmare, Father would come in and take us to the kitchen.” Acarad chuckled. “Joshua always asked to bake banana bread, Niarah always made chocolate cake, and I would always choose to make carrot cake.”
“My mother and I would weave ribbons from her scrap basket together,” Endrah sat on a stool beside Acarad. “We deliberately made sure that none of the ribbons we used matched in color or length.”
“I have been further away from home for much longer than I have been,” Acarad sighed. “But I feel like it has been months while I am on another continent.”
“This is the furthest I have ever been from home,” Endrah toyed with his hair. “I want to go home so badly that it hurts.”
“I wish I could say it gets easier,” Acarad smiled a little bit. “But it doesn’t.”
“If I just had time to go home between Callings I would just go,” Endrah said. “I would go home and tell my family how much I wish I could stay.”
“I hope you get to Endrah,” Acarad said. “I would like to meet your family too.”
“Why?”
“To tell them how amazing you are. You have thrown yourself into three back to back Callings without hesitating. You still keep going when you get here, working on what needs done. I can only imagine what your parents are like, to have raised such a good man.”
Endrah smiled and tucked his hair behind his ear. A pull tugged at him again, this time more familiar.
“Another Calling,” Acarad asked.
“Unfortunately,” Endrah said. “Thank you Acarad, I needed to hear what you said.”
Endrah stood and set off to follow the Calling. For hours, he took turns between flying, walking, and resting. He called the wind to his wings more times than he would have liked, but something kept urging him on, pulling at him desperately. The sun was starting to set when he started to hear the sound of battle.
Endrah sped through the air, feeling the Drifter’s Pull even stronger as the sounds of battle reached his ears. His heart beat matched time with his wing beats. He darted over a small hill and the smell hit him like a blow. Blood, smoke, and ashes reigned supreme, with fear and rage, following suit. Humans battled each other, opposite sides marked in green versus yellow. Endrah hovered on the sidelines, taking in the scene of weapons and warriors scattered across the field and flying through the air. Endrah had seen arrows before, even used them to hunt. But, these arrows were not truly arrows, the heads wreaked of poison, the shafts wore metal strands finer than a violin and the ends were shaved bird feathers that smelled of ash. Swords were different here too, for they were not elegant and deadly, but made for hacking their way through the thick human armor, bone, and flesh. Warriors were set ablaze and died as they tried to rally, both from flaming arrows and magic that Endrah could not sense. The warriors in yellow outnumbered the ones in green by now, looking well rested compared to those in green. Those in green were bloodied, bruised, and covered in mud. Although shaken, Endrah summoned a mighty wind, putting out fires and stealing the arrows. He used it further, amplifying his voice.
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“End this battle now, before I must involve myself,” Endrah whispered.
To the humans on the battlefield, his whisper sounded as if the wind itself shouted in their ears.
“Ignore the voice and push on,” the leader among the yellow clad men shouted. He raised his sword, one that looked closer to those in Aviary. “Demons speak in our ears, push on.”
Endrah took to the sky, hurling gusts of wind to drive the yellow-clad-men back. “The battle is over. Leave this place,” he said.
“There is the demon,” one of the yellow-clad-men shouted.
“Kill it,” another shouted.
“We will not listen to a fairy,” the commander declared. “Shoot it down!”
Endrah darted down into the hills again, and made his way behind the yellow-clad men. He sent their arrows away with each wave, and sweat broke out of his brow. His braid tickled him as he came up behind the commander and tensed to lift the big human. A gust of wind pushed the man forward, into a stumble, and Endrah put his arms under the human’s. Then, he took to the air, straining not to drop him in his heavy armor.
“Release me Demon,” the commander shouted. “Release me fairy of fire! You will be killed today!”
“I will not,” Endrah said. His voice shook from effort to speak as he hovered with the human in his arms. “Call your men off. If you do not, I will take you as far as I can, as fast as I can and leave you in the water.”
“Demon, kill me with a blade or not at all,” the commander demanded. He struggled and Endrah reached for an immobilization spell.
“Go back to your land, Tolocians! You are not, never were, and never will be welcome here,” the commander in green shouted. He rallied his men and started driving the yellow-clad-men back with shields.
“The battle is over,” Endrah said. He cast his voice over all the warriors. “As the Air Drifter, you must listen to me! Go Home. Recover your dead tomorrow!”
“I will not allow a demon with an insect’s wings to give me any orders,” one of the yellow-clad-men shouted. He raised his bow and knocked the arrow. The others in yellow followed suit.
Before he could call the wind again, three arrows hit Endrah, in the shoulder and in each wing, tearing them. He could not hear his scream as the poison ate at his wings and flesh. He and the armored commander fell from the sky as a white light took Endrah with him.
~
From his vantage point on the Glade side of the border, Acarad watched in horror as Endrah plummeted toward the ground. With a scream of rage and pain, Acarad leapt into the air, calling the ground to him so he could reach Endrah before he hit the ground. Acarad swerved around the border guards, though the Tolocians, and to Endrah. He did not let himself look down as he raised the ground beneath him, just in time to catch Endrah, thirty feet from the ground. The Tolocian commander fell and hit the ground below them as Acarad Checked over Endrah’s wounds. His wings, arm, and hand were all covered in bright red blood. It was obvious that arrows had passed through his wings, tearing them. He broke the shaft of the arrow in Endrah’s shoulder. Then, he looked down at the men on the battlefield. His jaw tightened as he saw small fights still breaking out. He raised his voice.
“Stop this fighting before I take all of you to the dungeons beneath the nearest castle and leave you there to rot,” Acarad shouted. An amplification spell made the metal swords shiver with his words. “The Air Drifter told you to stop, and now so do I. I am the Earth Drifter, the Second Prince, Third Heir of Glade, Acarad Allison. Obey me or face my wrath.”
The Gladian border guard retreated immediately, and the Tolicians backed away slowly.
“Your highness, I am sorry,” the commander of the border guard said. He bowed low enough to touch his nose to his knees.
“Send for a litter, a pen, four sheets of paper, and a bottle of ink. I need to send word to the others,” this time Acarad’s voice was not amplified but was heard by all the border guards. Four men jumped to do his bidding. Acarad held Endrah in his arms as softly as he could. “Who shot the arrows?”
“The Tolocians, your highness. We ran out of arrows an hour ago,” the commander answered. He was still bowing.
“Bring them to me,” Acarad ordered. Twelve men did as he bid, bringing the fourteen living Tolocians to him.
“You men are all that is left,” Acarad asked. The litter was brought to him.
“Yes,” one of the men answered.
“Why did you try to kill the Air Drifter,” Acarad asked. He gently laid Endrah on the litter the border guards held steady at his waist.
“That thing is a demon in a costume,” the man answered. “All Fairies who do not come to us willingly are. They refuse to be purified.”
“You bloody bastard,” Acarad spat out. He raised a hand covered in Endrah’s blood and pointed to the man. “You and your men will pay for this as a crime. Even if he does live, you are given the death penalty.” Acarad called the earth to his hand, and sent a wave to the ten Tolocians. The shaking knocked them off their feet and the wave consumed them. Their screams were cut short.