Wrath and Wing: Ena of Ilbrea

By Megan O’Russell

Home, love, safety. They are all a lie.

Healing is a hanging offense, and Ena is done risking her neck to watch her patients die. Fleeing a future of blood and death, Ena braves the dark unknown. Life taught her the cruelty of the world. But she never imagined the dangers of her journey.

As evil surrounds her, Ena is threatened with a fate worse than the one she escaped. Legends and dark magic stand between her and the future she dreams of. A future that will cost more than pain.

When innocent lives depend on her mercy, Ena must face an enemy with the power to set the sky on fire.

A life of romance and adventure wait for Ena, if she can survive the road ahead…

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Ink Worlds Press
• Release date: Dec 9, 2019

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Wrath and WingWrath and WingInk Worlds Press

Visit our website at www.MeganORussell.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Wrath and Wing

Copyright © 2019, Megan O’Russell

Cover Art by Sleepy Fox Studio (https://www.sleepyfoxstudio.net/)

Editing by Christopher Russell

Interior Design by Christopher Russell

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Requests for permission should be addressed to Ink Worlds Press.

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Ena never hoped for a peaceful life.

Ember and Stone

Escape Into Adventure

About the Author

Also by Megan O’Russell

WRATH AND WING

1

There is a world outside the village of Harane. Beyond the towering mountains to the east and the open skies to the west. Beyond Ilbrea and the seven Guilds that rule our country with a golden fist.

There is an ocean where free men sail to lands beyond my imagination. There are countries ruled by good and just leaders. There are places where magic is more than a thing to be feared.

But I do not live in any of those places. I live in Harane.

I was born in Harane, my parents died in Harane. And as I stood in the field, blood surrounding my boots, it felt as though the outside world might be a lie.

There was nothing in existence but pain and death, and there was no chance of surviving if a person was fool enough to hold on to the dream that something more could be found.

2

You’ve got to save him. Handor knelt beside his son, pushing the boy’s hair away from his face as though it might somehow spare his life. Jesep. Hold on, Jesep. Ena is here.

He said my name like there was something I could do.

Please, Ena. Tears streamed down Handor’s face.

I’d hardly ever seen the man smile, let alone cry.

The wound was too big for me to mend. The fool Jesep had let his axe strike his leg instead of the wood he’d been cutting. By the time Karin had dragged me to Handor’s home, the axe had been pulled from Jesep’s thigh, and mud had somehow smeared into the wound.

Give me your shirt. I knelt by Jesep’s leg.

Handor struggled out of the sweat-soaked fabric.

I tied the shirt just above the gash, but there was already too much blood on the ground.

Hold on, boy, Handor said.

Ena, is there anything I can do? Karin asked, her back still turned to the whole bloody scene.

I wanted to scream that there was nothing any of us could do. Even if a Guilded healer raced up on horseback, there was nothing but magic or the gods that could save the boy’s life.

But I wasn’t strong enough to say that to his father.

Run and grab the brown jug from under the table at Lily’s, I said.

Karin sprinted away. By the time she got back, Jesep would be dead, but Karin didn’t need to listen to the boy’s final breaths.

I dragged the cutting block over and flipped it on its side.

Hold his head up. I lifted Jesep’s legs onto the block as his father cradled his head.

Jesep gave an awful gasp. The blood flowing from the wound had slowed. It had nothing to do with the cloth I’d tied above it.

Speak to him. I knelt, feeling the warmth of Jesep’s blood seep through the knees of my skirt.

You’re going to be just fine, boy, Handor said. Ena will get you stitched up. You won’t be able to work for a bit. You’ll miss the spring planting. You’ve always hated the planting, and you’ll get to rest this year.

I ripped the slash in Jesep’s pants wider so I could get a better look at the wound. The axe had cut well beyond stitches’ ability to remedy.

How does it look? Handor asked. Do you need help?

Just keep talking to him. I couldn’t bring myself to press on the wound. I wouldn’t cause Jesep any more agony in his last moments, even to comfort his father.

Just hold on, son. I’m right here, so hold on.

Jesep took a shuddering breath, and fled from his pain.

No! Handor’s cry sent the ravens scattering from their perches in the trees. Wake up, son. I am your father, and I am telling you to wake up.

I’m sorry. I didn’t reach out to comfort him―there was too much of his son’s blood covering my hands.

Handor’s cries beckoned the rest of the village like a siren’s song. The few who had been lingering by the corner of the house left the safety of the shadows, and more appeared every moment, coming to see what new grief had stricken Harane.

We should get him into the house. Shilv ran a hand through the fluff of his graying hair. Come on, Handor, let’s get the boy inside.

Other men from the village came forward to help carry Jesep.

I faded to the back of the group.

Next would come finding money to pay for the burial papers, deciding who would dig the grave, and settling the family into mourning. I could help with none of those things.

I kept my hands in front of me as I made my way back to Lily’s house. My skirt was already covered in mud and blood, but wiping my hands on the fabric seemed like it would somehow make everything worse.

Karin raced toward me, brown jug in hand. Her steps faltered as she stared at the blood on my clothes. She nodded and kept heading for Handor’s house, her steps slower now that there was no reason to run.

I hoped the jug could be of some comfort. Lily had brewed the liquor to clean wounds, but Handor would be far beyond caring how foul his drink tasted.

The giant tree waited in front of Lily’s house when I arrived home. The barren branches looked the same as they had when I’d sprinted away. It seemed impossible that the shadows the tree cast across the road hadn’t changed. Death had come so quickly, the afternoon sun had barely shifted.

I wanted to climb up into the safety of the tree’s limbs. To peer at the world from high above and see if Handor’s pain was somehow justified when viewed by the stars.

Better yet, I could run for the safety of the