On Wings of Fire: Chapter 3, Part 2

As the fiery drake Fyn vanished ahead of her, Cassia clutched her scrying bowl to her chest and slid down the pedestal slowly, not caring that water was slopping over the edges of her bowl.

“Calm down,” she told her pounding heart. “That went okay.”

Well, except for the part where he had dismissed her scrying spell and completely overruled her with a veiled threat. Five minutes in, and he was already threatening her. At first, when she had seen how that larger drake, Zhiron, had treated Fyn, she thought he might welcome some more equal companionship. But no, it seemed Fyn was just a bully to people smaller than him, too. What else had she really expected, with a god like Selach? There was a reason drakes and angels hated each other on principle, and that wasn’t even getting started on the downright disturbing way he’d talked about humans. Like they were things more than people.

Not that Cassia really knew any humans. There were only a handful in Mithrinden. But all the godformed had been human once. So it wasn’t like they were a completely different species.

Fyn’s great scaled head poked into the chamber again. “Are you coming, or are you backing out and I get to do this on my own?”

“I’m coming,” Cassia said, making a point of getting up slowly and gathering her things. Just ignore him and focus on getting the Treatise. That’s all that matters.

She took the cushion on top of the pedestal as she went, as well as thief’s file from the floor. It was easier to scry on objects when you had some sort of focus, and the Treatise had rested on the cushion so long their two magics should be somewhat intertwined.

She knew she was saying all this to herself to avoid thinking more about Fyn, and how she would deal with him in the days to come. It was only because she wasn’t really sure the Treatise was in the Haverin Forest that she was going along with his hunch at all. Plus, he was probably right. Cassia doubted that the mage who stole the Treatise had done so alone, and if she had people to spare, she probably would have sent some of them to get her family out of harm’s way.

But what would happen when they really disagreed? He could kill me with a swipe of his paw. Though the drakes wouldn’t risk the open wrath of the angels, not like that.

But all it would take is one ‘accident…’

“Would you rather it be Dad?” she said to herself as she slung her travel pack back over her shoulder and joined Fyn at the doorway.

“What did you say?” Fyn asked as they descended the steps outside the temple.

“I said, how far is Ashbourne?” Cassia didn’t know the geography of all the other Orders outside Mithrinden, but she vaguely thought it was somewhere in Selachen.

“Up north,” Fyn said vaguely. “A few days if we go by river. You don’t happen to have money, do you?”

“You’re kidding,” Cassia said.

“What? Drakes don’t use money. Why would we need it?”

Cassia knew for a fact that wasn’t true. Selachen had the entire coal and mining industries cornered. Even if Fyn was right and they didn’t use money within their Order, the fact that he didn’t know that was just another link in the mounting evidence that this Fyn was, well… rather like her. Young and out of his depth. The way Zhiron had treated him was another clue. But why would the drakes send someone so inexperienced?

They were approaching the temple gates now. Cassia was abruptly shaken out of her thoughts when an angel she didn’t recognize, but who bore the robes of one of the Temple guards, swept down and landed beside Cassia, taking her upper arm and speaking quickly and quietly to her.

“Grand Mage, I bring a message from your sister. Your father knows. She said he is angrier than she has ever seen him. You must go as quickly as you can. Get far away from here. He will send angels after you, scry on you to find where you are. Make sure to shield yourself, and take this.” She pressed a vial of cold, clear water into Cassia’s hand. It was glowing faintly, and Cassia immediately recognized it – scrying water, treated for two-way communication. “Your sister has the other vial. Take care to scry for her only at night.”

The angel glanced at Fyn. “Tilana sends one last warning. Whatever you do, do not trust the drake. Selach’s Archpriestess is playing some kind of game here. One we can’t afford to lose.”

Cassia’s mouth was dry. “Tell her I understand. Tell her…”

But she could think of no joke or witty response, nothing that would fit into their usual repartee.

“Tell her I’ll be coming home with the Treatise. No matter what it takes.”

The angel nodded gravely, clasping Cassia by the shoulder in a moment of silent support. Then, message delivered, she took flight in a battering of bronze wings and was gone.

“What was that all about?” Fyn asked, staring after the guard.

“None of your business,” Cassia said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. She strode forward without looking to see if Fyn was following her, passing through the gates of the Temple and officially emerging in the city of Promise and the wider Basin. She looked down over the city’s sprawling streets and spoke to Fyn without looking back.

“Well, aren’t you coming?”